CWMBR 77

Chapter 77

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No matter what Bridget said, Ain tapped on the locked windows and fiddled with the front door latch, shaking his head at the mansion's shoddy security.

Bridget, who had been watching him with an exasperated look, pressed her hand to her forehead. She felt she was reaching her limit. She wasn't in any condition to continue arguing with him right now. The drug seemed to do more than just paralyze her body. Otherwise, how could her eyelids feel this heavy?

She knew this wasn't a situation where she could sleep peacefully, but sitting there with her exhausted body and mind, her head kept nodding down.

This wasn't the time for this.

"Are you sure you don't need me to take you to your bedroom?"

She was desperately clutching the blanket when Ain had already approached her, casting a shadow over her.

Looking up at Ain standing above her from the sofa, he seemed quite distant. His face was already high up, and with the shadow, his expression was invisible.

"Bedroom? What about now..."

She tried to retort, asking if she could sleep comfortably lying on the bed, but her voice gradually faded, eventually dwindling to a muffled murmur inside her mouth.

"Then sleep here."

Ain gave Bridget's forehead a sharp nudge. She couldn't muster the strength to resist and collapsed onto the sofa.

"You……………."

Bridget faintly heard him reply, but it was indistinct.

Soon, everything went completely dark.

Consciousness slowly surfaced. Before even opening her eyes, Bridget felt her mouth water at the savory scent of bread tickling her nose.

Ah, is Mrs. Ottertz preparing breakfast?

But for some reason, her posture felt terribly uncomfortable. Was the bed always this narrow? No, the smell wafting up from the kitchen couldn't possibly be this vivid. Besides, Mrs. Ottertz was on vacation starting today...

Bridget, lost in thought, suddenly snapped her eyes open.

The uninvited visitor from dawn and the ensuing commotion flashed rapidly through her mind. Bridget sat up, her face pale. The blanket that had covered her body slid down with the movement.

She reflexively looked around and realized she was in the mansion's first-floor parlor, feeling immense relief. Simultaneously, imagining herself asleep in such a vulnerable state sent a chill down her spine. It was truly fortunate that the uninvited guest hadn't returned.

Bright light poured in through the curtains covering the window. Just seeing that told her it was broad daylight. Still half-asleep and dazed, Bridget looked around before rising from the sofa, drawn by the clattering sounds coming from the dining room. Her arm, where the syringe had pricked her, felt stiff and sore, making it hard to move.

Moving other parts of her body felt strangely uncomfortable too.

Bridget massaged her arm with a wary look on her face, then slowly began to walk.

The scent of bread that had woken her was wafting from the dining room. Bridget stopped at the dining room entrance, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Ain sat at the modestly sized table. Legs crossed, he leisurely read the newspaper. On the table sat a plate laden with freshly baked bread, cheese, ham, and the like. Beside it stood a cup of coffee, freshly brewed. Steam rose gently from the cup.

Ain, who had been turning the pages of the newspaper and sipping his coffee, sensed movement and glanced up. Spotting Bridget standing motionless at the dining room entrance, he pointed to the chair opposite him in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Sit down."

"………………What are you doing?"

"Late breakfast. There's plenty, so sit down."

He urged her again, but Bridget didn't move. Seeing her flustered, blinking silently, Ain calmly added an explanation.

"The housekeeper didn't come in, so I just made something simple myself."

Anyone watching would think it was his own home. It was infuriating enough that he had the audacity to rummage through someone else's kitchen and prepare breakfast as he pleased, but the fact that the person doing this was Ain Wise felt utterly unrealistic. It was surprising enough that this man knew how to bake bread in the first place. And he knew how to slice cheese and ham too? How did he even brew the coffee?

“…………… …You’re eating quite well, huh?"

As she muttered in a dazed voice, he raised his eyebrows.

"You’re not actually thinking the ingredients I’m consuming are a waste, are you?"

"………………It’s nothing special, but please eat up."

"Nothing special, huh. Looks like you usually eat pretty poorly."

