I explained the surprising event that occurred to me that morning, as though I was reading it from a textbook. "So, you see, because of that, I had to help her somehow. I therefore stepped forward despite my reluctance. I wasn't especially hesitant though since she looked pretty cute," I narrated but then I paused. Huh? 'She looked pretty cute'? Somehow, I felt that a misunderstanding about my sexuality could bud from that statement. However,
I felt his strong, hard muscles, pressed against me, stiffen. A beastly sound escaped his throat. I curiously looked up at his face which had become increasingly frostier. His obsidian black eyes could have ensnared the room in a fine layer of ice. He held an expression I had never seen before, as he loosened his arms and took a step back from me. An awkward silence reigned between us, hoarding unspoken thoughts, secrets and...
Mr. Donovan stared into thin air thoughtfully as he massaged his temple, appearing exasperated, before sending me a sidelong glance. There was a cocktail of emotions suppressed in his gaze. "This...let's sit down first. Then, you'll tell me every single detail of what happened this morning. I also have something to tell you." He appeared to have something more to say but he only pursed his lips and shot me a final, probing look.
**~**~.***.~**~**
In the living room, I held a mug of hot coffee, staring at it with superficial interest. The cup warmed the delicate skin of my palm.
I couldn't understand him, I admitted internally. At first, I had always thought of him as a cold, emotionless being. But, at times, he almost seemed to be... concerned about me? I shook my head vigorously, hurling the thought from my mind. I did not want to get deluded.
In any case... I rubbed my chin, tiredly. When he said 'every single detail', did it mean including the part where I rescued the girl by pretending to be her possessive, officious lover? I hummed, lip twitching slightly, at the fascinating thought and sipped my coffee. A wet and bitter sensation diffused in my mouth. I frowned slightly, placing the mug back on the coffee table and adding five more teaspoons of sugar.
"You will get a cavity." A cold, hard voice broke the silence in the living room. I looked up and saw Mr. Donovan, in cold, hard elegance, stepping into the room. I noticed that the grooves in his raven-black hair had been smoothened out into a medium-textured haircut. His dark eyes that were previously soaked in drowsiness were now as arctic as a millennium-old glacier. He wore black chinos and a navy-blue button-up shirt that accentuated his well-defined muscles.
I drunk his handsomeness with my eyes for a moment longer, before sipping my coffee. It was sweeter than honey.
From the corner of my eye, I observed him wordlessly as he sat down and crossed his feet nonchalantly. The more my gaze lingered on him, the more I noticed that he didn't seem uncomfortable or awkward around me. He had only been here for a short while, but was already acting as though he owned the place. Instead of being displeased, however, I felt a tinge of happiness from this. Even though there was no likelihood that he reciprocated my feelings, at least he wasn't repulsed by me. I tried to coerce myself into contentment with this. But the persuasion failed.
My gaze veered to the document he had placed on the coffee table. The only words I could make out were the heading: 'Business Agreement Between Abel Donovan(Patron) and Madison Long(Client)'
I choked on my coffee at the striking words on the document. Abel quirked his brow but did not look at me, and thank God he didn't because I'm certain I had looked about as cuckoo as the Mad Hatter in Alice in Wonderland. I stared fixedly at the document, disbelief elaborately laced into my expression. Since when did I have a contract with him? Not only that, but he was my financier? For what now? Maybe my eyes were cheating me? I looked up and noticed that Mr. Donovan was staring at me oddly. His dark, deep-set eyes were as black as the night. Somehow, his gaze resembled the eyes of my elder sister when scrutinizing a tomato in the local market. But I was probably just imagining it. Nonetheless, I felt a cold, sinister chill marathon up my spine. An ill omen marched up my arms like an army of centipedes.
Mr. Donovan frowned slightly at the damp patch on my umber-colored dress shirt. I hadn't even noticed when some of my coffee had spilled on my shirt.
As I peeled the fabric from my skin sheepishly, I heard his voice and looked up to see a handkerchief offered to me.
