What Remains in the Damaged Place - Chapter 35

Lirette hadn’t been looking directly at him, but even without seeing, she understood exactly what had just brushed against her knee.

A cold shiver ran up her spine, starting from the crown of her head and spreading across her body. It happened in the blink of an eye—not out of disgust, but from the fear of the unknown.

Her resistance became even more frantic.

Valderion clicked his tongue softly as her thrashing grew so intense that even he was in danger of falling off the bed.

And then, suddenly, everything stopped.

“Ah!”

He released his grip on her completely.

Lirette, who had been desperately pushing against him, tumbled backward, landing with a thud on the carpeted floor. She sat there in stunned silence, her eyes wide and blinking rapidly as if trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Then, a sound tickled her ears.

It was laughter.

When she looked up, her mind went blank in a completely different way.

Valderion was laughing.

But it wasn’t the smirking, mocking laughter she was used to. It was a genuine smile, one that lifted both corners of his mouth evenly, showing a rare joy that softened his face. His expression was free of sarcasm or malice—pure, unguarded amusement, like the carefree laughter of a boy.

Lirette stared at him, dumbfounded.

It felt like she’d been hit in the back of the head.

He can laugh like this? she thought, incredulous.

Up until now, she had only ever seen him sneer at her, teasing her with cruel jokes or laughing at her discomfort. This smile—so strikingly beautiful—was something she never imagined could appear on his face.

The shock of it was so overwhelming that she didn’t even have time to feel angry about being knocked over.

Valderion raised his hand, covering his mouth slightly, though he still couldn’t suppress the lingering traces of laughter. The sight of her sprawled on the floor must have been too amusing for him to fully hide his reaction. His eyes, creased at the corners, betrayed the joy he was still feeling.

But soon, his laughter faded.

He stood up leisurely and walked over to where she sat on the floor, extending his hand toward her.

“Get up now,” he said calmly.

Normally, Lirette would have ignored his hand, out of pride if nothing else. But the remnants of his smile still clouded her thoughts, making it hard to react the way she usually would.

Before she could stop herself, she took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet.

“Let’s stop here for today,” he said.

“…”

“Any more, and you might have a fit.” He spoke as though he were commenting on her earlier wild attempts to escape, but she quickly realized he was mocking her for the way she had flailed and fallen.

Seriously.

Even in the midst of this strange moment, she couldn’t believe her own thoughts. How could she have found his laughter beautiful? This man, who never missed an opportunity to sneer or tease her? It made no sense.

Lirette shook her head, as if trying to rid herself of the absurd notion.

“Fine, then. I’ll be going,” she said, putting deliberate emphasis on each word as she turned on her heel.

But she hadn’t even made it halfway across the room before his voice, smooth as silk, wrapped itself around her like a serpent.

“Leaving already?”

His words carried a peculiar tone, one that suggested something more.

When she turned back to look, he gestured toward something on the table. It was a plate of food.

Ever since Hayley had been dismissed, Lirette no longer had to endure the gnawing hunger she once did, as her meals were regular again. Yet, for some reason, Valderion continued to insist that she eat something every night.

He still wasn’t satisfied with her normal appetite, so he made a habit of having her eat in his presence, often late at night.

“If you don’t eat it, I’ll throw it away,” he said, his voice cool but leaving no room for argument.

He was still giving her the illusion of choice, though it was nothing more than a veiled command.

With no other option, Lirette returned to the chair and sat down.

In just a few days of living with such a lowly status, Lirette had come to realize how precious food truly was.

Moreover, the meals served to Valderion were nothing like what the other servants ate. His meals were made from far more luxurious, expensive ingredients. To waste such a meal without taking even a bite felt like an unforgivable mistake.

Unlike the shameless man across from her, Lirette simply couldn’t stand the thought of food being discarded like that.

As she quietly nibbled on her sandwich, Valderion returned, having stepped out briefly. His hair was damp, and he wore lighter clothes, likely after washing. Without a word, he resumed his earlier task of reviewing documents he’d brought in.

Always working, Lirette thought to herself.

It wasn’t surprising. Valderion was a duke, constantly buried in work befitting his rank. Even in the privacy of his bedroom, his responsibilities never seemed to stop.

