GIOB 42

CHAPTER 42….

Banquet

I clutched Dior’s sleeve tightly. Lufian didn’t have supernatural sight, but it was true he appeared here and there in the blink of an eye. Somehow, the exposed nape of my neck and the deep plunge of my back felt chilly, and I shivered intermittently. Even if Lufian wasn’t watching right now, guilt kept stabbing at me.

“…I’m sorry.”

I mumbled softly, my conscience prickling. Then, an unexpected person answered.

“This is not something you need to apologize for, my lady.”

If not me, then who else should apologize? I pretended it was an accident and tugged sharply on Dior’s hair that had intruded unnecessarily. The loose braid draped over one shoulder looked exactly like the pull cord of a servant’s bell—something that always tempted me to tug at it.

“Ugh.”

He let out a small groan, but I pretended not to hear it, letting out sob-like hiccups instead. Sniff, sniff. Since we were pressed so closely together and I was gripping the fabric at his chest, he could easily have thought it an accident. Dior sighed deeply, then slowly lowered the hand resting on my head, wrapping it gently around my shoulder.

His hand touched my bare skin. That was, without question, the most goosebump-inducing moment of the day.

This feels awful.

At first, I had even been prepared to kiss young gentlemen I found utterly repulsive. I thought that without going that far, it would be difficult to fully lure them in. But in hindsight, that was just me, blinded by revenge, ignoring the true feelings of those who stayed by my side. If Lufian were to kiss some other woman for a purpose, I would probably burst into tears right then and there. There was no selfishness more selfish than that.

Though Lufian had never confessed that he liked me, we had confirmed our feelings for each other—and yet here I was, in another man’s arms. Even if my goal was revenge, and even if the man I was holding was one I despised, I still felt like a woman without integrity. The thought alone made me inexplicably depressed.

Countless thoughts churned through my mind, but the dilemma didn’t last long. I sniffled and wiped under my eyes as though my tears had run their course. My eyes, which often looked reddened from crying, worked to my advantage here.

But even when I gently pushed against Dior’s chest, he didn’t step back. I pushed with a little more force, but still no reaction. If I pushed any harder, he would be sent flying into the wall, and that would completely shatter the image of a delicate young lady—so I endured and endured again.

Finally, Dior spoke.

“Comforting you wasn’t only because of Young Lord Snain’s rude remarks.”

“Then what?”

“I wanted to tell you the act has gone on long enough.”

“…What?”

Could he have caught on? For a moment, I was so shocked I was speechless. But judging from the situation, the “act” he referred to seemed different from the one I was thinking of. Otherwise, with his personality, he wouldn’t have dragged me here, held me for so long, and tried to comfort me.

“Be honest. If you dislike something, you can say so. I know there are many eyes watching, but you didn’t need to just cry at such rude words. Don’t you feel angry? Why suppress it to your very limit?”

Was he here to comfort me or to provoke me? As I mulled over Dior’s words, one thing became clear—he didn’t see me as fragile as I thought. His tone implied that if I put my mind to it, I could overturn anything.

Dior continued, his voice thick with suppressed emotion, almost as if speaking to himself.

“I told you before—you don’t have to live trapped inside the mold set by someone else’s standards.”

“…”

I froze in surprise. My heart began to pound with a strange anticipation.

“Lord Cabré constantly reminds me of my older brothers. Outside, they pretended there was no younger brother more precious than me, smiling like the kindest brothers in the world—while forcing me to smile back. Ever since my earliest memories.”

When he revealed that deeply hidden, rotting corner of his heart, I cheered inwardly. The fact that we were still embracing was enough to make me want to lose my mind in irritation, but this—this was finally the fruit of my labor starting to show. At last, his true feelings were coming out. My month of exclusive investment in him had paid off.

If I’d known this, I’d have cried much sooner. No—knowing Dior, a woman’s tears alone wouldn’t have shaken him this much. This moment was only possible because I had consistently acted and needled at his heart.

“Of course, showing hostility toward you in front of me was more reckless than anything my brothers would have done.”

That was because Haula had been acting deliberately to make it look like he mistreated me. If he truly had that kind of personality, he would have hidden it completely. His acting was so thorough he could have joined a theatre troupe without a hint of awkwardness. Every detail—his gaze, gestures, expressions, tone—was perfect.

I deliberately repeated my words when I asked Dior:

“What do you… mean by that?”

