Episode 64

The one who loved that diamond most was Juliet. She treated it like a mere shard of glass—on bright days, she would take it outside, hold it up to the sun, and beam with delight.

Elouise had no real reason to sell it, and simply enjoyed seeing Juliet smile like that. So she had left the gem where the child could easily reach it. In the small village, no one thought much of it—even when Juliet played with such a large diamond, the townsfolk assumed it was just a well-crafted piece of glass. With no one able to recognize its worth, the only one who truly coveted the gem was five-year-old Miriam next door, and a crow nesting in a nearby zelkova tree.

Elouise slowly opened the door and peered outside. At first glance, the courtyard seemed empty, and her heart sank. But then she caught sight of a mop of brown hair peeking out from beyond the fence. There, perched on a small rock just outside the gate, sat Marcus—slumped in an unseemly crouch, gazing down the path that led to the house.

Encouraged by Abigail’s words, Marcus had resolved to wait for her as long as it took. Just as Abigail had said, Elouise was a kind person. If he waited through the night, she would appear—if only out of a sense of obligation. Not that Marcus was trying to exploit her goodwill.

It was simply that, for Marcus, such waiting was nothing at all.

So when he heard the sound of footsteps on soil, he quickly rose and turned.

Standing before him was Elouise—clearly at a loss. The moment he stood, she instinctively wanted to retreat, but when their eyes met, she froze awkwardly in place.

“…Uh…”

Marcus, too, noticed her unease. After a moment’s hesitation, he forced a smile.

“It’s been a long time, Elouise.”

Elouise realized it was a response to what she herself had said earlier.

A well-bred lady ought to return such a greeting with a compliment—typically on the other’s attire, or health, or at the very least, with a smile. In aristocratic conversation, such responses were expected. But here, none of it applied.

Marcus, as she could plainly see, had grown gaunt. His clothes were wrinkled, and he hadn’t even shaved properly.

What could she possibly say to the strained expression that barely qualified as a smile? Elouise, watching him for a moment, suddenly felt a dull ache around her sternum. A pressing weight, as if someone were pushing down on her chest.

In short, her heart hurt.

“…”

“Have you been well?”

Yet Marcus persisted, his voice calm. Then, tentatively, he asked:

“If you wouldn’t mind… may I step inside the fence? I, uh, apologize for earlier. It’s just that… upon seeing you again, I—”

He stopped there. Elouise watched him carefully. Unfortunately, her quick perception—sharpened over the years—proved useless this time. She didn’t realize that Marcus had stopped speaking because his throat had tightened with emotion.

“I was… I was just so glad to see you.”

He attempted to speak again, but once more fell short.

He needed to say something—anything—but his throat kept closing, and waves of emotion kept rising. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to throw himself at her feet and beg for forgiveness. No—not forgiveness, but simply to ask her to stay by his side.

But he couldn’t. Because Elouise looked… content.

He forced himself to speak again.

“I was just so happy to see you. But if you’d rather I didn’t, I’ll stay right here. So… uh…”

Of course, just like Elouise, Marcus was fully aware of the social niceties—that he ought to compliment her attire, her health, her smile, even the weather. Once lovers, now strangers fumbling for polite small talk.

It was absurd—and so absurd that Marcus felt tears prick his eyes again. But he swallowed the lump in his throat, fighting the tide of emotion.

I didn’t come all this way just to cry in front of her.

He had only just realized, sitting outside her fence, how pitiful he must look. A belated realization for a man who usually cared so much about appearances. He blinked rapidly, then added:

“…You look well. It seems you’ve been doing fine.”

“…Yes. Thank you.”

Elouise replied softly, still unsure what to do. Marcus stared silently at her feet, standing three paces away. She wore a pair of well-worn leather shoes—shoes he had never seen, but could tell she favored. The leather was cracked and glossy with use. He found himself, irrationally, jealous of even those shoes. He was afraid to fall at her feet, yet the shoes had rested there all this time.

“So… today, I…”

Marcus spoke again. Strangely, the words would not come. He knew perfectly well why he had come—but somehow, he lacked the courage to say it aloud.

“The weather… it’s nice, isn’t it?”

“…”

And with that, Marcus was mortified. If anyone who knew him—he, infamous for being the capital’s most brazen flirt—saw him now, they’d faint from shock. Making small talk about the weather in front of a woman!

And to make it worse, the sun was already setting!

He stole a glance upward to see her reaction. Elouise had been looking directly at him, but when their eyes met, she quickly lowered her gaze in surprise. As if she were a criminal. Marcus, startled, did the same.

