Please read my comment by the end of this chapter.
Music Recommendation: Enigma- Varien.
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Diana's gaze locked onto the elderly man who had barged into the room without a knock, prompting a puzzled frown to crease her forehead.
Adriana, perceiving Diana's confusion, gently tapped her arm, seeking her attention. Speaking in a soft tone, she explained, "He's the physician I mentioned earlier." Diana nodded, her eyes still fixed on the man, her curiosity unabated.
As Diana observed the man, certain details caught her attention. His pale, weathered skin spoke of a life well-lived, marked by the passage of time. The lines etched across his face revealed a wealth of experience, as if each one held a story waiting to be told.
There was a certain grace in his aged appearance, a quiet strength that only comes with the wisdom accrued over years. And there was something about him, an air of dignity that commanded respect.
She couldn't help but be captivated by his most striking feature―a flowing mane of straight hair that cascaded down, interwoven with strands of silver and ash. The hues of pepper and salt blended together like threads of wisdom, defying expectations with their length.
Neatly tied into a ponytail resting comfortably at the midpoint of his back, his long hair exuded a simple yet elegant charm.
Peering through his round, wire-framed glasses, she caught a glimpse of his emerald eyes. Despite the passage of years, those eyes remained sharp and brilliant, as if untouched by the hands of time. They shimmered with intelligence, curiosity, and a subtle hint of mischievousness.
The mesmerizing charm of those eyes, once alluring and handsomely vibrant in his youth, still possessed an undeniable allure. Their depth and wisdom effortlessly drew her in, casting an enchanting spell upon her senses.
Lost in her reverie, Diana was oblivious to the passage of time, her gaze fixated on the man. It was only when Adriana gently reproached her, injecting a touch of admonishment, that she snapped out of her trance.
A blush of embarrassment colored her cheeks as she realized the unabashed intensity of her scrutiny. With a quick shift of her eyes, she averted her gaze, feeling a mixture of self-consciousness and remorse.
In that moment, Diana nodded in acknowledgement, extending a wordless greeting to the elderly man. But before her silent salutation could fully manifest, she heard his voice, a voice tinged with a sense of disappointment and gentle reproach.
"Oh, Adriana, you're being too strict on her. She is but a child, and curiosity is an essential quality in children." His words were accompanied by a disapproving tut, as if expressing his dissatisfaction.
Adriana's gaze sharpened, a subtle glint of annoyance flickering in her eyes. His feigned consideration and overexaggeration grated her nerves, striking a dissonant chord within. However, she maintained a polite smile, though it failed to reach the depths of her eyes, and responded with a composed tone, "Indeed, I am aware of that. Yet, as her mother, it is my responsibility to guide her in understanding the nuances of her behavior and attitude, isn't it?"
Sylvain's faint smile faltered, stiffening upon his face. It seemed as though she was imparting to him the most rudimentary lessons, as if he were a child in need of instruction on navigating the societal norms. Ignoring her retort, he turned his attention toward Diana, who met his gaze with a glimmer of distrust shining in her eyes, her curiosity now mingled with wariness.
A soft hum escaped his lips as he inquired, "Diana, is it? I trust that you must be feeling better now?"
Diana's gaze held a blend of confusion and intrigue, her mind searching for answers. There was an undeniable sense of familiarity emanating from this man, yet she was certain they had never crossed paths before. Why, then, did his presence evoke such a peculiar sense of recognition?
The fact that someone from the village would willingly offer assistance without resistance raised profound suspicions in Diana's mind. Nevertheless, she couldn't allow herself to be ungrateful to the person who had likely rescued her from the brink of death. Perhaps he was simply unaware of the rumors circulating her and her mother, she speculated.
In an effort to convey gratitude and avoid appearing impolite, Diana summoned a modest smile and replied, "Yes, I am feeling much better now. Thank you."
Adriana's lips pursed, her gaze shifting from Diana to Sylvain. Worry etched across her face as she voiced her concerns, "She claims to be fine, but I can't help but notice that her body temperature feels slightly elevated. And the occasional furrowing of her brows suggest that she might be experiencing a headache."
Diana opened her mouth to refute her mother's observation, but a slight glare from Adriana swiftly silenced her. She marveled at her mother's astute attentiveness, wondering how she remained so observant in such situations.
Sylvain nodded in understanding as he approached the duo. With a contemplative pause, he reached into his pocket and produced a small glass vial containing a milky-white liquid. "She should consume this to alleviate her elevated body temperature," He explained. "However…" he trailed off, emphasizing his words, "It would be advisable for her to take it after having something to eat, as it possesses potent effects."
