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His words were cryptic.

What did he mean? How should I take responsibility?

Before I could think any further, his face closed in on mine. His scent invaded my senses like a gust of wind. I shut my eyes tightly.

“…”

Tick tock, the ticking of the clock from earlier made its presence known again.

“…”

Aren’t you going to do it?

I stole a glance, opening my eyes.

Etienne, inches away from my face, was looking down at me. I rolled my eyes, trying to gauge the situation.

Wasn’t this supposed to be a kiss? It seemed clear this time.

“Let go of this hand.”

I quickly let go of the hem of his clothes I’d been gripping.

Wait, when did I even start holding onto it?

The force with which I had clutched it in that brief moment was evident; wrinkles remained where my fist had been.

The moment I released him, Etienne swiftly distanced himself. Cold air rushed into the space he had occupied.

Etienne pressed a hand to his forehead, obscuring his face from view.

Through the gaps between his fingers, it looked like his eyebrows were deeply furrowed…

“Get down.”

“…Pardon?”

Come again?

Etienne lowered the hand that had been covering his face. There was a clear trace of anger on his features, unlike his usual unreadable expression.

So, he wants me to get down now…

To emphasize his point, as if confirming my thoughts, Etienne pointed to the floor beneath the bed.

“Right now.”

I gawked at him, dumbfounded.

“You want me to sleep on the floor?”

“Do you want a divorce?”

“What? Why are we suddenly talking about divorce?!”

The abrupt change in the topic of conversation left me flabbergasted.

“Just try coming up here. I won’t be able to restrain myself any longer.”

I grabbed a pillow and hesitantly got down from the bed, swayed by his looming anger.

Seriously? Am I really going to sleep on the floor?

I felt like a puppy banished from the bed for having peeing on the bed.

Wait, wasn’t he the one who wanted to share the bed in the first place?

Technically, he never explicitly said we should sleep together, but wasn’t there that whole thing with Versus…?

Was this the “responsibility” he was talking about? Just because I touched a sleeping person’s face?

Biting my lip, I scolded myself. 

And there I was, thinking we were about to share a kiss. Oh god… How embarrassing and shameful!

Perhaps I had lost my pride because I acted too eagerly.

Disheartened, I slowly made my way to the couch. While it was a sizable couch and not entirely uncomfortable, it did little to soothe my wounded pride.

Without even a blanket, I glanced at Etienne. He was already settled in his spot, peacefully closing his eyes.

So, now that you’ve kicked me out, you can sleep soundly?

Even though it was just a few days, I thought we’d gotten closer. I guess that was another misconception.

Etienne didn’t respect me at all. Does he even see me as a person? Probably just thinks I’m pathetic for always being so clingy.

I curled up into a ball.

What’s all this after coming to the palace and everything?

Ugh. I swallowed back my tears, or rather, my runny nose.

* * *

The room began to brighten.

Etienne, who hadn’t slept a wink throughout the long night, slowly rose from the sofa like a zombie. He felt weighed down.

The sofa was ridiculously short for his height, but the real source of his fatigue lay elsewhere.

His gaze landed on the tiny lump of blanket on the bed. 

He had confidently claimed he’d share a room with Dahlia, propelled by an odd mix of jealousy and impulse. But from the moment she lay beside him, he began to regret his decision.

A surge of desire he had never felt before overwhelmed him. It felt as if all his senses were directed at Dahlia.

<What on earth am I thinking about her?> He was disgusted with himself. He tried to shut his senses by squeezing his eyes shut, but to no avail.

Oblivious, Dahlia had been tossing and turning. With each movement, a sweet scent tantalizingly filled his head.

At one point, she was so close that her breath almost brushed against him, her fingers softly grazing his face.

It felt as if fire ignited wherever her fingertips touched.

<Damn it, Dahlia.>

Etienne muttered to himself, trying his best to keep his composure.

<Does this woman have no sense of caution? Isn’t she scared to be in the same room with a man?> Yes, Dahlia lacked both fear and caution. She simply didn’t have them.

It was when her fingers touched his lips. Suddenly, emotions surged within him like overflowing milk.

On impulse, Etienne bit her finger. As the petite, tender finger touched the tip of his tongue, it felt as though electricity jolted through him, blurring his vision.

The moment their eyes met…

“Have I gone crazy?”

Etienne brushed his forehead, recalling that moment.

He had barely clung to a thread of rationality, intuitively realizing that was the last boundary he could maintain.

Driving her out of the bed was his last resort.

Of course, seeing her looking as forlorn as a drenched kitten, he regretted not being the one to leave the bed.

He watched her with open eyes. Despite what she did, Dahlia simply slept soundly.

He exhaled a deep sigh and moved her onto the bed, wrapping her snugly in a blanket, leaving just her round, glowing face exposed. Only then could he comfortably lie on the sofa.

He couldn’t make sense of the whole situation.

Was Simon right? Had I really fallen in love?

He didn’t want to admit that.

His gaze kept drifting to the blanket-wrapped figure, mocking his sentiments.

Etienne regretted his mistake from yesterday, a desire unlike any before welled up within him. It was maddening.

<There’s absolutely no chance of that happening. If anything like that ever occurs, I’ll be your servant for the rest of your life.> His bold assertion to Simon came to his mind. Etienne groaned, pressing his forehead.

“If Simon finds out, he’ll flip.”

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