Then his eyes widened.

She was holding something in her hand. He didn’t know what it was—but his gaze landed on her left ring finger.

There was a clear indentation—a ring mark. Evidently, she had been wearing one just moments ago, only to hastily remove it upon his arrival.

And then, Elouise spoke.

“I know why you’re here, Sir Hanger.”

“…Do you?”

“I’m sorry.”

Startled by her sudden apology, Marcus looked up at her again. Her disheveled hair fluttered gently in the breeze. She still avoided his gaze, holding out her palm.

In her hand lay a ring—and a diamond. The large diamond he had once given her. Still unmounted, still raw.

“I broke the contract, and I never even returned the deposit…”

Marcus frowned. She was about to continue, but he cut in first.

“Elouise.”

“I’m sor—… Pardon?”

“I didn’t come here for the deposit.”

Though anger flared within him, Marcus made a conscious effort not to show it. He reached out to her, ever so gently. It was a respectful gesture, and Elouise’s eyes widened.

He spoke slowly.

“This may take a while. Shall we walk a little?”

He did not want it to appear as though he were berating Elouise in that moment. Compared to her, Marcus was easily twice her size, and he was fully aware that he was not in complete control of his emotions. Even the slightest displeasure might crash over her like a turbulent wave.

If he were to raise his voice then and there, Elouise would flutter away like a startled bird, retreating to the safety of her nest. He sincerely hoped that he could persuade her as gently as possible.

Fortunately, Elouise, after a brief hesitation, carefully placed her right hand into his. Marcus, without a smile, slowly brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. Then he began to walk. He intended to retrace the path he had come, but Elouise, after giving the road toward the village a thoughtful look, led him in the opposite direction.

The two of them walked slowly into a small forest. Though it was called a forest, the trees were sparse and interspersed with thickets—typical of a woodland near a village. Marcus contemplated when would be the right moment to speak again. But it was Elouise who broke the silence first.

“I know Sir Hanger is a good man. But this… this isn’t something Sir Hanger…”

“Marcus.”

“…”

“Please call me Marcus, Elouise.”

At those words, Elouise looked up at him like a frightened squirrel. The tiny woman who barely reached his left shoulder treating him that way—Marcus didn’t like it. No, it hurt. He was barely restraining himself from pulling her into his arms, and yet she regarded him like a predator.

He spoke softly.

“Elouise.”

“…Yes.”

“I came because I missed you.”

At those words, she abruptly halted. Rather than standing beside her, Marcus moved to stand before her. Now she was right in front of his chest. Perhaps because the distance was too close, Elouise tried to take a step back.

But Marcus was quicker. Still holding her right hand, he seized her left hand as well. Elouise, flustered, looked up as he brought her left hand to his lips and kissed it. And before she could flee, he asked:

“The ring you once wore on your left ring finger—where has it gone?”

Startled, Elouise glanced down at her finger. A ring, the longer it's worn, leaves a trace when gone—and the moment she saw her own hand, she realized that trace was evident. ‘Foolish!’ she muttered inwardly and calmly replied,

“I removed it because I needed to return it to you.”

“Elouise, what I want to know is—”

“Sir Hanger. A woman living alone faces all kinds of situations. Wearing a fake wedding ring is one way to cope.”

After saying that, Elouise added, with emphasis,

“Of course, someone like you, who can fake an entire marriage, would surely understand.”

“I do.”

Surprisingly, Marcus responded without hesitation. And in that instant, Elouise realized she had made a mistake.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. From the moment she realized Marcus Hanger had appeared on her doorstep, she had been reflecting on how much she had missed him. She had wanted to confess that truth—that her feelings had not changed—but found it difficult. She had planned to quietly return the diamond and wedding rings and say:

I know your circumstances. This might sound presumptuous, but if there is any way—even briefly—I might be of help to you…

Not once did she think Marcus had come because of the inheritance tied to her name. The man she had known was proud of the Hanger family’s wealth and indulged in its comforts, but he was not the sort to cling to a lost love out of greed. Marcus Hanger had always been confident—someone who would find another way, no matter how grim the situation.

And yet she had responded coldly to a man who had said he had missed her. With her “a woman living alone” remark, she had implied she hadn’t seen another man in all that time. But she’d been too forceful—and her last words could even have sounded like an insult. This was not what she had meant to say. She instantly regretted it, but words once spoken cannot be retrieved.

She thought Marcus Hanger, offended, would soon turn his back and vanish.

But he did not.

