RAMHM Chapter 12

What I Could Never Have Even Once, What I'll Never Possess for All Eternity

Someone screamed horrifically inside my head. It was the scream of dead Adrienne and of me, now living. A sound no one else could hear but that tore my ears apart. For a moment, breath stopped in my throat. Choked. I couldn't think at all.

Words heard directly from him—not groundless words through others' mouths—struck me with a different degree of shock. Novian, with quietly seething eyes, continued pouring out words with a sigh.

"After Adrienne died, I thought about following her. Then I thought—Adrienne wouldn't want that. So I thought of you. When I see you... Damn it, I think of Adrienne! Being with you, yes, it would be hard and painful. But I was tormented even when she was alive."

"......"

"Adrienne was in pain and suffering every day. Do you know what it's like to watch someone you love suffering enough to die, in agony?"

I don't know. Yes, perhaps I don't know. I've never seen a loved one in pain until the brink of death. The most agonizing appearance of Novian I ever witnessed was his wailing face at the funeral, looking at my dead body. And now, this low cry that he'd wanted to die following Adrienne.

I stared blankly at the face of this man who spoke of loving his wife while wanting to take another woman as his mistress. The face of a man who spoke of love while desiring a mistress. Strange. For a moment, it felt dreamlike. Since awakening in this body, I'd wandered between dream and reality every moment, but no moment had felt as dreamlike as this. The flawlessly perfect Novian Trovika. That Novian—ascetic and cynical yet who'd poured incomparable devotion on his wife—was this him?

"...So you want to share nights with me?"

Bliea Acacia's trembling voice cut through the silence. I ignored my already wounded, bleeding heart and tried to confirm again. This was a chance given by 'Adrienne' he wouldn't even notice. The man I'd solely relied upon and leaned on in that bleak grand ducal estate. The only person who'd supported and encouraged me as a person, beyond my illness or suffering. My pride and love—Novian Trovika.

Even now, tell me you don't want Bliea, Noah.

Please, say it's all lies. That others are insulting the dead Grand Duchess. That they're mocking and trampling the nonexistent traces Adrienne Trovika left behind in life.

"Ha, haha..."

Novian buried his face in one hand, self-mockingly. Then laughing with a sound mixed with tears, he suddenly jerked his head up. The darkened blue eyes were eyes I'd never seen—loosened, drunk eyes. And eyes wrapped in that 'lust' I'd only seen in books. The adult love he'd never once shared with ailing Adrienne—eyes clearly wanting to share it with this body. Adult eyes. Though I'd never received such a gaze from anyone, I could sense it instinctively. A strange sensation as if invisible hands traced my entire body made me tremble more.

"You want to make me trash that can't even be recycled."

"...Isn't that what you are?"

Say no, please. I looked up at my husband desperately, with a glimmer of hope. But as if this expression stirred him further, he twisted his face and, unable to overcome his passion, pulled me into a tight embrace. The embrace I'd longed for so—yet somehow my heart grew coldly numb.

"You're right, I want you."

"!"

In that cool embrace, I was hardening rigidly.

'You're right, I want you.'

A love confession heard from one's beloved—yet, was truly, miserably bitter and painful.

"Adrienne, whom I could never have even once, Adrienne whom I'll never possess for all eternity..."

Eyes unfamiliarly yet steadily boiling blue were intense, as if to devour me.

"...I want you, who stands before my eyes."

"!"

Finally, lips full of alcohol scent pressed against mine.

A kiss as intense as his gaze, as if to devour me. Not the kiss Noah I knew gave to Adrienne. Neither tender nor bittersweet. Simply hot, and the scent was poisonous. Enough that the strong liquor he'd drunk stung my entire mouth.

Novian, who'd acted as if he'd breathe all his breath into Adrienne, sucked away all breath from Bliea as if to steal it completely. I stood dazed, held by Novian, offering my lips and shedding only tears. He paid no heed. Simply stared at my eyes tenaciously while kissing and stealing breath. That broad embrace I'd longed for so, the kisses that had always been insufficient... Yet it hurt enough to tear my heart apart and was nauseating enough to make the champagne I'd sipped reverse.

When I finally came to my senses, gasping and pushing him away, I ended up seeing Rhodness's pale face standing below the terrace, watching us. His gleaming red pupils were coldly opposite to their color.

I escaped from drunk Novian's terrace, opened the emergency door in the second-floor corridor, and ran. Novian didn't even look down at me running across the garden. Though I couldn't muster the courage to look back, he didn't chase me and I felt no gaze, so that must have been the case.

"......"

