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Despite the tension Rose had felt throughout their wedding night, Ray did not spend that night in her bedroom.
He simply visited her room in the early morning, left some blood on the bed, and vanished.
Later, when the maid, Joan, took the sheets away and gave a subtle smile as if she knew exactly what had happened, Rose couldn't bring herself to tell her it was fake.
Even when Joan asked, "Was it difficult?" while massaging her body that day, Rose couldn't bring herself to say that her body was completely untouched.
When she had decided to marry, she had accepted the fact that she would have to spend her first night with a stranger, but that period had already passed; spending a night suddenly with a man she knew only vaguely was a different story.
That man, who didn't seem human, that cold man, would touch her body?
A shiver ran down her spine, and Rose unconsciously stroked her arm wrapped in her slip.
At that moment, she heard a presence in the hallway, and a tall man walked into the bedroom.
Sitting on the sofa, Rose looked at the man's exposed chest and realized he was wearing nothing but a robe.
Startled, she instinctively checked his lower half, and fortunately, he was wearing at least linen trousers.
Ray Crawford looked at Rose with a placid, expressionless face, unlike someone who had come for intimacy.
Under that passionless gaze, Rose became unnecessarily nervous and tightened her grip on the armrest of the sofa.
"Are you not getting into bed?"
Without any particular greeting, the man spoke as he lifted the duvet. Even his urging was leisurely.
"……It's still, the time—"
She was about to say it was too early, but it was ten o'clock. It wasn't late, but it wasn't that early either.
At Rose's words, Ray glanced at the clock and lay down on the right side of the bed as if he didn't particularly care.
Then, he covered himself with the duvet and closed his eyes.
Rose sat blankly on the sofa, trying to understand what she was seeing.
The man lying alone on the wide bed with his eyes closed looked exactly as if he were about to sleep.
Did he come to my bedroom just to sleep? He could do that in his own bedroom. Why come all the way here, why in my bed?
Confused, Rose couldn't even get up from the sofa and continued to monitor Ray's presence.
The man, who lay motionless with his eyes closed, was far too rigid in his posture, yet he seemed perfectly composed for someone lying in another person's bedroom.
As for the posture, he seemed like the type of man who would sleep like that even in his own room, so it wasn't unnatural.
Only after the minute hand of the clock had moved for a long while, showing that thirty minutes had passed, could Rose accept the fact that the man had come to her bedroom simply to sleep.
After thirty minutes of contemplation, she could guess why he would go through such an uncomfortable effort when he didn't even intend to have sex.
It was to show someone. That he had spent the night here.
The only people who entered her bedroom in the morning were the maid Joan or occasionally Mrs. Selma. Did he not want the employees to know they were a couple in name only?
While staying here, Rose had noticed that just as Mrs. Selma and Joan trusted and respected Agatha and Ray, Agatha and Ray also respected and trusted them.
He felt he had to maintain the facade even for employees with such a relationship.
To live a life of 'pretending' even in one's own home.
What a tiring life……
Sighing at the sudden wave of fatigue, Rose rose from the sofa and headed toward the bed. As she drew closer, she could clearly see the face of the intruder who had occupied her bed.
Climbing onto the left side of the bed, Rose gazed at Ray's closed eyes.
The closed eyes that didn't cast a cold gaze and the closed lips that didn't utter obnoxious words gave his face a different impression.
Ray, with his eyes and mouth still, didn't feel quite so cold. And he had a surprisingly handsome face.
This face likely played a part in the fact that he was excessively popular for a politician.
Even as she climbed onto the bed and rustled the duvet, Ray didn't budge. Only the sound of his steady breathing could be heard.
He had fallen asleep quickly even in the brightly lit room, to a degree that was unbelievable for someone in another person's bed.
Rose turned off the light on her left side and looked at the light still on on Ray's side.
Without much thought, Rose braced herself with one hand on the bed and leaned over, reaching her hand to the right. It was the moment she tried it, thinking she could turn it off without touching the man.
Before her hand could fully reach the switch, something struck her arm with great speed, and before she could grasp the situation, Rose was thrown onto the bed by a powerful force.