Bridget stared at him with an exasperated look, as if he’d been waiting to pick a fight. She pressed her temples firmly. It was frustrating how vividly she remembered his help that dawn. If only the shock had been so great she’d forgotten it completely—then she could have kicked this man out without a second thought.

"But what time do the employees actually start work? Isn't this way too late?"

"The housekeeper is on vacation."

"And?"

Bridget lost her words at his attitude, which assumed there were naturally multiple workers. After a quick glance, she reluctantly replied in a dry voice.

"………………We hire them as needed."

The scale of this place was different from the large, luxurious house Ain had lived in. It was embarrassing to have multiple live-in staff, aside from Jane, the resident housekeeper. In fact, among the other houses on this street, it wasn't uncommon to find homes that employed no staff at all. 

That simply meant they had less area to manage. Of course, they had once employed a male servant, but when Ronan came into the house, he dismissed him, arguing there was no need to waste money on someone else when he himself could handle the work. Since then, they had shifted to hiring people only when they needed extra hands, on a short-term basis.

Ain tilted his head at Bridget's words. His gaze drifted toward the kitchen beyond the dining room, or more precisely, beyond that.

"So when are you going to fix that door?"

"Ha."

Why did she have to listen to this man nagging her in her own home, where she should be most comfortable?

A fundamental question surged in Bridget's mind. Seeing her like this, Ain narrowed his eyes and asked.

"Still not feeling well?"

"I'm fine."

To be precise, it wasn't her body but her chest that felt off. It was bloated and heavy, like she'd eaten something wrong. And she was certain this discomfort would vanish completely if Ain just left.

Thinking she should at least drink some cold water, Bridget moved. The scent wafting from the simple breakfast spread on the table no longer stimulated her appetite. Instead, everything up there looked like poison. She knew she'd vomit if she took even one bite.

"You should rest more."

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

What tormented her most right now was Ain, who kept trying to talk to her. That shameless man, sitting as if this were his own home. Her soon-to-be ex-husband, who would soon be a stranger.

Bridget picked up a cold glass of water and stared at Ain, silently cursing him with her eyes. The only reason she didn't voice it was purely because of the debt she owed him from that dawn. Whatever their relationship had been, she couldn't thank him enough for what happened that morning.

Ain remained utterly calm and indifferent, seemingly oblivious to Bridget's desire to kick him out immediately.

"I've been through something similar."

Bridget, who had been swallowing her irritation, paused.

"I know roughly what it's like."

He muttered listlessly while sipping his coffee, turning a page of the newspaper.

"What I got was a worse drug, so the side effects were severe."

In that moment, what flashed through Bridget's mind was the boy sitting alone in the darkness. The bedroom, strangely gloomy even in broad daylight; the bed, far too large for a child; the room devoid of any warmth from another person—and the boy who always sat there alone, waiting to greet her.

Bridget later learned about the sensational kidnapping case involving Ain Wise. Though the newspapers didn't reveal all the details, the Wise family had released several threatening statements, as if to show what happened when you crossed them. They made it clear what price those who touched their young master paid.

Thanks to that, Bridget could also infer why Ain had stayed at Elver. At the time, Ain had said he couldn't leave his bed. Now an adult, he seemed perfectly fine, so he must have been recuperating due to unavoidable circumstances back then. Like, say, side effects, as she'd just mentioned.

"So if it's medicine, I'll tremble. Any kind of medicine."

Bridget set down her glass without drinking. Simply being in the same space as Ain at this moment was unbearably uncomfortable; she wanted to leave immediately. Yet her feet wouldn't move easily.

Her lips twitched as she murmured in a somewhat subdued voice.

"You must have been furious after finding out you took some drugs at the Grand Theater."

"Of course."

"Since I calmed your anger, you should be grateful to Donna for that much."

Bridget had no idea what the two had discussed. At that moment, her mind was completely occupied by the problem facing her—the existence of the new life growing inside her—leaving no room to think of anything else. She could only think that once Ain and Donna finished talking, she would quickly tell him the news and discuss it together.

She had no clue how her pregnancy would appear to him.