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What on earth is she talking about?
Even though Stella’s voice had reached my ears and traveled to my brain, I couldn't comprehend it. That was how absurd her words were.
“No, a moment ago, she clearly said she wasn't worried—”
“Raymond, you know better than anyone how kind Princess Martyr is. Because… you’ve known her for so long.”
“Stella…”
“It’s because I’m bad. If I can’t control my emotions like this, I’ll only be a burden to Raymond. Even knowing that, I still…”
Stella’s eyes grew moist in an instant.
It was astonishing how quickly her emotions could well up. In a way, perhaps this was Stella’s charm. Crying easily, being easily startled—such transparency might seem cute to a lover.
‘I don’t particularly empathize, but looking at Raymond’s face right now, it seems that’s the case.’
I wondered how many new sides of Raymond I was discovering thanks to Stella. Looking at his restless expression, I questioned if this was even the same person I knew.
Raymond, who had been biting his lip, unable to decide what to do, finally spoke.
“…This is driving me crazy.”
His voice sent a chill down my spine, and I involuntarily shuddered. Since he was still gripping my wrist, he noticed my reaction and shifted his gaze.
After glancing back and forth between me and Stella several times, he clicked his tongue and pulled my wrist toward him.
“Wha—what?”
“Martyr, I have something to tell you.”
“I have nothing to say. So let go of my hand right now and go back to Young Lady Aer.”
“Shut up.”
The feeling of being dragged along regardless of my will was absolutely wretched. I tried to dig my heels in to stop him, but that only served to emphasize the image of me being dragged.
As he applied enough force to make my wrist bone feel like it was twisting, I unconsciously raised my voice.
“Stop it! It hurts!”
Only after hearing my scream-like shout did Raymond stop walking. However, perhaps because he had been pulling me with such strength, the sudden stop caused me to lose my balance and tumble right into his arms.
“Ugh!”
Reflexively, I pushed hard against Raymond’s shoulders. Or rather, I tried to push him away. For some reason, he didn't budge at all; instead, he held me even tighter.
“Raymond Larsen, let go. Now!”
“Can’t you just behave? Take a page out of Stella’s book. She quietly accepts whatever decision I make…”
“Ugh, I hate it, so go back to that Stella!”
I struggled, practically having a fit. I thought that if I made such a scene, he would naturally click his tongue and return to Stella.
However, it seemed I had vastly underestimated Raymond. After clicking his tongue, he simply—
“Wha—what are you doing?!”
“Stay still. You’re the only one who’ll get hurt if you fall.”
“You crazy…!”
…He scooped me up in his arms. That incredibly embarrassing position known as the 'princess carry'!
The moment the ground vanished from beneath my feet, goosebumps broke out all over my body. For the first time, I felt grateful for the fullness of my dress's hem. If not for that, Raymond’s arms would have felt even more explicit against me.
I barely suppressed the urge to roll away and fall. Since the hallways of Count Kandre’s estate were paved with sleek, hard marble, I couldn't guarantee my own safety if I fell at the wrong angle.
My hands trembled as I fought the urge to punch Raymond in the face. Interpreting my reaction in his own way, Raymond let out a smirk.
“Now you look much better. I like this.”
“Wow, I’m losing my mind.”
“Then just keep that mouth shut.”
I started to say something more but stopped. I concluded that if I further provoked Raymond, who seemed to have completely lost it, it wouldn't be surprising if he did something even more absurd.
As I fell silent, I saw the corners of Raymond’s mouth curl up slightly.
‘My fists are practically screaming to hit him.’
Unable to tell where he was going, I scanned my surroundings. If by any chance he headed toward a terrace or something similar, I was prepared to roll off and break his nose.
However, as the path became increasingly familiar, I began to wonder if I should just jump now. Because…
“Why are we going back to the ballroom? If that’s the case, put me down right now!”
“Shh.”
“Shh my ass, put me dow—ugh…!”
The moment I started struggling to escape, the hand gripping my thigh tightened.
‘Does this bastard really not know how to persuade anyone without showing off his strength?’
I was genuinely worried that by tomorrow, there would be bruises on my thigh in the exact shape of his hand.
As he boldly entered the ballroom in that state, naturally, the eyes of every attendee converged on me. I covered my face with my hands to hide my burning cheeks. I knew it might look even stranger, but I couldn't bear it without hiding somewhere.
Fortunately, I wasn't the only one overwhelmed by the situation. A suffocating silence fell over the once harmonious ballroom.
The first to approach was, naturally, the host of the party, Count Kandre.
“Uh… Young Lord Larsen, Princess Martyr. How did you… return in such a state?”
Raymond answered the question, which was thick with bewilderment, with utter brazenness.
“My fiancée suddenly felt unwell, so I believe we must leave. I felt it necessary to greet the Count before departing, so I ask for your understanding regarding my lack of etiquette.”
I had to grit my teeth to keep a curse word from slipping out.
‘Fiancée my foot. Since when did he think of me as his bride-to-be!’
This was a man who had never once referred to me as his fiancée in a ballroom, a dance hall, or even at a tea party. He had only clung to ‘Yevgenia,’ calling her his fiancée or future wife with desperate intensity.
Although she had caused a lot of trouble, if I thought of all her actions as being born from an unrequited love, I occasionally felt sorry for Yevgenia.
I felt that way now, too.
‘He pushed me away so fiercely when I was chasing him, and now that I’m not giving him attention, he’s protesting like this?’
Is this what they call "not wanting it, but not wanting to let it go"? It was a truly nauseating philosophy.
Wanting to escape this reality, I covered my face even more thoroughly. Despite that, I could feel Count Kandre’s awkward gaze all over me.
They responded with a noble, albeit strained, demeanor.
“I… see. Then you should certainly head home early. I hope Princess Martyr makes a speedy recovery.”
Through the gaps in my fingers, I saw Raymond nod. I hoped he would sprint away with all his might after that, but he left the ballroom with the most leisurely pace imaginable. It was as if he wanted every single person in the ballroom to get a good look at this sight.
Only after we boarded the carriage and a bewildered servant closed the door did the seal on my lips break.
“Are you actually insane? Why are you doing this?”
“Yevgenia.”
“Why are you calling my name in that creepy way? Just call me Martyr. I’ll call you Larsen too.”
I rubbed my exposed forearm vigorously. However, Raymond continued speaking, completely ignoring my reaction.
“I’m sorry for everything. Sincerely.”
“…Are you dying tomorrow?”
For a moment, my heart softened. Raymond was the trashiest of trash, and he treated the women who clung to him as less than human, but…
‘…Wait? Then would it be okay if he died?’
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