My brows lifted in surprise at his gesture, and my heart felt warm. "Um...thank you, Mr. Donovan, but this is no big deal. It will dry pretty quickly," I said, red-faced, a honey-sweet smile creasing my face. I wanted to add that I was used to wearing dirty clothes since nearly all of my things were blotched with paint, but the words were lodged in at the base of my throat by the insistent look in his eyes. I cleared my throat and smiled crookedly, taking the handkerchief from his hand. Our fingers brushed momentarily, making me unconsciously knock my knees together. A weak sound left my lips. "T-Thanks."
A faint smile emerged on his cold features. There was a sliver of warmth in his gaze. "Anytime."
I pulled my gaze away from him, my fingers shaking subtly against the small clothing that I dabbed on the stain. My heart was leaping about and pirouetting ecstatically in my chest, the noisy heartbeats sounding in my ears.
"That business agreement, what's it about?" I asked randomly, wetting my lips as I stared at my knees.
I heard him lift the document and hum. "This? It's nothing. Do you recall what I said about having an interest in art?"
"Yes. You said you saw my sketches and wanted to know me," I answered.
He fell silent for a moment before sighing and replying, "Yes, but that's not all. Miss Long, are you aware of how long it's been since the kingdom's founding?"
I didn't answer immediately. I was nonplussed by the sudden interrogation concerning our nation's history. What did the kingdom's founding have to do with our contract? My brows furrowed then I rubbed my chin before glossing through old memories from a History class and the fragmented images of my grandfather. Finally, I looked up at him. "It has been 70 years, right? 70 years ago, Wayne Tiloratyui Arthur Frost ascended the throne as the first king of the Faust Kingdom. Thus began the monarchy of the Faust royal family. Before that, however, there had been a great war that diffused from the west and into the rest of the world, or so my grandfather had once told me. The war caused numberless losses and incredibly impacted the world," I paused, realizing that I was rambling, and looked up at Mr. Donovan.
I saw him gazing at me quietly, silently prodding me to continue. There was an inexplicable glint in his eye. I cleared my throat, recalling the words of my lamented grandfather that remained etched in my mind like a lover's words on an epitaph. I heaved a tired sigh.
"Back then, it was believed that human civilization would be exterminated by their antagonism towards each other. However, public opinion was quickly drowned out by the emergence of anonymous individuals holding supernatural gifts in varying sectors.
"Some of these unknown people were artful and shrewd strategists who could topple long-standing powers, others were peerless combatants whom they said could confront fifty men and still emerge victoriously. Yet again, some were exceptionally blessed in the five arts, that is music, chess, poetry, painting, and embroidery. The world was thrown into further turmoil amid the war as each nation offered unbelievable privileges to these people, in exchange for garnering their allegiance.
"But the majority of these unknown individuals were against war and bloodshed and instead proposed to several nations that the war be halted. Thus the flames of war began to dim. Before anyone knew it, they had long been extinguished. I think those people were welcomed into various noble families, intermarried and their gifts were eventually passed down to their descendants.
"As of now, their descendants have either lost the touch of their ancestor or have fortunately preserved their ancestor's teachings and remain a household name," I concluded, an impalpable bitterness stinging my tongue as I said this.
My eyes darkened slightly with displeasure before quickly calming. My eyes resembled an abysmal night sky, and I hoped it would stay that way, and that my connection to that long-lost tale would not rise and engulf my life in a storm.
I looked up, finally noticing Mr. Donovan's odd silence. I had thought he would at least intervene to contribute. I thought he would know much more than me, seeing that he was the head of the Royal Investigation Bureau which specialized in gathering information. But no. His tranquil features were clouded in mystery.
He paused before a corner of his lips edged upwards slightly into an unnatural smile. "You know quite a bit about this, don't you? The information about the Peacemakers is not known to the public. It's not something you can learn from any school either. Would you mind telling me the one who told you this?" His tone sounded unusual. Not to mention, his expression was odd. I wasn't used to seeing him smile so much.
I abruptly felt like I was addressing a person I barely knew - but that was true, wasn't it? My brow furrowed slightly at the realization. I barely know him.
"It was my grandpa. I stayed with him after my parents died," I answered, dismissively. Then I creased a brow at him, "Now, why did you have me reiterate the history of our kingdom? And those people are called 'Peacemakers', huh?"
Mr. Donovan looked at me. "What did you think of them as, then?"
