Odette's room was empty. From the faint sound of water running coming through the bathroom door, it seemed that her bath was not yet finished.
Bastian took his last step and crossed the threshold. When the door to the passageway connecting the two bedrooms was closed, the silence increased.
It was late at night, but Odette's room was as bright as midday. Perhaps she preferred bright, but it was the opposite of Bastian, who only uses minimal lighting.
Bastian stepped into the light.
The hostess's bedroom, upon careful examination, was not much different from before the interior decorator had decorated it. At first glance, it looked cluttered, but most of the stuff belonged here from the beginning. Rarely was there anything that could be said to belong to Odette.
Even that was perfectly organized, so there was no sense of life. A space ready to leave at any time. It was a scene reminiscent of a warship's cabin or an officer's quarters.
Bastian's gaze skimmed over the various glass bottles placed on the dressing table and stopped at the gold comb Odette liked to use. H. It wasn't too difficult to guess who the fancy initials engraved on the handle belonged to.
The only thing the princess left for her daughter was an old comb. It was proof of how far Duke Dissen had ruined his family's lives.
After putting the comb back in its place, Bastian walked slowly towards the bed. It was when he stopped in front of a bed bench with a gown and shawl folded neatly that he heard a knock.
"I'm sorry, master. A letter had come for the madam."
The butler, who bowed and apologized, held out the letter he had brought. Wrinkles formed between Bastian's brow as he calmly accepted it. It was a letter from the Duke of Dissen, who was locked up in the hospital.
As the butler left, Bastian approached the table by the window holding the letter. He took out a cigarette, lit it, took a deep breath, and his eyes were fixed only on the thick envelope as the smoke dissipated into the air.
The moment it became comical that he still had so many things left to say to his daughter, Bastian made his decision. His action of opening the envelope and unfolding the letter without hesitation was bold, as if exercising a natural right.
It was truly deplorable that the duke had no shame in disgracing his family's name by associating with the lowly man.
The Duke of Dissen's letter began without the usual greeting. The wide paper was filled with scoldings and curses at his daughter and son-in-law, who had entered into a marriage he opposed, and extreme anger at the letters he had sent so far being ignored.
Putting down the letter, which seemed unworthy of further reading, Bastian took a deep drag of his cigarette between his lips. It was regrettable that the only thing that the Duke broke was his back. If possible, it would have been nice if his wrists were also broken. So he wouldn't be able ro write such a letter.
Bastian tossed the cigarette butt into the ashtray and stood up with a lighter and the letter. He threw the lit letter into the fireplace as the bathroom door opened.
Odette, smiling brightly, approached the dressing table with her maid. She did not appear as surprised or panicked as before. After checking the letter that disappeared after being reduced to ashes, Bastian sat down leisurely on the edge of the bed facing the dressing table.
While the young maid was drying Odette's still-damp hair, Odette methodically applied something from a gorgeously decorated glass jar to her face. Their eyes met in the mirror the moment she opened the lid of a pottery bottle decorated with violets.
Odette gently lowered her eyes and avoided Bastian's gaze. She silently prayed he would go to sleep first as usual, but he showed no signs of moving.
Having abandoned her futile hopes, Odette once again went about her work. She carefully applied the cream she had removed from the bottles then rearranged them to their original state. From left to right. In the order of use. It was a habit she had learned from her mother.
"Then I'll leave you now, madam."
After finishing her duties, the maid politely announced. When she returned from tidying up the bathroom, Molly came over and bowed her head.
The situation of being left alone was nerve wracking, but Odette could no longer find an excuse to hold them. Meanwhile, the door opened and closed again. Bastian was still sitting there looking at Odette in the mirror.
Odette combed her hair carefully, avoiding eye contact with him. The sound of the comb sliding through her hair lightly permeated the growing silence.
Feeling obligated to say anything, Odette thought of an appropriate subject. Actually, she was curious about the letter Bastian had burned, but she didn't want to ruin the atmosphere by bringing up an unnecessary subject. It was even more so because she could vaguely guess the answer to that question.
There was no need to listen to Sandrine's name coming out of that man's mouth. (*Odette thought the letter Bastian burned was from Sandrine.)
Now she wanted to lie down, but Odette couldn't let go of the comb. It was because of Bastian, who was still holding his position.
Odette was caught in the suffocating stillness and she had to brush her hair that seemed to never end. Bastian watched the scene leisurely as if he were watching an interesting play.
He was a very overwhelming and strange man.
***
Even when Bastian came out of the shower, Odette stood firm in front of the dressing table. The persistence with which she was still brushing her hair was astounding.
Bastian laughed and went to bed. She was the kind of woman who would brush her hair all night unless he lied down first. It was an incomprehensible stubbornness, but he decided to accommodate her appropriately.
Continuing a meaningless confrontation was something he was reluctant to do.
Tightening his gown, Bastian lied down on the bed and closed his eyes. Odette put down the comb and stood up after a while. She moved lightly and quietly, but Bastian could easily detect her presence.
