OBML 08

Chapter 8

For some reason, I feel good. What is this? That sweet smell? A sweet, fresh floral scent, like perfume, filled the air around me. Not only that, but also the sensation of languid, warm sunlight filtering through the air.

Neither dry nor humid. A perfect temperature. When was the last time I felt this kind of cozy comfort? I rubbed my cheek against the soft pillow. Then my eyes flew open.

“…A pillow?”

I hastily pushed myself up and looked down with bewildered eyes. I really had been sleeping with my head on a brand-new, pure white, soft pillow.

“What’s going on?”

As I slowly looked around in my confusion, my gaze stopped at one spot.

A man I had never seen before was standing there, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a single sheet of paper, his hip leaning against the window frame at a crooked angle.

For a moment, I stared at him blankly, entranced. The man, standing with his back to the bright sunlight, enhanced by a halo effect, is my ideal type just from his silhouette. My perfect ideal type, no matter which way you looked at him.

Oh my god. Who is he? How can someone be this handsome? He’s so good-looking it doesn’t even feel real. A man sculpted flawlessly by a genius artist without the slightest error.

Fair, smooth-looking skin that seemed soft even without touching it, and slightly upturned eyes. From there flowed a sleek nose bridge and a sharp jawline with just the right angles. Broad shoulders contrasting with a small face. A solid, muscular build hinted at by his taut shirt.

And that wasn’t all. Jet-black hair of fine texture that gave the illusion of scattering on its own in a room without a single breath of wind. On the back of the hand holding the paper, sexy veins stood out. Even his hands were handsome.

He’s so perfect it feels like I’m dreaming. But the more I looked at him carefully, the more he seemed familiar. Where had I seen him before? Especially those blue eyes.

“What are you staring at?”

Perhaps sensing my persistent gaze, the man slowly blinked and tossed the paper onto the bedside table with a soft thud. Then he turned his head toward me. Our eyes met.

“Nita Grace.”

“Yes?”

“I asked what you’re staring at.”

“…”

“Why did you suddenly turn stupid? Just because your wrist broke doesn’t mean there should be something wrong with your head.”

Of course there’s nothing wrong with my head. I remember everything perfectly, right up to the moment my wrist broke yesterday. Which means this man is.

“Chase?”

“…Ch-?”

He frowned slightly, following the end of my word with a displeased tone.

“…Grand Duke.”

I hurriedly added the rest. Fortunately, Chase seemed satisfied with that much and didn’t pick any further faults.

Good grief. It really is Chase. Who would’ve thought such a handsome face was hidden beneath that mask? Well, he was described as handsome in the original story too… but he’s so much my type beyond expectations!

“How’s your body?”

The handsome Chase asked in a much gentler voice. Only then did I look at my arm. The sleeve of my left arm had been cut off above the elbow. My arm was wrapped in clean white bandages, neat enough to show professional care.

“No pain? I dissolved some painkillers in water and gave them to you while you were asleep, but tell me if it hurts.”

“I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt.”

“Then that’s good.”

I lightly nodded up and down to show my agreement.

My body was so exhausted that calling it tired wasn’t enough. But now, I felt like I could finally breathe. The painkillers were probably for my wrist, but their effect seemed to have spread throughout my body. On top of that, waking up after sleeping soundly in such a perfect bed, I felt no dizziness and my condition is extremely good.

That aside, I had slept in a clean bed wearing such filthy clothes. Feeling apologetic, I quietly slipped out from under the blanket and turned to get off the bed. Then, as if he knew exactly what I was trying to do, Chase spoke.

“It’s already dirty, so just stay there. I’m not going to make you clean it.”

“But…”

“It’s annoying, so stay put.”

“…”

There it is again. That irritated, bothered tone. Fine. Honestly, I liked being under the covers too. It was so cozy.

I stopped resisting, pulled the blanket back over myself, and asked,

“But my wrist. You broke it, didn’t you, Grand Duke?”

“Probably.”

Probably? Is he trying to deny it? You’re the one who broke it.