I pursed my lips and muttered, a little gloomily, "They seem more like calculating opportunists to me. It was as though they knew the war was coming, or, rather, they lit the flames of war themselves..."
"But that would be questionable. Looking at their abilities, they have no reason to start a war if their goal was to be recognized by higher powers," Abel responded calmly, cutting off any room for me to dispute. I lifted a brow. "You still haven't told me, Mr. Donovan. What does that contract have to with this?"
He smiled, and I recognized a familiar coldness in his smile. "Miss Long, your artistic nature is very reminiscent of the Peacemaker who emerged back then who was skilled in painting. In fact, you could say that the essence of your style is a replica of that person's."
My brows arched. My painting was comparable to some famous guy who ended the war 70 years ago? I smiled bitterly. I was just an ordinary person from a normal background; how could that be true? My painting wasn't all that good either. I had gone to numerous art galleries, knocked off even more famous artworks and none were worse than mine.
Of course, I didn't feel bad because of that. Naturally, there was always someone better than you and if I assumed myself better or equal to someone then I would end up blindly relying on that assumption. But everything was different when another person claimed otherwise and praised me with such a stern face, especially him. It reminded me of...of that time... My dark fringe fell glumly.
I finally looked up at Mr. Donovan who seemed nonchalant despite his ground-breaking words. He was skimming through that document again, appearing thoughtful. I frowned. It was true that I had feelings for him; nonetheless, I remained painfully aware of several things.
I inhaled, my eyes surging with emotion.
My voice came out strangely hoarse and raspy, as though I was being slowly asphyxiated. "Mr. Donovan, is this also about your suspicions towards me? Do you still believe I am the famous art thief? Barging here into the mountains all of a sudden, saying you have an 'intense absorption in art', that 'you want to know me', and then, this..." I pursed my lips.
Why am I angry all of a sudden? Is it because I know the real reason why he's here?
Something saline and wet stung the edges of my eyes.
Damn it.
"...do you think of me as a brainless imbecile who will take all your words for the truth?"
What am I saying? Of course, he doesn't think of me like that, but...does he?
What does he think of me as?
Still, why should I tell him this?
Is it because he actually only came here to investigate me? Because his words deceived me for a moment into believing that there was something more? Why do I continue to cling hopelessly to these feelings - to him? Why is it that I haven't changed - that I am still...
"...you...you jerk..." It's because of you that I have these uncontrollable emotions. It's because of you that I've fallen in love.
Suddenly, I felt a warm touch on my chin, which was lifted gently. I hadn't noticed him approaching me. He was kneeling on one knee, my chin firmly clasped between his thumb and index finger as he looked deeply into my trembling pupils.
"Did you always have such thoughts?" he asked, his voice sounding closer than it ever had before. For once, he didn't seem to be speaking from a far realm. He was speaking to me.
I looked at him and saw the concern welling in his dark eyes and his normally cold features. I motioned my head slightly into a tight nod. He leaned closer, his eyes boring into mine.
"Then..." his voice was snuffed out, as his lips covered mine. My heart drummed wildly against my chest as his lips caressed my lips passionately. I felt strong, familiar arms surround me in a tight hug. And...it felt so real. It felt more real than anything in my life. Warm liquid cascaded from my eyes, rolling towards his hand that had slid to my cheek. His lips lingered on mine for a moment longer, his hand stroking my cheek before he pulled away slightly.
His dark eyes held mine for a moment. "Do you still have those thoughts?" he asked, his voice slightly raspy.
I shook my head, a rosy hue suffusing my cheeks.
"Then," his eyes lowered slightly - towards my lips, "will you kiss me again?"
I froze and held my breath as he lessened the distance between our lips again. His breath washed over my neck. I shut my eyes as his lips were about to brush mine.
"The f*** are you doing?!" A man's shout suddenly intervened.
Huh?
My eyes opened, and I spotted a man in his early twenties standing at the door. His platinum-blond hair was slicked back, the dark sunglasses contrasting with his porcelain smooth skin. Prussian blue eyes shone with alarm behind the sunglasses.
"D...Damon..." I smiled crookedly at my best friend, feeling awkward at the situation. Couldn't you have chosen another day to barge in here uninvited?!