The sun was shining behind him, so there was a long backlight.
âYes. Itâs in the North, but itâs close and it leads to the capital.â
Did he have some bad memories with Devonshire? I looked at his face, half submerged in the shadow. The sharp but elegant lines were all dyed scarlet in the sun.
âAll right. Well, thereâs no definite way to run into him anyway.â
âDevonshireâs eldest, no, is he the Count now?â
Dylan mumbled and I wasnât sure if it was him talking to himself or his answer to me.
The wind blew and fluttered his shaggy bangs that came down his forehead.
I reached out and swept his slightly long hair.
âShould I cut your hair?â
âI thought itâd be better to trim it. I learned from Lindsay.â
Iâve never cut a manâs hair before, but I left that out and grinned. It may not make sense but I felt he always had shorter hair than now. Short enough that you could see his thick eyebrows and sharp eyes.
It was a lukewarm response as I gazed at him stirring the oar.
Thanks to the shirt sticking to him to the point that it was inconvenient to move, his muscles seemed to twitch vividly every time he moved his arms.
âIâm only watching secretly so it wonât be obvious, right?â
âI donât know why youâre still following me.â
It wasnât that long since we met and I wasnât the type to easily believe people.
âBut strangely enough, I feel itâd be okay to go together. Maybe because Iâm used to you?â
âIt was like that from the first moment. As if youâre someone I already knew.â
The lake was as still as ever.
Feeling awkward at the situation because only the sound of the oar whisking away could be heard, I chattered on but Dylan only watched me without saying anything.
âIs it only because youâre used to me?â
âIâm asking if I seem familiar to you.â
For some strange reason, I felt like I knew what he wanted to ask me at that moment.
I lowered my head, pressing the back of my hand on my cheek which was burning hot from the sun.
âDidnât you already tell me that you have someone you love, Dylan?â
It was at that moment when he had finally decided to open his lips after only twitching them.
I found a hole in the bottom of the old ship.
The water seemed to have been leaking little by little that at some point it had reached my ankles.
I was startled and couldnât even raise myself but only pointed at the wet floor.
âDylan, the water is leaking on the floor!â
Wonât we fall into the middle of the lake at this rate?
âNo, thereâs no way thatâll happen.â
As I tried to calm my startled heart, I heard the sound of woods splintering.
Dylan beckoned to me who was just rolling my feet around. As the floor opened, the distance between him and I gradually grew increased.
As I hesitated, he raised his voice urgently. He called to me again, restless, and asked if there was anything to hold on to around me.
âWa-wait! I have to hold on to this at least and swim!â
âYou donât know how to swim. Donât be silly and come here.â
I wondered how he knew I was a beer bottle, but I ran to him and threw my arms around him unable to think about it any further since the water was so full that it even reached my knees.
The boat, which could not bear the weight on one side, eventually began to sink into two.
Dylan started moving forward while holding me with one arm as I was floundering, terrified at the sudden contact with water.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, we could see an island from a distance.
âI was wondering what trick was up.â
Clinging to him, I could hear him speak in a low murmur behind my ears. He murmured âgeezerâ, âsenile old manâ, and words of seeing the old man came out of his lips.
âDid he really know the old man who gave us the boat?â
Then, there was reasonable doubt that he gave the old boat without telling us that it was broken in order to put him in trouble on purpose.
And finally, those doubts were confirmed with the appearance of the island that we had barely managed to swim â although I was clinging to Dylan all the way.
âEarlier, he definitely said do your best, right?â
I didnât know who the old man was, but I think I already know what he meant by doing oneâs best.
I closed my eyes tightly at the haystack in the shape of a large heart that looked like a bed.
Who on earth decorates a small, uninhabitable island like this? For what purpose.
The island, made of low hills, was as still as a dead mouse.
Many twigs shaking in the wind stood tall in the middle of the trees, and beneath them, a pile of the heart-shaped haystack that shocked me along with a small cave made its presence known by shining brightly.
âItâs definitely a trace that someoneâs been here.â
Otherwise, there was no way to explain that artificial appearance.
I turned to Dylan, narrowing my eyes just in case.
âDylan, have you ever been to this island?â
It seemed that I wasnât the only one who was bewildered at finding the haystack.
He grimaced slightly and squeezed his shirt which was dripping with water.
I lowered my head because I had nowhere to put my eyes on when his strong body was exposed by the thin shirt sticking to his frame.
â........Anyway, itâs better than nothing.â
I struggled to straighten out my squeaking voice and followed him, demonstrating my skill in wringing out the rags as I held on to the hem of the drooping dress and moved forward.
âShould we take a look inside for now?â
During the day, the bright sun would have dried all of my wet body, but it would be trouble if the sun would set before the clothes get dry.
I would get seriously ill if I looked down on the coldness of the night just because it was midsummer.
Unlike me, who was embarrassed, Dylan had an impassive face as usual as he came up to me.
âWill he look like that even if the world collapses?â
He was a man who had no other expression of emotion other than moving his eyebrows a little or raising the corners of his lips at an angle.
At my question, Dylan placed an almost dry soft jacket around me that was meticulously wrung.
âIâm not yet cold.â
I turned my head down and quietly opened the jacket.
Because I couldn't afford to use expensive cloth for the maids' work clothes and it was summer, I was naturally wearing a dress made of thin cotton.
When I realized that the inside was completely seethrough when wet, the already awkward atmosphere became unbearably embarrassing.
I brushed past him and rushed into the cave.
Due to the low ceiling, the cave, which was only large enough for two people to sit in, had a cozy taste.
âWe can make a fire by breaking down the pile of heart-shaped hay.â
As if he had thought the same thing, Dylan came with hay.
I crouched down in the corner, observing Dylan, who seemed to be accustomed to such a situation, skillfully start a fire.
âYou ended up having a hard time when youâre just following me.â
âThatâs why I told you not to follow me. I definitely stopped you.â
He smirked at the excuses I added.
Crackle, crackle. Only the sound of the sparks of the fire and his low laugh echoed in the silence. The bonfire made his face red.
âThat thing on your neck, is it really a tattoo?â
I looked at his tattoo which was clearly visible under the bonfire.
I had briefly seen the pattern running up from his chest up to the back of his neck before but when I looked closely, I wondered if it was really a tattoo.
âItâs as if itâs moving and alive.â
There was no way there was a tattoo that changed its shape every time I saw it.
But Dylan only nodded his head as he wrapped his hand around his neck.
âYouâre lying again.â
My eyes widened at Dylanâs question.
âDid Dylan ever lie to me like that?â
It wasnât even clear if he was really lying or not. Nevertheless, I was convinced that his condition was not normal.
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âAre you hurt anywhere?â
Dylan blinked slowly when I carefully asked. I stretched out my hand as I looked into his deep, shaded eyes.
âSeeing as youâre not answering, you must really be in pain.â
âHow do you know that?â
âItâs just intuition.â
My, no, I like âAnnieâs intuition. Ever since I became Annie, Iâve occasionally been right on the nail for knowing that people had lied even when I had no basis.
âItâs like hearing the heart of a liar.â
âIs there no way to cure it? You donât look too well.â
Dylan's tattoo matched his long and strong neckline oddly enough, but it was also insidious.
âHave you heard the story of the frog prince and the princess?â
I grinned and nodded my head at his unexpected bringing up of a fairy tale.
âOf course, Iâve heard it. It's the story of a princess who kisses a prince in the form of a frog and the frog finds his true self.â
âThatâs right. That.â
Dylan answered leisurely and swiped his lips with his hand.
I stared in a daze at his unusually moist face and suddenly raised my head.