What Remains in the Damaged Place - Chapter 41

A burn like that wasn’t a minor injury.

Valderion had assumed it was just spilled tea, but it seemed it had been hot enough to cause a more serious burn.

He ran his hand over the edge of his dark eyebrows, then turned toward the head maid.

“What is she doing now?”

“It’s almost the end of her shift, so I sent her back to her quarters to rest.”

“Bring her to my chambers.”

Valderion gave the low command and left his office, heading to his room to wait. After a short while, there was a knock at the door, and it opened cautiously.

Lirette entered, her expression calm and composed.

She must have been resting in her quarters, as her silver hair, usually tied up tightly while working, now cascaded loosely down her back.

“I was told you summoned me.”

The sky was still light, with the last of the setting sun casting a bright glow. It wasn’t the black of night, the usual time for their meetings, so her expression reflected some confusion.

“Sit down.”

Valderion gestured to the small table where she often sat to eat sandwiches.

“Put your hand on the table.”

As soon as she sat down, he gave the instruction.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Lirette hesitated but eventually placed her hand on the table.

It was wrapped in layers of bandages.

Valderion stared at it for a moment before carefully untying the knot. As the bandages unraveled, Lirette winced slightly, her face twitching in response to the slight pressure on the wound.

When her hand was fully revealed, the sight was troubling.

Her once smooth, delicate skin was now covered in blisters and swelling. The head maid’s words about her being unable to use her hand properly for a while echoed in his mind.

“…I did ask, didn’t I?”

Valderion, who had been inspecting the injury closely, lifted his head at her comment. Lirette wasn’t looking at him. She stubbornly kept her eyes on her hand, as if harboring some hidden resentment.

“I asked if you were alright.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean, perhaps your fiancée got curious hearing that you might be keeping a mistress close by.”

Her tone was strangely blunt.

Though she often had this somewhat indifferent attitude, today there was an added sharpness. Valderion, ever perceptive, raised an eyebrow.

“So you’re saying that what happened to your hand is my fault?”

He retorted with a stern coolness, making Lirette finally look up.

“Do you think you bear no responsibility for this?”

“Why would I be responsible?” he replied. “I’m more curious as to why you’re blaming me.”

“If you hadn’t called me to your chambers at night, making everyone gossip about me as your mistress, none of this would have happened.”

“By that logic, it’s your fault for insisting on doing maid work you’re clearly not cut out for.”

His response was as unyielding as hers, and Lirette’s frustration flared. The pain in her hand only seemed to fuel her rising anger, and she couldn’t hide the irritation in her expression.

Finding the argument pointless and childish, Valderion stood from his seat.

“Come here.”

He walked toward the bed and turned the hourglass on the bedside table.

Realizing what he intended, Lirette instinctively glanced out the window. The room was still bathed in the warm red glow of the setting sun, not yet consumed by the usual darkness of night.

The vivid colors made everything feel too intense.

She stared at the glowing scene for a long moment, then shook her head.

“I don’t want to do this today.”

Her brief defiance made him let out a dry laugh.

“Of course. With a burned hand, it might look amusing if it goes numb from overuse.”

Her brows furrowed at his sarcastic remark, and she stood up from her chair, gathering the loose bandages as she headed toward the door.

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

“I said I don’t want to today.”

“I didn’t agree to that,” Valderion said flatly.

“It’s not going to make my hand go numb to skip just once.”

“And if you skip once, will you comply next time? Or will once turn into twice, then twice into three times? I know you well enough—you’ll keep avoiding it.”

His sharp tone cut through the room as he strode toward her with purpose.

Lirette’s eyes caught the fiery red hues of the sunset as she watched him approach.

“Do you want to touch me?” she asked.

Valderion stopped in his tracks.

“…What?”

“Do you want to touch other women, then touch me again?”

Valderion’s expression showed confusion.

But Lirette’s gaze remained unwavering.

Her mind replayed the scene she had witnessed just earlier that day.

On her way back from receiving treatment, she had seen a couple walking together in the sun-drenched garden.

It was Valderion and Camille.

The two of them, framed by the gentle spring light, looked like a perfect painting. Lirette had stopped in her tracks without even realizing it.

At that exact moment, Camille had stumbled slightly, and Valderion had swiftly reached out with his large hand to support her slender waist. With graceful composure, he offered his hand and helped her steady herself. His actions were nothing short of gentlemanly.

