What Remains in the Damaged Place - Chapter 70

‘Compared to me, your life is unchanged.’

‘Before and after meeting me, what’s different? Your engagement, your status, your freedom… nothing has changed.’

Lirette’s face, innocent like a lamb in sleep, resurfaced memories of that moment when she had looked at him with desperation, pouring her emotions out.

Had she been crying that day?

Her expression had been close to tears, but he couldn’t be sure. The rain that had fallen so heavily obscured everything.

Maybe that’s why.

Valderion felt certain now that she hadn’t cried.

It wasn’t that she held back tears—it was more that she buried them. It wasn’t just that she refrained from crying, but that she had internalized it, tucked it away like something she no longer remembered how to release.

She always did that.

Except when they were physically close, in the quiet of daily life, she pressed down her anger and sorrow. Rather than letting it overflow, she smothered it, refusing to show it to anyone. Or perhaps she had forgotten how to cry.

Perhaps that was a habit she’d developed from her time with Dylan.

‘You’re just like Dylan,’ she had said.

That comparison, equating him with the one who had ingrained such terrible habits in her, stung more than anything.

That had been the reason he reacted so emotionally, uncharacteristically so. He hated being compared to Dylan, more than anything.

When those words came out of her mouth, it wasn’t just unpleasant. It was…

‘What have you lost? Have you lost anything in this relationship?’

For a week, her expression from that day haunted him.

Valderion slowly reached out his hand. His fingertips grazed the edge of the armrest where her hand rested, almost touching hers. A subtle current passed between them as the ends of their fingers brushed together.

He lingered, hesitant, repeating that small movement as he quietly mulled over the words she had spoken.

***

“Take these fresh towels to the bath immediately.”

Lirette had heard whispers that Valderion had gone out early that morning, but it seemed he had just returned. The head maid handed her several clean towels with instructions.

Lirette suspected this was, once again, at Valderion’s behest.

As she made her way to his bathroom, she recalled the previous afternoon.

She had fallen asleep on the sofa, only to wake up in his bed. Even in her drowsy state, she could tell the bed was far more comfortable than her cold, stiff one in the basement.

More comforting still was the sensation of someone gently stroking her hair.

She hadn’t needed to look up to know who it was.

There was only one person who would be with her in that bed.

Lirette hadn’t opened her eyes.

She felt too comfortable to stir, and the thought briefly crossed her mind that this too might be an effect of the Naeme. But she quickly brushed aside the thought. It didn’t matter if it was or wasn’t.

For the first time in a long while, a thought crept into her mind.

She hadn’t pushed Valderion away during their intimate moments, despite feeling uncomfortable. Perhaps it was because of the warmth.

It had been so long since someone had offered her genuine warmth. Since losing her family, she hadn’t felt the touch of another’s warmth. Not like this.

Like a ray of sunlight, a matchstick flickering in the darkness, or the embrace of a loved one, that warmth seeped into her, quenching the drought that had dried up her heart.

That was why she couldn’t push him away.

She hadn’t even realized how much she had longed for that feeling until it was given to her unexpectedly.

With that comforting warmth surrounding her, Lirette had fallen back asleep. The next morning, she had awoken to find herself alone in the large bedroom, her ankle gently nuzzled by Camon, Valderion’s dog.

After tidying herself, she had learned from the other servants that Valderion had gone out early.

Now, as she reached the bathroom, the door cracked open, releasing a cloud of steam into the hallway. The room was filled with warm mist, so thick that she could barely see inside. Carefully, she stepped in, her feet making soft sloshing sounds against the damp floor.

As the steam cleared slightly, Valderion came into view.

He was stretched out in the marble tub, his long frame relaxed as he stared vacantly into the air. For once, he appeared unusually tired, as if weighed down by something.

He raised his arm and ran his hand through his wet hair.

“I brought fresh towels,” Lirette said, her voice low as she broke the silence.

Valderion turned to look at her.

“Bring them over.”

She had intended to leave the towels by the door, but his firm command forced her to step further into the bathroom.

Lirette kept her eyes averted, focusing solely on placing the towels within reach for when he finished. But as she did, Valderion leaned forward, propping his arms on the edge of the tub, watching her intently.