Simultaneously with her scream, the man, who she thought was asleep, climbed on top of her.
Along with the weight pressing down on her, she felt a painfully strong grip on both her wrists, pinning her to the bed.
Frozen in momentary terror, Rose couldn't say a word and looked up at the man trapping her. The expressionless man's face was ruthless.
Eventually, only after seeing reason and bewilderment flicker together in the deep blue eyes looking down at her, was Rose finally able to open her mouth.
"……I was just trying to turn off the light."
Her voice trembled.
With the same speed he had attacked her, the man released her and stepped back.
Seeing him sigh and roughly wipe his face, it seemed this wooden man did know how to be surprised.
"……I'm sorry."
A short apology escaped him.
Rubbing her reddened wrists while watching him, Rose noticed blood on the man's right arm as he rubbed the corner of his mouth.
Looking closely, it was a fairly deep cut. He seemed to have been scratched by the headboard decoration during the process of 'subduing' Rose.
"Your arm is injured."
Ray's indifferent gaze landed on his arm. From his expression, he didn't seem to care at all.
Does this human not even feel pain? Rose marveled inwardly. She could still feel her heart beating wildly.
"I'll call Joan. What if you get tetanus? We should call a doctor or something……"
As Rose sighed and tried to pull the bell to summon the maid, Ray stopped her. Whether his apology was sincere or not, the touch stopping her hand was excessively careful.
"There should be bandages and medicine in your bedroom."
"The supplies aren't the problem. If possible……"
Ignoring Rose's words, the man had already stepped out of the bed and was searching through her nightstand drawer.
Having effortlessly found the bandages and medicine, he took them and sat on the sofa. Then, he soaked a white cloth in alcohol and began to wipe his wound.
His stubborn attitude revealed a will not to let the employees know about this. No, he could have just said he got hurt by mistake; why go to such lengths to hide it?
Exhaling a frustrated breath, Rose left the bed and headed toward the sofa. For a man who seemed like he'd be in trouble if he had to dress himself, he handled the items quite skillfully, though it looked uncomfortable compared to using his right hand.
"Give it to me. It's more appropriate for a commoner like me to do it than a noble lord."
She expected him to refuse, saying it wasn't necessary, but the man let Rose take the medicine and ointment.
Sitting beside him, Rose scooped some ointment with a blunt silver knife, placed it on a palette, and added a few drops of liquid medicine.
Ray watched Rose skillfully mix the medicine and tried to gather his thoughts. He attempted to organize what exactly had just happened.
It wasn't that he was unaware of his own sleeping habits developed after the war. Like many, his senses had become hypersensitive.
However, quite some time had passed, and since he had used his bedroom alone for so long, he thought all the problems had disappeared.
It seemed that trying to sleep in an unfamiliar space had played a role.
The cold touch of the silver knife met his wounded arm.
Ray quietly watched the woman who was intensely focused on applying the ointment evenly to his arm.
Both of the woman's wrists were red. She could have cursed him for being a lunatic, but she said nothing. The more she did, the more uncomfortable Ray became.
Why was the woman, who had once shouted at him to stay still and even thrown a comb, so quiet at a time like this?
After she finished applying the ointment, the woman blew softly—ho, ho—over his wound, making his skin tickle.
"……It's because of the war, isn't it?"
A quiet voice flowed from the face carefully examining the wound.
"Uncle Howard, who lived next door, was similar. He was worse than you. Even when he was awake, he'd freak out if someone appeared behind him."
Perhaps satisfied with the application of the ointment, the woman now began to unwind and cut the bandage.
She had looked terrified when she was unfairly pinned beneath him, but she had calmed down faster than expected.
Ray recalled a time years ago when Agatha had caught him in a similar state.
Having stayed in the bedroom of a villa for the first time in a long while, Ray had done something similar to the butler who tried to wake him, and at that time, Agatha……
She had left the room pretending not to notice and never once mentioned the incident. Ray had done the same.
For Ray, that was more comfortable. It was more unsettling that Rose was acting as if all of this was something that could happen, as if it were no big deal.
Even though she had been suddenly attacked.
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