My Beloved, Whom I Desire to Kill - 326

The infection was clearly just an excuse, a punishment for not obeying him.

—Duke, I apologize for the interruption, but are you here?

As she waited and continued reading her letter, Mr. Loise knocked on the living room door. Giselle had been staying at Edwin’s townhouse, which had an elevator, ever since she was discharged from Kingsbridge University Hospital.

—No, he’s in the bedroom. He went to fetch his coat.

She didn’t need to specify whose bedroom. Edwin had, quite naturally, unpacked her belongings in his room, and Giselle, equally nonchalantly, hadn’t raised any objections. So they had been sharing the same bedroom since the very first night.

—Thank you. I apologize for disturbing your rest.

Mr. Loise’s greeting was as courteous as if he were addressing the Duke himself. He had always been respectful toward Giselle before, but never elevated her as if she were his superior. That had changed since she started staying here.

They weren’t even married yet, but the employees here treated Giselle like the Duchess, as she slept in the Duke’s bed at night and wore his engagement ring during the day. It wasn’t so awkward with strangers, but when people she knew behaved this way, it almost made her laugh.

I just have to think of it as a dress rehearsal for the future, I suppose.

Since the wedding was decided to be held at Templeton Manor, they would be returning there by next spring at the latest.

What kind of expression will Mrs. Sanders have when she realizes I am the Duke’s fiancée?

In truth, she didn’t need to care how people misunderstood their connection. They would be meeting as employer and employee, not as houseguest and head of staff. Still, she was curious about the reaction.

It wasn’t that she held a grudge against Mrs. Sanders and wanted to gloat over a shocked face. It was just that all the reactions she had encountered so far, while appreciated, had been rather dull.

Those who knew the two men’s hidden past seemed to welcome the news as if everything had finally fallen into place. Mr. Loise’s completely relieved smile—devoid of any worry—when he presented Giselle with a bouquet in the hospital room to congratulate her on the engagement, was quite striking.

Perhaps it was because Edwin’s other personality had died.

The man who had finished preparing for the outing returned. Mr. Loise was gone, perhaps because his business was brief. Edwin hadn’t brought anyone to attend to her, so everything she needed to wear—her shoes and coat—was in his hands.

He knelt before her and helped her put on her shoes first.

She had needed help back when her injured leg was completely unusable, but now she could manage this much as easily as before she was hurt. Yet, Edwin still insisted on waiting on Giselle.

Perhaps it was a kind of ritual for him.

He tied the shoelaces tightly before she began practicing walking alone again, as if giving her the strength to take the steps ahead.

Next, it was time to get up and put on her coat. Giselle first folded Patricia’s letter and placed it on the side table, then asked:

—Do you want to come for a walk, too?

She spoke to the dog curled up in a sunny corner of the sofa.

The dog, Loddy, who usually bounded with excitement at the mere mention of a walk, only stared at Giselle. Loddy had been sleeping much more and eating less over the last month.

Giselle knew well, as she had never been without a dog growing up. The time for goodbye was approaching.

Separation is not a matter of the mind, so it never gets easier, no matter how many times you face it. Death is a scheduled event, but whenever it arrives, it feels too soon.

This led her to all sorts of thoughts. Did he start losing his vitality because I was absent while hospitalized? What did I do wrong that keeps you from living longer?

She even had the thought that it was wrong to name him using Lorenz’s nickname. It was as if he was trying to follow the owner of his name. As if that name had been fated to run out of life this year.

Giselle stroked Loddy’s head and back for a long moment and then stood up. Holding Edwin’s hand, her steps felt heavy.

If she couldn’t avoid separation, she would avoid regret. She had always believed that after death, the chance to make up for regrets never came. Lately, though, a fundamental doubt arose: could one truly avoid regret through effort?

Because death, though scheduled, gives no warning when it strikes.

I didn’t know you would just leave like that.

The Lorenz she knew would have bragged about saving Giselle, pestered her until he got a compliment like, «Lorenz, it was all you,» and perhaps even used it as leverage to demand that she keep him alive. That Lorenz was dead.