There was a glass bottle of alcohol and a crystal glass on the nearby shelf, confirming what she had suspected—that he had been drinking.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened to me today,” he said, his voice unusually clear despite the haze of alcohol in the air.

“It’s never happened before… something completely broke a plan I thought was foolproof.”

Lirette finished placing the towels and rose to leave.

But in that moment, Valderion reached out and caught the edge of her skirt, his fingers curling around the fabric.

The hem of her skirt darkened slightly as it absorbed the moisture from his hand.

“What… happened?” she asked, her voice cautious.

“I ended my engagement,” he replied.

A drop of water slid off his arm and splashed into the bath, creating a soft ripple across the surface. Lirette’s eyes widened in surprise as she processed what he had just said. Valderion glanced up at her, running a hand over his face before letting out a bitter laugh.

“I cut off the match my family carefully selected for me.”

“…”

“First time for everything, isn’t it?”

Valderion turned his head lazily to the side, the weight of his actions hanging in the air, heavier than usual. There was something particularly intense about him today, something Lirette couldn’t look away from.

His fingers, which had been toying with the fabric of her skirt, slowly slid down to her leg. The tips of his fingers brushed against her calf, moving slowly upward, as if exploring the softness of her skin.

“Ever since I met you, it feels like I’m becoming more… unhinged,” he murmured.

It sounded like a lament, but to Lirette, it felt like a tender confession.

Her head, which had been hanging low, slowly lifted. And when their eyes met, his gaze pierced straight through her, unwavering.

“Do you still think I’m just like Dylan?”

“…”

“Do you really believe I’ve gained everything and lost nothing?”

Lirette bit her lip, the tension rising between them. His hand continued to trace along her leg, sending a shiver through her.

As if to punctuate his words, Valderion withdrew his hand and leaned back in the tub.

“Come here.”

He gestured toward the large tub, ample enough to accommodate them both with space to spare.

“But… my clothes will get wet.”

“I know.”

A sly glint danced in his eyes, rekindling memories of the sultry summer heat despite the cool season.

“Take them off, then.”

His words, dripping with temptation, sounded dangerous—like the whisper of a devil urging her closer. Was it the fact that he was already naked, the intimate setting of the bath, or perhaps the quickening of her own breath that made it feel so perilous?

Lirette instinctively stepped back, as if trying to retreat. Valderion didn’t let her.

He reacted to her timid retreat with an intensity that left no room for hesitation. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her straight into the tub.

With a loud splash, she was submerged, her clothes soaked through. Coughing lightly, Lirette tried to steady herself, but Valderion’s hand found hers, his grip firm.

Before she could react, his lips were on hers, seizing her mouth in a rough, desperate kiss.

Gone was the leisurely pace he had taken when caressing her leg. Now his hands roamed her body with a fervent urgency, gripping her curves as he pushed her wet skirt up, his palm rough against her skin.

Lirette’s breath came out in short gasps as he held her close, her soaked hair spreading out across the water like strands of silver.

His hand grasped the back of her neck with an intensity that sent a jolt through her. She felt the pressure between her thighs, hard and demanding, and instinctively threw her head back.

The water, once calm, now churned with every movement, ripples turning into waves as their bodies moved together.

“Aah…!”

A small cry escaped her lips as Valderion lifted her, his strength effortlessly hoisting her up. The sound of her voice was swallowed by the thick mist of the steamy bathroom.

The sharp clatter of glass breaking filled the room, the result of Valderion’s careless swipe knocking the bottle and crystal glass from the nearby shelf.

Even with the loud noise, her mind remained clouded, barely registering the shattering of glass. Her thoughts were overwhelmed, her body engulfed by the intensity of what was happening. In the place of the broken glass, it was now Lirette who found herself pressed against the cold surface of the tub, her dress soaked and clinging to her skin as Valderion’s hands explored her with reckless abandon.

“W-wait…”

Her words were barely audible, a weak plea as her body responded to his insistent touch. The center of her skirt rose, revealing a prominent bulge as Valderion’s head disappeared beneath the fabric.

“Hah…”

The feel of her undergarments slipping down her legs sent a strange chill through her, heightening the tension. His lips and hands claimed her, and all she could do was surrender to the force of his desire, her breath hitching as his touch sent shockwaves through her.