A silence more horrific than any scream pooled in the secluded garden corner I'd run to. I too had no choice but to stand there dazedly, pooled in that silence. Outside the closed corridor where no trace of people existed. Seeing Bliea's reflection in the glass window, tears that had surged up flowed down quietly. I turned away from Bliea's crying face and collapsed sitting with my back against the corridor wall. I should have hurried to take a carriage and return, but not an ounce of strength entered my body.

"Ugh... sob..."

In a place that blocked the resentfully bright moonlight, I trembled from cold and betrayal, crying. Drip, drip. Over teardrops wetting the dry, dim floor, when an even dimmer shadow fell...

"!"

I realized that dark shadow covering my tear tracks wasn't a garden tree or such. With the feeling of my heart rolling to my feet—thud—I raised my head.

"...You seem to require assistance."

That damned man invoking assistance stood there, filling my vision. A courteous, low voice. A voice that therefore felt more arrogant. The voice that had said assistance seemed needed—the same as I'd heard in the hall—yet the man stood before me with an atmosphere far colder than before, eyes gleaming.

The Second Prince, Rhodness.

I wanted to say I needed no assistance, please just leave me alone.

Had much time passed since I'd stood abruptly to face him? When Rhodness arrogantly gestured with his hand, Neil—whose presence I hadn't even noticed—approached from behind him and handed over something.

"......"

With tears thoroughly dried up, I stared at him blankly. Rhodness, looking down at me, placed what he'd received from Neil on the ground. An action done so slowly with an expressionless face that I could only breathe minimally while watching it.

"...!"

What Rhodness placed on the ground was a very familiar shoe. Precisely, the black shoe I'd lost when I'd gone to my funeral and met this man and fled.

"You seem to require assistance."

Only then did I check my foot that had felt strangely cold. Ah, I really hate this.

"...Did I think wrongly, Countess Acacia?"

Rhodness's golden hair, head tilted slightly, sparkled as if sprinkled with gold dust, catching the backlight. A leisurely face that already knew everything—me who'd left shoes behind and fled, me who'd lied to Neil who came to the count's estate. Between the sunken eye sockets and arrogant nose tip, faint shadows repeatedly fell and vanished each time his head tilted slightly.

"Thank... thank you, Your Highness."

Though I wasn't grateful at all, I answered in a voice sunken deep. Rhodness's large hand extended abruptly before me. With a despairing heart, I accepted that assistance and quickly put on the shoes. I could no longer stand barefoot or pretend ignorance. The prince probably had no interest whatsoever in who I was at the cemetery or what lies I'd told Neil. Seeing how he didn't pursue me fleeing at the sight of him or lying to Neil. Perhaps he was a kinder person than I'd thought. Perhaps he'd just followed to deliver these shoes.

"Now..."

Having finished putting on the shoes, I tried to escape his hand, but Rhodness—as if he'd been waiting—gripped my hand tightly and pulled me toward him. His exhaled breath drew close enough to reach the crown of my head, and when I looked up at that face in surprise—

"...Don't you think it's time you introduced who you are?"

A low voice that seemed to crawl across the floor wet with my tears climbed up my body.

"!"

When he knows everything. When he knows this body is Bliea Acacia. When he knows the woman who'd fled frantically at the cemetery was me. A courteous, honeyed low voice. Conversely, his fire-like eyes holding cold ice looked down at me precisely.

"...!"

Those cold eyes from the moment he'd witnessed Novian Trovika and his mistress. Precisely those eyes. I felt tears surge—choking—at the rushing shame and humiliation.

This man saw everything.

He saw it all. From my frozen eyes and mouth, something that was neither laughter nor tears flowed out.

Who am I?

"...Novian Trovika's mistress."

In that moment, cracks began forming in the noble man's face. The impulsively spoken words became a massive fireball, burning back down my throat. What use was further lying to a man who'd witnessed everything?

"I am Novian Trovika's mistress."

And I ended up spitting that fireball at the man. The beautifully gleaming red eyes shook wildly yet couldn't tear away from me. I spat out again haphazardly, with rising anger and inexplicable excitement. In truth, it was no different from venting the fury that had been boiling since earlier on someone I kept encountering unwillingly.

"And now, I no longer wish to live as his mistress..."

Absurd shamelessness burst forth like tears gushing from my eyes.

"...Don't I seem to require assistance?"

You kept asking if I needed help. Even after seeing all my shame, you deliberately came this far to tear open my wounds. You keep trying to know my identity, keep grasping my hand. But shock lasted only a moment—the beautiful, sharp eyes curved slightly. As if smiling.

"So it seems."

I, who'd been staring as if entranced, soon had no choice but to shake off the hand this red predator still held. Because that predator spoke so well with eyes endlessly tender and sweet yet simultaneously seeming to kill me:

"I'll ask once more. So... do you require assistance?"

With an expression as if he'd immediately strangle me if I said I didn't need it.