Evie barely held back her tears and took a deep breath.

She had a lot to question the Count. She was angry that he had spoken rashly without knowing well, and that he had forcibly dragged out others’ inner thoughts.

So Evie turned to the Count with an angry face.

But the Count was already looking at her. Silently, quietly. Even in the dark, she clearly felt his gaze fixed on her.

His gaze was deep, and so Evie was a little taken aback. She felt like a rabbit that had met a lion.

Of course, Evie thought it was unfair. So she was about to protest when the Count suddenly closed the distance.

As he leaned on the back of the bench with one hand, the space between them was filled too easily. As the Count’s shadow loomed like a curtain, Evie was once again at a loss for words.

The Count’s broad shoulders weighed down Evie’s gaze. Although he had come only a little closer, Evie felt trapped or crushed.

And as the Count reached out to Evie, it became more than just a feeling, it became a certainty.

Frozen by the approaching touch, Evie swallowed hard.

It was the moment she was about to say something to the Count.

The Count’s big hand passed by Evie’s body.

That hand reached the snack basket beside Evie, and the Count, who had extended his arm over Evie’s lap, pulled out a bottle of liquor and returned to his place.

Having been tensely on guard, Evie looked at the Count with wide eyes.

But the Count, ignoring whether Evie was looking or not, gulped down the wine by the bottle.

“Ah! What are you doing with your mouth on it!”

Evie screamed. Then the Count gestured at Evie’s still plentiful glass.

“That one glass will be enough until tomorrow morning.”

“No, it’s not!”

Furious at the Count’s brazenness, Evie defiantly drank the glass of wine.

But her boldness lasted only until the wine touched her mouth, and after that, she froze, unable to swallow it.

The strong taste, the anticipated awkwardness, the subsequent dizziness, and the pain of the next day.

There were too many reasons not to swallow the wine in her mouth. Evie was strong in adversity but always avoided unnecessary pain.

As Evie struggled in that state, the Count said, clicking his tongue.

“Spit it out, I won’t look.”

He can’t say that and expect her to be able to spit it out.

Eventually, Evie glared at the Count and gulped down the wine in her mouth.

“Stubborn…”

The Count clicked his tongue again at her behavior, so Evie turned her head away with a snort.

Thanks to this, Zion’s heart, which was already reeling, became even more agitated.

Evie Ariate is annoying. Yet, at the same time, she’s adorable. Every action, as if intentionally so, melts people effortlessly.

It was the same before. When Evie tried not to sob and spoke calmly, when she looked at the sky and exhaled shallow breaths to calm her mind.

Zion just watched her and almost made a huge mistake. He had unknowingly reached out.
The intention was unknown even to oneself. Was it an attempt to stroke one’s head, or what was it for?

Anyway, impulsively reaching out a hand, Zion came to his senses with a start at Evie’s wary breathing. The fact that he managed to grab the wine bottle without panicking was the greatest decision of his life.

With the wine bottle suddenly in hand, Zion downed the wine, swallowing his selfloathing.

The mind that was completely shattered earlier now felt saturated, like grass soaked with rain.

The feeling wasn’t unpleasant. That’s why it was even more unpleasurable.

He was still hoping. Not to find Evie Ariate lovely.

.

.

.

Dawn had arrived before he knew it.

Evie was still in the peony garden, dozing with her forehead buried in her knees.

Her shoulders shivered in the cold air. So, waking up momentarily, Evie pondered whether to succumb to the cold or the annoyance.

“If you’re cold, just come inside.”

The Count’s voice was heard from beside her then. It was a sullen, cranky, and very unpleasant voice.

Even though her ears were open, Evie pretended not to hear. Indeed, annoyance had won.

“What do you want me to do…….”

When Evie pretended to be asleep, the Count grew irritated. So Evie grew annoyed too, half in and half out of sleep.

Just go. Why are you so fussy? Did someone ask you to stay?

Evie complained inwardly when something dropped onto her shoulder. Something like a large blanket. Evie inhaled the faint scent and realized it was the Count’s coat.

His clothes were warm as if they had been hanging by the fireplace all this time. So Evie unknowingly let out a sigh of relief.

Evie was sensitive to the cold and loved warmth. But she rarely had the opportunity to feel cozy warmth. The butler was as cold as her, and she was afraid of animals, so hugging a dog or cat was unthinkable.

So Evie didn’t mind the coat the Count had draped over her. The height of dissatisfaction and resentment for the main body was renewed daily, but still, this coziness was sweet.

Ah, come to think of it, that man was warm too. So it always felt good to hold his hand.

Thinking blankly, Evie tilted her head to fall into a deeper sleep.

But she felt firm arms wrap around her back and under her legs. It was a cautious touch, but Evie immediately grew annoyed and squirmed.

Ah, why like this? Who said you could touch?

Evie, realizing that Zion was trying to pick her up, tried to push him away.

But she froze at the voice that followed.

“It’s okay, just sleep.”

A voice that whispered gently, as if soothing a sleeping child.

A soft voice that was hard to believe came from the Count, who always spoke so badly and nastily.

So Evie, unable to think of pushing him away, simply froze.

Is this a mistake?

Just now, the voice was exactly the same as his.