If You Leave Without a Word - Chapter 57
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
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She had another dream.
For some time now, Agatha’s dreams had been visited by people who had passed away.
Starting with her parents, and then the numerous servants who had come and gone as misfortune befell them, even Charlotte. These apparitions appeared as if they had a designated order in circling through her dreams, but they never spoke or did anything. They simply stood still, watching her intently.
Agatha always felt anxious in her dreams, as if these spectral figures might disappear at any moment. Even though she knew they were illusions that would vanish when she woke up, she often awoke in a cold sweat. There were days when the sheets were damp from her sweat.
However, Agatha couldn’t ask anyone, not even Liana, who knew her pain all too well, to watch over her uneasy sleep. People leave eventually— relatives who share blood, close friends who share hearts and everyone.
Faced with the continued loss, Agatha wished her heart could turn to stone.
But pain, even if it could be learned from, could never truly become familiar. The wounds kept piling up and never truly healing. Amidst it all, Agatha learned to resign and give up.
If she doesn’t have expectations, she wouldn’t get hurt. If she didn’t expect someone, then parting ways wouldn’t be as difficult. Agatha made this newfound wisdom her life’s guide.
She unconsciously reminded herself over and over that she would never again suffer the pain of someone leaving her with no defense.
⚜ ⚜ ⚜
A creaking sound signaled the opening of the door just as the candle on the table was halfway melted. It could have woken Agatha from her sleep, but she remained still. The nerves that had kept her on edge all day had finally relaxed, and her sleeping face appeared peaceful.
Cain, entering the bedroom, didn’t hesitate as he gently picked up Agatha. Her position, curled up on the sofa, seemed rather uncomfortable.
Though a book had fallen from her lap onto the carpet, Cain casually glanced at its cover before carrying Agatha to the bed.
The bed sank under their combined weight, and Cain carefully laid her down on the soft duvet.
As he looked down at Agatha lying there with just a one-arm’s distance between them, an inscrutable emotion flickered in Cain’s eyes. His cold eyes did not change, yet the depths of his eyes held a hint of empathy, a hint of something akin to compassion.
Cain continued to gaze at her as she slept, pondering what was going through her mind. His gaze slowly drifted downward, and when he removed the scarf that was covering her neck so tightly, the faint marks of her slender throat, marred by visible finger imprints, were revealed.
He had no need to ask how terrible that night had been for Agatha. He had assured her that as long as he was with her, there would be no danger. However, seeing Agatha trying so hard to put on a brave face filled him with a shallow sense of guilt.
He had promised to keep her safe.
“Hahhh…”
Cain sighed softly.
Cain confirmed Agatha’s steady breathing and then rose from the bed. Agatha, lost in deep slumber, had a faint blush on her cheek. In the spacious bed, she looked just like a child, breathing peacefully.
“How should I deal with John Calvino?”
Cain ran his fingers over his chin. It was a habit of his to do so when lost in thought.
John Calvino was imprisoned in a prison managed and supervised by the knights, as the rumors had it. It couldn’t be said that he was in pristine condition, but he was not mutilated as the rumors suggested. At least not yet.
“Should I cut off the hand that choked that frail neck?”
Such a measure wouldn’t satisfy Cain. He might consider it if he were to bind John and painfully break each of his fingers. However, he had no intention of cleanly severing anything.
“Or perhaps I should rip out the tongue that uttered foul words?”
Though in his heart, he wished to gouge out the eyes that had leered at Agatha’s entire body with lecherous intent. But Cain restrained himself.
He knew dozens of methods to torture captives horrendously. His mere gesture could make hundreds of subordinates mercilessly torture John Calvino till he begged for death.
He pulled the blanket up to cover Agatha’s exposed neck as he contemplated. The touch of his hand brushing against her cheek made her eyelashes tremble, and Cain froze in place.
Only when he heard Agatha’s steady breathing again could he remove his hand from her and got up.
“Regardless, Calvino will never dare to confront you from now on, my dear.”
Cain whispered softly, though it was more of a vow to himself.
After watching his fiance sleeping for a while longer, Cain opened the bedroom door and moved into the inner room. It seemed to be a night where sleep would not come easily to him.
