My Beloved, Whom I Desire to Kill - 236

—No. So you mean she’s a woman I know?

The Director let out a small burst of air. It was a little ambiguous to be a laugh, so it sounded more like a sigh.

—That’s right. She’s a woman you know well.

—I knew it.

It didn’t feel like his request for help was just a simple ask for dating advice. He was asking me to set him up with someone I know.

—So, who do you think it is?

The Director let go of his rigid posture and leaned on the bar with his arm, propping his head up with his index and middle fingers, and looked at Giselle sideways, waiting for her to come up with a theory.

—If it’s a woman we both know, she must be either in the military or an employee of the Duke’s estate…

—The military.

Was there a woman in the military that the Director had an interest in? Giselle pondered for a long time before she finally managed to come up with one name.

—Captain Heather Keegan?

—You’ve made an impure assumption, so I’ll have to keep my distance from Captain Keegan from now on.

—Then what about Sergeant Eileen Buckley?

—I’ll keep my distance from Sergeant Buckley too.

Giselle listed all the names of the female soldiers she knew in the intelligence department, but the Director’s list of «women he’ll have to keep his distance from» only got longer, and she didn’t get the right answer.

—Ah! I get it.

—….…

—She’s not a soldier, is she? Is she from the Cryptography Office?

There were a lot of civilian women there. But the Director’s expression just got more and more uninterested.

—Then is she a soldier, but not from our unit? Is it Phyllis who works at the pub?

—Who is that, now?

—Then…

From that moment on, Giselle listed the names of every unmarried female soldier she could think of, but he just shook his head, biting back a smile each time. It wasn’t long before Giselle ran out of names and started going all the way back to the training center, outside of the Army headquarters.

—Patricia Warren?

—Aw, my head…

The Director closed his eyes and groaned, rubbing his temples with his fingertips as if he had a throbbing headache.

—Give me a hint.

—You’re getting farther and farther from the answer. Look closer.

—I already said all the names of the female soldiers in our intelligence department.

—There’s still one person left.

That was true. There was one name Giselle knew but had intentionally left out.

—Then, no way…

As if he could sense she was about to say the right answer, the Director opened his eyes and lifted his head from his hand.

—Sergeant Kershaw?

—….…

—Really?

—Is Sergeant Kershaw younger than me?

It was impolite to ask a woman’s age, so it was only now that she learned her adjutant was older than the Director.

—Oh, is she? She’s good at her job, though…

—What good is that when Sergeant Major Kershaw is a married woman?

—I thought maybe it was a one-sided love.

—My God…

The Director’s head dropped down again. This time, he buried his face in his hands.

—Giselle… I think I’m going to cry.

—Is me being wrong that funny?

—It’s not funny at all, that’s why I’m crying.

He took Giselle’s hand and wiped the corner of his eyes, as if telling the person who made him cry to wipe away his tears. Although it was just a little, she could actually feel moisture on his fingertips. It was a shocking situation for Giselle in many ways.

—That’s weird. Why don’t I get it? I’m usually good at these things…

—You’re not good at this at all. I’ve been thinking about this recently, but you’re terribly clueless when it comes to relationships between men and women.

The words «clueless» struck a nerve, and her competitive spirit flared up.

—Just wait a minute.

Giselle quickly held out her palm to stop the Director, who was about to lift his head as if he were about to give her the answer.

—Who am I missing?

—Ugh… I’m practically giving you all the answers, how do you still not know?

He mumbled, burying his face in her hand, which made her palm tickle. Giselle quickly pulled her hand away and shook her head. To others, it would just look like she was saying no, not trying to get rid of a sensation.

—Ah, it’s just because I’ve been drinking. I’ll remember once I sober up.

And there’s nothing like nicotine to sober you up. Giselle rummaged through her officer’s jacket pockets and pulled out a cigarette pack and a lighter. As she put a cigarette into her mouth, a fire lit up not in her lighter, but in the eyes of the Director watching her.

Is he going to start nagging again?

Giselle replied without taking the cigarette out of her mouth.

