Lark raised his eyebrows as he observed Navia's expression.
‘It seems that little one is harboring some bold and cheeky thoughts again.’
First, he summoned a coin in his hand and called out to Navia.
"Hey."
"Yes?"
Lark casually tossed a gold coin to Navia.
Navia, who had been inwardly worried that Lark might only give her a silver coin, was surprised to receive a gold one and bowed in gratitude.
"Thank you."
As Lark was taking off his robe, he noticed black hairs clinging all over Navia's white nightgown.
Turning his gaze to the mirror and examining his face from various angles, he spoke gruffly with an annoyed expression.
"Not a single hair has been dusted off."
"Oh, I'll finish dusting it off for you."
As Navia reached for the dry cloth again, Lark snapped his fingers.
Snap!
Instantly, the hairs vanished from both Navia's clothes and the floor.
Navia realized that Lark had kindly used magic to help her.
'Somehow, I feel like I'm beginning to understand what kind of person the Duke is.'
With fearless curiosity, Navia asked,
"Did you help me?"
Lark replied curtly,
"Not at all."
Having thought of Lark as a completely mysterious figure, Navia found him to be just an ordinary person after talking with him like this.
Adequately brusque, yet somewhat kind.
Could that be why?
'Maybe we could become friends?'
This thought occurred to her.
Navia had noticed the affection hidden in the scolding words Margaret and Suleiman used towards Lark.
It would be wonderful if someone respected by such good people got along well with her too.
Simply put, Navia wanted to become friends with Lark.
She clasped her hands demurely and expressed her thanks.
"Thank you for helping me."
"I said I didn't."
While Lark countered her thanks, he couldn't deny that he had indeed helped the child.
'I helped because the haircut was done well.'
He saw through the mirror how she struggled to move the footstool aside and ended up lifting and moving it himself, albeit reluctantly.
It was also done without much thought.
"I could have done that…"
"You're too slow."
"Yes…"
Navia, thinking it an odd reprimand, finished tidying up the tools.
Lark ran his hands through his newly shortened hair and looked in the mirror, his attention still focused on Navia.
'What is she doing now?'
As Navia was tidying up, she suddenly turned her head to look at Lark.
Lark quickly averted his gaze.
Navia, puzzled about why Lark was still there, turned her gaze back.
Lark realized he had been acting foolishly and shook his head.
Yet, Navia continued to observe him.
'What fills that small head with such busyness? Why does her silver hair and red eyes captivate my attention?'
'Maybe, if I had a daughter, she would be like her.'
Of course, it was an impossible thought, but he indulged in such absurd speculation.
'If she were my daughter…'
Lark frowned at the thought.
'Stop it with the stupid thoughts. It's like I have no learning ability.'
He definitely hadn't given a part of his heart to this child.
It was just those red eyes.
If not for the child's crimson eyes, he wouldn't have had such thoughts.
'But if she continues to stay here.'
Then maybe such peaceful mornings could become part of his routine. It was a new experience, but a pleasantly good feeling.
He didn't mind looking at the silver hair that usually annoyed him.
Watching the small figure bustling about below was surprisingly pleasant.
He didn't feel fear, even bathed in a room full of bright light.
Yes. Keeping the child near seemed to promise such feelings.
Maybe, he could be happy.
Crack!
Suddenly, a large crack appeared from his hand up his neck.
"Ugh!"
Caught off guard by his body splitting open, Lark let out an involuntary groan.
As his vision swirled, he threw his robe over the mirror, hiding the crack from Navia.
He couldn't let her see this monstrous, grotesque form.
"Duke!"
Navia, who had been tidying up, rushed towards Lark as she sensed something was seriously wrong.
"Stop!"
Lark, trying to hide the cracked part of his body, turned sideways and shouted harshly.
Navia stopped in her tracks.
'Damn.'
The brief moment of peace shattered instantly. It didn't just break into pieces, it was completely obliterated.
The soft golden sunlight that filled the room was pushed away by the cold reality that had intruded.
Navia, despite the tense atmosphere, remained calm.
Or was it really calm? If she was truly unaffected, she wouldn't look like a wooden statue. It was the wisest thing she could do in such a threatening situation.
...To avoid getting hurt.
He had caused this situation.
Snap!
He moved to his bedroom on the third floor, as if fleeing.
'Damn it.'
He hurried towards the table, clutching his cracked arm.
The sunlight coming in through the uncurtained window was revolting.
Lark groaned in pain but also spat out curses as he flailed his arm to close the curtain.
The bedroom darkened, barely lit by a faint light.
Lark gulped down a sedative.
His arm seemed to fall off due to the spreading cracks.
The brief moment of peace had turned into the brink of hell.
And it was all because of him.
He was the problem.
As always.
'Ugh...'
Clang!
He threw the empty medicine bottle, venting his anger for no reason.
At that moment, Margaret entered the bedroom, having heard from Navia.
“My Lord, are you alright?”
Lark ordered coldly, his hand on his forehead.
“Cancel the barber for that girl.”
“What?”
“Tell her to pack everything up. Don’t assign her any tasks or give her any authority. Absolutely nothing!”
He knew this was as pointless as throwing the medicine bottle.
He was just lashing out at an innocent child because of his own loathsome situation.
He envied the gentle atmosphere surrounding that child and wanted to be part of it.
He had taken just one step towards it.
Margaret said.
“That young lady wouldn’t want to see you like this.”
“Shut up.”
Space warped around Lark for a moment as he revealed his 'divinity'.
“Don’t ever bring up that woman in my presence again.”
Margaret bowed deeply, acknowledging her mistake.
“...As you command.”
“Leave.”
The bedroom door closed again, leaving Lark alone. He drank more medicine.
Now, he couldn't tell if he was taking it because of the cracks or to forget reality.
He knew better than anyone that such actions solved nothing.
Yet, he couldn’t stop his self-destructive behavior.
Self-control? Restraint? Useless.
He was already a failure, unfit to uphold such elegant and noble values.
'Damn it!'
He wanted to die.
Please, just let me die.
Without another round.
The only reason he lived was that he was waiting for someone.
That was it.
The numbness he thought he had lost came back sharply because of one person.
'Is this punishment for a moment’s happiness?'
Then and now.
Lark slumped down as if he couldn't handle the drink he’d consumed.
His voice, drunk and powerless, drifted out.
'Please come to me...'
I can't leave this place.
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