Dylan de Beaumon, the adopted daughter of a Duke, recalls the memories of her past-life after hitting her head. Upon realizing she was a villainess character in a novel, she decides to use her intellectual giftedness to get a good career and run awa...
"You know," he said, almost whispering. "I think that you could understand me—the real me. No delusions. No masks. Just me. I think... if it's you..." His voice drifted off in an incomprehensible mumble. It was a desperate whisper that showed the longing that consumed him.
"Why?" Dylan asked, lowering her eyes. "Why would you think something like that?"
"You and I—we're the same."
"Oh, Laikin," she said. She reached out and laid her hand along his burning cheek. "You and I couldn't be more different. The first thing you should know about me is that I'm not you."
'You made yourself like this because you chose to. I made myself like this because I had to. I had to do it to survive.'
She pulled her hand back. They were parallels—coexisting side by side, always keeping the same distance. Like parallels, their paths could never cross. It was impossible. It was against the laws of nature. It just didn't make sense.
"Just because you and I both wear masks"—she smiled sadly—"doesn't mean we're the same underneath."
His face darkened. "Different," he echoed faintly. "But—"
"Laikin," she interrupted.
Dylan pulled him gently against her. She stood on her toes and stretched upward to reach his lips. She covered them with her own in a long warm kiss. Dylan slipped one arm around his neck as his hands found her waist. For a moment they clung to each other, melting against each other's lips.
"Laikin," she whispered, drawing back. "The next and last thing you need to know about me—is that I can never love you."
She stroked his hair and kissed his forehead, while tears coursed down her cheeks. She could never love anyone because she didn't want to give herself another person to lose. This was as far as she could ever go—the furthest distance she could cross.
In the end, no matter who she touched or who she refused to love, she was just going to burn it all. The people. The town. The sky. She wanted it all to burn, so just maybe, she could finally feel some warmth.
Perhaps she did it on the spur of the moment. Maybe she was desperate to feel something other than anger and resentment. But it was on that day that Dylan had her first kiss—a kiss that tasted like tears.
***
Blurgh! The vomit pooled beneath her as Dylan heaved on all fours. The pain in her stomach was almost crippling, but it was the only solution she was able to think of.
After kissing Laikin, she departed almost immediately. She ended up crying and holding him for a long time before he escorted her to a prepared carriage. She found the whole situation very embarrassing.
The little nagging discomforts that ate away at her heart disappeared when she kissed him. She had used his lips and his warmth in the spur of the moment to feel better.
When she returned from the Frederique estate, she secretly consumed ipecac syrup. It was a medicine that caused vomiting and was used to partially empty a person's stomach after consuming a poison.
Clubs officially started this week and there was no way she was going to attend. Knowing Axil, he would drag her there even if she was bruised and burnt.
"Milady," Mina said, crying. "This... this is bad..."
"Stop that!" said Axil with an angry snort. "You're grossing everyone out."
Dylan glanced up at him with a pathetic look on her face. Blurgh!
'That would've happened even if I didn't consume the syrup.'
Thud. He kicked her in the stomach, and she gasped. Her shoulders were hunched, as if she was preparing for him to hack off her head or kick her again. Dylan fought back tears as her entire body crawled with pain.
"My Lord!" Jessie begged on her knees, grabbing onto the sleeve of his jacket. "If you continue to kick her like this, her condition will only worsen!"
"Ha," he snorted. "I'm fixing it, see?"
Thud. Dylan refused to scream.She'd promised herself she wasn't going to cry today. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her tears. Blurgh!
"Disgusting," he said, wrinkling his face in displeasure. "If he was going to bring a rat from the streets, he should've at least chosen one that wasn't so weak. How am I supposed to teach you to use a sword when you can't even stand?"
He turned and stormed away, muttering curses as he threw the door shut behind him. Dylan's maids immediately rushed over with panicked expressions.
"Mina," Jessie said, moving her hands hurriedly. "Send word to the Duke's mansion that we will be returning home immediately."
"Lord Axil has to be stopped!" she replied with teary eyes, searching anxiously for a piece of parchment. "Just how... how can..."
Grabbing a wash cloth, Jessie moistened it with cold water. "We must speak to the Duke," she said, placing it on the back of Dylan's neck. "The young master has really gone too far. I shouldn't have turned a blind eye to his actions before."
'Finally, all the pieces on my chessboard are starting to move.'
"O, okay," Dylan said, weakly. "But first, there's something I must do."
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AUTHOR'S NOTE:
AH! What could Dylan be planning now? What must she do before returning home?
