CWMBR 65

Chapter 65

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*The past

The voice, tinged with a metallic edge, sounded far from well when heard up close.

Bridget, flustered, quickly looked at the man in front of her with a worried expression. Fortunately, her eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness, and thanks to the light streaming in through the uncurtained window, she could clearly make out his face.

"Are you all right, Mr. Sherman?"

"Bridget Pennington?"

It seemed Ain could see her face clearly too. He narrowed his eyes, breathing heavily. Perhaps because of the dark room, his pupils glowed an unusually deep, dark blue. It felt like locking eyes with a predator, a stiff tension running down her neck.

Bridget swallowed hard and forced herself to nod calmly.

"Yes. That's right. But for someone who's completely drunk, your complexion looks remarkably clear."

It was too dark to be completely certain, but that's how it appeared to her. His eyes were clear and focused, his speech showed no particular slur. There was also almost no smell of alcohol, and he wasn't staggering.

At least compared to the typical drunks she knew, he seemed perfectly normal. Of course, her gaze felt unusually intense and persistent compared to usual...

"Drunk? Who?"

"Mr. Sherman."

Even his tone when he asked back was just as cynical as usual. At this point, Bridget became convinced that Donna must have misjudged something. It was the moment Bridget's judgment completely swung toward him being perfectly fine.

"Patrick."

"Yes?"

"Call me Patrick."

Bridget looked bewildered at his sudden request. Staring blankly at Ain’s utterly serious face, she realized he meant it with the utmost sincerity.

Bridget blinked rapidly. Asking someone to use your first name was a common request in growing relationships. Although the Ain she'd observed up close wasn't the type to casually toss out such requests, it wasn't like he'd said something strange, was it? Forcing herself to ignore the oddly off feeling, Bridget nodded.

"I understand, Mr. Patrick. Anyway."

"Patrick."

"...Yes, Patrick."

Is he drunk?

Just as that suspicion arose, as if reading Bridget's mind, Ain muttered curtly.

"Who gets drunk from one glass of champagne?"

Oh, it seemed certain he was drunk after all.

Bridget quickly corrected her hasty judgment. That string of subtly strange remarks was the classic rambling of a drunkard, wasn't it? Even that obvious routine where the person insists they're not drunk. Bridget sighed without realizing it.

"...You're quite weak with alcohol, aren't you? A new discovery. So then."

"Bridget."

Ain cut her off, calling her name. Startled by the sudden mention of her name, Bridget's eyes widened. He tilted his head slightly and added in a fading voice.

"………………Miss Pennington."

Whether from drunkenness or not, the man's voice was like melted jelly, dripping and sagging. Just hearing it made it stick viscously to her eardrums, tickling her ear canals.

Bridget unconsciously moistened her parched lips with her tongue. The man, who had been staring straight into her eyes, seemed to catch the movement and shifted his gaze slightly. She had only seen his pupils move a tiny bit, yet her heart fluttered for no reason. Was it because she sensed that gaze had touched her lips?

"I'm not drunk, I'm simply..."

In a voice lower than usual, yet clear enough to be perfectly intelligible, he explained calmly.

"I was in heat."

Bridget quietly held her breath. At her reaction, Ain's mouth twisted into a crooked smile. Reaching out beside Bridget's face to brace himself against the wall, he bowed his head slightly and added kindly.

"To the point it's almost unbearable."

"Oh... my."

Bridget responded with a somewhat dumbstruck voice, then clamped her mouth shut.

She didn't know humans had heat cycles too.

But for a heat cycle, the man was surprisingly rational. Humans really are creatures of reason, huh?

Such absurd thoughts popped into her head as she froze completely. She had no idea how to face this man who stared at her intently, speaking clearly without a trace of drunkenness, his expression unchanged from usual, casually mentioning 'heat.' Her face, flushed bright red with embarrassment and confusion, stood out even in the darkness. Ain kept his gaze fixed on Bridget's face the entire time.

"But you came in here without knowing how scary it is?"

The tone, bordering on reproach, reminded her of her cousin's nagging, something she had once disliked. But she had no time to dwell on that feeling.

"Uh, well, I..."

Bridget, struggling to avoid eye contact and stammering, finally managed to speak.

"I heard Mr. Sherman—no, Patrick—was dead drunk, so I came."

"Bullshit."

"Yeah, I guess so. Now that I know what's going on..."

"But Bridget."

He called her name again. It was only the second time, so she wasn't as startled as the first, but Bridget still felt dazed. Especially since this was the man who hadn't even properly called her 'Miss Pennington,' let alone 'Bridget,' all this time.

To that dazed Bridget, Ain asked with a confident air.

"How long do I have to keep calling you Miss Pennington?"

It seemed almost like he was blaming Bridget for not having told him to use her first name until now, which was ridiculous. Bridget looked up at Ain with a bewildered expression and replied with a faint protest.

"You just called me by my name a moment ago."

"Oh, did I?"

Seeing how he didn't even seem aware of his own words, he was undoubtedly dead drunk. So, the sober Bridget should probably calm the drunkard down and soothe him... but...

Bridget stared, mesmerized, as Ain licked his lips.

The light streaming in through the window cast shadows across the man's sculpted face. The subtle darkness that settled over his features, which she had always considered handsome, created a different atmosphere. It felt like facing a sculpture left alone in an art museum after closing time, the lights turned off. In the dark night, under the moonlight, the sculpture, now seemingly alive, stared at her intensely, as if it might devour her at any moment.

The distance between her and Ain, which she had thought was already close, grew even narrower. He had taken half a step forward. Bridget found herself standing almost buried within his large frame.

"Well then, Bridget."

The closeness made the texture of his low voice feel more distinct. Unlike the sticky, drawn-out tone from before, this time a raw, rough, and abrasive voice rolled into her ear.

"Can I kiss you this time?"

"This time?"

Bridget reflexively questioned, and he sneered.

"You ran away scared at my mansion, didn't you?"

Bridget let out a silent gasp.

He was talking about that day when she had been conscious of him. That day when she felt like she was exploring Bluebeard's castle. That day when he had suddenly changed his mind about drinking. That day when she had imagined they might become something. Her heart began to pound fiercely at the flash of realization.

It hadn't been a mistake. Like her, he had been aware of her too. Exhilaration spread through her entire body.

"But today, I don't feel like opening the door."

What was this feeling? Her mind went completely blank, overwhelmed by a desire that surged up so suddenly she wondered how she'd managed to keep her composure just moments before. The man's blatantly yearning gaze sent a chill down her spine. She was now utterly incapable of maintaining a calm expression.

"There's no need to open it. I have hands of my own."

Ain narrowed his eyes at Bridget's reply. Her words, seemingly implying she intended to open the door and leave, appeared to unsettle him. Yet, he didn't try to hold her back by force or block her path with his body.

Did he realize that his unexpectedly gentlemanly attitude was actually making Bridget even more anxious?

"And that night, I didn't run away."

Bridget raised her hand. Pulling the end of the satin ribbon gathered at her collar, the ribbon silently unraveled and slid down. The neatly fastened collar parted, revealing her white, elegant neckline. Simultaneously, the man's thick Adam's apple bobbed in response. Bridget met his gaze directly.

"You were afraid and drove me away, Patrick."

The moment she felt his dark blue eyes deepen like the ocean, his lips pressed urgently against hers.