Chapter 85

I won’t get caught if I arrive home quietly like this, say thanks, and get off quickly, right?

Fortunately, the distance from the Vendons estate to Liv’s house was short. She usually walked to work, but by taking a carriage, she would arrive earlier than usual.

Feeling the carriage slow down and then come to a steady stop, Liv quickly spoke up.

“Thank you for taking me home. I hope you have a safe trip in, and I’ll try to avoid making unplanned appointments next time.”

After a quick rambling, Liv grabbed the carriage door handle. However, before she could open the door, the Marquis interrupted her with a question.

“Did you do a good job reviewing?”

Liv’s knuckles on the door handle turned white from the strain.

Liv blinked and remained silent, then slowly looked back at the Marquis. He, who was still sitting in the same position as the first time, was staring intently at Liv.

The Marquis narrowed his eyes as Liv failed to answer. He looked at Liv with his head tilted askance, but then he broke into a faint smile and added.

“I can teach you again if you don’t remember it.”

A few strands of his gleaming platinum hair strayed as he cocked his head, and his blue eyes, illuminated by the lamp, flickered with even mystical colors than usual.

But it was his lips that caught her attention more than anything else.

Liv knew the feel of those lips of his.

“I…”

No.

Vivid warning lights flashed in her head. The bright red warning lights were screaming at her to get off this carriage right away.

But she couldn’t move the door handle even the slightest bit. All Liv could do at the moment was gasp for air, like a fish hauled out of water.

No!

The warning lights flashed once more, but a voice soon overrode them and whispered in her ear.

Why no?

“I mean…”

Liv pursed her lips and swallowed dryly. She could smell the aroma of cigars that weren’t there.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and she answered in a barely audible whisper.

“… Please teach me again.”

The Marquis’ faint smile deepened just a tad, and a hint of glee flashed in his blue eyes.

“That’s the right answer.”

Eventually, she released her grip on the door handle.

***

The man was born in the streets.

His mother was an ordinary village woman. Since his father was absent from his birth, he lived alone with his mother as if it was a matter of course. His mother had been carrying him from place to place since the days he could not remember.

It wasn’t a bad life, even if it was unstable. After a few failed attempts, the mother and son settled on a neighborhood that didn’t judge the beautiful single mother. The mother and son were able to fit in relatively easily.

The mother was a hardworking, compassionate parent who loved her son.

If there was one scene that particularly stood out, it was the image of his mother praying in a small chapel in the rural village. She was one of the most devout believers in the village. Besides the weekly services, she also visited the chapel’s prayer room whenever she could, holding her son’s hand.

Those moments were hard for the little boy to bear.

But he endured those moments. It was because he liked to see his mother praying. In the prayer room, she looked more peaceful and happy than ever. So he prayed to God. May these peaceful days continue.

God did not grant the little boy’s prayer.

When the man was a seven-years-old boy, a war broke out. A flying cannonball destroyed their home, and his mother died under the rubble. The boy, who had gone out to run an errand for his mother, narrowly survived and frantically fled with the rest of the villagers.

Fortunately, they were able to get back to the village quickly. The wails of those searching for their families under the crumbling, charred rubble echoed.

The man also went back to his home. He was unable to clear the debris with his small body, and it wasn’t until people were dispatched to help with the cleanup that he was able to properly identify his mother. Her platinum hair, which had always shone beautifully, was scorched and tangled, and her limbs were covered in blood.

But surprisingly, the face of his mother was calm.

Like when she was praying.

By the time all the bodies of the dead villagers had been recovered, priests were dispatched to the grievous scene. Those priests were pretty high up to be sent out into the rural village. It was to recover the small chapel that had existed and the body of the priest who had served there, and to comfort the grieving believers.

“Dear God.”

“Please lead these poor souls to your side!”

The priests gently patted the shoulders of the villagers as they cried out to God in desperation.

The man stood alone in the middle of it all. He was simply standing by the body of his mother, her eyes closed in peace.

The man was approached by a priest. He was a handsome young priest with blue eyes.