2. Iphoe Bell. Please remember my name.
Arwin's voice, void of any fluctuation, rang quietly.
He possessed an alluring appearance that captivated the onlooker's gaze, but his voice was also truly magnificent. It was a voice that, once heard, would never be forgotten.
A profound voice with just the right resonance, unlike anything heard from anyone else. The fact that this voice was reaching me felt surreal.
"...Iphoe Bell."
I answered belatedly.
"Age?"
"Eighteen."
"Why did you ask to spend the night with me?"
He asked as if interrogating. There was no hint of discomfort from him. So I, too, replied without any hint of discomfort.
"Then why did you grant me permission?"
I answered him with a question. At that, he pressed his lips together tightly for a moment and blinked his eyes slowly a few times.
"...Because you cried."
"Pardon?"
"I heard that words mixed with tears are sincere."
"...."
"Do you truly wish to spend the night with me? Nothing about how I treat you or your status will change just because we spend the night together."
He spoke quite coldly. But I was indifferent to his coldness.
He knew nothing of the meaning tonight held for me. He knew nothing of how significant this night was for me, who loved him but was bound to die soon.
"It doesn't matter. As I said before, today alone is enough."
If I spend today with you, won't today become a special day as well?
If someone were to ask if I have a memory to recall for the last time right before dying, I would say it is today.
He didn't ask any further questions. Instead, he held my shoulders and slowly kissed me.
Arwin's lips were soft and warm. They were the lips of reality and the lips of the man I loved.
The longer his lips touched mine, the more I felt the boundary between reality and dreams becoming indistinct. It was a hazy feeling, sensing that the thing I had always dreamed of with Arwin was becoming reality.
Arwin began to act just as I had imagined. His delicate hands unfastened my dress, and his hot lips touched the nape of my neck.
Arwin was definitely not homosexual or asexual. Because there was not a shred of unnaturalness in his movements following the procedure of intercourse.
He could have been rough with me, a mere maid, but he only acted like a gentleman. He gave me, unused to another's body heat, enough time for his warmth to seep in.
Although he was already hard, he did not enter me until my body was sufficiently heated. Then, the moment our bodies were heated enough, we became one.
The feeling of being connected to each other was far more ecstatic than I had imagined. Enough that even if tonight were the last day of my life, I could die without regrets.
I scratched his back in uncontrollable pain and pleasure, and his hand swept down my back as if searching for something lost.
In the quiet surroundings, only our rapid breathing rang out as a single noise. Like that, we were becoming a perfect one.
Our sexual compatibility matched surprisingly well. Enough that I would never forget this night. How nice it would be if Arwin thought the same as me.
I thought I wanted him to remember today's affair even after I died. If I could remain in Arwin's mind even like that. That was the last greed I had towards him.
When he entered me for the second time, I gasped for breath and asked him.
"I said I wouldn't wish for anything... but may I wish for just one thing?"
When I asked, no answer returned from him. He merely caressed my skin with his ten hot fingers. I murmured the one thing I wished from him.
"Iphoe Bell. Please remember my name."
Positioned above me, he looked down at me blankly. Perhaps due to the intense movement, his face was slightly flushed.
Whether Arwin felt hot, he roughly swept back his hair that had fallen onto his forehead. With that, his sweat-drenched bangs were neatly swept back. Between them, his round forehead, straight eyebrows, and beautifully shining black eyes were clearly visible.
His flushed face, the faint scent of his sweat, his naturally swept-back hair, and even his red lips. All of those things were stimulating.
Does he know he has an erotic face?
I quietly reached out and stroked his flushed cheek. At the same time, Arwin's languidly relaxed eyes narrowed. He looked down at me for a long time, then pressed his lips against mine.
In the end, there was no answer.
After everything was over, he stroked my cheek gently.
His eyes were relaxed languidly, no different from my imagination. But that was more beautiful than I had imagined.
Although the intercourse was over, he, still positioned above me, spoke to me for the first time.
"...Again."
"...."
"Are you crying?"
Was I shedding tears?
Only then did I raise my hand to my eyes. Whether I had shed tears as Arwin said, my eyes were moist.
What do the hot tears I shed unknowingly signify?
"My tear ducts must be broken."
He pressed the corners of my eyes firmly with his hand. As if trying to check if there really were tear ducts.
"You don't need to mind it."
Because I don't want to have the misunderstanding—which isn't really a misunderstanding—that you care about me.
Although I liked Arwin, I didn't wish for love from him.
Maybe it was because I was convinced it was a relationship that wouldn't connect in the first place. I deemed it enough just to like him with a fluttering heart while looking at him.
True love between a Marquis and a maid is just a story likely to appear in a third-rate novel. Such things didn't exist in reality. Therefore, I didn't want to have other greed. Furthermore, I was going to die soon.
Suddenly, Arwin withdrew his hand that had stayed on my face and pulled away from me.
