Bastian

As Bastian entered Odette’s room, he felt as if he was crossing a threshold into a different world. The faint sound of water running from the bathroom only added to the eerie silence that enveloped the space, amplified by the closed door that separated their bedrooms.

Despite the late hour, the room was as bright as day, flooded with light that seemed to emanate from every corner. He wondered if Odette preferred the brightness, a stark contrast to his own minimalistic lighting preferences.

With each step he took, Bastian felt himself moving deeper into the light, as if being pulled towards a source of power and energy that he couldn’t resist any more.

Upon closer inspection, the hostess’s bedroom had not undergone many changes since the interior decorator had worked on it. It appeared to be a bit disordered at first glance, but the majority of the items had been present since the beginning. There were few things that could be deemed as belonging to Odette, leaving a sense of emptiness in the space that was meant to be hers.

The room was meticulously arranged, yet it lacked vitality, appearing more like a place that could be abandoned at a moment’s notice. It resembled the interior of an officer’s quarters or a cabin on a warship.

 As Bastian scanned the room, his eyes fell upon the dressing table and the collection of glass bottles atop it. He paused at the sight of a gold comb, engraved with the fancy initials “H,” which was undoubtedly Odette’s prized possession.

The princess only left her daughter with an old comb. It demonstrated just how much Duke Dyssen had damaged the lives of his family.

Bastian placed the comb back where it belonged and moved gently in the direction of the bed. He heard a knock as he came to a stop in front of a bed bench with a scarf and gown nicely folded.

The butler bowed and presented the letter he had brought for the madam. Bastian’s expression remained placid as he took it, but a faint crease formed on his forehead as he recognized the sender’s name. The Duke of Dissen, previously confined to the hospital, had reached out to them.

Bastian strode towards the table beside the window, holding the letter in hand. He retrieved a cigarette and lit it, his gaze remained fixated on the envelope, the smoke from his cigarette swirled around him. 

It was almost comical how many words he still had left to say to his daughter, but Bastian knew what he had to do. With a boldness that felt like exercising a natural right, he opened the envelope and unfolded the letter with no faint trace of hesitation.

Duke Dyssen’s letter was a blatant display of his disdain towards his daughter and son-in-law. His usual pleasantries were conspicuously absent, replaced with a barrage of scathing remarks aimed at their “disgraceful” marriage and the “lowly” man he had associated with.

The large sheet of paper was densely packed with curses and reprimands, spitting his extreme anger and frustration at having his previous letters ignored.

Bastian casually tossed aside the letter, finding it unworthy of further attention. He took a deep drag from his cigarette, pondering the unfortunate circumstance that only the Duke’s back was broken. It would have been more satisfying if his wrists were also fractured, preventing him from ever penning such drivel again.

After extinguishing his cigarette, Bastian stood up holding the letter in his hand and a lighter. As soon as the bathroom door opened, he hurled the lighted letter into the fireplace.

*.·:·.✧.·:·.*

Odette strode towards the dressing table with a bright smile, accompanied by her trusty maid. Her demeanor had shifted, no longer displaying the same level of surprise and panic as earlier. Meanwhile, Bastian calmly inspected the remnants of the letter, now reduced to a pile of ashes. Once satisfied, he settled onto the bed, facing the dressing table with a leisurely air.

As the young maid carefully dried her  hair, Odette meticulously applied a substance from a beautifully adorned glass jar onto her face. As she opened a pottery bottle adorned with violets, their eyes met in the mirror.

Odette averted her gaze, hoping Bastian would succumb to slumber as he usually did, but to no avail. He remained motionless, showing no signs of retiring for the night.

She gave up on her futile dreams and resumed working. After carefully applying the cream she had taken out of the bottles, she put the bottles back in their original position. Moving right to left, according to the use. She had picked up the behavior from her mother.

“Madam, I have completed my duties and will take my leave now,” the maid announced politely.

After the maid left to tidy up the bathroom, Molly approached and respectfully lowered her head.

Odette was worried about being left alone, but she was at a loss for how to justify keeping them around any longer. At that very moment, the door squeaked open and shut once more, but Bastian remained seated in the same position, looking at Odette in the mirror.

Sensing an obligation to break the silence, Odette searched for a suitable topic to broach. Although she was genuinely curious about the letter Bastian had torched, she decided against raising the matter and risking a discordant atmosphere. Furthermore, she had a hunch about the contents of the letter, and thus saw no reason to hear Sandrine’s name uttered from Bastian’s lips once more.

Despite her desire to recline, Odette found herself unable to relinquish the comb, owing to Bastian’s persistent presence. The unyielding silence weighed heavily on her, and the task of brushing her seemingly interminable locks provided some semblance of distraction. Meanwhile, Bastian observed the spectacle with an air of nonchalance, as though he were a spectator at a captivating performance.

Truly, he was an enigmatic and dominating figure, unlike any other.

…………..

Even after Bastian emerged from the shower, Odette remained steadfast at the dressing table, vigorously brushing her hair without respite.

 He chuckled softly before retiring to bed, cognizant of the fact that she was the type of woman who would continue brushing her hair all night if he didn’t lie down first. While her tenacity was perplexing, he resolved to respect her wishes and accommodate her accordingly. After all, he had no desire to engage in a futile altercation.

Bastian tightened his gown and reclined on the bed, shutting his eyes in the process. After a while, Odette ceased her hair brushing and rose from her seat, moving with a grace and silence that belied her presence. Despite her quietude, Bastian was acutely aware of her movements.

