There Is No Paradise Where You Escaped - Chapter 67

Vivianne, having finished her performance without incident, had no trouble pretending to be composed—until the Queen complimented her.

But as soon as the Queen turned her attention to Edwin and began to speak, Vivianne’s consciousness started to blur. Even Edwin’s response to the Queen became indistinct as the intoxication took hold. Naturally, Edwin escorted Vivianne back to her seat. 

Relieved of the tension, Vivianne collapsed into the chair and looked up at Edwin, breathing heavily. She had many questions she wanted to ask, but the alcohol tangled her thoughts too much to articulate them clearly. Edwin extended his large hand toward her. Her gaze drifted from his pale palm to his calm, piercing blue eyes.

      He’ll soon be another woman’s husband—a man who insists on keeping me as his mistress. How could I take his hand? 

She refused to sink further into this deceit. That was why she couldn’t take his hand. She didn’t want to take part in anything wrong—not anymore.

When Vivianne turned away from him, Edwin chuckled softly and withdrew his hand. 

At that moment, Alice, unable to hide her joyful smile, slipped between the two of them.

“Your Grace, I enjoyed the performance. I didn’t know you had such talent on the piano. Everyone’s curious about the piece since it was their first time hearing it. They kept asking me about it, and I didn’t know what to say!”

“Vivianne knows.”

Passing the question to Vivianne, Alice’s spring-like smile turned toward her. Then, noticing Vivianne’s drunken complexion, her face filled with alarm.

“Oh my. Miss Aveline, are you all right? Your eyes are so unfocused… Are you sure you’re okay? Shouldn’t you head back in now?”

Alice crouched in front of Vivianne and asked with concern. With a quiet sigh, Edwin gently grasped her limp hand and helped her to her feet. Vivianne’s unsteady body stumbled but found balance against him. She wanted to push him away but had no strength left.

“As you say, Vivianne’s quite drunk and should retire early. She seemed unable to enjoy the party as she tried to adapt to this unfamiliar place. I won’t forget your kindness, my lady.”

Touched by the Duke’s goodwill, Alice rose to her feet, blushing with emotion. Trying hard to hide her joy, she gave a graceful bow. Edwin then quietly led Vivianne out of the ballroom.

As the murmuring noise faded and cold silence settled in, Vivianne felt her mind become even more disoriented—or rather, the extent of her drunkenness became clearer. She weakly pushed Edwin away as she staggered.

“I… can walk on my own.”

Edwin’s arms tightened around her to keep her from pitching forward. Vivianne’s condition was such a mess, with her dazzling, waltz-like steps, that Edwin wondered how she had even managed to play the cello in this state.

On the other hand, the fact that she had played the cello in this condition proved the strength of her mental fortitude as a descendant of Aveline’s bloodline.

Considering how she had become this drunk after just three glasses of champagne, it was understandable why she usually stayed away from alcohol.

“You can walk? And you want me to let go?”

Vivianne paused, then gave a big nod. As she wished, he released the arm she’d been leaning on. Without resistance, her delicate body collapsed forward. A faint groan escaped her lips as she raised her heavy eyelids and glared at Edwin accusingly.

All he had done was let go when she asked, yet her eyes were full of wrongful accusations as if someone had pushed her down.

Clicking his tongue, Edwin took her arm and pulled her back up.

Now able to walk again with Edwin’s support, Vivianne didn’t ask him to let her go anymore. On the contrary, she clung to him tightly, making a great effort to walk steadily. But when she stepped on her own foot and staggered again, Edwin sighed softly.

“From now on, don’t even touch champagne—or anything like it.”

“Mmm... I won’t.”

As he scolded her, she began to feel more and more unstable from the heat in her body and the dizzying intoxication. But the sentimental feeling that came with the drunkenness wasn’t unpleasant.

      So this is why people drink.

It was the first time she truly felt the joy that alcohol could bring.

As Vivianne giggled and took a few more steps, her legs tangled again. Irritated by her messy, drunken behavior, Edwin made up his mind to toss her over his shoulder and dump her onto a bed—but paused when Vivianne, instead of resisting or trying to escape his arms, quietly rested her forehead against his chest. He paused to observe her for a moment, wondering if she had fallen asleep.

In the quiet night, with the palace hallway as silent as death, the only sound was Vivianne’s heartbeat—quick and loud. Slowly, she lifted her head from where it had been buried in his chest. The hallway was dimly lit, illuminated only by scattered lamps. In the center of the dark and murky corridor, flickering flames danced over their faces.

“Your Grace…”

Because of the sharp, yellow light, it was hard to tell how flushed Vivianne’s face really was. When Edwin cupped her small, soft cheek, his palm instantly felt hot. Only then did he sense how much heat her intoxicated body was giving off.

“How… did you know that piece?” She slurred.

Edwin stroked her fevered cheek. Vivianne, her eyes half-closed, remained obedient. She didn’t shy away from his touch—her expression was pure and soft, twitching slightly in a completely defenseless way.

“That… it was composed by my teacher, Mr. Sánchez, when we were living in Preston. Were you… His student, too, by any chance? Did we… learn from the same teacher?”

Vivianne’s innocent curiosity shone in her gray eyes, and Edwin stayed still, studying her for a long time. Vivianne couldn’t hold her head up well, and her cheek was sometimes squished against his palm. Whenever her head’s full weight leaned into his hand, a faint pleasure stirred in him—a feeling of possessing this woman’s fragility completely.

