My Beloved, Whom I Desire to Kill - 237

‘Why would he do that to me…? No, I’m just misunderstanding. It’s a meaningless action…’

As if he could read her thoughts, the man’s lips curled into a smirk, and he slowly tilted his head, just like when two people are about to kiss. He pushed her thoughts, which were determined to follow a set path, onto a different one. The fingers gripping her chin also acted as if they wouldn’t allow any room for other interpretations. The tip of his index finger, unmistakably, traced her jawline, crept up, and then burrowed under her ear to gently tickle her earlobe before sliding down her neck. She could no longer claim it was meaningless.

‘Why…? Why me…?’

Her head began to spin. She only realized she had forgotten to breathe when the man snatched away the cigarettes between them. A clear aroma cut through the hazy air and rushed into her lungs. The faint scent of mint in another person’s breath should have been overwhelmed by the cigarette and perfume smells filling the space, but it was so strong it was almost suffocating Giselle, which meant their faces were that close.

The lips that had been resting between her eyes left a trail of light kisses down the bridge of her nose, stopped at the tip, then, like a person diving off a cliff into the sea, they plunged into Giselle’s lips. Her mind went blank as if she had jumped herself, and her heart felt like it was about to burst.

—It’s a pathetic self-soothing from a starved man. But didn’t it feel like we were actually kissing?

The words he whispered with their faces at a precariously close distance echoed loudly in Giselle’s heart.

—I think that’s enough of a hint. Answer me now. Who is the woman I love?

Her widened, black pupils trembled before suddenly becoming still. At the same time, Giselle’s tightly-pressed lips parted. Edwin intended to swallow both her answer and her lips, but…

—Lorenz?

His eyes sharpened, and the hands that had been holding Giselle fell away without any strength.

Thud.

The man’s head sank to Giselle’s shoulder as if he had collapsed.

—How can you say another man’s name?

Because I thought I couldn’t distinguish him from Lorenz by his gaze anymore. Because she still couldn’t believe that Edwin Eccleston had done all those things with the underlying meaning of desiring her as a woman.

But the moment Giselle called another man’s name when it was her turn to say his, the disappointment and sense of betrayal that appeared in his eyes, which had been so clear despite their murky desires, were genuine. It wasn’t Lorenz.

—…Director?

He let out a sigh, lamenting that he disliked that name too, but it was still better than another man’s, and lifted his head.

—Why are you doing this to me?

She had asked him out of pure curiosity, without a single impure intention, but the Director looked utterly dumbfounded, as if he had just been slapped across the face.

—…This is why I need a cigarette so badly.

He picked up a dying cigarette from the ashtray and began to smoke it. The whole scene—of a man with his head in his hands, his eyes closed as if he had a headache, and the cigarette smoke puffing out of his mouth like a sigh—was foreign to Giselle.

—’Why are you doing this to me…’? This is the first time I’ve ever confessed my love to a woman, but I never imagined I’d get this kind of response.

A pained groan was mixed into his low voice, as if his head really was throbbing. He took another deep drag from the cigarette, exhaled a cloudy sigh, and put it out in the ashtray. He lifted his head and ran a hand through his hair, but it only made it messier. Another confession he made to Giselle, who was too dumbfounded to speak, made her head even messier.

—Giselle, you know what? This is a date.

—…What?

—I was shocked that a woman would go on a date without knowing it, but it’s nothing compared to the «what’s wrong with you» reaction to my confession of love.

—A date?

Perhaps because «date» was a more realistic concept than «love,» her frozen thoughts began to revolve around that word alone. Of course, it was so slow it was as if they were still stopped.

—With me?

—Who else is here besides you?

Giselle asked as if questioning the obvious, then suddenly leaned toward him, putting her face close to his, cupping her hands around her mouth, and whispering.

—Are we in the middle of an operation?

—How is this an operation in any way?

