The House I Long For
The door burst open without warning.
Canna had just been about to lie down when Orsini stormed into the room. She didn’t bother hiding her displeasure.
“What time do you think it is?”
“……”
“Where exactly did you learn that it’s acceptable to enter someone’s room without knocking?”
What’s wrong with him? Why isn’t he answering?
He simply stood there, glaring at her with terrifying intensity, mouth firmly shut. What on earth had gotten into him?
Why is he being such a nuisance?
Honestly, she wasn’t even curious about his business.
“It’s late. I’m going to sleep. If you have something to say, say it tomorrow.”
Still, he didn’t move. He just kept staring.
If she ignored him, she’d probably have nightmares. With a sigh, Canna rose from the bed and walked over to him. She placed her palm against his shoulder and pushed.
“Get out.”
At least pretend to budge, damn it.
Is he a stone statue?
No matter how hard she shoved, he remained as immovable as a boulder.
“Orsini, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m pushing you with all my strength right now. Do you understand what that means?”
Canna smiled sweetly.
“It means get the hell out of my room.”
At that moment, Orsini’s hand shot out and seized her wrist.
Was he trying to yank her arm away? Canna braced herself, pouring strength into her arm, but it was pointless.
He simply wrapped his fingers around her wrist and lifted it straight up.
The motion was so fluid it looked as if he were merely brushing a cotton doll off his shoulder. Then he opened his hand, letting her drop back down.
“……”
A strange sense of humiliation washed over her as she lowered her arm. Well, of course. This was the same man who could bend iron bars like taffy.
“Hey.”
Finally, Orsini’s lips parted. Canna answered curtly.
“What?”
“You.”
“……”
Yes, go on. Speak. Canna crossed her arms and waited for the rest.
But why isn’t he saying anything again?
What is wrong with him?
A few days earlier.
Claude returned shortly after, dragging the unconscious high priest behind him.
“No one saw your face, right?”
“Don’t worry. They’ll think a middle-aged woman kidnapped him.”
“…Pardon?”
“I altered my voice.”
“……”
There were many questions she wanted to ask, but Canna swallowed them down.
“What should we do with him? Shall I slit his throat?”
“Could you please stop suggesting murder so casually?”
Canna let his joke slide with a soft groan.
“Is there anywhere on the island where we could hide him?”
“Hmm. I saw an abandoned cabin in the forest today. Should we put him there?”
“That’s a good idea.”
Canna thought for a moment before adding, “Stack it full of rye bread and lock him inside.”
Claude blinked.
“Rye bread?”
“Yes. Rye bread.”
Out of nowhere? Claude looked utterly bewildered.
“And release him right before the Purification Ceremony in a few days.”
“Understood.”
Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Claude asked, “Those villagers the duchess gave food to today—they mostly eat dishes made from rye because they can’t afford anything else.”
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“Is there a connection?”
There is. A very big one.
Instead of explaining, Canna simply smiled mysteriously.
“Look forward to it, Sir Claude. You’ll see something very entertaining during the Purification Ceremony in a few days.”
Her eyes sparkled with wicked mischief, spite, anticipation, and arrogance.
At that childlike expression, Claude was momentarily speechless. Then he muttered,
“Nice.”
“Pardon?”
“I chose the right person to escort.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means I should thank Sir Kallen.”
Claude grinned.
“This is fun. Very fun.”
Even after several days, the memory refused to fade.
“I want to go home.”
Home.
“Let me go home!”
Home, she says.
Orsini violently pushed through the underbrush, replaying that day in his mind.
In truth, there had hardly been a moment since that night when he hadn’t recalled the scene.
Canna—that vicious bitch—had been sobbing, wailing desperately as she chased after something.
The image replayed from beginning to end, over and over.
Was it because the scene had been so shocking? It felt as if that moment had seared itself into some corner of his brain with a branding iron. Every time he remembered it, the spot throbbed.
With a surge of terrible disgust, Orsini spat out a curse.
“Why the hell am I still thinking about that damn woman…”
The Black Fog. He should be focusing on that cursed phenomenon, yet here he was.
“Fuck.”
