Into the Rose Garden Novel - Chapter 48.1

He stood blankly, unable to grasp that he had committed murder. His brain refused to think. His body wouldn’t obey. He didn’t even think of reporting it or destroying the evidence. He simply stood there like an empty shell, staring blankly at the unbelievable scene unfolding before his eyes.

How much time had passed? The person he was certain was dead trembled and let out a low groan. It was the moment murder became attempted murder. But the shock still remained, paralyzing Aeroc.

“Ugh.”

Bendyke slowly turned his body sideways, his gaze blankly sweeping the surroundings as if he hadn’t yet grasped the situation. Then, with his relatively uninjured hand, he fumbled at his temple. Seeing his palm soaked in dark blood, he groaned, bringing his other swollen hand to his chest. Distorted with pain, he spotted Aeroc standing by the window.

“Count…?”

Perhaps from the pain, or perhaps blinded by the moonlight like Aeroc, he narrowed his eyes.

“When did you arrive? What happened…?”

Despite his severe injuries, the end of his words was clear. He briefly stared at the white porcelain fragments scattered at Aeroc’s feet, then let out a groan-like sigh.

“…I understand. My head feels like it’s splitting.”

Forgetting that his head was actually split open, he staggered to his feet. His hands were insufficient to stop the bleeding. He slowly removed his shirt and crumpled it. After sighing once more about his broken left middle and index fingers, he pressed the cloth bundle to his head and managed to move his wobbly legs towards the upper floor.

He could have left at that moment. He wasn’t dead. And it was, by all accounts, self-defense. Although he had entered the house uninvited, the door was open, and they frequently visited each other, so conventionally, it was difficult to accuse him of trespassing. His brain quickly scanned law books and related case articles published in newspapers. Even after confirming his judgment was correct, Aeroc couldn’t head for the entrance. This time, even with no one stopping him, his trembling legs somehow climbed the stairs, one step at a time.

Entering the room, Bendyke scattered the small bottles in a box on the table, searching for something. Soon, finding what he wanted, he opened the lid with his teeth and swallowed the contents in one gulp. Then he headed to the bathroom. Finding a clean towel and pressing it to his temple, he opened his mouth towards Aeroc, who stood by the door, watching him.

“Would you mind calling a doctor if it’s not too much trouble? Looking in the mirror, it seems like it will need a lot of stitches.”

“…Me?”

His parched lips moved. Bendyke offered a hollow laugh with a pale face. Then he raised his left hand, which was incapacitated by the head injury.

“If my hand were fine, I could treat it myself, but as you can see, it’s in this state.”

Aeroc stared blankly at the hand, which had lost its original shape and was hideously swollen, and murmured.

“It was self-defense.”

“Of course it was.”

Bendyke tried to smile faintly, as if to say it was alright. On his pale, blood-stained face, a deep sense of guilt mingled with resignation.

“My seizures are getting worse. Even the medicine doesn’t work anymore. This time, I had a really bad feeling, so I gave Martha a few days off, but I didn’t expect the Count to visit. If I had known, I wouldn’t have been home. I would have rented a barn in the countryside…”

“That’s not important.”

He was well aware of the severe neurosis. What Aeroc was curious about was the cause of the neurosis. He had never seen him have seizures before, or if he had, it was only fragmented delusions. He believed it was a minor chronic illness due to overwork. It was common for people to confuse reality with dreams for a moment. But Bendyke’s neurosis was on a different level from such common everyday symptoms. Aeroc knew of the pathological phenomenon that referred to excessive physical excitement accompanied by mental delusion, specifically an obsession with a particular person.

“It’s an imprinting, isn’t it?”

To the question, Bendyke neither affirmed nor denied. He simply raised one corner of his mouth and gave a bitter smile.

“And the other person is Raphiel Westport.”

“Why do you think that?”

Bendyke moved only his eyes to meet his gaze. Aeroc spoke at a moderate pace.

“You react excessively to Raphiel. And strangely, you showed sexual desire towards an Alpha. Of all people, it had to be me, with whom you have a bad relationship. We both know that Raphiel and I look similar.”

“Then I would have courted Raphiel.”

Bendyke smiled faintly, as if amused by the conclusion Aeroc had drawn. Then he picked up another scattered bottle and drank its contents.