“However, Elouise…”

As she had known of him, Marcus never accepted even the direst of situations without resistance. A man who had searched for her for three years would hardly be deterred by her chilly demeanor.

“I do not believe that was the true reason you wore that ring.”

“…”

“A woman living alone doesn’t walk around wearing a six-carat gemstone ring—even if it’s not a particularly expensive stone.”

Indeed, Marcus Hanger was the heir to the Hanger estate. He was a man who not only spent money but understood the discomforts that came with value. He had called out the inconsistency in her claim.

Even a six-carat tourmaline would be outrageously expensive. A woman living alone, who wished to go unnoticed in a small town, would never wear something that left a mark on her finger from constant wear. Marcus had pointed that out.

Elouise’s face flushed bright red, but Marcus met her gaze steadily and said,

“To be honest, I wasn’t certain the mark on your finger came from that ring. But your words gave me the courage to believe it.”

“Sir Hanger…”

“Call me Marcus, El.”

Elouise faltered and closed her mouth. Marcus gently urged her once more.

“Elouise, I came because I missed you. But I won’t ask too much of you. I understand now why you left me. I truly do.”

“…”

“El. I won’t ask you to trust me. I can’t even trust myself. But—I came because I missed you.”

Elouise’s eyes trembled. Marcus, intentionally, let go of both her hands. She was free now. He clenched his jaw.

“Just answer me one thing. Do you dislike me?”

She couldn’t answer for a long while. Of course she didn’t.

If she had, she wouldn’t have worn the ring he had given her for all that time. Elouise wrestled with herself. All she needed to do was say no. She had missed him too, constantly, and she could tell him that now. But instead, she looked into his face.

He was gaunt, and beneath his eyes were shadows of sorrow. Anyone could see he had suffered greatly—and anyone could guess the reason. In that moment, she was overwhelmed with guilt at the sight of Marcus Hanger before her.

And yet, standing there before him, he had said she “looked well.” Do I look well? she wondered. Elouise thought that, at the very least, she had fared better than the man before her. She couldn’t bring herself to answer, and Marcus asked again.

“Please, El. Do you dislike me?”

“…”

“…Do you?”

After a brief silence, he repeated himself with quiet insistence.

“If you don’t wish to answer, Elouise—that’s all right. You don’t have to say anything now. But please, I hope you’ll hear me out.”

Marcus hesitated, watching her expression. He did not appear pitiful, but his demeanor was sorrowful enough to stir sympathy. Elouise was overwhelmed by a fresh wave of guilt.

“Even now—it might sound strange to say this, El.”

“…”

“I love you.”

“…”

“I still do.”

Elouise barely held back her tears. The man was sincere—and slow—choosing each word with precision, as though afraid she might miss a single one.

“Since you left, I’ve often thought about how you must have been. I couldn’t understand why you’d gone. At times, I was angry. Angry at you for saying you loved me—and then vanishing. When my aunt told me what she knew, I couldn’t believe it. And eventually, I understood. You had left… because of me.”

“Marcus.”

“Ah! At last, you call my name again.”

Marcus smiled, if only for a fleeting moment. He looked like a man who had stumbled upon something precious he thought he’d lost long ago. The passion and elation that had seemed extinguished within him flickered back to life—all because the woman before him had spoken his name.

“Even I, thinking of you every day, doubted myself. Is this real? Am I searching for you only to burn out the last of some unfinished love?”

“…”

“But now, more than ever, I am certain of what I feel, Elouise.”

Marcus took a step back. Now two paces separated them. He couldn’t bring himself to smile as he said,

“If you dislike me, I’ll do nothing. I will entrust myself solely to your choice.”

“Marcus, please…”

“That’s not because I’ve lost interest in you—or because I feel relieved to have finally found you after three years. It’s just…”

Marcus bit his lip and shook his head before speaking again.

“Because I love you.”

He had once thought that, upon seeing her again, he would embrace her without hesitation.

He would kiss her through tears, take her back to the capital that very moment, lock her away so she could never run from him again—even chain her hands and feet if he had to. He had, once or twice, truly imagined such things. That once he found Elouise Starwood, he would never let her go again. He would hold her captive in his arms, make sure she would never stray.

But the moment he stood before her again, all such fantasies dissolved like mist. All that remained was a quiet hope: that Elouise might choose him once more.

He had not approached her when she stood outside her home; instead, he had gently drawn her out. Even now, he had let go of her hand—hoping she would study him carefully, and choose him on her own. Three years ago, Marcus Hanger had rushed toward Elouise Starwood far too urgently. It was no wonder she hadn’t trusted him. How could anyone believe in a man so rash, so utterly absorbed in himself?

