Chapter – 11
Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
Ben’s heart was pounding wildly.
He placed a hand over his chest.
The beat was so strong he could feel it clearly against his palm.
His heart was racing at least ten times faster than usual—so much so that he worried he might actually die like this.
His face stiffened in panic.
Why am I thinking things like this…?
He pressed his hands to his burning cheeks.
The heat felt as if it had seeped into his bones, leaving his entire body feeling scorched.
“I’ve lost my mind. Completely lost it…”
To harbor such impure thoughts about Cersinia, who had shown him nothing but kindness.
Unable to repay her generosity, he was instead indulging in disgraceful fantasies.
Overwhelmed with shame, Ben wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and hide.
He needed to calm himself down—quickly.
Before she came back. Completely.
Ben pushed himself up from the chair and headed for the door.
He thought that if he stood in the cold air, he’d cool down quickly.
And maybe cool his burning face as well.
The afternoon sun was high in the sky.
Ben stepped into the yard and spotted a pile of laundry. Without hesitation, he began washing it by hand.
He’d always been the youngest at construction sites, tasked with all the menial labor, so chores like cleaning and laundry came naturally to him.
Cooking, however, was another matter.
He’d never had the chance to learn.
All he’d ever eaten were pieces of bread and thin soup handed out to him.
“If only I knew how to cook…”
Then he could’ve served Cersinia a warm meal.
The thought left him regretful.
After finishing the laundry, he shook out the excess water and hung the clothes on the line.
The sun was bright, the breeze gentle—they’d dry in no time.
That was one less thing for Cersinia to worry about.
Even though she had repeatedly told him not to do anything, Ben just wanted to see her smile at him.
His hands were red and numb from the cold water, but if it meant seeing Cersinia’s smile, he’d do this a hundred times over—two hundred, even.
Washing clothes in the dead of winter, or something even harder.
I need to finish everything perfectly before she gets back.
He worked faster, hanging the laundry with renewed urgency.
He wanted her to return as soon as possible—wanted to see her smile.
The gentle curve of her lips, the warm coral glow in her eyes—he missed them already.
“Ben!”
At that moment, the voice he’d been waiting for rang out.
His head snapped around.
Like a puppy greeting its owner—tail missing but spirit intact—he looked ready to leap toward her at any second.
His face shone with pure joy.
Anyone could see how happy he was.
Cersinia was climbing up the hill, carrying a heavy load, her steps hurried.
“Cersinia.”
Ben rushed toward her.
He was worried the load might be too heavy for her and meant to carry it himself.
As he reached her, he stretched out his hands—but Cersinia set the bundle down first.
“Are you okay?”
She grabbed his shoulders with both hands, inspecting him from head to toe, searching for injuries.
Her gaze was frantic.
The moment her hands touched him, Ben felt his heart start racing again.
It was unbelievable—his heart had no sense of timing at all.
“I’m fine. Did something happen?”
He forced himself to ignore his pounding heart and asked worriedly.
Had something happened in the village?
Cersinia seemed more unsettled than usual.
“Did anyone come by looking for you?”
“No. No one came.”
“Really? That’s a relief.”
Only then did she release his arms and let out a deep breath.
“What happened?” Ben asked again, still worried.
“I was afraid you might’ve broken another plate.”
Cersinia laughed as if it were nothing.
Ben couldn’t tear his eyes away from her smile.
No—he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her lips.
The soft curve of them felt like a trap.
A trap he couldn’t escape.
Against her pale, translucent complexion, those red lips completely stole his gaze.
Once again, his heart filled with the desire to taste them.
Ben swallowed hard.
He knew his thoughts were improper—but he couldn’t stop them.
His heart pounded faster than before.
It felt as if it might burst like an overinflated balloon.
“What were you doing?”
Cersinia’s question snapped him back to his senses.
Only then was Ben able to pull his gaze away from her lips.
“I was waiting for you. I also did some laundry.”
He forced a shy smile, afraid she might notice the darkness creeping into his heart.
But unlike usual, the corners of his lips trembled.
Please don’t notice. Please don’t realize how filthy these thoughts are.
“Really? Good job.”
Thankfully, she didn’t seem to sense anything unusual.
Smiling, Cersinia ruffled his bangs.
In that instant, Ben’s eyes shook violently.
The spot on his forehead where her hand brushed felt as if it had been burned.
Even his forehead seemed to have a heartbeat of its own.
Please…
He groaned silently.
The urge to grab her slender, pale hand and kiss each knuckle was driving him mad.
Why was he thinking such things?
Only a pervert could have thoughts like this about her.
She was someone who cared for him out of kindness—how could he harbor such disgraceful desires?
Ben scolded himself.
With an awkward smile, he quickly picked up the bundle at her feet and headed inside.
Forcing these feelings away completely was impossible.
So just a little longer—just a little longer, he would hold onto them.
When the time came to part ways, surely these foolish desires would fade naturally.
Ben believed that firmly.
* * *
“I’m sorry.”
Louis bowed his head nervously.
He’d searched everywhere, sent people out in every direction—even investigated personally—but in the end, he couldn’t find the woman.
She’d hidden herself so thoroughly that not even a single clue remained.
Afraid of the scolding that would soon rain down from the count, Louis’s tightly pressed lips trembled.
The study was silent except for the sound of their breathing.
Louis swallowed hard, growing even more tense.
Seated on a teal velvet sofa framed in ornate gold, Count Montaigne sat with his legs crossed, calmly lifting his teacup.
Outside the wide window, the sun was setting.
The count leisurely admired the sunset before taking a graceful sip of tea.
This outcome wasn’t unexpected.
When Louis had reported earlier, the count had already guessed they wouldn’t find the woman.
That was why he’d prepared another plan.
With a sharp clink, Count Montaigne set his teacup down.
“Prepare thirty million shillings.”
“Thirty million… shillings?”
Louis asked, confused.
“Yes. That’s the amount she’s meant to exchange with me. She’ll definitely return in three days—with the slave.”
The woman had boldly claimed she’d come for the money in a week.
Which meant, if the money was ready, she’d come walking right back on her own.
“You’re going to give her the money?”
The doubt was clear in Louis’s eyes—You ran away refusing to pay her before, so why now?
The count clicked his tongue at Louis’s stupidity.
“Tsk. Think. We give her the money first so she’ll hand over the goods.”
The count believed that patiently explaining things to the ignorant was a noble’s virtue.
Feeling superior, he continued.
“Once we have the goods back, we’ll follow her and find her residence.”
“And… after that?”
“We eliminate her and recover the money.”
The count spoke with a vile smile.
Doing such a thing in the gambling hall could leave witnesses behind.
More than that, he didn’t want any unsavory incidents tied to his precious establishment.
Once her hideout was discovered, the plan was to act under cover of night.
He had already hired a professional assassin.
Louis’s mention of the woman’s mysterious power had made him uneasy.
He hadn’t wanted to go this far—but bad rumors about his business would mean ruin.
After all the investments he’d made, failure now was unthinkable.
He’d designed the system so no one could win large sums easily.
Yet somehow, she’d taken that much money.
If only that woman—only that woman—were gone, everything would be resolved.
“Yes, sir. I’ll prepare the thirty million shillings.”
Louis replied obediently.
The word eliminate bothered him, but it wasn’t his place to interfere.
All he had to do was follow orders.