“You’re too ambitious to be subservient to anyone.”

“So you were hanging around an Alpha, the Count, instead?”

“That’s right.”

“You have a rich imagination, Count.”

“If not, how do you explain this?”

Aeroc loosened the tie around his neck and revealed the distinct red mark on his throat. Bendyke’s eyes changed. He rose from his seat, staring at Aeroc’s exposed neck.

“Did I… hurt the Count?”

“You also said you’d kill me if I ever hung around Raphiel again.”

At those words, horror spread across his pale, bloodless face. He must have looked just like that when Aeroc had mistakenly thought he had committed murder. His pupils dilated, and his parted lips mumbled. The blank face of the person standing before him was as pale as snow.

“I’m sorry.”

His cracking voice grated on Aeroc’s eardrums. Bendyke checked his hands, as if to offer a handshake as a token of harmlessness. Deep despair was etched on his rigid face, as if he had only just realized the existence of the hand that had stopped the bleeding from his head and the other hand that had become a complete monster. He slumped his shoulders and apologized again.

“I’m truly sorry. It’s all my fault.”

His voice trembled. His swamp-dark irises turned even blacker. His eyes twitched and began to glisten. He pressed his swollen knuckles to his nose and mouth, then began to speak again.

“How can I compensate…? I know nothing I do will ever atone for my sins, but if there’s any way… Are you not in pain? There must be some bruise medicine around here.”

He rambled in an unfamiliar, tearful tone. For a man who would not hesitate to commit murder, no, who had already committed it, he was surprisingly flustered. He was desperate, as if finding a tube of ointment would make his actions disappear. The sight of him, with a blood-stained towel on his forehead, rummaging through a box with two broken fingers, was grotesque.

“Here it is.”

He found a small ointment tube and groaned again as he reached for it. He seemed to have forgotten about his broken fingers. He carefully lowered the hand that had been staunching the blood from his head. When he removed the thick towel, blood streamed down his cheek again.

“This.”

Aeroc stepped back, refusing to take what he offered. Despair flashed in the other man’s eyes. The man, realizing what he had done, gave a faint smile and placed it on the table. He should probably tend to his own fingers first. If left like that, they might rot and fall off.

“I’ll be in the bathroom. Take it while I’m gone.”

Seeing the usually composed man so flustered, the whole situation suddenly seemed absurd. Everything was foolish. The other man, who had thrown his entire life into the gutter by refusing to worship his imprinted partner, and himself, who had been meddling everywhere without realizing he had fallen for the other man’s tricks. Everyone was foolish and pathetic.

While Bendyke was in the bathroom, Aeroc slipped out of the house. The coachman said nothing unnecessary to his master, who appeared somewhat disheveled. Instead, he hurried on his way.

For several days, he felt awful. He avoided going out and refused visitors. His head refused to think. His body and mind were out of control. A small knock made him jump like a cat scalded with hot water, and when he spilled tea hot enough to cause a mild burn on his thigh, he melted like cream in the summer sun.

The old butler’s expression subtly darkened. He seemed to have decided not to bother his master with trivial matters, and his usually quiet lips were now completely sealed. All matters requiring his master’s decision were quietly gathered and placed on the study desk. Then, he brewed hot, strong tea lightly and lukewarmly, adding condensed milk and cream before serving it. Aeroc smiled bitterly at the cloudy tea.

“This is the first time I’ve had tea with condensed milk since I was seven.”

“I still drink it sometimes. Sugar lifts a somber mood.”

“Really?”

Imagining the dignified butler with his neatly trimmed gray beard and monocle, sipping tea heavily sweetened with condensed milk, somehow brought him amusement.

“Shall I bring you a blanket?”

“That would be good.”

For Aeroc, who had been sitting on the terrace the whole time, Hugo brought a thin lap blanket. He simply offered meticulous care, asking Aeroc no questions. He didn’t even ask about the injury. Although his neck was meticulously covered with a high shirt collar and a scarf tie, the red mark on his wrist, peeking out from under his sleeve, could be easily noticed with a little attention. No, from the moment he refused bathing assistance and didn’t appear in his nightclothes and robe in front of Hugo, the loyal butler must have vaguely guessed. The reason he remained silent was that Aeroc offered no explanation.

