Chapter 45

“I’m still inside that woman. Please save me.”

The wind spirit whispered, its transparent, pale green form flickering behind the patterns of the wall. Linus propped his chin on his hand, replaying the spirit’s words.

“If she weakens even just a little, I can ‘return.’ Help me, Linus.”
“That woman will try to kill you, Linus.”
“She thinks killing you is the only way to be free.”
“Don’t miss the moment when she tries to kill you.”
“Pretend to be caught. Pretend to be weak.”

Despite hearing these words from the woman he loved, Linus felt no change in his heart. He closed his eyes. The wind spirit couldn’t mimic Florence’s voice—the one he had loved, her breathing, her eyes.

“When you call me, I will hear your voice no matter what.”
“Then I can take back my body.”
“I will survive. I’ll wait for you.”

Linus longed for something tangible in his hands. He wanted to hold the person he loved, breathe in her scent, and feel the overwhelming satisfaction of possessing the only one in the world.

“Florence”—the last image of her came to him easily.

The body he had loved was now filthy and wretched. A skin-and-bones figure that couldn’t walk alone, crawling across the dirt. It was pitiful, a sight that would normally make anyone cringe.

But Linus still found it endearing.
He pitied her. He wanted to clean her up, feed her, make her comfortable. Even though touching something dirty was awful, he would do it for her. Nothing about Florence was ever filthy to him.

Linus loved Jang Hyunji—still loved her. He thought he couldn’t live without her. The reality of her leaving him felt unbelievable. But as long as her body lived, there were always chances to reclaim what was lost.

“Linus, this is the last time.”
“She’s no longer our contractor. Responding was the last act of loyalty.”

Linus scoffed.

“Even spirits have loyalty?”

The light spirit, with its noble demeanor, looked down on him.

“I won’t have to deal with your insolent words anymore.”

The wind spirit pleaded.

“Save Florence. You can’t let her lose her body.”

“Does Florence seem healthy to you?”

“No, she couldn’t even walk on her own.”
“She hasn’t smiled once. She was frail.”

A shadow crossed Linus’s face.

“Who was she with?”

“A man, and a child.”

“The man was a magician.”

“The young girl didn’t have a left arm.”

“You know her well.”

“I cut it off.”

Linus let out a small, bitter laugh. The curse Laila had placed on him still lingered in his body. Each time he tried to draw strength, his heart seemed ready to tear apart. The magician’s tricks had cost him dearly, and despite his bloodshot eyes, he had lost track of the woman he loved.

“If you steal my treasure, you should at least take care of it—feed it well, make it comfortable. Not letting anyone near her was the only thing Linus could do.”

The man who interfered, stealing his treasure, would pay the price. Linus would make him crawl on the ground, cutting off the remaining arm and legs, watching him die slowly.

“Where is she?”

“Redamas.”

“I’d show you, but we need to go back now.”

“Florence, you tried to come back to me.”

Linus smiled in satisfaction. He believed Florence, at the core, wanted to return to him. As the wind and light spirits slowly faded into the air, Linus didn’t care. Florence was everything to him.

“You want to kill me?”

There was no way Florence could ever do that. Unlike Jang Hyunji, Florence didn’t have a high spirit to rely on and couldn’t use magic.

“If she tries to kill me, just like Hyunji said, it will be a good thing.”
“She’ll come back to me, and there’s no reason to stop her.”

Linus’s mind was filled with the thought of Florence. Her leaving didn’t break him—it was the thought of her turning against him, her fear-filled face, the twisted expression she had when she tried to escape that haunted him.

It felt like a thorn piercing his heart.

But Florence, too, was coming back to him.

She was thinking of him, her mind filled with him. Even if it was out of malice, Linus found satisfaction in knowing she was still his.

“I’ll have the perfect Florence.”
“Even if she’s not perfect, she will always be loved by me.”

“Hurry and come back to me, Florence, my one and only flower.”

Enoch hadn’t always loved Florence.

“Far from love, Enoch actually thought Florence was pathetic for a long time.”

She repeatedly tortured herself while still deluding herself into thinking she was clever, which made it hard for Enoch not to see her as pathetic.

“Self-torture. Florence’s unrequited love was nothing short of self-torture.”

What if she were completely dumb? If she were too ignorant to even question whether it was possible or not, it might have been easier for her. But unfortunately, Florence was more cunning than pure, and she was greedy. She always wanted more than others, but ended up with nothing, only digging into her own heart with empty hands.

“She clung to her relatives and fiancé, begging for love, yet neglected herself while she was hurting.”

Watching Florence made Enoch’s chest tighten.

“Why can’t you just act smarter?”

How could someone love like this, so miserably and persistently?

At that time, Enoch was just a child who had lost his parents not long ago. Twelve years old was an awkward age—not quite an adult, but not ignorant either. Especially, Enoch had always been quick-witted. He quickly understood and accepted his parents’ death and absence.

“It wasn’t that he wasn’t sad, but the people who wouldn’t return were gone forever.”
“Sadness was his alone, and the rest of his life was his alone as well.”

Why couldn’t Florence give up on someone who didn’t care for her? Even though it must have hurt, why did she persist, neglecting her own wounds?

“It was remarkable how she clung to people who gave her no hope, not even once showing any possibility of reciprocation.”

For a moment, Enoch wondered if Florence only liked people who didn’t like her. But that thought vanished immediately. If that were the case, she wouldn’t have been hurt so much. She wouldn’t cry each time.

“No matter how much I tell you to give up, you never listen. It’s frustrating.”

Inside the Seymour estate, there was nothing Enoch could do for Florence.

Though he lived in the Seymour mansion and received the Duke’s support, Enoch was still an outsider. More accurately, he was in no better position than the servants working in the house.

“Love must overflow from within to reach others.”
“Seymour’s kindness towards Enoch was proof that he was a good man, but if it weren’t for Florence, he would have been perfect.”

As Enoch watched Florence’s struggles, he became deeply perplexed.

“Why was it that mercy flowed to strangers, but not to her?”

Florence hated Enoch with all her heart.

When the Duke of Seymour expressed concern for Enoch, praised him, or spoke of him with pride like his own son, Florence would glare at him as if she could barely bear it. And when their eyes met, she would bite her lip in frustration. Enoch, though, never cared for the Duke’s attention.

“Even though the Duke was a guardian, Enoch never felt any personal affection for him.”

Enoch had been promised protection and support until he became an adult, after which he was expected to work for the Seymour family. He had actually worked for the Duke right up until he was driven out by Linus.

“He never forgot his own status, though. He wasn’t naive enough to forget the gap between him and others.”

No matter how proud the Duke was of him, how friendly Blake was like a real brother, or how Grace teased him, Enoch always kept a certain distance. It was hard to not when seeing how they treated Florence.