Judging from the locations where it had appeared so far, the northern forest saw the highest frequency. That was why Orsini had been patrolling the area. Just like now.
He knew Canna had recently been in danger, but he had merely scoffed.
Who cares? Let her die.
That woman had never wanted his help anyway. Hadn’t she rejected his offer to free her from prison in the past?
“I want to go home!”
Then why.
“Let me go home.”
Why does it keep haunting me…?
“Ah, damn it.”
Orsini suddenly stopped in his tracks.
What the hell had that bitch been babbling about?
Home?
She wanted to go home?
No matter how he thought about it, the home she spoke of didn’t seem to be any house he knew. It wasn’t the Addis mansion, nor the Valentino estate.
The home Canna spoke of was a place he knew nothing about.
There’s a home I don’t know about?
It must be somewhere beautiful enough to make that stubborn woman cry.
What a load of bullshit.
There was no way such a place existed for Canna. She had spent her entire life being despised and ostracized no matter where she went.
These days, the place that treated her the best was probably the Addis mansion. That bastard Kallen was practically wagging his tail like a dog, following her around.
Even so, she says she wants to go home?
Just what is that home?
Where does she want to return to?
What kind of place could make her want to go back so badly that she would chase after it even while falling apart?
And then—
“Wait for me, oppa!”
When his thoughts reached that point, a laugh burst out of him. Disgust flared up like raging flames.
Anyone who heard that would think she was calling for her lover. And that “oppa” she spoke of was almost certainly not Sylvien.
She’s involved with some other bastard instead of Sylvien?
Everything shattered.
The Canna Valentino he had known for so long, the Canna Addis—her face broke into countless fragments.
The mangled portrait of her was no longer the person he knew.
“Lord Orsini, you’ve returned?”
When he arrived back at the manor, the lord of the island greeted him. As Orsini tried to walk straight past,
“The Purification Ceremony is scheduled for tomorrow.”
The lord spoke to his back.
So what?
Orsini sneered. He didn’t even slow his pace.
If things go wrong, she’ll be hung upside down from a tree and burned at the stake.
Canna, hanging upside down from a tree?
That would be worth watching.
He thought of Canna.
The recent Canna. The unpleasant woman who had mocked, insulted, and toyed with him. She was so infuriating he could barely stand it.
But why.
“What’s the matter, Orsini?”
“……”
“Why did you come to see me?”
A look of annoyance.
Knowing he would receive such a gaze, he still couldn’t understand why he had come.
What is this? Why did he come all of a sudden?
Canna made no effort to hide her irritation.
She had been about to sleep when Orsini suddenly flung the door open and barged in.
“What time do you think it is to come looking for me?”
“……”
“Where exactly did you learn manners that let you enter without knocking?”
What’s wrong? Why isn’t he answering?
He only glared at her fiercely, refusing to open his mouth. What could possibly be the matter?
Why is he being so annoying?
To be honest, she wasn’t even curious about his reason.
“It’s late. I’m going to bed. If you have something to say, tell me later.”
Yet he remained frozen, staring.
If she left him like this, she’d probably have nightmares. Canna got up from the bed and pushed at his shoulder with her palm.
“Get out.”
At least pretend to move, would you?
Are you a dol hareubang or something?
No matter how hard she pushed, he didn’t budge, as solid as a statue.
“Orsini, you may not have noticed, but I am pushing you with every ounce of strength I possess. Do you know what that means?”
Canna smiled brightly.
“It means get out of my room.”
At that moment, Orsini grabbed the arm she was pushing him with.
Was he going to pull it away? Canna tensed her arm to resist, but it was a meaningless effort.
He wrapped his hand around her wrist and lifted it upward.
The movement was so natural it looked like he was simply removing a cotton doll that had landed on his shoulder. Then he spread his fingers and let her drop.
“……”
Canna lowered her arm, steeped in a strange sense of humiliation. Well, of course. This was the man who could bend iron bars like candy.
“Hey.”
Finally, Orsini’s lips moved. Canna replied gruffly.
“What?”
“You.”
“……”
Yes, go ahead and speak. Canna crossed her arms and waited for what would come next.
But why isn’t he saying anything again?
Just what is wrong with him?