—My lungs are perfectly fine.

—That’s not the only reason I don’t like it.

Giselle’s head tilted sideways before she could light the cigarette. The pink tip of her tongue traced the back of her white teeth, which were holding the cigarette, making it even more apparent. Why was it so provocative? As Edwin watched the saliva pooling in Giselle’s mouth, his own mouth grew dry and his throat began to burn.

Clack.

As the lighter flickered to life, her full lips pursed and wrapped around the end of the cigarette. The brown cork was stained with a bright red lipstick mark.

All year, Edwin had been tormented by a terribly childish and vulgar impulse to press his own lips to the cigarette butts he saw with her lipstick mark on them in ashtrays. At moments like this, he was forced to admit that the perverted man in his head might actually be a manifestation of his own suppressed desires, rendering all his years of denial futile.

If just the trace of her lipstick was unbearable, how could he stand it when she was holding and sucking on a cigarette right in front of him? He had to fight the urge to snatch the cigarette away and throw it, then press his lips against hers, taking advantage of her parted lips.

Would you have the name of another woman on your lips then?

Giselle put the lighter down on the bar, took the cigarette out of her mouth, and turned her head to the side to blow the smoke away before facing the Director again. He didn’t tell her the other reason he hated it; he just stared at her with eyes full of anguish.

—Giselle……

She put the cigarette back in her mouth, but the Director let out her name like a sigh and reached out. He’s trying to take my cigarette. Giselle quickly pulled her head back, turning it away to avoid him.

His empty hand, which had been left hanging in the air between them, dropped. He picked up the cigarette pack Giselle had left on the bar. She was terrified, thinking he was going to take the whole pack, but he only took one cigarette.

—You’re making me want one, too.

—You don’t even like them.

She couldn’t believe he would be tempted by seeing someone else do it.

—Making me want something I don’t even like… love is a terrible thing, isn’t it?

The Director actually put the cigarette into his mouth with a bitter smile. Giselle picked up the lighter to light it for him, but he asked a strange question.

—What do you think about the saying that lighting a cigarette off of someone else’s is the same as a kiss?

He remembered a random thing Lawrence used to say. But why did that come up in the middle of a conversation about the Director’s one-sided love?

There must have been a context. Was he testing her to see if she still had feelings for him? Or was it a warning not to set landmines in his love life by doing things with Lawrence that could be misunderstood?

Giselle took the cigarette out of her mouth and gave a blunt answer that would satisfy either interpretation.

—He must have been pretty starved to call something like that a kiss.

She put the cigarette back in her mouth and pressed the lighter’s lever. Click, click… It only made a clicking sound and didn’t light. Was it out of fluid? She was so distracted by the lighter that she didn’t realize the man sitting across from her was smiling like someone who had been stabbed in the back by a dagger but loved the one holding the dagger too much to do anything about it. She only gave a half-hearted nod to his miserable-sounding whisper.

—Love is a terrible thing.

For it to make him sympathize with a pathetic man who had to call something so insignificant a kiss. For it to make him feel jealous of a guy who could do such a repulsive thing and say such a pathetic thing, and make him desperately want to imitate him.

How low does love push a person to fall?

Clack.

Just as the lighter finally sparked to life and she went to hand it to him, a large hand abruptly reached out and grabbed Giselle’s chin. She flinched, looked up to meet his eyes, and his face leaned toward hers, stopping just as the tips of their cigarettes met.

Why is this righteous man doing something that a low-life like that would do?

She was so shocked that she gasped, and the tip of her cigarette flared up. He let out a low groan and inhaled. The tip of her cigarette, which was touching his, turned bright red.

The only thing that was rising between them was the lingering heat from the flame, yet her face flushed as if she had witnessed another kind of heat. It may have been because the man’s intense gaze, which was so clear through the hazy smoke, was too hot and intimate to be close to. It was the kind of emotion that if you asked someone who didn’t know their relationship, they would answer without hesitation, «That’s the look of a man in love with you.»

Tuk.

The lighter Giselle had dropped fell between their intertwined legs and landed on the floor.

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