Chapter 50
“Here we are.”
Enoch stepped in first and opened the door. A wave of stale indoor air brushed past my nose.
I hesitated at the doorway, reluctant to enter. Meanwhile, Enoch strode inside and flung open the large windows, trying to air out the room. Though it was spotless with no sign of dust, he frowned in dissatisfaction.
‘Well, with that temperament, what could ever be good enough for him…’
When I was younger, I couldn’t stand that about him—how he seemed ungrateful despite having so much. I didn’t know back then that he was just a perfectionist—strict with himself and others—and that he never forced his standards onto anyone.
“Use whatever’s stocked here. If you need anything, just let me know.”
“So generous with your time?”
“I’ve got plenty of time.”
Enoch answered brazenly with his chin raised, though he never stopped moving. He opened drawers and checked their contents—anyone would think he was inspecting a room for dust. I walked in, feeling less tense now that he wasn’t paying me much attention.
Though it had been cleaned, a fine layer of dust had settled. Perhaps this room was meant for guests. The white sheets, blanket, and pillow looked untouched, and the candlestick on the bedside table was brand-new.
“Guest room?”
“…Technically, yes. But no one’s used it yet.”
“Why not? You’re supposedly doing well.”
“Who said that?”
“Keith did earlier.”
Though his words had been vague—praise or sarcasm—I remembered the pride in Keith’s purple eyes when he spoke of the Heins Firm. He’d said they weren’t at the top yet, but within ten years, they’d be known across the continent.
“I thought Keith was just drifting through life… but it turns out he really loves and respects Enoch.”
“We are doing well. It’s hard to believe it’s only been five years, considering what we’ve accomplished.”
Hearing that from his own mouth… Neither Enoch nor Keith had ever been close to humility.
“I spend maybe a month a year in the Yulia Kingdom. You’re lucky I’m even here now.”
“If you’re doing that well, surely clients might want to stay over…”
He had friends too—unlike me. But Enoch cut me off immediately.
“Feels icky.”
“…”
“There are better inns nearby. No need to house anyone here.”
“And your servants?”
“They have separate lodging too.”
He shrugged. For someone who barely stayed here, it was strange how he still saw this place as “home.”
“There’s my bedroom and study in the annex, and Keith’s room. This is the only guest room, and it’s rarely used, so make yourself comfortable.”
“Can I take off the disguise?”
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“Your leg isn’t fully healed. Someone might come and go for errands.”
“I don’t mind—”
“There will never be a day when I don’t worry about you.”
Before I could finish, his firm reply cut me off. I nodded and sat on a wooden armchair. Enoch continued:
“I’ll have new clothes prepared. They’ll be off-the-rack, is that okay?”
“Obviously, I’m not picky.”
I looked down at my worn dress. Keith had bought several for me, expecting we’d be at the inn longer. They were clean but rough and plain—mostly earthy or faded beige colors that hid stains well.
Much better than the rags I wore in the slums, so I was content. Complaining about ready-made clothes now would’ve been ridiculous.
“I’ll get your size.”
“I already know.”
“…How?”
His casual answer made me think it was normal for him to know my size. I stared at him, shocked, but Enoch was unfazed.
“You can tell just by looking.”
“Pervert.”
“Good eyesight.”
Even my glare didn’t shake him. Keith would’ve protested with tears by now—but not this guy. He’d always been like this. I wanted to argue, but I owed him too much to start a fight.
“I’ll prepare a bath too. Might take a while to heat water.”
“Don’t bother. I’m fine.”
“Don’t act timid—it doesn’t suit you, Florence.”
He crossed his arms and gave me a sharp look. Just when I let it go, he started picking a fight again.
“Since you’ve decided to use my help, don’t hold back. Don’t hesitate or refuse anything. Everything’s prepped for easy use—just treat it like it’s yours.”
Even without seeing my face, I knew it must’ve looked twisted.
What kind of person proudly tells someone to use them—“rip me off”—with such arrogance?
I couldn’t help but laugh. Sure, I had asked him to kill Linus. I knew what risks he was taking. But still, this was another level of shameless.
“You’re the one who asked me.”
“…”
“I said I’d do anything.”
“You did but…”
“Can’t you see how happy I am that you asked me for help?”
No. I couldn’t.
“Why would that make you happy?”
“You never asked me for anything before, no matter how many times I begged. But this time… you finally did, Florence.”
“That’s because we weren’t close enough for that.”
“We were close. While you were busy hating me, I was just waiting for you to notice me.”
“…So you’re happy I asked you to throw your whole life into a fire?”
“Yes, I’m happy. So stop holding back and just ask.”
After all my efforts to be mindful, he flips it on me. What kind of arrogant confession is that?
“Fine. I want a bath. With hot water.”
“Okay.”
“Even if the clothes are ready-made, I don’t want them rough on the skin.”
“Got it.”
“I’m hungry. Something light. Not greasy or too rich.”
“Dessert too?”
“Obviously.”
“There we go. That’s better.”
Then Enoch smiled—brightly. I’d been teasing him, but he looked like someone who’d just stumbled upon a gold nugget. I froze.
Enoch Heins, smiling like that… with no shadows at all…
It gave me goosebumps. Worse than when he said he knew my size. I darted back from him.
“Who are you?”
“…”
“Where’s the real Enoch Heins?! Wait, don’t tell me you’re also…”
His relaxed smile turned stiff. That was the face I remembered—tight-lipped, furrowed brow, slightly annoyed.
“…Rest. And quit spouting nonsense.”
Guess it really was the real Enoch.
As I stared at the closed door he’d exited through, I couldn’t help but laugh faintly.
We’re different… but somehow, we’re the same.