Odette patrolled the room and turned off the lights. It was a kind of ritual she performed before going to bed.
Electric chandeliers and wall lamps. Oil lamps. Candelabras.
As the lights went out one by one, a cozy darkness enveloped the bedroom. Finally, Odette turned off her bedside lamp and carefully approached the bed. It was an extra wide bed that made people feel lonely, but after using it with a big man, she changed her opinion.
Odette lay down on her side and pulled up the blanket. The bed was warm with Bastian's Bastian's body temperature. It was a warmth that reminded her of the past days when she was sleeping with Tira in her arms.
Not wanting to be immersed in her vain sentiments, Odette hurriedly closed her eyes and tried to sleep. However, as time passed, her consciousness became clearer.
Opening her eyes in resignation, Odette gently turned her head toward the side next to her. Bastian, whom she thought had fallen asleep, was surprisingly awake. His eyes were full of Odette, as silent as a part of the darkness.
"Can't you sleep?"
Struggling to swallow a frantic scream, Odette asked calmly.
"You?"
Bastian asked back with a smile. Fortunately, his attitude did not seem to be as distasteful as before.
Only then did Odette let go of her guard and nodded her head with a long sigh.
"I'm very tired, but I can't sleep well."
Odette placed her hands on her chest and faced the ceiling again.
"Thank you for your work today, Bastian."
Odette belatedly conveyed her gratitude, which she hadn't been able to. Her gaze was still directed beyond the darkness of the night.
"Thanks to you, it was nice to be able to ride a horse after a long time. It reminded me a lot of my childhood."
"Why? Do you want to go back to that time?"
"Well. It's an assumption that doesn't make any sense."
So far.
Gently oblique, Odette naturally turned her head around that point. Current weather and social trends. This month's schedule. It was a moderately superficial and safe topic.
"Well. The garden party we are planning to have this weekend. How about inviting Lord Xanders?"
Odette made an unexpected suggestion. Facing Bastian again, her face showed a comfortable smile that had never been seen before.
"If it's Xanders, the botanist?"
"Yes. The Xanders family also owns a villa in Ardennes. I got a call that they were there last weekend. They will not decline our invitation since he said he would like to dine with us sometime."
"Why do we have to add a name that wasn't on the invitation list now?"
"Xanders is a prestigious family that has never missed a front seat in the Imperial Nobility Yearbook. Friendship with him will go a long way in establishing yourself in the social world."
Even in the face of Bastian's callous objection, Odette was hardly dissuaded. Her attitude clearly revealed the trust and goodwill toward Maximin von Xanders.
Who the hell is helping whom?
Odette's benevolent attitude was interesting, but Bastian didn't add any more words. That was the hostess' job anyway. Unless there was a special reason for disqualification, it was none of his business who she invited.
Odette now began talking about the order of the party and the menus to be served. As the pointless report came to an end, a distinct drowsiness was evident in her voice.
"I think I should sleep now."
Slowly opening her closed eyes, Odette whispered softly. The shadow of her dense lashes slowly fluttered over her reddened eyes.
"Good night, Bastian."
Odette closed her eyes at the end of her greeting like a sigh. And shortly after, the sound of calm breathing could be heard.
Bastian looked down at the woman who lay soundly asleep with her head on one arm. Odette's face was so clear and young, as her tired eyes, tormented by the waves of the world, disappeared. Just like this afternoon, when she said she felt as if she had returned to her nostalgic days.
How would her life go after this marriage?
Bastian thought about Odette's future for the first time.
She was a smart and upright woman.
Money and her father. If only she could break the shackles that had dragged her down into the abyss, she would live a more solid life than anyone else.
Perhaps she would get married properly and start a new family.
Even if she was labeled as a divorcee, she might be able to take a second place in a moderately prestigious aristocratic family. Like the next Countess Xanders, for example.
Bastian readily admitted that she was a woman for whom such a life was suitable. Why he felt displeased was another matter, though.
Odette, who had been sleeping, turned over and moved closer as Bastian's breath began to have a faint heat to it. The scent of her flesh intensified as she got closer.
Bastian slowly moved Odette's hair that covered her cheek and her neck. His careful brush of her hair was as soft as velvet. So was the touch of the unexpected brush of her skin.
Was she the type to trust people surprisingly easily?
Bastian's lips tilted crookedly as he watched Odette sleeping soundly.
This was much better than when the woman was defensive and raising her thorns, but this appearance was just as unnerving.
Bastian let out a long, hot, wet sigh and rose resignedly from the bed. The sound of him opening a cigarette box on the table was followed by the sound of flicking the lighter.
Leaning against the moonlit window, he told a deep drag of his cigarette. He burst out laughing as he lowered his gaze at the bulging in his pants.
The blue smoke that he exhaled along with low curses rose slowly into the darkness.
His wife was still sleeping in a deep and peaceful sleep.