Mr. Brandt lets sit in the study. He doesn’t say anything as he hands a glass of water.
I drink it quietly and keep my gaze lowered, too embarrassed to et his eyes. Of all people, why did it have to be him who found ?
Not that it wouldn’t have been humiliating if the servants or security had discovered , but with him... I don’t know. It feels worse sohow.
Still, I should be thankful. If he hadn’t found , I’d probably still be in that room having a full-blown panic attack. Maybe even passed out by the ti soone finally thought to check.
"Thank you," I murmur after a long silence.
I’m surprised he hasn’t left. Instead, he stays across from , leaning on the back of the sofa while I sit in a chair in the middle of the study.
"And I’m sorry—"
"I don’t want to hear more sorries from you."
His cold tone makes my heart jump. I lift my gaze nervously and find him still watching , eyes grim and unreadable.
Right. He’s not soone who cares for apologies. He doesn’t look the forgiving type, so why would he want to hear them. He doesn’t value sorries. He’s probably mad and disappointed that I was nosy enough to wander into a place I am not allowed to enter.
Maybe he’s already thinking offering that proposal was a mistake.
He looks so grim and nacing, like he’s one breath away from punishing .
"Did you commit a cri? Is that why you keep apologizing?" he asks.
I blink, confused.
Then I slowly shake my head.
Didn’t I, though? Doesn’t trespassing into a secret room count as a cri?
I’m ready to ask him that when he continues.
"Then stop saying sorry if you didn’t commit a cri."
What does that even an? He thinks I didn’t do anything wrong? So he’s not angry that I stumbled into that hidden room and caused a whole incident? But his scowl says otherwise.
And looking at him now with his hair disheveled, his tie askew, the first few buttons of his shirt undone... did it take him serious effort to find ?
My blood runs cold.
I’m so dead.
Security must have called him when they realized I’d gone missing, so he drove ho earlier than planned. He probably thought I ran off, backing out of our agreent. But of course, he’d seen in the CCTVs that I didn’t leave the mansion.
If there were CCTVs inside the mansion, it would have been easier to find but that wasn’t the case, obviously.
"When... when did you arrive?" I ask, suddenly hyper-aware of the intensity of his stare.
He must be imagining ways to skin alive. I shudder at the thought.
"Half an hour ago."
My eyes widen.
"Yes," he adds with a nod, "Everyone in the mansion has been looking for you for an hour now. And our wedding is in thirty minutes."
Oh no.
That’s barely enough ti to do my makeup, my hair, and put on my dress. Also, did I forget to morize my vows?
Great, Elyn.
I rise from my seat, but he lifts two fingers, a gesture telling to sit back down.
"Are we... not getting married?" I mutter.
When he doesn’t speak after a heartbeat, panic claws up my throat.
"I’m so—" I stop myself the mont his glare sharpens.
Right. No more apologies. If I have any brain cells left, I should rember that.
"I an," I start again, swallowing hard, "I didn’t an to find the secret room. I just wanted to play the piano to ease my nerves before the wedding. And after playing, I looked around the mini library and I accidentally touched the painting sowhere... which made the door open. I didn’t an to pry into your mansion’s privacy! I promise!"
The words tumble out so fast they scrape my throat raw. My heart feels lodged sowhere near my collarbone, beating way too hard.
"This mansion is very old," he says calmly, "and it has secret rooms only the family and the older staff know. The one you were trapped in has a broken automation system, that’s why it can’t be opened from the inside. I’ve known this house since childhood, but I only beca its master a few years ago, and I haven’t had the ti to check its flaws."
He adds, "The room with the piano, adjoining the study, is off-limits to everyone. Servants and guests. That’s why they didn’t search there."
Off-limits?
But when he saw there last ti...
"You didn’t tell ." Heat rushes to my face. I’m more embarassed now. "No, it’s my fault. I should have asked Stannis which rooms are restricted."
I already suspected sothing back then. The mini library felt too private, too intimate, like a place built for one person alone.
"You’re not a guest or a servant."
I glance up. His eyes hold mine with a weight that makes my skin burn from the inside out.
I’m not a guest... because I’m to be his wife, right?
But that doesn’t make a permanent resident.
"So you’re afraid of the dark?"
His sudden question startles . Are we really having small talk right now? We are dangerously close to being late to our own wedding.
"No. It’s not the dark that scared ," I answer quietly. "I guess I have claustrophobia."
I don’t want to unpack childhood trauma in the middle of this conversation, and I’m definitely uncomfortable to give him the full story, so I give him the safest truth.
His eyes narrow slightly, as if challenging to elaborate. But I don’t.
He notices but he doesn’t push. Instead, he stands and glances toward the door.
"Let’s go before the priest gets tired of waiting."
I nod and slip out of the study first.
His footsteps follow behind , not beside , but close enough that I can feel his presence.
"If you want to visit the mini library," he says suddenly, "you may do so whenever you please."
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