Chapter 47:
“Is that important?”
Layla stared at him, taken aback by his sudden question.
“As I’ve said before, your opinion matters most to me.”
“Didn’t you only say that back then because I was crying?”
“Do I have to make you cry again for you to be honest with me?”
At Rainier’s retort, Layla wondered if it was really okay to speak frankly, and she studied him intently.
Every time she looked at him, his perfect, well-balanced face made it hard to look away. She thought that if Sonet had looked like this, maybe—even if he were still a regretful male lead—she might have tried harder not to lose him to Siever.
Still, she chided herself that good looks were useless.
She didn’t want to be hurt that way ever again.
“A trustworthy business partner.”
“And?”
“And what more do you need?”
“Yes, I need more than that.”
Looking into his serious eyes, she was sure now—he had lied about drinking.
When he came close enough for their breaths to mingle, there was no trace of alcohol on him. He smelled instead like fabric dried in the sun—clean and pleasant.
“There’s nothing more than that.”
“For now, I suppose.”
“Yes, for now.”
With that, she turned away. She began her inspection from the third floor down, memorizing everything perfectly all the way to the first floor.
“This is the person.”
Layla looked at the stand-in Rainier had brought—a man with black hair and red eyes.
“His eye color is way off. That’s pink. And why does the hair look so unnatural?”
“The hair is a wig, and the eyes have scales inserted.”
“You put scales in them?”
“Yes. Look here.”
Rainier pulled down the skin below the man’s eye, watching Layla’s expression.
“Oh, how interesting. But it should be red, not pink. This is way too pink.”
At her comment, Rainier gave a short laugh. She hated pink, yet her own hair was the color of cherry blossoms. Whenever she moved, it was like a pink peony swaying gently in the breeze.
“Why are you laughing?”
“You’re beautiful. That’s why I laughed. Should I cry instead?”
“Can you?”
“It’s just an expression. If I cry, will you grant me a wish?”
“No. I’m saying don’t cry.”
Layla didn’t want him taking anything from her—she already had something she needed to take from him.
“What’s his name?”
“Bill.”
“William?”
“Yes.”
Since Bill was a common nickname for William, Layla understood immediately.
“What was Bill’s original occupation?”
William glanced at Rainier, unsure if he could answer honestly. Rainier sighed and replied for him.
“He’s my bodyguard.”
“A bodyguard for a doctor who works for a living?”
“I can’t afford to get hurt.”
Layla laughed at that. Rainier was a whole hand taller than the bodyguard, broader in the shoulders, and his arms were thick with muscle.
In terms of sheer muscle mass they might be similar, but his chest was more developed, his frame larger when viewed from the side.
“I think you could afford to get hurt a little.”
When she looked him over and said that, Rainier smiled.
William stared at him in disbelief, as though it were the first time he’d ever seen him smile.
“If I get hurt, will you treat me?”
“I’m not a doctor. Rain is.”
She stated firmly, then looked back to William.
William felt cold sweat forming from this bizarre situation.
He couldn’t understand why his lord had disguised himself to infiltrate Count Abierre’s estate—or why he had become a doctor of all things.
Rainier’s specialty was the sword, not medicine.
And in front of him stood Layla Abierre, famous for her pink hair.
When his mind wandered over Rainier’s odd behavior, his gaze would inevitably be drawn to Layla’s friendly expression and beautiful blue eyes.
She looked like a fairy out of a divine tale, or like a pink peony brought to life—beautiful as a watercolor painting. He couldn’t help but keep looking.
Her beauty made him think that perhaps the rumors about her had been exaggerated.
When their eyes met, Layla gave him a reflexive smile, and he clenched his fists in response.
“Oh, sorry. Did I make you uncomfortable?”
“Not at all!”
Layla stepped back, thinking she’d gotten too close without realizing. Rainier, meanwhile, was smiling again.
William, seeing that odd smile, quickly added, “Please, don’t get too close. I’m a knight… I sweat a lot.”
