There Is No Paradise Where You Escaped - Chapter 70

The space inside the wall was just wide enough to fit three people. That meant there was enough room between Edwin and Vivianne for one more person to squeeze in. Relieved that it wasn’t too cramped, Vivianne pressed her back against the wall and looked down at the faint moonlight trickling in through a small gap at her feet. It was the only light she could rely on to bear the suffocating silence and his persistent gaze.

“… Thank you,” she said.

Though they were trapped alone in this confined space, she wasn’t worried. Even if Edwin couldn’t hide his desires, she was certain nothing improper would happen as long as others outside were frantically searching for her.

Vivianne focused on the noise coming from beyond the wall, but no one seemed to be searching the guest bedroom. Bored by the dim moonlight pooling at her toes, she glanced up—and locked eyes with Edwin, who had been watching her quietly. Turning her head away in such close quarters would only heighten the tension in the already stifling air.

“Did Charlotte and Your Grace… participate in this game every year?”

Choosing conversation, Vivianne asked in the softest voice she could manage.

“Charlotte did. I was always too busy.”

“Then why are you here this year? Wouldn’t it be humiliating if you got caught?”

“Because of someone who would’ve ended up frantically panicking and getting caught, then ended up stripped bare and humiliated in front of everyone.”

The narrow space inside the wall quickly filled with the breath of two people, heat and humidity rising fast. Feeling suffocated, Vivianne fanned herself with her hand and wiggled her toes inside her shoes.

“… Thank you… For helping me.”

The trust that hadn’t broken only grew stronger. He was someone she shouldn’t carelessly rely on, and yet—tragically—Edwin was the only one she could depend on now. Her trust in him gave her courage. Maybe that trust had stolen her sense of judgment.

But the sticky air dulled her awareness, and the space, as if sealed in endless time, distorted her grip on reality.

“… Your Grace.”

Her whisper was delicate and seductive. Her tousled golden hair, mussed from all the running, still gleamed even in the dark. The sight teased his eyes, her shallow breaths teased his ears, and the cloying floral scent clinging to her relentlessly assaulted his sense of smell.

Vivianne’s presence was stimulating. She pulled at his senses with little things—trivial, fleeting things. But that was all.

He desired her but didn’t covet her. Wanted her, but had no reason to have her. So he had no wish to touch her or taste her.

“Actually… there’s something I’d like to ask of you.”

“Go ahead.”

Vivianne softly wet her dry lips with her tongue. She had been taught to make eye contact when asking for something, so she stared straight at him with her gray eyes.

“This is… me begging.”

Vivianne straightened her posture, her back stiff. Her breath quickened with tension.

“I’m begging for my life.”

Edwin’s gaze darkened as he watched her hesitate.

“Your Grace.”

He desired her but didn’t covet her. Wanted her but had no reason to have her. Just to this point. No further.

“… Could you not get married?”

Vivianne’s question wavered in the air, trembling pitifully. The desperation in her voice mirrored her drunken pleas from the night before.

      Then what was different?

What has changed since yesterday?

“Someday, Your Grace… you’re going to kill me. But until then… I don’t want you to be another woman’s husband. I don’t want to hear anyone say I’m someone’s mistress…”

Vivianne’s lips stopped mid-sentence as Edwin abruptly closed the distance between them. His scent, sharp and intrusive, seeped into the narrow space she had tried to secure. Her gaze wandered through the darkness, seeking Edwin’s eyes. The heat of his hand cupped her cheek, and the moonlight reflecting in his eyes revealed a simmering intensity. Their silent eye contact stretched longer.

His gaze, smooth as a butterfly’s wing, landed on the corner of her lips. A small hand rose to press against Edwin’s chest. What was meant to push him away instead became entwined with his hand—his fingers slipping between hers, merging them into one.

Then his lips, having followed a path downward, met hers.

The moment their lips joined, the stillness shattered.

Ripples spread through her dilated pupils, and every muscle in her body tensed. When Edwin gently bit and tugged at her lower lip, a wet, lewd sound broke between them. His lips reclaimed hers—this time, he nipped at her upper lip. The burning heat that sank into her delicate skin felt completely disconnected from reality.

Vivianne’s mind snapped back only when the door to the guest room suddenly burst open.

Startled by the commotion, she flinched faintly in Edwin’s arms. She pressed her lips together in defiance and struggled to free her hand from his grip.

“She must be somewhere around here, right? I saw Aveline coming this way earlier.”

“Exactly. Why is she hiding so well? Maybe the Countess helped her.”

Outside the wall, the others were thoroughly searching the guest room. If even a breath escaped from here, it wouldn’t end with a simple public flogging in the grand garden. Edwin was here too. If they were caught like this—entwined, disheveled—it would destroy her reputation beyond repair.

