My Beloved, Whom I Desire to Kill - 329

Giselle’s face flushed hot as she met the countless eyes that openly displayed everything from shock and disbelief to pure curiosity, but Edwin seemed to be enjoying the attention.

He wore his usual faint smile of composure and grave dignity as he walked toward their table, casually throwing his arm over Giselle’s shoulder.

It was an explicit display that this woman was his.

It was truly an uncharacteristic move for Edwin Eccleston. I hadn’t expected it, and for him to turn a private fantasy into reality without warning like this… Giselle had a hard time suppressing a silly, delighted laugh.

When they reached the table, Edwin unfolded her jacket and then her coat, which were hanging on the wall. Today, she didn’t refuse, confidently putting her arms into the sleeves and accepting her superior’s service in front of her colleagues.

Edwin simply draped his own jacket over his arm and led Giselle toward the door, raising a hand to the crowd in farewell.

—We’ll be taking our leave now. I’ll cover the bar tab here tonight, so enjoy yourselves to the fullest.

That was a small price to pay for permanently taking away the most beautiful woman in Army Headquarters.

Although a cold wind was blowing outside, Giselle rolled down the car window just an inch.

The usual damp night air felt light tonight. Perhaps it was because it was permeated not just by sadness, but by the tears of joy as well.

Boom!

An explosion echoed from across the street. She instinctively flinched, then gasped in admiration at the sight of fireworks blooming in the black sky outside the car window. It wouldn’t be long until the sound of expLoddyng gunpowder no longer brought back memories of shells falling toward her.

The radio also continuously spoke of the war’s end. It repeated the declaration of the armistice, as if unable to believe the reality of it. Listening to it, Giselle was suddenly reminded of the day the first war ended, and she asked the man beside her, just as she had then—no, even more confidently:

—Where are we going now?

—To our house.

Through three wars, his house had become our house.

At last, every war was over. In this land, and, so she believed, inside this man’s head as well.

It was true that the moments of love that require the rhythm of a couple’s bodies to be complete are not all about sex, but it was also true that there were few times as intense as sex.

After making passionate love for the first time in a long while, she succumbed to the afterglow of climax and the warmth of the arms wrapped around her, falling fast asleep. She regained consciousness only when she heard the sound of the piano.

She opened her eyes, and everything was pitch dark. She fumbled on the bed, but Edwin wasn’t there.

Why is he playing the piano this late at night?

It was unlike the man who strictly adhered to etiquette and rules. A sense of foreboding settled over her. Giselle slipped on some clothes and crept downstairs, muffling her footsteps.

As she entered the living room, she saw the man’s back, bathed in the pale light of the moon filtering through the blinds. A shiver ran down her spine with a wave of déjà vu—this was the man who had played the piano in the darkness of the Naias Pavilion.

It must be because he was playing the exact same piece:

The Funeral March.

A funeral march for the living—it was incredible.

He was just pretending to be dead, after all.

He must have endured and endured until Giselle looked for him, but after completing the —Lover’s Waltz— with Edwin, he couldn’t stand it and crawled out. Now, would he scold Edwin for stealing his memories with Giselle, and then threaten to cut off his fingers so he couldn’t do it a second time?

If she ever met him again, she had only wanted to clear up the misunderstanding. Perhaps she might have had a heart-to-heart conversation and given him another chance, figuring she’d be fooled one more time.

But she was sick of indulging his childish tantrums. It would be right to ignore him and go back upstairs, but she couldn’t, for fear that a neighbor might complain.

—Lorenz.

Giselle finally spoke the name she had been so hesitant to use. He didn’t turn around.

—Lorenz.

She called again, feigning persistence, but he still didn’t look back at Giselle. No, he seemed utterly unaware that Giselle was even in the same room. It was as if they were separated by an invisible dimensional wall.

Lorenz was completely alone.

A solitary figure who had to play his own funeral march because there was no one to mourn his death and comfort his soul.

Her body began to tremble. Though she wasn’t lying naked on the piano now, the sorrow Lorenz conveyed through the voice gained at the cost of a tree’s life shook Giselle entirely.

