My Beloved, Whom I Desire to Kill - 328

—How about staying home, spending time with Loddy, and preparing for the bar exam?

It wasn’t the tired old suggestion to focus on wedding preparations, which most men would have made, so it was worth listening to seriously.

—I think I’ll take a little more time to decide what to do next.

—You have plenty of time, so take it slow. But, stay at home.

—Oh, goodness… I wonder if I inherited that stubbornness.

While the two were bickering and planning their future, the musician sitting at the piano was replaced by an Intelligence Bureau officer. A sense of foreboding hung in the air that the tradition—which began after the Wilmers Bay Victory Celebration—was about to repeat itself, and Giselle’s cheeks, the originator of the tradition, began to burn scarlet.

As the melody, which had embarrassed Edwin from the start, began to fill the pub, Intelligence Bureau officers cheered and roared the lyrics at the top of their lungs:

—…She wrapped her arms around Colonel Eccleston’s neck and softly whispered in his ear! ‘Please give me a goodnight kiss, Colonel!’

—That’s the part you should be singing. Why are you keeping your mouth shut?

Giselle still kept her lips tightly sealed, giving him a side-eye.

—I’ve given up on begging for a kiss that won’t be given.

Despite having undergone intense rehabilitation training and now walking as she did before, Edwin still avoided kissing her. At this point, Giselle had even stopped wondering what the real reason was.

—Actually, I decided to aim for a world record: the world’s first couple to get married, have children, and even have their children marry and have children, all without ever sharing a kiss. How about that?

It was Giselle’s own announcement that she wouldn’t try anymore. She was subtly tense, even hopeful, that her provocation might spur the man to finally cover her lips, but naturally, nothing of the sort happened.

—The challenging spirit is admirable.

Edwin just laughed as if the plan to make children without kissing was amusing, leaning back loosely and simply sipping his beer.

—Giselle! How about a song from you?

When the song ended, the musician stood up and gestured for Giselle to come over. His motive was transparent: to pull her away from the table Edwin was guarding.

If she went, a swarm of dark-hearted men would gather around Giselle like ants to a piece of candy dropped on the floor. She could already picture the scene: men begging her for a dance, clinging to her as she tried to return to Edwin after the performance.

Giselle knew this, too, and waved her hands dismissively. In response, officers from the Intelligence Bureau and men from other units began to chant her name.

—Giselle! Bishop! Giselle! Bishop!

How do the guys from other units even know Giselle’s name? My name is famous, so why hasn’t the fact that I’m her lover spread?

This was the first time in Edwin’s career as an officer that he was disappointed in his trustworthy subordinates.

—Giselle! Bishop! Giselle! Bishop! Giselle! Bishop!

Whether it was love that made a person crazy, or whether he was possessed by the twisted possessiveness of a madman, it irritated him that they were calling out a name he had created—a name not meant for other men’s pleasure—so carelessly. When Giselle finally yielded to the calls and stood up, he could no longer tolerate it.

Edwin stood up too. He removed the jacket he had worn so correctly, loosened the knot of his tie, and asked everyone:

—I’d like to play a song, too. Does anyone object?

The rowdy crowd instantly quieted down as if splashed with cold water. A few young faces, whose drunken state hadn’t completely paralyzed their reason, couldn’t hide their expressions of ‘Why now, of all times?’ were scattered about, but most managed an awkward smile and shouted:

—No, sir!

Of course, he had asked because he knew no one would object. Edwin, in turn, had become the old fox he had despised in his days as a junior officer.

In fact, the most dark-hearted man here might be Edwin Eccleston himself.

His Intelligence Bureau subordinates began to chant his name, sensing his intention, but the private passion felt when calling the beautiful woman’s name was absent. It would, in fact, be awkward if it were present.

Edwin took Giselle, who was trying to return to her seat, presumably understanding that he would play in her stead, and sat down at the piano with her. As he rolled up his shirt sleeves, she stared at him intently, waiting for him to tell her the piece.

The only piece they would play side-by-side was a piano piece for four hands. There were only a few options, so had she genuinely not guessed the answer?

—The Lover’s Waltz.