She never doubted that his death would be a murder. Lorenz willingly throwing away the life he clung to so tenaciously was outside even Giselle’s wildest imagination.

Would the shock have been less if I hadn’t been the catalyst for his suicide?

The kiss. And then…

—I love you, Edwin……

She had, in effect, killed the man who saved her, but she swore she hadn’t deliberately pushed him to die.

Perhaps bothered by the words she couldn’t say that day, Giselle had apparently been unconsciously muttering what she wanted to tell the two men throughout her recovery from the anesthesia.

 Then, when she regained consciousness once more and felt a hand placing the necklace around her neck, she mistook it for Edwin.

Lorenz, I truly didn’t know it was you. I absolutely did not do that intentionally to make you want to die.

She wanted to explain, but there was no chance. Giselle had tried hard not to hurt him, yet a momentary mistake left her with a regret she would carry for a lifetime.

—Actually, there is one thing I wish for: that you may be eternally free from the pain I caused you.

Didn’t you secretly wish for the opposite?

Giselle had actually heard the confession Lorenz delivered before he died. At the time, she thought it was just a strange dream—words she never expected to hear from Lorenz.

Even believing it to be a fabrication, she felt a sense of relief, as if she had finally emerged from a long tunnel. Our relationship is now free from the bondage of the past and can go anywhere. But that wasn’t the entirety of her feeling.

Where should our relationship go now?

She had wanted Lorenz’s repentance and apology, but she had always thought that if it actually happened, it would put her in an awkward position.

Should I forgive him? If he begged for a chance, should I give him one?

The obligation always belongs to the one holding the knife, and the responsibility to the one who sets the path. He must have been plagued by an unanswerable dilemma before making an irreversible decision.

But by cutting off the source of that dilemma—himself—he liberated Giselle from the obligation.

It ought to be a thankful thing, but it didn’t feel that way at all. She only felt a sense of betrayal.

If Lorenz choosing the path of ease—by accepting that some wrongs are irreversible and that he couldn’t change—was an act of betrayal, then what, exactly, would have been an act of fidelity?

The path of ease. That must be the problem.

Why am I not at ease?

She hadn’t felt this way, even during the time she fiercely fought with Lorenz. She had ridiculed, cursed, and hurled insults. Wouldn’t it be natural to feel relieved after pouring out everything inside her, without control or guilt?

Now she had nowhere to pour it out, yet the emotions labeled «Lorenz» were ceaselessly born and only grew with each passing day.

You’re happy now that you’re the only one at ease?

She asked with her eyes, aiming the question at the man who was no longer behind those deep blue irises.

Since he’s dead, he must not feel anything, right? If he’s really dead.

You’re deliberately doing this to make me uneasy, aren’t you?

In fact, she still couldn’t truly believe that he was dead. Even though Edwin insisted it was true.

But she kept denying it. She told herself it was just another trick by that schemer. That he was sulking because she called him Edwin again, that his confession was merely a plea to be held onto, and that he was feigning death, lurking inside, silently waiting like a seasoned hunter for Giselle to break down.

How long are you going to keep up this childish act? I dare you to see what you want. I dare you to see me call your name again.

Giselle knew that she was the one being childishly stubborn, but she couldn’t stop.

She couldn’t forgive the reality that he was free while she was still not.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

At least Edwin seemed free, which was a relief. And that, too, was proof that Lorenz was dead.

Now, he could sleep soundly in the same bed as Giselle without needing handcuffs or restraints.

Edwin, having changed into his pajamas, came and sat down on his side of the bed. He turned off the lamp on the side table and slipped under the covers where Giselle was lying. In the darkness, he found her forehead without an ounce of hesitation and kissed it.

—Sleep well.

As if the goodnight was a signal, Giselle lifted her head, and Edwin slid his arm beneath her. Pulling her shoulder close to embrace her, he carefully wrapped and intertwined his legs below her waist, making sure not to touch Giselle’s aching thigh or Loddy, who was sleeping at her feet.

No words were needed during this time. Everything that happened in the bedroom was now familiar to their bodies.

Yet, it seemed the day would never come when she would become familiar with his senses, too.