To Edwin, holding Vivianne’s most vulnerable part—her defenselessness, her lack of caution, her complete trust and surrender—meant everything.

“It was a piece I played when I was eight years old. I was so nervous earlier, but that was the only one I could remember. I was surprised when someone started accompanying me—I thought the pianist just happened to know the piece. But when I turned around after the performance, it was you standing there. Do you know how shocked I was?”

Edwin’s hand, still cupping her cheek, pressed more deeply.

“It’s amazing… that we learned the same things from the same teacher, at the same time… and now here we are, performing together.”

Within Vivianne’s scent—mingled with her rising body heat and the smell of champagne—and in her faint, trembling voice, Edwin glimpsed a hazy memory:

“Sayer, come here. This piece was written by Rosalind’s teacher, and the piano accompaniment is simpler than you’d think.”

“If you learn it and help Rosalind with her accompaniment, she’ll be so happy.”

He couldn’t picture his mother’s face—all faded like an old painting, the colors peeled and discolored. He couldn’t recall her height, her expressions, her gestures. Only her voice remained vivid.

“Jerome! Come here and help your brother on the piano. You’re playing Rosalind’s role. Come play the cello.”

Following his mother’s voice, he moved to where his third brother, Jerome, was. Just two years older and full of mischief, Jerome had shown talent in both music and art even at a young age. Both their mother and father agreed that Jerome would one day graduate from an arts university and become a world-renowned artist.

“If I help you with the piano, you’ll give me the Albert wooden ship, right?”

He couldn’t even recall Jerome’s expression as he’d longed for the Albert ship their father had carved out of wood. The other two brothers had chimed in, facing Jerome as he sat with the cello in his lap.

“Just steal it already. Tsk Tsk. Acting like a child.”

“Jerome, I’ll carve one for you soon. It might not be as good as Father’s, but I’ll make something decent enough to display.”

Even the faces of his second brother, Adam, and eldest brother, Jeremiah, were now obscured behind a white fog. Everything felt vivid and yet blurred. The laughter, the teasing—so familiar—felt foreign now, like something from a distant land.

In the memories of his own past, he alone was a stranger. He alone was moving forward. He alone was breathing.

“It was my fiancée’s favorite piece.”

His deep voice echoed through the quiet corridor, sweeping over Vivianne like a tide.

“My mother told me that if I wanted Rosalind to love me as her husband, I had to impress her. So she sat me down at the piano and made me learn the accompaniment. I had only ever watched my second brother play the piano—never touched it myself. That was the first and last piece I ever played.”

As he recounted the story in a calm tone, tears welled in Vivianne’s eyes. For him, too, it must have been just another moment on an ordinary day—so ordinary he hadn’t even realized it was happiness. Within that moment, there had been his beloved parents, his brothers, all tightly packed into the memory. As painful as it must have been to play that piece again, she now realized that he, too, must have missed them and longed for that ordinary life. The thought made her unbearably sad.

If he had accompanied her from behind in order to make her feel guilt—the very seed of all misfortune—then he had succeeded completely. Vivianne surrendered herself to the wave of guilt.

Vivianne couldn’t bring herself to judge his sorrow or his pain, because she still clearly remembered his blue eyes, once full of anguish from that tragic day.

She remembered too clearly the blue eyes of that grieving boy—the Sayer twisted by rage and hatred after losing everything, the family he dearly loved.

“Was she… someone you loved?”

Vivianne choked back tears, slowly exhaling a damp breath.

“What does a thirteen-year-old know about love?”

“I think I knew about love when I was younger than that.”

“Who was it? Tell me.”

Edwin smirked, tugging at her earlobe. She squirmed, shaking her head.

“I don’t know… who it was.”

Vivianne’s tears fell in soft drops. He gently wiped them away, smiling tenderly. She was the drunk one, yet seeing that soft smile, it felt as if he was the one intoxicated instead.

Vivianne’s hand fumbled its way up his shoulder, then softly cupped his cold cheek. It was the first time she had touched him on her own, but as always, Edwin showed no sign of surprise.

With a low, heated sigh, she felt the texture of his skin beneath her clumsy fingertips. Her hand slipped down, coming to rest at the nape of his neck. The warmth—hers, his, it was impossible to tell—clung damply to her palm.

Vivianne peered at the bluish bruise nestled beneath the ascot tied at his neck, and thick tears began falling once again as she suppressed a sob that seemed like it could burst out at any moment.

“I’m sorry… for biting you.”

Her warm hand slid once more, brushing over his shoulder and settling gently on his firm chest. With her head bowed, Vivianne began to quietly sob.

“I’m sorry.”

Her fragile voice, like a confession, trembled faintly. Her tears cut through the air and fell, landing on his well-polished shoes.

Just as she had grieved over an unchangeable past, she now knew the man before her had grieved even more. She understood now what that piece of music must have meant to him.

Raising her head, Vivianne stood on her toes and cradled his face in her hands. Drawing him close, she rested his head against her shoulder and gently patted his broad back with her small hand. Though he was far too large to hold properly, she still tried to comfort him.

The dim corridor, lit only by scattered wall lamps, echoed with the soft sound of sobbing whimpers, accompanied by gentle pats—as if someone were soothing a child.

The large shadow, leaning against the small one, shifted. With both arms wrapped tightly around her slender waist, Edwin buried his face deeply into her small shoulder. The hand that had been patting him now wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a deep embrace.