“Hmm? Oh… okay. But I don’t notice any sweat smell. Don’t worry.”
Layla gave a bright smile and stepped away, her scent—freesia mixed with sweet peach blossom—making William nod absentmindedly.
“What exactly am I supposed to do?”
Unable to bear it any longer, he looked toward Rainier. He knew it was disrespectful to look directly at his lord, but lowering his gaze only meant looking into Layla’s eyes again.
“Here, take this.”
Layla handed William a sheet of paper with his work instructions. Their fingers brushed. Thinking he disliked touching her, she quickly pulled her hand away. William, however, tried to catch the paper before it slipped, accidentally reaching for her hand.
Tap!
“Can’t even take a piece of paper? Pathetic, Bill.”
At that moment, Rainier caught both the paper and William’s hand.
“Quick reflexes, Rain.”
“I’m good at most things.”
William immediately lowered his head, wondering what in the world he’d just done.
Still, he received the instructions for his tasks.
The engagement ceremony with Sonet was only a week away. Things were unbearably busy.
“Since you’re not feeling well, Layla, I had all the designers come here.”
Sonet had summoned all the famous designers from the capital to Count Abierre’s estate.
Layla knew the Marquis of Bruce was wealthy, but she hadn’t expected this.
Come to think of it, he’d casually offered diamond mines, and even said he’d cover her dowry if she didn’t have one.
She had thought she’d grown up without lacking anything, but she hadn’t realized he was wealthy to the point of excess.
If he could offer to lend money to Count Ronald so casually, he must be richer than Hugo.
Layla forced a smile at the thought. She was nearly recovered now, but being around Sonet was exhausting.
The way he watched her felt almost like surveillance. And every time she spoke to Rainier, his glare was frightening.
If he truly liked her, why had he been so easily swayed by Siever’s advances?
Perhaps he simply liked all women.
There were too many suspicious things for her to believe he was sincere.
Maybe he just wanted to marry anyone—then, after receiving the marquisate, divorce a pliable young lady… or even get rid of her altogether.
She could never trust him.
When they were together, he acted as though he cherished her, but when it came to crucial moments, something else always took priority over her.
Especially when she’d caught him embracing Siever in her own room—he’d looked briefly startled, then immediately interrogated her about Rainier, as if worried about her relationship with another man.
It was as though it would cause him serious trouble if she were involved with someone else.
“For the engagement, I was thinking you could wear blue.”
“Huh?”
“Your eyes are sky blue. I… really like your eyes, Layla.”
Hearing the strange tremor in his voice, Layla’s mind churned.
Once her business partnership with Rainier was complete, she could take revenge on Hugo. And if she helped Rainier humiliate Crown Prince Anasis…
Then Rainier would likely warm to her and willingly share his blood with her.
And Layla would be completely healthy again.
Still, she couldn’t shake her discomfort at the reality of being engaged to Sonet.
Siever’s attempts to approach Sonet were progressing far more slowly than she had expected.
And Sonet was almost too good at saying exactly what she wanted to hear, which made him all the more suspicious—though sometimes his behavior felt genuinely heartfelt, leaving her uncertain.
“What about you—what color will you wear?”
“I’ll probably wear white. But maybe I’ll wear black at the wedding.”
“That’s nice. It’d suit you.”
Layla gave a vague answer, staring blankly at the designers carrying in clothes on hangers. Then Sonet spoke to her in a serious tone.
“I’m sorry.”
“Huh?”
“About last time. I was careless. Even if I was half-asleep, I can’t believe I didn’t make sure it was you.”
She was startled by his sudden apology, but his eyes were so damp that she couldn’t bring herself to say anything sharp.
“No, I’m sorry for reacting that way.”
“Then… you forgive me?”
“Yes, of course.”
Layla smiled. It felt like they both needed each other.
He hugged her tightly and whispered in her ear, low and tender, “Thank you, Layla. I’ll make sure you’re happy.”
He was holding her so tightly, it was almost hard to breathe.
He’s very sus.