I Will Die for You, My Darling! - Chapter 56
Chapter 56
He frowned habitually, but made no comment about the taste. Arietta scoffed inwardly. Gwen’s tales were all lies. A heightened sense of smell? Isaac’s senses were no different from an ordinary man’s.
She picked up the decanter and sat on the edge of the bed. Isaac followed, settling beside her. Her cloudy gray eyes met his as she tilted the bottle back, letting the cool, almost burning liquid fill her mouth. She placed the near-empty decanter on the bedside console, the remaining liquid sloshing faintly. Then, she kissed him.
Isaac accepted her kiss with a gentle warmth. The unswollowed liquor trickled down their chins. A strange thrill coursed through Arietta as she passed the liquid into his mouth.
“Haah…” Isaac frowned, his gaze hot as he looked at her. A purposeful hand slid down her back. Arietta obediently climbed onto his lap, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead.
“I think I’m getting tipsy from just that little bit.”
Isaac, seemingly pleased by her words, gave a short, cynical laugh.
Arietta clung to him, showering his cheeks and jaw with kisses as she waited for the sleeping pills to take effect. She couldn’t proceed until he was asleep. The clock continued its relentless ticking. Every sense alert, she nestled against him. The familiar signals of his body were unmistakable. She felt his muscles gradually relaxing.
“Tired?” she asked casually.
“A little.” Isaac still suspected nothing. He had been somewhat on edge lately, constantly watching her, his nerves frayed. Fatigue was inevitable.
Arietta took his hand and drew him towards the bed. Isaac felt the mattress pull at him with unusual weight, a subtle dissonance that left a strange aftertaste.
“You’ve been pushing yourself too hard lately…” she murmured.
‘I haven’t,’ Isaac thought. He hadn’t even gone to meet the Remains Investigation Team, spending all his time with her in the annex. What was there to push himself about? Yet, a faint thought arose that perhaps he had been pushing himself, mentally. The persistent feeling that Arietta was slipping away from him, like grains of sand through his fingers, was unsettling and disorienting.
A large, rough hand gripped her waist. He pulled her close, as if to prevent her escape to some unknown place. Arietta yielded, enveloped by his suffocating embrace. Lying against him, she felt the steady beat of his heart.
Isaac’s eyelids grew heavy. He blinked slowly, gazing at her face.
“Tired,” he mumbled.
“Go to sleep,” Arietta whispered, her eyes fixed on his face. If her plan succeeded, this would be the last time she saw the face of the man she loved. She committed his drowsy features to memory.
Finally, Isaac drifted into an untroubled sleep. Arietta waited for another fifteen minutes, until his breathing was deep and even.
“Izzy,” she whispered his name. If any trace of consciousness remained, he would have responded. But Isaac only breathed. His unguarded expression made him seem almost childlike, and Arietta stared, momentarily lost. This was the same man who tore her apart, piece by piece, every New Year’s Eve. In moments like these, she almost forgot.
She longed to linger, to memorize the contours of his sleeping face. But she couldn’t afford to succumb to temptation. She had a task to complete. Arietta forced her gaze away, listening to the sounds of the house. The annex of the glass dome mansion was growing quiet. She gently disengaged herself from Isaac’s embrace and slipped away. Had he been sleeping naturally, he might have stirred. But the drug held him fast, oblivious to what was about to unfold.
Arietta clutched the remaining three sleeping pills in her hand. Like a ghost, she silently opened the bedroom door. She had somewhere to be.
