I entered the Evergreen Manor, and I didn't need Giselle's guidance.
I had visited so often, spending time with her day after day.
But memories could no longer make me hesitate.
In the garden, Giselle's favorite flowers were being battered down by the torrential rain.
I walked along the path, looking toward the manor's entrance.
There stood an elderly gentleman in a suit with silvery white hair.
Count Evergreen, Giselle's father.
He stood there smoking a cigar in a holder.
He must have been worried about his terribly precious daughter getting caught in the rain.
Convincing that doting fool wasn't my job.
I took Giselle's hand as she walked ahead and kept moving forward.
"Oh, Giselle... I was so worried..."
He stubbed out his cigar upon seeing Giselle, then noticed me attached to his daughter.
His relaxed eyebrows twitched.
I bowed my head before the Count, soaking wet.
"Ain...? What brings you here...?"
"It's been a while, Father-in-law."
The Count frowned at the title I used.
But it wasn't the familiar expression of disgust I often saw from my family.
He simply looked flustered.
"Ain came back to me, Father."
Giselle spoke while squeezing her wet hair to wring out the rainwater.
Hearing his daughter's words, the Count let out a sigh deep enough to sink the earth.
It was a sigh of resignation at another one of his daughter's antics.
"I see..."
The Count didn't ask his daughter for reasons.
He knew it would be pointless.
"Yes, Ain will be staying at our house for a while. Well then."
I followed Giselle as she casually passed her father and opened the door.
The Count, about my height, grabbed my shoulder and spoke quietly.
"Ain. If you don't mind, I'd like to have a word..."
"Ain has much to discuss with me to celebrate our reunion."
The Count let out a smaller sigh than before and approached Giselle.
"I promise to send him right back...
I'm just happy to see my son-in-law, my dear daughter."
He spoke while stroking Giselle's wet hair with an affectionate touch.
His hand touched Giselle's cheek, still red from where I'd hit her.
I clicked my tongue quietly, too soft for the Count to hear.
"...Giselle, are you hurt?"
"I fell. Ain helped me up."
"...I see. Go inside and rest."
I searched my pockets while watching Giselle defend me and the Count embrace her.
All I had was a pack of cigarettes, already soaked through.
I discreetly brushed off the tobacco leaves stuck to my hand.
Fortunately, the rain had washed away the tear stains Giselle had shed and the blood on her lips.
Upon entering the manor's Gothic hall, a golden chandelier caught my eye first.
Black decorations and furniture like Giselle's dress, and white ones like her hair, also came into view.
The indiscriminately hung portraits gave an overall monotonous impression.
The Count watched Giselle's back as she climbed the central staircase with a servant until she was out of sight.
"...First, let me prepare some clothes for you.
We'll talk after that."
He snapped his fingers a few times, and servants who had been waiting nearby approached.
Following a servant's guidance, I changed clothes in a guest room.
The shirt and pants, probably the Count's, were neatly pressed without a wrinkle.
I left the room and walked down the corridor, retracing my memories.
Even though my business was done, the servant followed like a shadow.
I knocked on the door to the Count's office.
"Come in."
The room, no different from a study, smelled of parchment and ink.
He stood before bookcases occupying all four walls and gestured to a sofa.
I sank into the smooth leather sofa and waited for him to speak.
"I only heard news of your return. This is the first time I've seen you since the war."
The Count's gaze moved to my fluttering shirt sleeve.
"I'm truly sorry."
"It's fine."
I answered while looking around the room.
Nothing had changed since the last time I'd visited with Giselle.
"My daughter deciding things on her own without giving me any reason is nothing new."
The Count spoke while pressing his temples.
Despite his words, he seemed to feel tired.
"It would be good if you could explain on my daughter's behalf."
"I intend to resume my relationship with your daughter.
Of course, with marriage as the premise, just like before."
The Count pulled out a cigar from his pocket.
He held it toward me and asked.
"Do you smoke?"
I waved my hand in refusal.
I would never smoke cigars again.
Smoke more acrid than my tobacco rose from his mouth.
"I know what my daughter did to you."
"Lovers always fight over trivial things."
"...Is that really all?"
The Count tapped his cigar on the floor.
His expression suggested he found something suspicious.
I answered calmly.
"As always, Giselle just threw a minor tantrum."
"Even after such... humiliation, you still love my daughter."
"She's my everything."
My tongue rolled out nothing but lies as if oiled.
I felt no pangs of conscience whatsoever.
"I heard you were disowned by your family."
"The rumors seem to have been distorted."
