Guidelines for the Perfect Goodbye - Chapter 52
“The contract’s fine.”
Cecilia sealed the certificate and solidified the wax drop on it.
“Really? It’s not filled with insults or anything?”
“What benefit would there be in leaving curses on a document sealed with her own stamp?”
“…Spite?”
Cecilia shook her head in disbelief.
Mother, this woman is not you.
“The certificate is fine. The conditions are reasonable.”
“Conditions? She dared to include conditions?”
“To take a woman of Marchioness Rosencrantz’s standing as a chaperone, this is the least one must do.”
“…What are the conditions?”
“All kinds of waltzes to be learned, the ability to perform at least three different compositions, memorizing the appearances of other debutante noble ladies according to their lineage, and…”
Cecilia smiled wryly, furrowing her brow.
“Not to cry under any circumstances.”
“What’s that? Some sort of trick to torment you…”
“Even if it is, it’s necessary. Can’t enter the jungle unarmed, so one must at least have the courage, right?”
She tucked the certificate into her sleeve and said,
“Marchioness Rosencrantz will call for me soon. I’ll meet her and discuss the details then.”
“Cecilia.”
Lilith grabbed her daughter’s wrist, her grip tightening.
“What are you trying to do?”
“Don’t worry, Miss Lilith. We will all be safe.”
“…”
The formality in her tone loosened Lilith’s grip.
Cecilia straightened her drooping brows and spoke with dignity.
“Thank you for your help today. I’ll send a token of gratitude through my maid.”
Then she strode out, grasping the doorknob behind her.
Click…
The door closed, and only then did she exhale the breath she’d been holding.
“…”
Cecilia closed and then opened her eyes deeply, releasing the doorknob of the Garnet Room. Her expression had returned to its usual calm.
***
As Cecilia was passing through the guest room corridor on her way to her room, someone suddenly grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a room as if caught in a whirlwind.
“Sir Nigel.”
She found herself up against a yellow wall.
“Don’t you have something to tell me?”
“Something to say?”
Indeed, there was something.
Cecilia, craning her neck to look up, said,
“You are incredibly rude.”
Then she feigned concern.
“Do you have such… tastes?”
“What?”
Nigel, taken aback by her unexpected remark, let out a hollow laugh.
“You’ve really gone mad.”
She twirled a finger around her temple.
“If I admit to being mad, can I go then?”
“Absolutely not.”
His handsome lips curled into a smirk.
“It was you who did it, wasn’t it?”
“What did I do?”
“You poisoned me.”
“Sir Nigel, you really were poisoned? Oh my…! Are you alright?”
A familiar conversation ensued, almost déjà vu-like.
“You think I’m a fool, don’t you?”
Yes.
“Of course not.”
Cecilia shook her head.
“You stole my pendant.”
“I found it lying around.”
“You drugged me.”
“You seem frailer than I thought, Sir.”
“…You played a part in Guinevere’s scheme.”
“What scheme?”
Nigel’s face reddened with anger.
“How long do you plan to keep up this act?”
“Until you let me go, Sir Nigel.”
“Oh, that’s unfortunate.”
He deliberately locked the door.
“I happen to be quite patient. I’m good at waiting.”
“That’s a surprisingly uninteresting fact.”
Cecilia flopped onto the bed and casually kicked her feet.
“If we stay like this for an hour, I might end up becoming your wife.”
Nigel laughed at her threat, a devilish grin on his face.
“Go ahead. Try.”
“…You might faint again, like before.”
“Let’s see about that.”
He took a single step to reach the edge of the bed where Cecilia sat. His broad shoulders loomed closer, and his large hands descended on either side of her. The bed creaked ominously.
“That day you made me collapse.”
He spoke, facing her from a close distance.
“Do you know what kind of hallucinations I had to suffer through?”
Tick, tock. The relentless sound continued.
Like a few drops of rain before a downpour.
That unsettling premonition. That detestable dissonance.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock…
Did he really feel such an… impulse towards her? This mongrel?
Irritation bubbled up inside him, and an unimaginable phrase burst forth.
“Fine, let’s marry.”
“What are you— Wait, back up a bit…”
“In return.”
Nigel pressed his hand on the bedspread, his other hand firmly grasping Cecilia’s chin.
“Prepare yourself.”
“Sir, it hurts.”
“It will be worse than hell.”
It was more of a warning than a threat.
“It hurts, you…”
Just as a harsh curse was about to spill out, he stepped back.
“So, are you ready to spill the truth now?”
Nigel sneered, adding one more thing.
“My wife.”
