Maylily - Chapter 77

“The investigation into your kidnapping is underway. To prove the suspect’s charges, we need your statement. If you don’t want to, we can close the investigation.”

At the unexpected topic, Maylily’s expression turned serious in an instant. She wasn’t eager to revisit those nightmare-like memories, and when she thought about Victor being punished because of her statement, her heart felt heavy in one corner.

Still, Maylily hoped her father would become a better person than he was now, and she thought this was inevitable for that to happen.

“…I’ll do it. I can do it.”

As if encouraging the difficult decision Maylily had made, the Count of Everscourt smiled faintly.

“The Roden officers will come to Prowden next week to take your statement.”

“Yes.”

Maylily answered softly, then parted her lips several times before asking carefully.

“My father is… arrested now?”

At the question, faint lingering attachment clinging to it, Hugh flinched. Only now, facing those clear, water-colored eyes that shone without knowing anything, did Victor Heywood’s death finally take on meaning and weigh down on his chest.

The day he brought Maylily from Buhin, what had risen on Maylily’s face as she looked at Victor Heywood counting the money for her price wasn’t anger, but sorrow.

Foolishly unable to let go of her attachment to a father worse than a beast, who had tried to sell her into a brothel.

Did he regret it when he saw that face?

He couldn’t remember. What was clear was that he didn’t want to see that kind of face today.

“…Yeah.”

It was a lie, for someone’s sake, though he didn’t know whose.

“I see.”

The powerless smile that spread at the corner of her mouth quickly faded. Hugh, watching her face quietly, asked in a low voice,

“Maylily, do you resent me?”

It was a question that contained a great deal and, at the same time, left a great deal unsaid. As Maylily wrestled with the answer, what David had told her yesterday came back to her mind.

“The former countess chose to take her own life as a way of taking responsibility for tarnishing House Everscourt’s honor. The first person to witness the scene was the Count, and for him, who was five years old at the time, it must have been a shock he couldn’t bear.”

Now that she knew what the Count of Everscourt had been forced to go through because of Victor, how could she say she resented him?

Even though Maylily believed she wasn’t at fault for the Count’s tragedy, with a face that looked exactly like her father’s, she couldn’t bring herself to speak that thought aloud. To Hugh Skaard, who had to endure his beloved mother’s sudden death at five years old, it would be far too shameless and heartless.

If only she’d never met the Count at all.

When she added that assumption, her resentment toward the Count shrank even further. Because without him, she would’ve ended up being dragged along by Victor and forced to marry Viscount Dawson, or sold off into the backstreets.

The past that made the Count choose a twisted path, and the present where, cruelly, his deception saved her. A position where she couldn’t resent the Count, and yet the fragments of her heart still wanted his apology.

In a relationship where all of that was mixed together, Maylily was only confused.

Avoiding the Count’s gaze as he waited for her answer, she lowered her eyes to her knees and asked quietly, “What about you, Count? Are you alright with this?”

“…What do you mean?”

At Maylily’s question in return, the Count’s brow creased faintly.

“Every time you see me, you’ll think of my father…. It’s not a good memory.”

“You worry about everything.”

The Count let out a low scoff, as if treating Maylily’s serious worry as something ridiculous. Wrapping the glass bottle he’d taken from the ice bucket in a napkin, he poured lemonade into a cup and said,

“When I look at you, I only think of you.”

“….”

“And I’ll forget everything about the past.”

The sincerity carried in his plain, calm voice was clear. Even after being fooled like that. Maylily still hadn’t fully learned how to doubt the Count.

“So you should forget too. Stay by my side and think only of me.”

The Count handed Maylily the cup of lemonade and lifted one corner of his mouth slightly. As if making a light joke. As if obeying his words wasn’t difficult at all.

Maylily stared silently at the cup held out to her, then took it. She slowly tilted the cup to her lips. The cup was so cold that beads of condensation formed on its surface. When she swallowed a sip of the cool, refreshing drink, her complicated thoughts felt a little clearer.

Yeah, let’s just forget it.

By the time she’d emptied more than half the cup, Maylily made that decision for herself, not for the Count. If she did, at least she could erase the disgust and self-loathing she felt toward herself for moaning every night in the arms of the man who deceived her.

