What Remains in the Damaged Place - Chapter 68

Shhhhhh.

The rain quickly transformed into sharp arrows, pelting the ground with a relentless force.

Lirette turned her back on Valderion, no longer wishing to continue the conversation.

“Don’t you dare turn your back on me.”

His command, like the downpour, came cutting through the air, gripping her like shackles around her ankles.

She halted but refused to face him.

“Don’t give me orders,” she replied.

“…”

“Even if your name is branded on my body, that doesn’t make me something you can own or control at your whim. That name doesn’t give you the right to bind me.”

Splash.

The sound of his footstep was piercingly clear as he moved closer.

Lirette closed her eyes, then opened them again, only to find her wrist caught in his grip, pulling her body to face him.

“So, you’re only thinking about ending this, aren’t you?”

His accusation seemed to come from nowhere, unexpected and biting.

But Lirette was ready to respond.

“Weren’t you thinking the same thing from the beginning?”

Despite the rain soaking her face and body, her eyes blazed with intensity as they met his.

She yanked her wrist free from his grip.

“Are you going to deny it? It’s painfully obvious.”

“What’s obvious?” he asked, his voice low.

“The difference between you and me speaks for itself,” she said, her voice trembling slightly but determined.

“…”

“What have you lost in all of this, Your Grace? Have you lost anything at all?”

As she spoke, she felt the weight of her words settle into her bones. Her heart, already cold, crumbled into smaller, jagged pieces. She took a step back, as if trying to distance herself from him.

“I… I’ve lost everything.”

She struggled to steady her breathing, which was becoming more erratic.

“For the rest of my life, I’ll be carrying your name—one I never even wanted.”

“…”

“And without your mercy, I’ll be left writhing in agony until I die a miserable death.”

Her other foot slid backward as well.

“But you… nothing’s changed for you.”

“…”

“Your life before and after meeting me—what’s different? Your engagement? Your status? Your freedom? It’s all still the same.”

Just a name.

With that one name, their lives were worlds apart.

Valderion stood as solid as ever, with the world at his feet, wielding immense power, while Lirette—already at rock bottom—could only fall deeper into an abyss of despair.

Her body, her mind, her very soul, were all slowly decaying, rotting, breaking apart in the depths of this endless void.

Lirette exhaled sharply, her breathing tangled with frustration, and glared at him.

Though Valderion seemed calm, his eyes were cold, hardened by a silent tension.

This was the nature of their relationship.

Close, but never close enough, yet never far enough to sever completely.

An endless, chaotic limbo.

Lirette finally turned away from him and walked back inside through the side door she had used to reach the garden. Her hand wiped the rainwater from her forehead to her chin. She didn’t need a mirror to know she looked a mess.

A mess.

Yes, everything was a mess.

A bitter, uncontrollable laugh bubbled up within her, tinged with frustration and hopelessness.

What had I been expecting?

The mix of disappointment and emptiness surged up within her, fighting for dominance.

“…!”

Her body was suddenly yanked back, throwing her off balance as a firm grip seized her shoulder.

Her eyes widened, startled by the sudden force.

Before she could react, his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her roughly into a kiss, their lips colliding with harsh intensity.

It felt more like punishment than passion, as if he was trying to vent his frustration on her. Trapped between his body and the wall, Lirette gasped, her hands pushing desperately against his chest, but her strength was no match for his. He wasn’t going to let go so easily.

“…Ugh.”

Desperate, she bit down hard on his invading tongue, determined to push him away by any means necessary.

The taste of blood filled both their mouths, metallic and bitter.

Valderion recoiled slightly, his lips now smeared with a thin trail of blood.

Lirette, feeling tainted, wiped her lips vigorously with the back of her hand, as if trying to scrub away the remnants of their kiss. Her frantic movements were almost obsessive. Valderion’s eyes flashed dangerously, like those of a predator who had just been provoked.

“Let go…! Let go of me!”

Before she could escape, Valderion hoisted her up, his arm slipping beneath her legs as he threw her over his shoulder like a ragdoll.

She kicked and pounded her fists against his back, even biting down on his shoulder in a desperate attempt to break free.

But Valderion’s resolve was unyielding.

He carried her swiftly toward the bedroom, his grip tightening with a fierceness that suggested he’d sooner lose a limb than let her go.

When he finally set her down, Lirette immediately tried to crawl away, dragging herself toward the edge of the bed. Valderion, having tossed aside his soaked boutonniere and cravat, watched her struggle with a savage grin.

“Let go…!”

