ITTRAETML 49

~Chapter 49~

Just as Judith had fussed over Lovelace, Maxmuel and Davison panicked when they saw Larvihan.

They called Anna and filled a bathtub with water. Though Larvihan had managed to stay standing until now, he looked terrible. They poured hot water over him again and again.

The rain had washed off some of the blood, but many stains still clung to his body. Finally, the marks disappeared.

Once he looked human again, Davison dragged Larvihan into the tub. Then he brought him warm tea. He placed the cup before him, but Larvihan’s unfocused eyes just stared into empty space.

“Excuse me, Your Grace.”

Davison lifted Larvihan’s limp hand and pressed the cup into it. The sound was sharp, like glass shattering, when Larvihan’s mind snapped back.

“Home.”

“Indeed, Your Grace. Please rest well.”

Davison stood and left after bowing. But surely, he would wait outside the door.

Larvihan stared at the clear tea, then tossed the cup carelessly to the floor. The sharp noise of breaking glass rang out, but he didn’t care.

He sank deep into the water. With each breath, the water rippled slightly. He watched the surface for a long time, then shut his eyes. And at once, the dreadful memory returned.

Lovelace, kissing him—then fainting limp in his arms.

His eyes flew open.

“Damn it.”

He shot upright, water spilling loudly over the edge. He raked his hair back harshly.

She had kissed him. Power had flowed back into him. It was something to be thankful for—yet after that, she collapsed. He had shaken her, even tried giving her mana, but nothing worked.

For the first time, Larvihan thought:

“I don’t need the power back. Rey, just please, wake up.”

Holding her had been agony. And yet, he could not let her go. He looked down at his empty hands, remembering when she had slipped from his embrace.

That was when he realized the truth: if the worst came, he might choose Lovelace over himself.

She was his weakness. Through her, he had glimpsed his own death. Was she an angel in disguise, come to take his life? No—a devil. A devil who shook him so violently.

“Otherwise… how could someone shake me like this?”

The thought made him laugh, but fear gripped his body all the same.

Afraid of death? No. Death itself didn’t scare him. What terrified him was losing Lovelace. And even more frightening was the idea that others might discover this truth.

If anyone knew he treasured her, the hyenas around him would attack without hesitation.

“Damn it.”

Curses kept slipping out.

“I can’t carry her around in my pocket…”

Maybe he should just marry her quickly, and lock her safely in his arms. But he knew if he did, he would break instead—writhing with regret, watching her hurt.

There was no answer. No way forward. He had never faced a problem like this before.

He was used to battles he could win, problems with clear solutions. He killed those who troubled him. The ones he spared were either irrelevant or useful.

Lovelace was neither.

“Should I kill her?”

The answer came too easily. No, he could never kill Lovelace.

“What am I supposed to do with you?”

His low, bitter murmur echoed in the bath.

“You… with those big eyes, crying for me…
If I can’t have you, you’ll just become my weakness.
What should I do with you?”

Larvihan closed his eyes.

“Countess, it’s time to get up.”

Lovelace stirred lazily in bed. Judith shook her gently until she sat up, pretending to give in.

“You didn’t sleep well?”

“Mm. I’ve been restless these days.”

Judith swallowed the question that rose to her throat—What happened that day? Instead, she opened the windows wide.

“The weather’s wonderful. Don’t forget, today’s the tea party. Nora and Becky are already excited…”

She busied herself around the room, chattering. Lovelace only watched her quietly. Since she had given part of her strength back to Larvihan, something between them felt… different.

She couldn’t tell if it was for the better or worse.

‘Worse, maybe.’

Larvihan hadn’t sought her out since. Even when she reached out first, there was no reply.

Was it because he could now draw power from her anytime, with no need to coax her?

Or maybe because, for now, he had no need of great strength?

Did he truly see her as nothing more than someone who had swallowed a magic orb? She didn’t want to admit it, but his sudden coldness suggested it.

“Countess! You’ll be late if you don’t hurry. Please get up.”

Lovelace snapped back to her senses. Judith was right—this wasn’t the time for gloomy thoughts.

If Larvihan only saw her as that much, then she had to work harder on estate matters. She had to prove she could shine brilliantly even without him.

“Are all the ladies coming to the tea party?”

She rose from bed, drank a glass of water, and stretched.

“We sent out ten invitations, carefully chosen. Five ladies confirmed they’ll attend. Most of the others already had prior engagements.”

“Hmm. When a lord calls, people usually cancel other plans.”

“It is a little rude, yes. Shall I investigate? See if those excuses were real?”

Lovelace shook her head. There was no need. Once the tea party ended, those who missed it would regret it.

“Tell me what I need to do.”

Judith grinned.

“Get dressed up, of course!”

Ah, how tiring. Lovelace begged her to go easy as Judith dragged her away.

After a light breakfast—too small for her appetite, but Judith insisted she save room for the party—she soaked in a hot bath, then endured Judith’s sharp yet soothing massage.

Then came the endless cycle: trying on dresses, choosing jewelry, swapping shoes. She left it all to Judith’s hands, and as she did, her thoughts of Larvihan faded. That was a good thing.

By the time she chose her outfit, she actually began to enjoy it.

“You’re cooperative today.”

Judith smiled as Lovelace picked shoes herself.

“This is a weapon too, isn’t it?”

“Yes. The other ladies will come dressed in splendor. You must show your dignity as a lord.”

It felt silly to display dignity with clothes and jewels, but first impressions lasted for years.

What had Larvihan’s first impression of her been?

Again, her mind drifted to him.

“Countess, you have a plan for today, don’t you?”

Judith asked while fixing her hair before the mirror. This was no mere tea party—it was Lovelace’s chance to advance her law.

Today, Madam Johan would also attend as the host. In high society, the host guided conversations, ensured the gathering stayed meaningful, and supported less experienced young ladies.

Though young to take the role, Madam Johan was Lovelace’s etiquette teacher, with plenty of noble-teaching experience. She was qualified—but some might still look down on her.

“Some ladies may feel uncomfortable.”

“I know. That’s why I asked her especially.”

They had carefully chosen the guest list—many who had studied under Madam Johan or came from families that respected her.

“There’s a saying—even in the empire: no one steps on their teacher’s shadow. They won’t dare disrespect her.”

Judith still looked uneasy.

“Don’t tell me not to worry. Just don’t show it. Especially not in front of Madam Johan.”

“Yes, Countess.”

Madam Johan herself worried her presence might burden Lovelace. But Lovelace had reassured her again and again.

“Madam Johan has arrived,” Becky announced after knocking. The tea party would begin in half an hour.

“Shall I bring her here?”

“No, I’ll go down. Is she in the tea room?”

“Yes, checking it over again.”

Even after yesterday’s inspection, she was reviewing it once more. Lovelace admired her thoroughness. Rising from her chair, she saw Becky beaming.

“Countess, you look beautiful.”

Lovelace didn’t mind the compliment—especially when it felt sincere. She tilted her head shyly and descended toward the tea room.

“Countess.”

Madam Johan bent her knees in greeting. Their eyes met, and the longer they held, the more Madam Johan’s unease faded.

“You’ll do well, Madam.”

Those words gave her great strength.