Odette proceeded to perform her customary bedtime routine, traversing the room and extinguishing the various sources of light. Electric chandeliers, wall lamps, oil lamps, and candelabras all succumbed to her touch, culminating in a state of near-total darkness.

The lights dimmed one by one until the bedroom was completely in the black. Odette finally shut off her nightlight and stepped cautiously towards the bed. She initially thought that the bed’s extra width made people feel lonely, but after sharing it with a large man, she had a change of heart.

Odette lay on his side and drew the covers up to her chin, relishing the warmth of the bed that was suffused with Bastian’s body heat. The sensation reminded her of bygone times when she slept soundly with Tira nestled in her embrace. Desiring to avoid indulging in futile nostalgia, Odette promptly shut her eyes and attempted to fall asleep. But as moments stretched into minutes, her consciousness sharpened rather than diminished.

Odette slowly tilted her head towards the side next to her after opening her eyes in resignation. She had assumed Bastian had dozed off, but he was startlingly alert. His eyes were filled with Odette, who was as silent as the night.

“Sleep evading you?” Odette asked, her voice steadier than her racing heart.

Bastian responded with a smile, “And you?” Thankfully, his demeanor was not as disagreeable as earlier.

Odette released her guard and exhaled a lengthy sigh before nodding. “I’m exhausted, yet I can’t seem to sleep peacefully.” She placed her hands on her chest and gazed up at the ceiling. “Thank you for your hard work today, Bastian.”

Odette expressed her gratitude, her gaze still fixed on the darkness outside.

“I’m grateful to you for today. Riding a horse after such a long time was wonderful. It reminded me of my childhood.”

“Would you like to go back to that time?” Bastian asked.

Odette hesitated for a moment, “It’s just a pointless assumption.”

She turned her head with a graceful tilt, smoothly changing the subject to safer and more superficial topics such as the current weather, social trends, and their schedule for the month.

“Perhaps we could invite Lord Xanders to the garden party we have planned for this weekend?” Odette proposed, flashing a rare and genuine smile as she faced Bastian once more.

“The botanist, Xanders?”

“Yes, that’s the one. The Xanders family also has a villa in Ardene, and I heard that they were there last weekend. He expressed interest in dining with us if we ever extended an invitation,” 

“Why is it that we now need to add a name that wasn’t on the invitation list?” Bastian asked.

“The aristocratic Xanders family has consistently occupied the front row of the Imperial Nobility Yearbook. Becoming friends with him will help you get noticed in the social scene.” 

Odette wasn’t easily deterred, not even by Bastian’s cold-hearted protest. Her demeanour amply demonstrated her confidence in and kindness towards Maximin von Xanders.

Who the hell is assisting who, exactly?

Bastian found Odette’s graciousness intriguing, but he remained silent. After all, it was her responsibility as the hostess to make such decisions. As long as there was no specific reason to object, he had no interest in questioning her choice of guests.

Odette proceeded to discuss the party’s schedule and menu options, but Bastian found the conversation tedious. Her voice had grown noticeably drowsy by the time she finished her report on the matter.

“I think it’s time for me to sleep now,” Odette whispered softly, slowly opening her closed eyes. Her dense lashes cast a shadow over her reddened eyes as they fluttered. “Goodnight, Bastian.”

With a gentle gaze, Bastian watched Odette as she drifted off into a peaceful slumber, her breaths deep and steady. She appeared very youthful and serene, free from the weight of the world that had burdened her tired eyes earlier that day. It reminded him of the way she had spoken earlier, of feeling transported back to a time of fond memories and nostalgia.

As he observed Odette sleeping peacefully, Bastian let himself drown in the sea of thoughts about her future. 

The future that lay ahead of her after this marriage. 

He knew she was intelligent and principled, but the weight of her father’s expectations and the burden of their family’s finances had dragged her down into a dark abyss. However, if only she could break free from these shackles and carve her own path, she had the potential to live a life more stable and prosperous than anyone else. 

With the possibility of a proper marriage and starting a new family, perhaps even as a labeled divorcee, Odette could potentially find herself in the position of a second wife within a moderately prestigious aristocratic family. As the future Countess Xanders, for instance, she could fulfill the role quite fittingly. While Bastian acknowledged that such a life could suit her well, a feeling of discontent stirred within him.

As Odette slept, she shifted closer to Bastian, sensing the faint warmth of his breath. The scent of her skin grew stronger as their bodies drew nearer.

Bastian delicately swept away the strands of hair that obscured Odette’s face and neck. His gentle touch was as tender as velvet, he noticed the unexpected softness of her skin beneath his fingertips.

He wondered if she was the kind of person who trusted others too easily. As he watched her peacefully slumbering form, a crooked smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

It was a far cry from her defensive and prickly demeanor, yet it still made him uneasy in its own way.

Bastian heaved a deep sigh, the kind that was heavy with both resignation and desire, before reluctantly getting up from the bed. He reached for the cigarette box on the nearby table and the sound of its lid being opened was soon followed by the flick of a lighter.

With his back against the moonlit window, he took a long drag from the cigarette and let out a low chuckle as he looked down at the noticeable bulge in his pants.

As he exhaled the blue smoke along with a string of curses, his wife remained deep in peaceful slumber, oblivious to the stirrings of her husband’s passion.