Lucius’s hands moved over Celia with unmistakable intent.
Yet the face he wore while smiling looked so clean, so untouched by deceit, that even the word falsehood seemed unworthy of it. His fingers played against her as though pressing the keys of a harpsichord, while his eyes alone pretended innocence.
Just like before.
“Answer me.”
The neat ending of his sentence carried a dark undertone that coiled around whoever heard it.
His index finger brushed beneath her chin just as it began to lower, lifting it gently. A faint pressure traveled along her throat.
Celia’s breath caught shallowly.
“The things I shouldn’t do to you.”
His voice cut through the air.
If she let herself be swept away again, then just like that day… she could already picture herself turning her back and fleeing.
The thought alone shredded her pride.
“You’re asking the wrong question.”
Something rough surged up from deep in her chest, her voice scraping out with her breath.
“You should tell me first… what exactly you can do to me.”
Celia rose defiantly from her seat, rolling back her shoulders and lifting her chin.
Lucius’s brows shifted ever so slightly. For a brief instant, satisfaction bloomed inside her at the trace of hesitation on his face—
But she quickly found herself unable to keep the corner of her lips from stiffening.
Because the smile spreading across his eyes after that moment of surprise was unbearably soft. Warm and bright, like the earth welcoming the first touch of spring.
“Ha.”
The corners of Lucius’s eyes folded gently, a reddish warmth tinting them.
It was too heated to call laughter, too sweet to call a sigh.
And it was nothing like what she had wanted.
“What can I do to you?”
The hand that had been careful only moments ago grew rougher as it slid down to her narrow waist.
Her thin nightdress offered no protection against him. It took little time for his large hand to wrap around her waist possessively, drawing her body flush against his.
“I could kiss every place that makes you happy.”
Tap—
He pressed his forehead against hers.
“I’d kiss every place I can see… and search for the places I can’t.”
The air thickened between them until all distance vanished completely. Held by the arm around her waist, Celia naturally found herself rising onto her toes just to look up at him.
Their eyes drew closer.
Green blurred within green. His gaze seemed unfocused—murky, fractured somehow, carrying a smile that looked as though it had already broken once before.
“Even the places you try to hide… you’d have to show me all of them.”
His fingertips traced up along her jaw before his palm cradled her cheek. His thumb pressed slowly against the line of her chin, his breath hovering just in front of her lips.
“What should I do, Celia? My desires are filthier and uglier than you think. I’m not sure I can keep from making you cry.”
At the whisper of those words, Celia shoved hard against his chest.
Heat exploded through her head, disrupting every coherent thought.
This lunatic…!
But his solid chest did not budge in the slightest. Instead, her hand became trapped between their bodies. She could feel the raw pounding of his heartbeat through her palm.
“Haa… Celia.”
Celia clenched her teeth.
She could slap him, insult him viciously, force him to kneel beneath her feet in mockery—anything.
But she absolutely could not collapse helplessly beneath his touch like last time.
Yet the hand sliding down the line of her back shattered her resolve into pieces.
“Ah—!”
A tingling sensation swept along her spine. Standing on tiptoe, she wavered unsteadily and tilted her head aside.
As the pale line of her neck was revealed, Lucius’s gaze traced it openly, shamelessly lingering on the slender stretch of skin.
He lifted Celia effortlessly in his arms and pressed a kiss beneath her chin.
“Whatever kind of man I originally was… it’s obvious I must have hidden these desires.”
“That’s not—”
“If it weren’t true, then you wouldn’t be struggling this hard to accept me like this.”
His gaze felt suffocating.
The air sank heavily around her, as though she had fallen into deep water.
Celia’s eyes trembled faintly.
Even the slightest attempt to escape was held fast within his grip, leaving her no room to breathe.
“Celia. Do I still feel unfamiliar to you?”
Her eyelids fluttered.
Slowly, she lifted her lashes and saw Lucius reflected clearly in her blue eyes.
“Do I not feel like your Lucius?”
Did he know what a deception these gentle hands were?
Did he realize how absurd it was for him to bury his face against the pale curve of her neck, brushing soft kisses across her skin like this?
Probably not.
I’ll never… run away from this bastard again.
What exactly had twisted out of shape, where everything had first gone wrong, what truly mattered—
Neither of them probably knew anymore.
After all, gears fitted incorrectly could never turn properly.
“Do you really think you’re not ‘my’ Lucius?”
Listening to the whisper of a man who had never once belonged to her, Celia’s expression turned cold.
She grabbed his wrist hard enough to hurt, putting force into the motion in sharp contrast to the care of his touch.
“If I’m not going to see you differently now, then stop asking useless questions and let go of me first!”
At her sharp outburst, Lucius’s hand stiffened so noticeably that even Celia could feel it.
It was less that his expression disappeared and more that it simply stopped.
His breathing shifted once before settling again. A slow breath slipped from between his lips. He lowered his eyes briefly, then looked back at her.
What is that look…?
“Haha.”
The laughter he had been holding back escaped like breath before spilling fully into the air.
“I’ll let go.”
His laughter drifted slowly—very slowly—along the back of Celia’s neck like something swimming through water.
Lucius lifted his face from her shoulder gently.
“For now, I still want to treat you kindly.”
Watching his eyes gleam like glass drenched in lingering sunlight, Celia curled her fingers inward. Her nails scratched into her palm from sheer tension.
Why does he keep smiling like that? It’s so irritating.
This was not the Lucius she knew.
The Lucius familiar to her had cold eyes, mocking lips, rough hands far removed from gentleness.
Which meant that smile—something that would disappear the moment he regained his memories—was nothing more than a disgusting farce.
Grinding down on that thought, she shoved away the arm that had loosened around her.
“I’m leaving now, so let go.”
The soft slippers scraping against the marble floor sounded strangely loud. The hem of her nightdress swayed sharply through the air, her unkempt hair bouncing across her shoulders.
Lucius, who had been watching the strands of her scattered hair, quickly reached out and caught her as she hurried away.
“Wait a moment, Celia.”
“You literally just said you’d let go!”
She tried pulling free, but he remained immovable.
Frustration piled higher and higher within her. Just seeing his face was stressful enough already, and nothing about this situation was going the way she wanted.
By the time she returned home, she swore she would avoid him so thoroughly that even accidentally crossing paths with him would become impossible.
“Mmm… it’s not that…”
He trailed off awkwardly.
“There’s something I need to tell you while we’re here.”
One of his knees lightly brushed against the edge of her skirt. His elbow barely grazed hers as he shifted closer.
Then he spoke.
“His Majesty has invited us to a banquet.”
Warm breath brushed past her ear, and a deep shadow fell over her like flowing water.
“I think we should prepare to attend.”
At that moment, the only reason Celia didn’t grab the nearby teacup and smash it over his head was because she had summoned every last ounce of patience she possessed.
Damn you, Lucius Windmere!!