Only then did she accept Lorenz’s death with her whole body.

Waking from the dream, Giselle could not fall back asleep. She stared blankly for a long time at the familiar silhouette of the man crafted from darkness.

Why don’t you appear?

Because the Lorenz you knew is dead. No, because Lorenz is dead.

The dream was a fabrication of Giselle’s consciousness. The dream had exposed that, deep down, she had continuously thought that Lorenz might appear ever since completing the —Lover’s Waltz.

Fear? Could it be anticipation? Or perhaps, she hadn’t yet shaken off the habit ingrained in her consciousness, devoid of any real emotion.

The answer became clear not long after. It was the same feeling she experienced when she carefully stretched her leg, trying not to wake the dog sleeping at her feet, and then realized that the dog was already dead.

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Loddy didn’t make it through the year and also passed away.

Every day, I thought, no, I was mistaken, that even though he was moving toward death, it wouldn’t be today.

Even on the days Loddy whimpered in pain.

We’d take him to the vet, give him painkillers, come home, and coax the dog, who had no appetite, to eat a few spoonfuls of porridge. It was a frequent occurrence around that time. Thus, it became Giselle’s deepest regret that she had never doubted he would get better, as usual.

Perhaps because of the pain, the dog had kept his distance from people, but that night, he walked on his own skinny legs and nestled into Giselle’s arms. I meant to stay awake and watch him all night, but holding him, I dozed off.

When Giselle opened her eyes again, Loddy wasn’t breathing. The only warm spot was the area pressed against her, and his body was ice cold.

Why did I fall asleep?

As she poured out her regret through tears, she finally asked the dog who had already left the question she hadn’t dared to ask earlier, insistent that today wouldn’t be the last.

Was I a good owner to you?

You were a good dog.

He never listened to her, but he loved her unconditionally. Even though she was a human who had done wicked things to dogs.

If Loddy hadn’t been here, could I have understood my sin, shed my guilt, and moved forward as I have?

The dog, who had given Giselle the chance to atone during her life, chose without hesitation the arms of his sin-ridden owner as the place to take his last breath. He saved her generously, even in his final moment, and then departed.

Loddy was Giselle’s atonement and her salvation.

Even if that weren’t the case, every dog is a good dog.

She buried him in the magnolia terrace backyard flowerbed that Loddy so often dug up. Only when he was no longer in her arms and out of sight did the reality that the dog was truly dead start to sink in.

—Go well. Thank you, Loddy.

She finally uttered the words she had desperately not wanted to say, accompanied by her weeping.

—Thank you…

The nameless gratitude was for the man who had gifted her Loddy. This, too, was belated.

She realized only now that she had never once thanked Lorenz for the dog. That was because she hadn’t viewed it as a gift. At the time, she only saw the aggressive and rude delivery, not the hidden meaning. She had concluded it was torment, not help.

That was only the beginning. Giselle had interpreted all of Lorenz’s actions negatively. Even his attempts to earn her love.

She constantly suspected that a dark, malicious intent to hurt her was hidden beneath the surface of anything he did for her.

Even in the moment he saved Giselle’s life. Though she survived thanks to him rushing her to the hospital, she remained distrustful rather than grateful.

That guy has no idea what he’s doing. Does he even know where he’s going? He’s trying to kill me.

When she was scared, she held his hand, then misunderstood that he was trying to drop her and let go. She planned to tell him to disappear and give Edwin back, but immediately changed her mind and thanked him once they landed safely.

Looking at my own actions, perhaps I was the untrustworthy human.

On the other hand, did Lorenz try to prove his change through actions rather than confessing his sins verbally? Looking back, he did prove it.

Lorenz was the man who atoned but was ultimately not saved.

And just like that, another regret was added to the list.

No. In the end, he reverted to his original manipulative self, didn’t he?

Didn’t he admit that he plotted to use her brother to divide Giselle and Edwin to save himself, and then, after being caught, apologized for blackmailing Giselle by holding Edwin hostage again?