Vivianne stopped resisting. If she kept moving, their hiding spot would be exposed sooner or later. Better to endure Edwin than risk that. She clenched her lips shut, refusing to let him suck on them any further, and stubbornly held her ground.

When he momentarily backed off, she thought her resistance had worked—but she quickly realized that nothing could deter Edwin.

Edwin’s other hand crept up her spine, slipping into her hair. Before she could even register the cold touch at her scalp, her head was gently tilted back, and her lips, like blooming red petals, opened on their own.

Their mouths met again.

The raw, unfamiliar sensation that slipped between her lips awakened a new awareness in Vivianne. Each time his tongue pressed against hers, a jolt flickered through her nerves, racing with her blood all the way to her fingertips and toes.

She couldn’t push him away. She couldn’t run.

All Vivianne could do was surrender to his heavy scent that clung to the air around her.

Resigned, she let herself feel the texture of his plump, saliva-slicked lips, shuddered at the chilling pressure, and curiously explored the foreign presence invading her mouth.

When he finally released her hair, he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. Their bodies were pressed together, with no space left between them. Vivianne grabbed the waistband of his trousers.

The strength she had once used to resist was now gone, but her small hand no longer sought escape.

To Vivianne, this was simply a time to endure—to survive until the people outside left, until this dreadful game was over.

Her eyelids began to grow heavy.

Edwin’s raw, persistent scent—so blatant and inescapable—had become strangely familiar. Comforting, even.

He was a man who posed the greatest danger to her—yet gave her an inexplicable sense of safety.

“Doesn’t look like she’s here. Let’s check somewhere else. At this rate, time will run out and we won’t find her.”

“Hurry, before it’s too late.”

Once the people who had been noisily rummaging through the room left, a heavy silence settled beyond the wall.

Edwin’s lips slowly withdrew. The heat his kiss had left behind quickly evaporated. Vivianne’s chest heaved with ragged breaths as her dazed gray eyes met his steady blue gaze—cold and unmoved, even after their feverish kiss.

But the lips glistening with saliva on his otherwise indifferent face were undeniable proof of the illicit act they had just committed.

Her panting gradually calmed down.

The bell had not rung yet, which meant the game was not over.

His lips neared hers again.

Clinging to the last thread of reason, Vivianne took a step back—despite having nowhere left to retreat. She tugged at the waistband she had been holding.

“You mustn’t… do this.”

“There’s nothing I mustn’t do, Vivianne.”

“But we…”

Vivianne turned her head to avoid his lips.

She knew resisting was futile.

And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to run out of the room—because the bell still hadn’t rung, because the game hadn’t ended, because she’d sooner die than face the humiliation of being stripped and whipped before a crowd.

“We’re not supposed to be like this. You can’t do this to me, Your Grace.”

“I want to.”

“Your Grace…”

“And when I want something—I make it happen. Whatever it is.”

Edwin’s fingertips gripped her chin, forcing their eyes to meet before he captured her lips again.

But Vivianne didn’t push him away.

She closed her eyes and surrendered her entire body to the firm strength supporting her.

His tongue slipped past her parted lips—fiercer, hungrier than before, devouring her.

This second kiss bore no resemblance to the careful first. His tongue dug deep, roughly exploring her delicate inner mouth. The way he tangled his tongue with hers was ferocious—unyielding, as though trying to strip her of everything.

Their ragged breaths mingled and escaped between their locked lips. Vivianne’s hand, still holding Edwin’s, tightened its grip.

Vivianne’s toes curled, and her entire body tensed. She was sinking—drowning beneath the tip of his tongue.

The unfamiliar, raw sensations broke her down, leaving her defenseless.

Their tongues, soaked with who-knew-whose saliva, twisted and tangled. With each motion, her breath grew heavier and more labored. The damp heat spread across her entire body.

At last, they broke apart.

His eyes—once a piercing, icy blue—now seemed tinged with a deep green, at least for tonight.

“I’m not doing it.”

Edwin ran his fingers over the nape of her flushed neck. A shiver raced through her as his nail grazed her damp skin.

“Not doing… what?”

“Marriage.”

Vivianne’s eyes widened. Surprised and elated, even in the darkness, her ash-gray eyes sparkled.

“Really? You’re really not going to marry her?”

“You begged me, and now you’re asking if it’s true?”

“Thank you. Really. I won’t pester you anymore. I’ll leave, I—”

But before she could finish, his lips were on hers again. Her mind went blank.

Who it was with, or what she was doing, no longer mattered.

For the first time in her life, she was kissing a man purely out of desire. It was sweeter, hotter, more primal than she had ever imagined.

It was just a dream.

A terrible nightmare.

She would wake from it with a hollow laugh and replay it for days—but eventually, it would fade away as all dreams do.