Letting go of her resentment toward the Count was the way to stand firm without despairing over her situation, even under his shadow.

When time passed and the end came again, she wanted to walk out of the Count’s shadow with her head held high, as if nothing had happened. So she decided to forget the misfortunes of the past, but not forget the lessons.

She would never accept this man again with the same heart as before. She knew clearly now what kind of pain came from a shattered relationship.

No matter how coldly the Count turned away, this time she’d smile as she watched his back.

Maylily finally set the empty cup down on the table. Each sip of lemonade left her emptier inside, and she felt lighter than ever.

It was around then that the Count, who sat beside her, began untying his shoelaces. He leisurely took off his shoes and set them to the side, then took off his socks and rolled up his trousers. Maylily watched his actions, puzzled.

The calves revealed under the trousers folded up to his knees were long and smooth. The Count took off his coat and hung it over the back of the chair, then knelt on one knee by Maylily’s feet.

“What are you doing?”

“Since we came all this way, we should go into the sea.”

He took out Maylily’s foot hidden under her skirt and removed the ankle boots from her. Maylily couldn’t even think of refusing and simply accepted his gentle touch. Maybe the effect of the lemonade she’d just drunk had worn off, because heat rose to her face again.

The large hand holding her small foot slowly traced up her slim ankle and anklebone, then stroked up her calf at a leisurely pace. It was a touch full of impure intent.

She tried not to react, but Maylily’s leg jerked in reflex. As if he liked that, the Count let out a low laugh, and his Adam’s apple bobbed briefly.

When the Count undid her garter and peeled off her thin stockings and then pulled Maylily up to her feet, her face was thoroughly flushed.

“Because you’re making this face, I want to go into you, not the sea.”

At the Count’s whispered dirty remark as he brushed his thumb over her reddened cheek, Maylily’s face turned red all the way to her neck and she staggered back.

“D-don’t misunderstand. It’s just hot in here.”

Clutching the hem of her skirt tightly, Maylily hurried out of the tent with confidence. But she couldn’t take more than a few steps before stopping at the boundary where the waves lapped.

Turning back toward Hugh, who followed behind at an unhurried pace, Maylily hesitated for a moment, then shifted all of her skirt into one hand and slowly held out her other hand.

“Could you… hold my hand?”

The woman, standing just one step ahead of him in water that barely reached her ankles, asked with frightened eyes, her earlier boldness nowhere to be found. Hugh quietly looked down at the hand Maylily held out to him, the first time she had done so since summer began.

It was clear some change had come over the woman, who was acting especially cute today. At last, he thought, their relationship was slowly beginning to return to how it used to be.

When he tightly took her small hand, an overwhelming exhilaration surged inside him, as if the sea spread out before them had come into the palm of his hand. At the same time, the impulse to push deep into Maylily right now pierced through his whole body. The words he’d whispered near her ear minutes ago weren’t a joke.

“The water’s warmer than I thought. I thought it’d be really cold.”

Saying the waves felt like they were playing tricks, saying the feel of the sand scattering beneath her feet was soft. Maylily chattered in a lightly excited voice.

Then, as if the waves that reached her ankles weren’t enough, she slowly went farther inside, little by little. Each time she moved her feet, she pressed strength into the hand holding onto Hugh. Hugh followed along easily, letting her lead.

The gentle waves suddenly grew higher when the water reached about half of Hugh’s calves. Without time to avoid it, a wave pushed in from the shore in an instant and brushed his knees.

“Ah!”

Maylily let out a sound closer to a cheer than a scream. Even though the edge of her skirt, which she hadn’t managed to gather in time, got wet, her face was excited like a child.

“This is so fun. Next time, let’s bring swimsuits.”

The eyes looking brightly up at Hugh sparkled as if dreaming. Clear joy spilled from her parted lips.

Maybe he’d brought this woman back to the sea again, no matter what, just to see this.

Hugh quietly looked at the emotion shining as vividly as this summer on Maylily’s face. Under the scorching sun, his throat burned dry. He was at his limit now. He lifted Maylily up over his shoulder just like that.