Adriana nodded with comprehension, muttering to herself,
"How thoughtless of me. My excitement must have clouded my judgement, neglecting to consider the possibility of her empty stomach," Rising from her seat, she addressed Sylvain, "I entrust her care to you momentarily. I shall return shortly."
Diana's eyes widened in a mix of apprehension and helplessness as she helplessly watched her mother's retreating figure until the door closed behind her. A surge of questions clouded her mind―why did her mother trust this man enough to leave her in his care?
Left alone with the enigmatic elderly man, an awkward silence enveloped the room, filling the air with an uncertain tension.
Fidgeting with her fingers, Diana found sudden fascination in the intricate patterns of the bedsheet. Her thoughts raced, unsure of what to say or how to break the uneasy silence.
However, her insatiable curiosity got the better of her, and before she could restrain herself, she ventured to ask, "Who are you? Is it possible that we have crossed paths before?"
"Who am I?" Sylvain let out a contemplative hum as he unconsciously ran a hand through his hair. "I assumed your mother had already informed you that I am your physician."
Diana bit her lip, realizing she already knew this information. But there was something about his presence,
an aura that seemed to surpass the mere role of a physician.
A furrow formed on her brow as confusion overwhelmed her. Since waking up, she had become attuned to her surroundings, including the man standing before her. His presence felt overpowering, almost unsettlingly prominent.
Reluctant to burden her mother with further worries, Diana withheld her unsettling observations. Moreover, the sense of familiarity she felt toward him only deepened her perplexity. She pressed on, her voice tinged with curiosity, "I apologize for my persistence, but is there a possibility that we have met before?"
Sylvain tilted his head slightly, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes, which were cunningly narrowed as if attempting to decipher Diana's thoughts. A cunning smile adorned his lips as he countered, "Why do you inquire about such a matter?"
Diana parted her lips to respond but hesitated, her eyes trembling as they met his penetrating gaze. It didn't take long for her to realize that she was being tested, entangled in a precarious game. She felt like a pawn in a tug-of-war, aware that she was destined to be on the losing end, while her opponent, equally aware, toyed with her without remorse―a test of her resilience.
Her clammy fingers intertwined, holding tightly to one another. She refused to break eye contact, knowing that every word she uttered would be skillfully used against her.
In that moment, she understood that silence was her best defense, a shield against the treacherous depths of this intricate and perilous situation.
Observing Diana's quick perception of the situation, a glimmer of amusement flashed in Sylvain's eyes, though he concealed it with a gentle laugh. "Oh, my apologies if I made you a bit nervous there," he remarked, earning a subtle frown from Diana, her gaze now filled with perplexity. He continued, "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable in any way."
Noting Diana's cautious silence, Sylvain pressed on. "To address your previous questions, I am Sylvain, the owner of an antique shop. No, we have never met before, but perhaps we have crossed paths on the streets without realizing it?"
Diana contemplated the possibility of a chance encounter, but she couldn't shake the feeling that someone with such a distinctive presence would be hard to forget. Nevertheless, she decided to let the matter rest, lacking the energy to dwell on it further. "Hmm, I apologize for my intrusive questions as well," She responded. "However, you mentioned being an antique shop owner, yet you claim to be my physician."
Sylvain explained, "I used to work as a physician before retiring and settling in this village. Your mother was aware of my background, and since I owe her a debt of gratitude, offering my assistance in this way is my way of repaying her."
Diana wanted to inquire further about the nature of the debt he owed her mother, but she chose to remain silent. Exhaustion washed over her, and she yearned for some rest. However, the unwelcome presence beside her compelled her to stay awake and remain vigilant.
Her gaze drifted toward the window, where golden sunlight streamed in. A glimpse of magpies soaring through the sky caught her attention, and she offered a faint smile.
In that moment, a long-forgotten rhyme echoed in her mind―a tune the children of the village used to sing while playing.
One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret never to be told, eight for a wish, nine for a kiss, ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss, eleven for health, twelve for wealth, and finally, thirteen, beware, it's the devil himself.
Her smile wavered, and she shook her head, perplexed by the sudden recollection. Sylvain looked at her with confusion, prompting her to mutter to herself, "I must be overthinking this."
Raising an eyebrow, Sylvain inquired, "What did you say?"
Diana quickly dismissed his question, responding, "Oh, it was nothing. You must have misheard."
Silence settled between them, leaving an air of unspoken mysteries hanging in the room.