He left the bed and put on a gray robe that might have been somewhere. Then he walked to the front of the window he had left slightly open. His skin, revealed through the half-draped gray robe, was shining in the moonlight.
"I have two hearts."
He brought up words of unknown meaning.
"Spending the night with you today is my second heart. Remember that."
Leaving behind incomprehensible words, he couldn't take his eyes off the window. I couldn't guess at all what he might be looking at.
Two hearts. What does that mean?
Green leaves were turning red.
It was a green light that seemed like it would last forever, but it seems no one can stop the flow of time.
"Be-Bell? Are you crying again?"
Katie, who was sweeping the garden next to me, asked as if startled. 'Are you crying?' That question was one I had heard enough to make my ears callous these days.
I answered Katie nonchalantly.
"Yeah. Because it seems the fallen leaves are changing color."
"...You were more sensitive than I thought."
"Maybe so. Those green leaves will become complete fallen leaves in a few days, and fall when winter comes."
Fallen leaves won't be the only things falling. By then, wouldn't I fall too? Into a world from which I can never return to reality.
"Katie, do you mind leaving me alone for a moment?"
I said to her while wiping my tears with my sleeve. Then, a quite flustered Katie said she understood, picked up her broom, and walked far away.
Seeing my vain face crying, she probably couldn't bring herself to say words of refusal.
I suddenly wanted to face my crying face. But I didn't have a hand mirror. I only had one very old, brown broom. It was a bit regrettable.
As soon as Katie disappeared, I lay down on the well-trimmed grass. The broom I was holding had already been thrown somewhere.
I knew a maid shouldn't lie on the well-groomed grass, but for some reason, I didn't care about such things at all. Whatever happens, happens.
"Living is futile."
Looking up, light leaking through the leaves of the tree with a sturdy trunk dizzied my vision.
It was the sunshine of a common day, but now even such common things felt sorrowful to me.
It was a moment when ordinary things became special.
Today's smell of the wind, today's sun, and today's Arwin, which I won't be able to feel tomorrow. I had a fixed grace period to feel such things.
Therefore, there was a need to feel such things a little more specially. Before regretting not having felt them specially.
Basking in the sunshine that was still warm apart from the cold wind, suddenly the night I shared with Arwin came to mind. It was already a week ago.
But his hot body temperature had become a brand, heating my body even now. Just thinking about that night made my heart tickle insanely and feel like it was shriveling.
If only I could take out my heart, I wanted to take it out and scratch it until it bled. But I couldn't do that. It is a pity.
That night was definitely reality, but as time passed, it felt more and more surreal.
Did I really have relations with him? Was it not an extension of my imagination?
Perhaps I felt that way because of Arwin's too nonchalant attitude. Just as he had said, Arwin treated me no differently from usual after that night.
He still treated me as just one of the passing maids, and never spoke to me first. Although he sometimes looked at me with an unfocused gaze, it was only for a fleeting moment.
I wasn't disappointed by his unchanging attitude. Because I had him, even for one night.
The fact that it was me who occupied Arwin that night was a touching event that made my heart swell. But perhaps human greed is endless; I wanted his night again.
Just watching wasn't enough, and I wished for a second night with him, but as expected, I wasn't wishing for love from him. I just wanted to hold his warmth in my hands once again.
Before my corpse is buried in the soft soil.
"Should I ask to do it one more time."
Once is difficult; twice wasn't difficult. I had already resolved not to spare anything anyway.
It was my body, and having relations with the person I wanted to—there was no one to blame me.
Come to think of it, I seemed to have lived worrying too much about what others thought in everything.
If I do this, will someone blame me? Is it immoral? Due to such worries, I had rarely acted according to my will.
Only now, reaching the end of life, was I engulfed in the desire to live as I pleased. I wanted to do things I couldn't do because I was afraid someone would curse me. Even if it was an immoral and law-breaking act.
There were countless things I couldn't do, more than I could count on my hands. If I had to choose the one I craved the most among them, it was a debauched life.
I lived hiding my secret desires while pretending to be shy about sexual things, but in fact, I liked sexual things more than anyone else. Stimulating and dense desires were full deep inside my heart.
I filled the desires I couldn't realize little by little by reading texts or listening to someone's experiences. But sometimes, that made my desires grow even bigger.
Whenever that happened, I once imagined meeting anyone debauchedly. Like the peerless beauties in old classics changing men overnight.
When my thoughts reached there, a thick shade began to cast over my head. It was someone's shadow.
"...A maid throwing away her broom and lying on the grass."
It wasn't a scolding remark; rather, it was a remark tinged with laughter. At least, it wasn't Arwin's profound voice.
I half-raised my lying body and looked at the owner of the voice. Then, I saw blond hair shining brightly enough to sting my eyes.
"Ah, it's dazzling."
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