—Like, there’s a spy following you, and we’re deceiving them, or the operation has changed to where we have to pretend to be lovers, or you’re testing my loyalty…

—Giselle Bishop, what’s wrong with your head? Why is a smart girl like you talking nonsense?

—Because that makes more sense than you liking me. So… maybe your intelligence is the one that’s gone bad?

—……..

—I’m not being sarcastic; I’m genuinely worried about you. Like, maybe the bomb that went off in the river yesterday was actually a gas bomb that lowered your brain function…

—Then do you think your brain is fine right now?

—Oh, you’re right.

My brain must really be bad. I have to stop drinking. The glass of beer that was still full was a waste, but she ignored it, ordered a soda, and tried to soothe her parched throat. But her thirst wouldn’t go away because the man’s silence, as he waited for her answer, was too hot.

—You… love me… I see…

Edwin’s shoulders slumped at Giselle’s stuttering words, which broke the silence. He couldn’t expect her to be overjoyed, but he had hoped she would at least acknowledge it. But her tone was still that of someone logically analyzing a terminal illness. His worst fears were realized, and Edwin was now a terminally ill mental patient.

—But this is just me being overly cautious. Do you still go for treatment these days?

—Giselle, it’s not my head that hurts right now; it’s my heart.

She made him look like a fool on a date by himself, she didn’t believe him when he told her it was a date, and when he confessed his love, she asked if he was sick. He was prepared to be rejected by her, but he was not prepared for her to treat his love as a mental illness.

—Giselle Bishop, I never knew you could be so cruel…

—…….

—You started it.

Giselle was only giving back what she had received during a time when the person who loved and the person who was loved were the other way around.

Therefore, his one-sided love being misunderstood as fake was the price he had to pay for dismissing Giselle’s love as a moment of confusion or a stage of growth. The tears welling up in his eyes right now must be the lonely tears Giselle shed when her love wasn’t understood.

—I was wrong, Giselle. I’ve been reflecting on how I ignored and treated your love with disdain, and I haven’t stopped since. I’ll probably regret it until the day I die.

—Oh, no… wait a minute. I’m not getting revenge on you for the past. And when did you ever ignore or treat my feelings with disdain?

Giselle looked around, then lowered her voice even more, and whispered.

—You even thought about marrying me.

—That was an absurd proposal.

—…

—And after that, I said I loved you, so I guess I really am crazy.

It wasn’t unreasonable to be told to get treatment.

—You had no choice but to do that back then. I was the one who was absurd, and you were just being logical. What I’m saying now has nothing to do with that.

—Of course, it does. If I hadn’t spewed out that I would have to be crazy to see you as a woman, you would have already known my feelings before I even had to say anything.

—Well… that’s a valid point.

After the thick-colored glasses of «Edwin Eccleston cannot see Giselle Bishop as a woman» were shattered, she looked back at the past with her bare eyes, and the moments when he couldn’t hide his one-sided love for her stood out clearly. But before that, she hadn’t suspected it for even a single moment.

—Anyway, I just can’t believe it because you don’t seem like the man I know.

Giselle stared at Edwin as if he were a stranger, then bit her dry lips, hesitated, and asked.

—Are you being manipulated by Lorenz?

—I was wondering when you were going to say that.

As Edwin looked defeated, Giselle gave him an awkward smile and quickly provided a reason for her suspicion.

—Lorenz himself told me. He said that even though it takes a lot of effort, he could make you fall in love with me even if you didn’t want to.

—Lorenz told me to tell you this. That just as you said, he’s just a trivial symptom and can’t be something as grand as the cause of a mental illness like love.

The scoundrel denied the accusation by returning the words Giselle had once used to mock him. He could have shown up himself, but he made Edwin do it. He was acting like a spectator sitting in a movie theater, eating popcorn, and giving his two cents on a film. It seemed he didn’t want to step in and ruin this precious scene of Edwin getting rejected just as harshly as he had.