"You're saying there won't be any problems proceeding with the marriage?"
"If you could just give me a little time."
"If my daughter chose you, I wouldn't care even if you were a commoner."
"I appreciate your words. Still, I want to stand in a position worthy of her."
The Count sat on a ladder propped against the tall bookcase.
"You know, don't you. My daughter's stubbornness, her... unique temperament."
He's somehow trying to package her shitty personality.
They say even a hedgehog finds its own baby cute.
How nice it would have been if Douglas resembled even half of this man.
"It's one of the things I fell for."
"That's not what I'm talking about..."
The Count trailed off while drawing on his cigar.
"My daughter said she wants to stay here.
Is there a reason you can't return to Magnolia Manor?"
"It's nothing much. I upset Father as usual."
"Douglas, that man really..."
His tone suggested he felt embarrassed on my behalf.
As neighboring families, they had frequent exchanges.
He knew well how Douglas treated me.
"A servant will guide you to your room.
It's the same room you always use when staying at the manor.
I'll make sure you're comfortable during your stay."
The Count stubbed out his cigar and approached to offer a handshake.
While shaking hands, he spoke quietly.
"I have no worries with you. You've known my daughter as long as I have.
Please take good care of Giselle, of my daughter."
I only smiled.
I was tired even of pleasantries.
"You've changed a bit."
"Have I?"
"You used to be quite timid, but now you seem to have become a man.
The war must have been harsh. You look more robust too."
Yet inside, I must have shriveled up instead.
What expression did the old Ain wear when facing this man?
That idiot Ain who was naive and only looked at one woman.
I left the room, leaving the Count to see me off.
I asked the servant waiting by the door to buy me cigarettes instead of guiding me.
Cheap tobacco sold at general stores, not premium brands.
Walking down the corridor again, I encountered the butler I'd kicked in front of the manor.
Seeing his cowering appearance, I didn't need to worry about word getting out.
Thanks to my conduct as the former Ain, the Count was showing me goodwill.
Though more troublesome than expected, things were going well.
The stone manor's interior was more splendid than my family's.
I passed the familiar candlelit walls several times and entered the room.
I sat quietly on the neatly arranged bed.
Until the servant who went to buy cigarettes returned.
I sat there blankly, listening to the sound of rain.
Taking the cigarettes, I headed to Giselle's room.
I opened Giselle's ebony-black door, like her clothes, without knocking.
In the pitch-dark room, Giselle sat on the windowsill.
She hadn't changed clothes yet, so her wet dress clung to her body.
She turned toward me from watching the falling rain.
I approached and struck her other cheek, different from before.
I grabbed Giselle's hand as she staggered to prevent her from falling out the window.
"Did your conversation with Father go well, Ain?"
I pulled out a cigarette while listening to her monotone voice.
I lit my cigarette with the flame Giselle conjured in her hand and exhaled smoke.
She didn't avoid the smoke touching her face.
"Giselle, I'd like to avoid troublesome situations like just now from now on.
Could you do that for me, please?"
"I will."
I struck the same cheek once more.
Having sobered up from the rain, it took a bit more force.
Giselle's head tilted slightly to the side.
"It hurts."
"Stop that fucking habit of calling my name at the end of every sentence too. Please."
"Okay."
The whip must be followed by a carrot.
I leaned my hand on the windowsill and pressed my lips to her swollen cheek.
Only one spot on her still-damp, moist skin was hot.
I tried not to think about the sensation Giselle's body gave.
Instead, I thought about whips and pain.
Some guy—I don't quite remember who, a philosopher maybe—
said that pain that doesn't kill you only makes you stronger.
The very person who left those words went insane watching a horse get whipped and then died.
The whippings I'd endured until now.
And the ones I was inflicting on Giselle now.
I suddenly wondered what kind of reaction he'd have if he could see them.
Giselle was touching where I'd kissed her.
She seemed happier about my lips touching her than the pain from being struck.
Setting aside idle curiosity, I spoke to Giselle.
"We're going to the Academy tomorrow."
"I'd be satisfied just staying at the manor together."
"It's not for you. It's something I need.
Let's play the part of lovers everyone envied, like before."
"We really are lovers. It's not an act."
I stroked Giselle's hair gently, like her father had.
I dropped the cigarette I was holding onto her black dress.
The cigarette touched the cloth soaked with rainwater and sizzled out.
"Well, we'll see."
Don't worry, Father-in-law.
I'll break your precious daughter just enough—exactly as much as I'm broken—before returning her.