Blood Roses and Broken Chains - Chapter 23

The slightly cold, salty breeze drifted across the deck, carrying with it the unmistakable smell of the sea below. Elishia looked down and observed the nobles—or at the very least, what should have been wealthy people—conversing while holding crystal champagnes in their hands. They all wore expensive clothing that would have cost her entire tuition for a full school year, their fabrics glittering under the warm lights of the deck below.

‘Worlds apart…’

Exactly. They and she were worlds apart. Though aboard the same ship, she couldn’t help but feel she didn’t belong. The only thing that brought slight happiness to her confused heart and troubled mind was the thought of going home—hopefully—and…

“You know you’ll for sure catch a cold if you stay like that for hours.”

‘This person.’

To think he had just given her such a soft peck—like a dragonfly skimming over the surface of water—and could still smirk and throw jokes like before was beyond her comprehension. Meanwhile, she had probably looked like a cooked shrimp after that kiss.

Even now, a few hours after that incident, she still couldn’t look at him face to face without her heart beating so frantically it might leap out of her chest.

Elishia gripped the railing tightly and tried to calm her racing heart, taking deep, measured breaths.

Hearing the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, she instinctively closed her eyes as if wanting to disappear immediately and bit her lower lip. Suddenly, she felt soft, warm fabric settling gently over her shivering shoulders. She hadn’t noticed how cold it had gotten due to the emotional turmoil tangling her thoughts.

“I was afraid you’d turn into an ice sculpture if I left you here alone.”

Feeling the warm overcoat enveloping her body, mixed with Mark’s natural scent, only made her blush even more. She crouched slightly, as if wanting to distance herself just enough for her heart to catch a breath from his overwhelming presence behind her.

She didn’t know if it was the wind, but she thought she heard a helpless sigh escape him.

“Elishia.”

‘He said my name. He was always calling me ‘princess’ before.’

“I’m sorry.”

“Wha—” Her eyes flew open, but before she could react, her vision darkened as she fell into a wide, comfortable embrace.

Mark’s sturdy arms surrounded her body as he softly kissed her temple. He crouched slightly due to their height difference and drew Elishia deeper into his embrace, as if wanting her to burrow completely into his warmth.

“I was too hasty,” he murmured against her hair.

The breath that fell against her ear not only tickled her earlobe but sent shivers through her entire being. She couldn’t help but grab onto his coat, turning her head to burrow deeper into his chest. This elicited a small, rumbling chuckle from him that vibrated through Elishia’s entire body.

‘This man, really…’

She grumbled inwardly but simultaneously tightened her grip on his coat.

“You know,” he said softly.

“What?” came her muffled reply.

“Will you suffocate if I hug you too tightly?”

“Idiot.”

“Hahaha.”

*****

Deep inside a luxurious mansion in the city center of Finel country, a man stood facing massive French windows. He was tall, straight-backed, and rigid, with his hands clasped behind him.

“Sir.”

“I know, Frederick.” 

Head butler Frederick simply closed his mouth. From decades of serving under his master, he knew the man was stubborn and rigid, particularly harsh with himself. But seeing this middle-aged man—who had once smiled freely when around the madam and the little master—felt like witnessing a ghost from centuries past.

Moments later, a cautious knock sounded on the large mahogany door.

Frederick turned toward the entrance and slowly opened it, as if fearing he might disturb the tranquil, almost sacred space within the study.

“The retainers are all waiting below, sir,” the servant briefly informed before stepping away with practiced discretion.

The man by the window simply drew an audible sigh, then unclasped his hands. He touched his left cufflink—a vivid red rose crafted in exquisite detail.

Outside the window, the setting sun was being swallowed by the distant mountain range on the horizon. As the man lifted his gaze upward, the last rays of sunlight caught his eyes, further enhancing his vivid golden irises. They gleamed with an almost predatory intensity—the eyes of a hunter who had waited far too long for his prey, sharp and calculating, yet touched with something deeper. Something that spoke of loss, determination, and a dangerous patience that had been tested beyond its limits.