No, It was My Fault for Loving You - Chapter 50

Beatrice squinted at the morning sun leaking through the curtains.

Although she went out of town yesterday for the first time in a long time, her physical condition was not so bad, she was just a little sluggish.

Beatrice herself was impressed by the remarkable turnaround in her health recently. This was probably due to Edgar’s care and attention.

Before her rebirth, it was difficult for her to even attend the academy when she was about to graduate.

And now, she can’t believe she can walk around town and not fall down.

Beatrice got up from her bed, and here she noticed that the room looked different from usual.

Usually, during bedtime, she was alone. And yet there are people here, two of them.

On the chair by the bed where she was sleeping, the maid was asleep, leaning back against the backrest.

And leaning against the window leading to the veranda, sleeping with his sword in his arms, was Edgar.

“Er… well, what does this mean…?”

This situation normally didn’t happen, and to top it off, the mild-mannered Edgar is holding a sword in his hand. It was a very strange and disturbing situation.

No matter where you look, it’s obvious that they were on the lookout for intruders or something.

“…”

In other words, there was something going on that she just didn’t know about.

Having concluded this in her mind, Beatrice quietly slipped out of bed.

She approached the door without making a sound so as not to wake them.

She quietly opened the door and peeked into the corridor, and as she had expected, there was another guard standing there. It was Marquez.

This one, though, is indeed a professional and does not seem to be sleepy.

But Marquez is one of the shadow guards of the Marquis. Normally, he would not be used this way.

“…”

Marquez gave a silent bow once towards her and then returned his gaze to the front, not even looking at her. It was clear that he had no intention of telling her what had happened, so Beatrice had no choice but to close the door.

Beatrice was absolutely convinced that there was some incident that had occurred. But she couldn’t figure out what had happened.

As her anxiety grew, Edgar’s sleeping figure, leaning against the window, came into her view.

He was scheduled to return to Drieste this afternoon, and it was not good for him to spend the night like this without getting a good rest. With that being the case, she should wake him up and tell him to go back to the guest room and get some rest.

With this thought, she kneeled beside Edgar as he laid asleep.

She gently placed her hand on his shoulder and rocked him gently.

“Hmn…”

Then a lazy, slightly gravelly voice escaped Edgar’s thin lips.

The scent of his masculinity made her heart jump unintentionally.

To begin with, the scene before her is unusual in itself.

Edgar and a sword is a combination that even Beatrice, who has known him for a long time, has never seen before. Edgar is a scholar, that was the obvious truth.

Besides, Edgar was right in front of her.

“…”

Beatrice glanced down.

His hands were resting on his sword, which was propped up on the floor, and his shirt was unbuttoned three times, exposing his collarbone.

His white collar bone made Beatrice’s gaze wander. She didn’t know where to look, which was a little troubling and unsettling.

His eyelashes were clearly visible because of his head-down position, and the morning sun created shadows on his cheeks. Straight silver bangs fell unprotected over a familiar, intelligent, broad forehead.

Beatrice involuntarily reached out and gently scooped up a lock of his bangs.

She had never touched Edgar’s hair, even though she had known him since she was a child. Edgar was always the one who stroked her head.

Touching it, she knew for the first time.

The straight, shiny silver hair, which looks like silken threads, is surprisingly firm and a bit stiff.

She was impressed in a strange way, he is a man after all.

Yes. Edgar is a man…

As she thought absentmindedly about this, his silver eyelashes fluttered.

Ah, she thought, and then saw his indigo eyes in front of her.

“Uh…”

“Oh…? Artie…?”

He seemed to be still half-asleep, he blinked his eyes a few times, and then smiled softly at Beatrice.

His clear indigo eyes, like a deep sea, which she knew very well, were softly narrowed. They were the same as always, gentle and calm.

And yet Beatrice froze, unable to say anything.

After a moment or so, Beatrice’s cheeks turned red, and she backed away from him with great energy. Edgar, seeing this, finally realized that this was not a dream and his cheeks turned red as well.

The two people, both somewhat absent-minded, remained like that for a while, staring at each other for a few dozen seconds more.

After that, the two came to their senses, they straightened up, and faced each other again at the breakfast table, but the situation was a bit awkward.

Beatrice was somewhat restless, feeling somewhat faint, but she noticed that here, too, the seeds of discomfort had fallen.

Apart from Beatrice and Edgar, the only people in the dining room were her mother and her father, the head of the Marquis of Strydom, Noyce.

There was no Rembrandt, the older brother who should always be there.

She casually asked him why, but he replied that he was only out of the house on a personal business.

He’s been gone since this morning, but it’s not work, it’s personal business.

Beatrice felt caught off guard, but apparently Noyce was not going to tell her anything more. The conversation about Rembrandt was considered over.

Then, after a quick nap after breakfast, Edgar said he would postpone the date of his return to Drieste.

He said that he would stay by Beatrice’s side until Rembrandt comes back.