Even knowing that Aeroc suspected he knew, he refrained from showing any sign of it. However, a few days later, when the man’s letter arrived, a slight furrow appeared between his brows.

“Young Master.”

The address “Young Master,” instead of “Count” or “Master,” implied much emotion and consideration. He was informing the master of the Count’s house about the existence of this letter out of respect. But there was no need to see it. For the sake of the precious young man he had served with all his heart, he could block the man’s access and sternly warn him never to commit such heinous acts again. With just three syllables, Aeroc smiled at the gruff butler who conveyed boundless affection and concern.

“It’s alright.”

Aeroc reassured Hugo and sent him away. Left alone, he unfolded the letter.

[I will offer no excuses for the heinous crime I committed. Everything is my fault. I know that nothing can atone for my sins. Nevertheless, if there is anything you wish of me, anything at all that might alleviate the Count’s suffering, please let me know. K.]

The content was simple. Despite the good quality paper, the ink was smudged in places, and the surface was roughened. Such mistakes often occurred when handling a pen roughly. Usually, it was made by children just learning to write or by elderly people with trembling hands. Or perhaps a neurotic patient suffering from a seizure, unable to perform delicate movements.

He did not reply. Afterwards, letters were delivered at irregular intervals. Sometimes Bendyke would even visit the mansion himself. He couldn’t even get past the main gate, let alone the entrance. Thanks to Hugo’s strict instructions to the gatekeeper.

After several days of brooding indoors, Aeroc realized that his life was not worth wasting simply because he had been used in a petty and humiliating way. Doing nothing, consumed by this gloom, would only make the man more arrogant.

“I’m going out.”

When he announced he was going out for the first time in days, stepping off the terrace and telling Hugo to prepare, Hugo brightened.

“Where shall we go?”

To the coachman’s question, Aeroc thought for a moment, then replied.

“To the hat shop, then the art museum.”

As he boarded the carriage, the experienced coachman instinctively found the way.

A street lined with high-end shops, catering mainly to the many aristocrats who had recently moved closer to the Imperial Palace from their provincial estates, had developed in the capital’s center. There, a familiar hat shop with a classic signboard stood.

Ding-a-ling.

As he opened the door and entered, a small bell announced a customer’s arrival. The shop owner, who was carefully displaying silk hats made of the latest fashionable materials, ornamental boaters in unconventional colors, or somewhat eccentric bowlers on antique display stands, spotted Aeroc and offered a polite smile.

“I’ve been waiting, Count.”

“It’s been a while.”

The shop owner, who resembled Hugo, greeted Aeroc warmly, but then disappeared behind an inner door, saying “Please wait a moment.” The workshop, material storage, and finished hats were inside. When ordering a new hat, it was customary for the shop owner to consult with Aeroc about suitable shapes and materials, along with fabric samples, after retrieving the latest hat catalog from a display drawer while Aeroc browsed the displayed hats. It was almost unheard of for him to suddenly disappear like this. He felt strangely uneasy, though he assumed there was a reason.

“Thank you for waiting.”

The shop owner returned carrying two large boxes. He placed them on the display stand and opened the lids. One was a very sleek silk hat, and the other was a wide-brimmed straw hat of exotic design.

“The silk hat was made exactly as you ordered, just like the one I made before. This gardener’s hat, on the other hand, was meticulously crafted from the finest southern hemp, hand-twisted into thread. Thanks to that, it took twice as long as the silk hat.”

He didn’t understand why the man was showing off someone else’s hats to him. When Aeroc stared at him, the shop owner gave a bewildered smile and approached Aeroc with the silk hat.

“Please try it on. If you don’t like it, I’ll make a new one from scratch.”

“Why should I wear this?”

When he asked with an annoyed tone, the shop owner was flustered.

“You don’t like it that much? Ah, I apologize.”

“No, that’s not it. Why should I wear someone else’s hat?”

“Excuse me? This is the hat the Count ordered. You paid three times the price to have it made quickly, so I postponed all other orders and only made this hat.”

The shop owner retorted, even more surprised.

“What are you talking about? I never ordered a hat.”

“What is going on?”

“That’s what I’d like to ask.”