C12
Bianca went back to her room. She felt exhausted, her shoulders slumped. Although she hadn't done anything to make her body feel so physically fatigued, she was exhausted from being on edge both mentally and emotionally. She headed for the window, fighting the urge to collapse on her bed.
Aside from one or two lights flickering in the distance, probably the houses belonging to the serfs, he couldn't make out anything due to the darkness that had settled outside. Bianca gazed absently out the window.
Even if it was the middle of the day, the sun and the bright scenery before her would still not feel familiar. It wasn't because she had lived somewhere else for 15 years after being kicked out of the castle, but because she had no interest in the outside view during the years that she had been living in the castle.
Bianca had no interest in the world outside the confines of her room. In the past, she had locked herself in her room, engrossed solely in how she could decorate it to resemble the room she had of hers at Blanchefort Castle.
The current Bianca realized that the world was not just her room. After all, she had personally been through the experience of things she didn't think had anything to do with her, entangling and strangling her. She was aware that there were those beyond the distant horizon watching her place with hungry eyes.
The world continued beyond the edge of the dark and distant horizon. Bianca pulled herself together, telling herself that today's incident was nothing in comparison.
It was natural for Zachary to rebuff her advances. They were a mess from the moment they met. Their marriage was one that started off on the wrong foot. In the past, Bianca hadn't liked Zachary and there were many reasons why she hadn't accepted him as her husband. For example, his title and status as a baron were unsatisfactory compared to his family, not to mention the fact that he rarely showed his face due to him being constantly on the battlefield. . There was also their 13-year age difference.
Frankly, such an age difference was common among nobles. Compared to cases involving a 16-year-old girl married to a man in her late 60s or an 18-year-old married to a 45-year-old widow, the age difference between Bianca and Zachary was nothing. It was just that her first meeting took place when she was 7 years old.
She had met him when she was too young and it had been too long since then.
Though they hadn't made an effort to get to know each other, the decade they'd spent with each other left an uneasy awareness of the other. The firm layers of prejudice that had built up over the years shook precariously.
It was like a button placket that you only knew you had unbuttoned when you reached the neck. No, that is not. You would have known as he fastened each button, it's just that he didn't undo it and tried again. Instead, he just kept going while she put it off. She closed her eyes, ignoring him, despite the obvious result.
Bianca rubbed her arms and pulled her warm cloak around her shoulders as she felt a cold draft seeping through the half-open window. She had always been someone sensitive to cold, but she found that her sensitivity increased after she got sick and froze to death in the convent, reacting to even the slightest chill.
He looked out the window, snuggling into his cloak. His figure was reflected in the frozen window. There was not a single blemish on her pretty pale face and everything she wore was luxurious. Even so, the young woman in the mirror seemed somewhat uneasy.
“Come to think of it, you said this cloak suits me, right? Why did he suddenly say that? I was being sarcastic? Calling me out for spending money on this while he was fighting a war?”
A grimace appeared on her soft lips. Most likely, he considered the amount of money he spent to maintain his lavish lifestyle too excessive to dismiss as the price of the pact between the Arno and Blanchefort families. A white fox fur cape. Expensive dyed fabrics that had to be purchased in a distant foreign country. Jewelry, gold ornaments, as well as scented oils that were essential for his baths. Even the musical instrument he played as a hobby was expensive.
Although embarrassing as an excuse, these were all things that were natural in Bianca's life. She had grown up surrounded by only the best things while she was under House Blanchefort, so House Arno seemed inferior in her eyes. It was only when she was miserably kicked out that she realized how outrageous all the things she had enjoyed about her were.
Remembering Zachary's words telling her to notify Vincent of anything she wanted the moment she came to see him, it was clear what he thought of her.
A wife who silently turns her head, not even saying hello to her husband, whom she hasn't seen for a long time, despite spending her money left and right. Convinced that every time she tries to talk to him it would be to talk about materialistic elements.
Bianca would surely be like hateful shackles in Zachary's eyes. That might have been the reason why he had said those words, telling her to go with Vincent. He probably did it to criticize her and to indicate that he didn't believe her when he heard her say that she wanted to fulfill her duty as her wife.
Then why?
His voice when he praised her fur cloak had been very gentle. A soft kindness that she heard for the first time.
I was wrong? Or maybe she was referring to something else?
Bianca used to think that Zachary was made of rocks at one point because of how gruff and always relaxed but indifferent he was towards her no matter what she did. However, no matter how rough she was known to be, it was possible that he was someone who was sweet to her lover.
The trace of sweetness he'd heard in Zachary's voice, which he hadn't been able to hide, taken aback by Bianca's sudden expected behavior, was just a small taste of it.
Bianca felt a tingle in the corner of her chest for some reason.
No. The important thing is that he was able to catch him off guard up to that point.
She shook her head. Her feelings were starting to go on her own in a direction she didn't understand. How Zachary's voice sounded when he whispered into his lover's ear wasn't important. A mistress was just a mistress. Even if his mistress became pregnant, that child would only be illegitimate.
For the first time, Zachary, who was always unreadable no matter what Bianca said or did, had shown emotion. It had been quite subtle and didn't help much to understand what was going on in his head, but it had meaning in the sense that things that had been kept hidden until now were brought to the surface of the water, exposed to some extent. .
Bianca was determined not to relive the same life she'd been through in the past, and she would have to hold on to Zachary to do so. He was her lifeline.
"So let's give birth to her child before she dies, as that will prevent those who kicked me out from doing it again."
It was quite a calculating and selfish thought for a 16-year-old girl, but for a 38-year-old girl who had died a miserable death on a convent floor, it was reasonable.
* * *
Zachary entered the bathroom. The hot water had turned lukewarm while he was busy with Bianca's visit.
The attendant servant asked.
"Should I heat the water again?"
-It's okay. No matter. Zachary answered dryly and took off his clothes.
His well-trained body was taut and covered in small scars that testify to his constant days on the battlefield. There were several larger ones here and there as well. Most of them were from her young, hot-blooded days, although there were still quite a few received after she got married. Of course, Bianca would have no idea when she had received any of her scars.
Zachary got into the tub. The heat had almost dissipated from the water, leaving only a faint warmth in his wake, but that was enough for him. After all, he didn't need to worry about being the target of an unexpected arrow from behind. He released the breath he had been holding, a long sigh escaping his lips. The fatigue and accumulated toxins in his body seeped into the water one by one.
No comments:
Post a Comment