During her time eating in his room, Lirette often observed him attending to these matters. It wasn’t shocking—his name alone carried immense weight, and beyond the family’s enterprises, he likely had a hand in political and governmental affairs, entangling him in countless obligations.

What fascinated her more was not the work itself but the calmness between them during this time. Despite the tension that usually colored their interactions, these moments of quiet were the rarest form of peace between them.

Peace with Valderion. The thought felt absurd, as if two entirely incompatible concepts were being forcibly stitched together. And yet, over time, she found herself slowly adjusting to the strange rhythm of it.

Lirette took a sip of sangria, letting the drink settle as she mulled over her thoughts.

“When will you be able to take that bandage off?” His low, smooth voice suddenly broke the silence.

Though his eyes remained fixed on the papers in front of him, the question was unmistakably directed at her. It seemed, even as he worked, he was still aware of her presence.

Lirette instinctively raised a hand to touch the bandage on her cheek. The rough texture of the cloth felt foreign under her fingers.

“I’m not sure. I suppose once it heals,” she replied nonchalantly.

“Have you seen a doctor?”

“No.”

“What if it scars?” he asked, his tone sharp and direct.

“I already have enough scars… one more wouldn’t make a difference,” she said with a careless shrug.

It was only after she felt the weight of his gaze that she realized how casually she had spoken. The sudden intensity of his attention reminded her that Valderion had seen her body—he had likely noticed all the scars that covered her. The last thing she wanted was for him to bring up that topic, so she quickly changed the subject.

“But… am I even allowed to see a doctor?”

At this, Valderion finally lowered his papers and looked directly at her. His gaze seemed to ask for an explanation.

“They never called a doctor when I was in the annex,” she added, recalling how she had been left to suffer, no matter how dire her condition had been.

During her time there, the only people she had encountered were Valderion and the butler.

“That was different. You have a cover identity as a maid now,” he said, rising from his seat and walking over to the table where she sat. His voice was calm, almost indifferent, but the implications were clear.

“And even then, I didn’t leave you completely unattended. The doctor was consulted—through the butler.”

“What?” Lirette’s eyes widened.

“Remember how the butler was always watching you? He was reporting on your condition, relaying information to the doctor on my behalf,” Valderion explained.

The memory of the butler’s constant observation came rushing back to her. His cold, meticulous gaze had been unsettling at the time, but now it made sense. He had been following Valderion’s orders, monitoring her for the doctor’s advice.

“Take it off,” Valderion commanded suddenly, nodding toward her bandage.

Hesitant, Lirette fumbled with the cloth for a moment before slowly peeling it away. His eyes fixated on the wound, inspecting it with a precision that felt almost too intimate. Despite the discomfort, she couldn’t help but feel the strange sensation of being scrutinized, as if the mere weight of his gaze could make the area tingle.

“It won’t scar,” he said matter-of-factly, after what felt like an eternity of silent observation.

“How do you know?” she asked, genuinely curious at his certainty.

“I can tell just by looking at it,” he replied, his tone cool and confident.

The clarity of his answer reminded Lirette of something she had nearly forgotten.

Despite sitting across from him now, they existed in completely different worlds. Valderion wasn’t just any man—he was a duke from the notorious Justitia family, one that served the empire through ruthless methods of justice. The Justitia household didn’t hesitate to stain their hands with blood to carry out the will of the crown.

It made sense that someone from such a family would have a sharp eye for wounds, able to judge them at a glance. After all, Valderion was no stranger to violence or pain. His cold, calculated demeanor was the same blade that had once struck fear into her own family.

As these thoughts washed over her, the fragile sense of peace she had felt moments earlier cracked. The image of him smiling, that fleeting warmth she had witnessed earlier, began to fade like a mirage.

That’s right.

Justitia wasn’t the kind of person who smiled with innocence. He was closer to a demon, always ready to strike with a silver blade gleaming in his hand.

Though they sat close now, the distance between them felt insurmountable. They were on opposite sides of the world—positions that would never mix, no matter how the circumstances tried to force them together.

Silently, Lirette replaced the bandage, feeling as if she needed to hide the exposed part of herself again.

Though they were sitting in the same room, a cold, aching loneliness seeped into her heart, one that wrapped itself around her soul and made her feel more isolated than ever.