“If you do not dislike me, Elouise…”

He did not even wish for her love again. He merely clung to the hope born of her smallest sympathy—and found joy in the faint imprint of a ring.

“If you do not dislike me…”

Marcus bit his lip. A sudden wave of sorrow had overtaken him.

The heart of a man standing before the object of his love trembled as though it had encountered a furious storm. It was utterly capricious. Yet even the mere thought of a possible rejection felt unbearably heavy to him.

Just moments ago, when she extended a diamond to him, calling it an advance payment, he had been deeply wounded. Did she truly believe I came all this way for some wretched diamond? To receive what I had meant to give that dreadful woman, the Duchess of Bellona? He had wanted to confront her with those words.

And still, the sorrow had not left him. A man once cherished by her love was now reduced to asking whether she might, in truth, despise him. There was no one else to blame. It was all his own doing. He felt wretched, heartbroken, and miserably dejected.

“Would it be too much to ask… if you could simply remain by my side…?”

“…”

What escaped the man’s lips was not so much a plea as it was a desperate entreaty. Having spoken, Marcus found himself overcome by a surge of anguish and continued, unable to stop.

“…You once said you loved me…”

It sounded like the petulance of a child, and Marcus instantly realized the words were a mistake. But it was already too late. His voice, tinged with both bitterness and vulnerability, refused to be silenced.

“I don’t even know why I’m asking you this. No, I do. Yes. It’s because of me. No one else—just me. And yet… I don’t know why this sorrow feels so overwhelming.”

Elouise gazed at him, weighed down by a sense of despair. She had no idea what to say. But still, the man did not stop speaking.

“To think that in the time we could have spent whispering words of love, I wasted three whole years—and now, only now, am I asking you to stay by my side. How pitiful, how humiliating… how much I despise myself…”

“Marcus, that’s enough.”

“I’m sorry, El. I know I should stop. I really should…”

Marcus’s eyes welled with tears again. The man simply could not hold back anymore. Just as he was about to declare his love once more, Elouise opened her mouth.

“I love you.”

Marcus doubted his ears. But instead of responding, he paused to consider whether scratching one’s ear before the woman who might reject him was a dignified gesture or not—and in that fleeting hesitation, Elouise spoke again.

“I still love you too, so please, just stop…”

The darkness that had quietly fallen made it difficult to notice before, but now Marcus could see it clearly. Tears brimmed in her eyes as well. She looked as though one slight touch might send them tumbling down.

“I’m sorry… for being difficult…”

“El—”

“I thought of you often. How could I possibly forget you? You ask if I hate you? How could I ever?”

Marcus inhaled sharply. Elouise had suddenly stepped closer, grasping his sleeve. With the hand still holding the diamond, she pressed it to her chest and wept forlornly. A single tear traced down her cheek.

“I never imagined you would come looking for me. I thought… after two months, I’d be forgotten, and so…”

“El, oh El. I was wrong.”

“No, it was me! Even my father always told me—no matter what happens, believe in the one you love!”

Elouise shut her eyes tightly. The tears she had been holding back now spilled all at once, hitting the floor in heavy drops and staining it dark.

“Even just imagining you forgetting me and falling for another woman terrified me. I convinced myself that as your wife, I would be living an empty shell of a life. So, so…”

She couldn’t hold back any longer. Marcus pulled her into his embrace by the shoulders. Years ago, her shoulders had been so slender they barely filled his arms—but now they were rounder, fuller. And still, he could not bring himself to kiss her lips. Instead, burying his face into her shoulder, he wept and cursed under his breath.

“Goddamn it…”

Elouise whispered like a woman driven mad.

“Look at you… How could I have possibly run barefoot to greet someone in such a state…?”

As she spoke, she gently stroked Marcus’s jaw. There was a coarse roughness to it, unlike his usual clean shave. But instead of recoiling in embarrassment as he might have on any other day, Marcus merely nuzzled into her shoulder with abandon, overwhelmed with emotion. Elouise continued.

“You ask if I hate you? For you—of all people, who were always so confident—to ask me that, it felt as though I were to blame… No, this is my fault.”

“No, it’s mine. Elouise, it’s all because of me.”

“I’m sorry, Marcus. I’m so sorry.”

The two lovers held each other tightly by the waist and cried. From early evening, the birds had begun to chirp suspiciously as if sensing the emotional storm between them. But soon, even those cries subsided. The misunderstanding had lifted—and now, lost in one another once more, the lovers began to kiss with reckless abandon.

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