Just as she thought she might escape, his hand grabbed her ankle, pulling her back toward him.

His hands, forceful and invasive, slid beneath her dress, sending a shiver of revulsion down her spine.

Lirette buried her face into the sheets, shaking her head violently in protest. Not liking how she was hiding her face, Valderion gripped her chin and forcibly turned her toward him.

As their faces came closer, his lips met hers again, this time more desperate, more insistent. The taste of blood, still fresh, lingered between them.

Lirette hit his chest with weak fists, her legs kicking in resistance. But his hand slipped between her thighs, forcing her to submit.

Her movements slowed, but it wasn’t surrender.

Her body, usually alive with sensation during their encounters, now felt lifeless, like she was a corpse lying beneath him.

Valderion, his head buried in the crook of her neck as he kissed her skin, suddenly paused and looked up.

For the first time, he noticed her.

She wasn’t fighting back anymore, wasn’t pleading. She was simply lying there, her face turned to the side, crying silently.

It would have been easier if she’d sobbed loudly, if she’d screamed.

But the quiet tears, the way she suppressed her sobs—it sank deeper into him, a chill spreading in his chest.

“…You look like you think this is disgusting.”

“It is disgusting,” she whispered.

“…”

“More than the crown prince ever could be.”

Lirette closed her eyes, unable to bear the throbbing ache that spread through her body and soul.

It felt worse than the violence Dylan had inflicted on her. It was as if the one remaining thread of resilience she had clung to was on the verge of snapping.

“At least… the crown prince never tried to rape me.”

Rape.

The word struck Valderion like a knife, sinking deep into his bones. The realization of how she saw his actions sent a chill through him, making his blood run cold.

Her breath fell heavy on the room as Valderion withdrew, stepping away from the bed with a shocking lack of hesitation, as if the weight of his actions had finally settled in. He stood at the edge of the room, adjusting his disheveled clothes with a troubled expression.

Lirette, still trembling from the encounter, slowly sat up, her body stiff and vulnerable.

“Just a question…,” she began, her voice strained.

“…”

“You are using protection, right?”

Valderion froze, his hands sTiling as he fidgeted with his cufflinks, which had come undone during the struggle.

Lirette’s gaze, dark and sunken, bore into him. Her hand, trembling as it clutched at the loose fabric of her clothing, betrayed the emotional storm raging within her.

“In your position, with your engagement… you need to preserve everything, don’t you? Your status, your future, all of it needs to stay intact.”

“…”

“What happens if I get pregnant?”

“Shut your mouth.”

“Why? Am I saying something wrong?” Lirette let out a bitter laugh, her voice hollow and sarcastic.

“Oh… so in the end, you’re just like Dylan.”

Valderion’s eyes hardened, his pupils narrowing as if her words had sliced through him. He felt his blood grow cold, his insides turning to ice.

“…What?”

“The crown prince I knew was just like that,” she said softly.

“…”

“Instead of refuting, he’d silence me. Instead of responding, he’d choose to ignore.”

Her words were low and resigned, and she turned her face away, staring blankly at the far wall.

“To me, you’re both the same.”

Her voice, filled with bleak despair, echoed like an accusation that reverberated through the room.

Valderion’s eyes flashed, cold and piercing like shards of ice.

“Yes, I take my medicine religiously,” he replied, his voice sharp.

“…”

“There’s no way I’d allow a filthy creature like you to bear the seed of Justitia.”

His words crushed down on her, forcing her to look at him again.

“Is that what you wanted to hear?”

As their eyes locked, he twisted his lips into a bitter smile.

“Does it satisfy you, hearing it like that?”

Though he was the one who delivered the cutting blow, it was clear that he too was wounded by his own words. His expression was one of pain, despite his venomous tone, and in that moment, Lirette felt as if she were staring at a reflection of herself.

It was painfully obvious: just like her, he was wounded by the very things he said.

Without another word, Valderion turned and left the room, not once looking back.

Lirette, left alone, stared blankly into the empty space before her.

It felt as though she had circled back to where she had started. Even when things seemed to improve, they would always collapse back into this.

One person would rip open old wounds, and the other would inevitably retaliate, both of them gnawing away at each other, refusing to back down. The air between them was always suffocating, tight with tension, cutting into their skin like razors.

Yet, every time one lashed out, the pain would rebound, striking back at the aggressor.

Their relationship was one of mutual destruction.

Both of them were damaged.

It wasn’t one-sided; it was a shared downfall.

Lirette could only sit there, unable to understand what she should call this emotion.