As he placed his hands on the keyboard and spoke the title, her eyes widened, lifting her eyelashes. Soon, her eyes crinkled downward.

Her lips tried to follow, but she bit down on them, leaving a mark on the lipstick she had desperately tried to keep from smudging despite guzzling so much alcohol, suppressing a smile. Instead of her lips, her cheeks flushed red.

—Here? I don’t even remember the sheet music.

—Just follow me. You’ll remember.

She had never gone wrong following this man. Giselle nodded and placed her hands next to his. She wondered if Edwin’s memory was so good that he still knew the score, or if he had secretly memorized it in advance for this very night, but there was no opportunity to ask.

His eloquent fingers pressed the keys. The Lover’s Waltz had taken its first step.

At first, Giselle made many mistakes due to fumbling. Yet, even after the next few bars started coming back to her, they kept hitting the wrong keys—even Edwin. This was because the players were looking only at each other’s faces rather than the instrument.

The rhythm was fine, but the pitch was constantly off. Although this was a performance they wouldn’t want anyone to hear, countless ears were listening, yet Giselle felt nothing but pure enjoyment, not embarrassment.

The two pairs of hands chased and were chased, tumbling over one another. They exchanged places, intentionally brushing hands in passing, followed by a knowing smile and eyes that promised, ‘Just wait until we’re alone.’ It was less of a performance and more a secret game just for lovers.

Listening to the melody they created together, Giselle forgot the disappointment she’d felt over the man withholding kisses and sex.

The moments of love that require the rhythm of a couple’s bodies to be complete aren’t limited to kisses and sex.

Whether it’s playing the piano disastrously, dancing until the dance hall closes, bickering by day and tumbling in bed by night, or even facing a mortal crisis—

It’s the simple act of being together while doing anything. That is what being lovers truly meant.

The few who recognized the piece noticed the intimate connection between the musicians and stared only at the two of them. Those who didn’t like the stuffy selection were distracted, or the lucky men who had secured a partner enjoyed the luxury of a romantic waltz, following the cheerful rhythm.

The song reached its climax. And so, toward the final bar.

A kiss.

Giselle guessed that Edwin would leave the Lover’s Waltz unfinished this time, too. She didn’t think he would continue his recent stubborn refusal.

Hadn’t he suffered agony after saying —I love you— in front of his subordinates because of Lorenz?

Lorenz must have suffered, too.

Giselle squeezed her eyes shut to shake off the thought that pierced her softened heart like an ice pick, and returned to her original contemplation.

In any case, Edwin was not the kind of man to kiss in a workplace where his subordinates were watching.

Not all dances must end with a kiss to be enjoyable. Satisfied, with her heart swelling fit to burst from their passionate collaboration, Giselle pushed the final note and stopped her fingers without regret.

She smiled sweetly at the man whose hands were already off the keyboard. Edwin’s lips curved in return, but for some reason, he looked a little stiff and shy, as if he were nervous. A sense of déjà vu suddenly struck her.

She realized when she saw that smile—and when his hand cupped her quizzically tilted head, his fingers tracing through her hair—when she had seen it before.

It was before their first kiss.

As Colonel Eccleston lowered his head toward the most beautiful woman in Army Headquarters, the hall was engulfed in a stunned silence.

Then, as Lieutenant Bishop, far from avoiding him, subtly parted her lips as if it were a familiar routine, and the two lips finally met and consumed each other, a collective gasp burst from all sides, echoing throughout the hall.

—Pfft…

Giselle couldn’t hold back a laugh, causing them to break apart immediately after meeting. Even in that brief contact, her lipstick had transferred, staining his lips in a clear arc. The eyes behind the solemn Colonel’s mask revealed the pure joy of a man in love.

How much he must have wanted to boast that this person was his lover.

The feeling was mutual for Giselle. Cupping Edwin’s cheeks, she initiated a light, quick kiss this time.

It felt good when you did it. The aftermath was always the problem.

She lingered, unnecessarily, even after wiping the lipstick from his lips with her thumb, but Edwin was the first to stand up, wrapping his arm around her waist. Giselle had no choice but to stand with him.