Chapter 3
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"Ah."
"As I’ve told you over a hundred times already."
"You’ve been counting them? You pervert."
Elain vowed that if she were ever to meet her end on the execution block, she would haunt his nightmares as a ghost. But only after she had taken revenge on those who had framed her family for treason.
Whether he was aware of her vow or not, Deckard shuffled toward the bed. Then, in a flippant posture with his legs spread wide, he plopped down on it.
Elain lowered her head, trying to look away from his bare chest exposed through his shirt, but it was a mistake.
The sight of the taut bulge in his pants brought back a vivid memory of the drunken men’s conversation just before the door closed, when they’d been making lewd remarks about his crotch.
“Elain. What are you doing?”
Deckard, sensing her gaze, raised an eyebrow as if he’d caught her in the act.
“What do you mean?”
Elain looked up immediately. Her expression didn’t change, but Deckard wasn’t the type to miss that split-second of fluster.
“I mean my d—”
Before the filthy words could escape his mouth, Elain raised her voice.
“Lord Deckard. I didn’t come here to play word games with you.”
“Why the sudden formality? Just speak normally. It gives me the creeps.”
“…”
“Though I never imagined you’d come looking for me in person. When I first heard your voice, I thought it was a ghost. Haha.”
So he’d already known who she was the moment he heard her voice? Elain’s fist clenched involuntarily.
“A ghost? There’s no such thing. I’ll explain the reason I came here.”
“Forget it.”
Deckard popped the cork from the bottle with his thumb and asked slowly.
“Whatever your reason is, I don’t need to listen.”
“….”
“ Don’t you remember what you did to me the last time we met?”
“Just die, Deckard.”
Clatter. Staring at the cork rolling across the filthy, stained carpet, Elain swallowed hard.
How could she ever forget? In her entire life, it was the first time she had ever expressed such intense anger toward someone. Of course, her life hadn’t always been peaceful. If anything, it was closer to the opposite. Absurdities were a daily occurrence, and situations that defied common sense were far more common than those that followed it.
But believing that openly displaying anger was an immature attitude, she sought other solutions. Counting numbers in her head when anger welled up was one such method. One, two, three.... By focusing on her own voice and holding her breath, her body would crave oxygen more than it craved anger.
She also chewed her lips hard or dug her fingernails into her palms—until the slight pain pushed the anger away. On days when even that didn’t work, she turned her gaze to the window. Thinking of all this absurdity as a caricature unfolding within a square frame allowed her to step back from the situation and laugh at herself.
Elain believed that reason reigned supreme over her incredibly fragile emotions. That, she thought, was what set humans apart from animals.
The very person who had caused Elain to completely lose that reason was Deckard Helkaiser, smiling smoothly right in front of her.
“Thanks to you, have you forgotten just what a piece of trash I’ve become in high society?”
“You weren’t exactly a model of virtue before that, either.”
“Elain, did you come here just to piss me off?”
Despite his attitude of shifting the blame onto her without a thought for what he’d done that day, Elain struggled to maintain her composure.
“…No, that’s not it.”
“I’m busy, so get to the point.”
Deckard snapped. As he took a swig from the bottle, gulping it down, his prominent Adam’s apple moved roughly. The eyes staring intently at her had matured beyond comparison to when they were both just kids. Of course, not in a positive way, but in a dangerous one.
“Lord Deckard. First of all, I apologize.”
Elain decided to bow her head to him. No one would dare to casually question or investigate the absolute power that defended the nation’s borders. Especially not if they knew Elain and her past. That was why she had to join forces with him.
“What are you apologizing for?”
“Three years ago, I hurt you with harsh words in front of others. It’s late, but I sincerely…”
“You’re not sorry.”
Deckard cut her off, as if he had read her mind. Elain swallowed hard.
“I was emotional at the time, but later I did regret it...”
“Haha. ‘Regret’ coming from you? It doesn’t suit you.”
"...Huh?"
“You’d rather rationalize your actions than actually regret them. Because Elain Berlois never makes mistakes. Isn’t that right?”
Self-rationalization? For someone who constantly analyzed her own behavior and sought ways to improve, it was a claim she couldn’t accept. She tried to counter, but Deckard didn’t give her the chance.
“Besides, let’s say—just for the sake of argument—you did feel a speck of regret. Then how do you explain keeping your mouth shut for the past three years?”
Elain met his gaze and blinked quietly. It was now clear that Deckard’s feelings toward her were far worse than she had anticipated. What should she do now?
"...Should I apologize?"
Deckard let out a low sigh and stood up from the bed. He tossed the now-empty bottle carelessly aside, and the way he leaned crookedly against the wall wasn’t just delinquent—it had a weighty, oppressive power that weighed down the atmosphere. Elain felt the full weight of those three years once again.
“Do you think I’d find it amusing to see you beg, Elain? Do you really think so?”
Elain took a silent, deep breath as she watched his mud-stained boots shuffling on the floor beneath his long legs. If he wanted her to get down on her knees, so be it. Just as she was wondering when would be the best moment to make her move and turned toward the spot on the carpet with the fewest stains, Deckard’s sharp voice stopped her in her tracks.
“What’s the point of doing this now?”
“Well…”
Elain hesitated for a moment. She had no idea where to begin. But Deckard didn’t seem inclined to give her any leeway. After a brief silence, he spoke.
“I’ll have to contact the Guard. I’ve found a traitor hiding in Mudrow.”
...Just as I thought. He knew why I came here.
Elain snapped her head up to look at him. Her piercing blue eyes, like a frozen winter lake, met Deckard’s gaze as he licked his lips.
“I have no interest in boring plays.”
“...Are you really going to report me to the Royal Guard?”
The end of Elain’s lowered voice trembled.
“I suppose you’ve forgotten—I’m the Grand Master of the Knights, Elain. How could I just stand by when I see a traitor to the kingdom right before my eyes? It goes completely against my profession and ethics.”
It was a shameless thing to say coming from someone who ran an illegal gambling den in the back alleys. Elain bit her lip hard, but that was her limit. Seeing Deckard playing games while a desperate person stood right in front of him, she could no longer hold back. Her uniquely calm voice—low yet clear—flowed from her bitten lip.
“If you were going to throw me into the Guard, you would’ve done it long ago.”
“Huh?”
“Instead of grabbing me by the collar and dragging me here, you would’ve carried out an honor killing in front of everyone. Am I wrong?”
It looked as if he were punishing her, but in reality, Deckard had simply separated her from the crowd. The fact that he recognized her voice yet treated her like a beggar and tossed her coins was likely due to the lingering, petty resentment he harbored.
“Oh. Sorry. Did you want me to pick you up like a princess?”
Elain ignored his sarcasm and continued speaking.
“No, I’m actually grateful. There are so many filthy people around here, I was about to pass out anyway.”
Deckar snapped his fingers and pointed at her.
“Now you’re showing your true colors. Wouldn’t it have been better if you’d been this honest from the start?”
Elain gave a faint snort, and Deckard continued cheerfully.
“But ‘filthy’? Elain… that’s a bit harsh. People living in Mudrow can’t bathe every day like the precious daughter of a marquis.”
Was it just his scent that she found repulsive?
“Is a man who bets his own wife as stakes in a gambling den clean, then?”
When Elain retorted with a sneer, Deckard raised both hands in the air as if surrendering.
“Calm down. Why are you mad at me? I wasn’t the one who used a woman for a bet.”
“….”
Deckard shrugged his broad shoulders and added kindly.
“I bet my house, didn’t I?”
***
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