“Pretending not to know won’t help. I can’t hold back any longer.”

“No, my lord, you’ve misunderstood. Haula… no, I—”

“Aylee. Please, be honest. You and I are painfully alike.”

What an insult. Yes, monsters may resemble other monsters, so in that sense he was right—but to equate me with a worm still felt insulting. Even if this was exactly the situation I had engineered.

I buried my face in Dior’s chest to hide my sullen expression.

He must have seen me being close to Haula earlier. But apart from the loud bickering between Haula and Ulysses that nearly shook the banquet hall, Dior hadn’t been right beside us, so he couldn’t have heard our words. Unlike me, a demon who could take in all surrounding sounds, he had no such ability.

There were two reasons Dior believed Haula was tormenting me. First, Haula’s off-putting first impression contrasted with my own image as a thoroughly victimized young lady. I had learned since coming into the world that once an impression and prejudice were set, they didn’t change easily. Even the most rational person would still think, I’m sure there was a reason, unless they were thoroughly betrayed.

That’s probably why I couldn’t completely cut Lydia out of my heart—she had been my faith. Until I had undeniable proof she’d betrayed me, I could only keep doubting and doubting without letting go.

The second reason was, of course, that my situation so closely resembled his own. His deeply rooted inferiority and fear clouded his rational judgment.

“Alike? Me and Dior?”

I blinked up at him innocently, pretending I didn’t understand. Inside, I tried to think of the most absurd scenarios possible.

What if Lufian had a split personality…? Lufian smirking crookedly, looking down on me like a dog… What if Haula was actually a woman? “Ohohoho, sister!”—flouncing around in a dress… The more I thought about it, the more genuinely baffled I felt.

“The Aylee who stood before Young Lord Veloce and spoke the name ‘Hillis’—isn’t that your true self?”

After hearing that, I no longer needed to feign a blank look—this wasn’t part of my plan. In fact, Maximilian speaking about me at all hadn’t been planned, but I hadn’t expected it to get tangled up like this. My intended image had been of a pitiable, delicate young lady, who now and then revealed a pure, bright, somewhat naïve side.

But to think he believed my true self was the spacey, inconsiderate, sharp-tongued, eccentric Hillis… Should I be glad things were now easier, or sad that my intent hadn’t worked? Since “what’s done is done,” I kept quiet and listened without protest.

“Just as the face I wear like a mask is different from my true self, isn’t it the same for you, my lady?”

From his words, I realized he saw me as someone deeply similar to himself—someone who could share a rare, honest connection.

Good. If things kept going this smoothly, I might just become the only person he could truly open his heart to. Pleased, I smiled inwardly. Only then did Dior let me go. One step back, his face became clearer—cold and rigid, his icy blue eyes standing out even more.

Dior was someone who never voluntarily removed that mask, except in front of his own kind or the “monster” young lady. I was genuinely surprised, and didn’t hide it. So my guess had been right—the key to stripping his pretense was kinship.

“Truly.”

As a smile spread on my face, Dior’s eyes wavered for a moment.

“There’s no such thing as a fixed self for a person.”

“…”

“Even in the same situation, a person’s feelings and expressions can change countless times.”

I let my faint smile fade into a bitter expression.

“In that sense, we really are alike. But even if it’s all an act, that doesn’t mean we can’t be hurt. Right?”

Even as my words spilled out in a kind of cathartic release, Dior silently listened.

“No matter how hard you try to be acknowledged, it only eats away at you more. You can’t stop, even though you know it—because it’s already become part of you. But…”

“…”

“It hurts. The wound never heals. It’s always festering inside. That’s why I cried. If there’s one feeling I don’t hide, it’s sadness.”

“…”

“Even without borrowing your embrace, Dior, I have one feeling I can let out.”

Tilting my head slightly, I spoke in a slow, languid tone. If he thought my true self was Hillis, I could act that way all he wanted. It didn’t matter if this rambling didn’t fit that character exactly—it’s not like Maximilian was here to demand when I’d gotten so talkative.

I matched Dior’s perfectly composed expression and blinked with faintly unfocused eyes. Then, in a lazy motion, I reached out and tapped his monocle. The lens slipped from his eye and dangled from its silver chain on his clothing.

Looking straight into his eyes, I asked:

“Then how do you let your feelings out, Dior?”