Lirette had watched their backs as they continued walking toward the glasshouse, every detail imprinted on her mind.

For some reason, a bitter taste spread across her tongue.

She couldn’t quite pinpoint why she felt that way.

Perhaps it was because it reminded her of the past.

The image of those two together, like a scene she had only been able to glimpse from the annex where she had been confined, was now repeating itself in front of her again.

Even though this was clearly a different time, she still found herself in the same position—forced to watch moments she didn’t want to see.

Maybe it was the contrast—how those two moved freely, unburdened by any restraints, while she remained tethered, restricted in her actions—that left her feeling melancholic.

It was a complex, difficult emotion to define.

But one thing was certain: it wasn’t a pleasant feeling.

Unfortunately, that bitter sentiment had lingered, following her into the present.

“I’m not.”

“…”

“I don’t want to be touched by a man who has touched another woman.”

If she allowed herself to be close to him today, it would only remind her of that bitter scene, and she wanted to avoid that.

Valderion didn’t respond immediately. The setting sun cast a harsh backlight, obscuring his expression.

Lirette didn’t bother trying to read him. She simply bowed her head slightly, the loose bandages in her hand dangling to the floor.

“I’ll be going now.”

She quickened her steps toward the door.

Just as she reached for the handle—

Bang!

An arm shot out from behind her, slamming the slightly open door shut.

His hand blocked her exit with unexpected force.

The suddenness of his action irritated something deep within her. Before she could turn around to confront him, Valderion’s hand grabbed her arm and twisted her around to face him.

“What are you—!”

Her protest was cut short by the shock of what happened next.

In one swift movement, he had shifted his grip from her arm to her wrist, pulling her hand close. Then, without hesitation, Valderion ran his tongue over the burned, bandaged skin of her hand.

Lirette gasped, her voice caught in her throat, as she felt the wet warmth of his tongue against the tender skin of her hand.

She stumbled backward, leaning heavily against the door, her eyes wide in disbelief. Yet his tongue continued to glide over the blisters and swollen skin, unrelenting.

“W-What…ah.”

The red, wet surface of his tongue pressed gently over the burned area, drawing shivers up her spine as it traced the painful contours.

Her lips trembled, her fingers tingling from the sensation. His grip on her wrist was firm, and the strength in her knees began to falter.

Slowly, her back slid down the door until she found herself sinking to the floor.

“Ah…!”

She sat down, almost collapsing as if trying to escape him, but Valderion only followed her down.

Apparently not satisfied with just her hand, he took her finger into his mouth, sucking on it, licking each knuckle slowly, sending chills up her arm. Lirette’s entire body shuddered.

“St-Stop.”

Her limbs shook uncontrollably, her face burning with heat as she struggled to maintain her composure. His persistent tongue continued its work, pulling her finger deeper into his mouth.

Even as he switched to her middle finger, drawing it into his mouth, his intense gaze never left her face. Between his lips and her skin, a thin strand of saliva stretched like a spider’s web.

Defeated by the overwhelming sensations, Lirette closed her eyes and turned her head to the side. With her vision darkened, the sensations of his tongue against her fingers grew even sharper, each movement distinct.

Her toes curled inside her shoes, and an unfamiliar pulse throbbed between her legs.

Valderion’s tongue moved with deliberate care, first from her index to her pinky finger, then back to the burned area of her hand, gently lapping at the blisters.

As he continued, he noticed something strange: the burns on her hand were slowly healing.

Seeing the miraculous recovery under his tongue, Valderion paused, a mixture of surprise and disbelief flickering in his eyes.

“Am I even healing your wounds now? The mark of my name on your body…”

“Haa… haa…”

“This is remarkable. It’s as if having my name makes me a god. With that kind of power, I could save the dying.”

He chuckled softly, a small laugh of pure astonishment.

Lirette, now dazed, seemed barely aware of what he was saying.

Her breathing was shallow, her face flushed bright red, and her heart pounded so loudly in her chest that even he could almost hear it.

Was that really her heartbeat, or his?

Valderion stared down at her, her expression muddled and her body limp.

Then, without warning, he leaned down.

It wasn’t a conscious decision.

It wasn’t even the result of careful thought.

It was pure impulse.

His large shadow loomed over her delicate frame, and when his lips finally met hers, Lirette’s body jerked, as if struck by a sudden spark.