“ What do you mean?”Jerome’s voice was still husky from sleep, while I could articulate smoothly, like a silver-tongued orator.“ Back at Bluebell—how did you survive?”“ Oh dear. I’m hurt—you seemed to want me dead.”I stared at him silently. He still wore that teasing smile as he added, “ It used to house royalty and nobles. Hidden rooms and passages were everywhere.”I blinked in surprise. But was that entirely unthinkable? At Bluebell, Jerome received “ special treatment.” The room he used had once belonged to real royalty, and he himself had boasted of hidden rooms. Jerome rubbed his chin playfully.“ Those secret passages are basically emergency exits, in modern terms. It was a school, Raymond. Fire codes were strict.”“ ………”As always, I couldn’t tell if Jerome was joking or serious. Even if truth slipped from his lips, I wouldn’t believe it. I murmured, half resigned, “ But the news… you were listed among the dead.”“ Perhaps there was a mistake,” he suggested softly.“ ………”“ Or maybe someone wanted me dead,” he added gently, “ just as you did.”I gazed at that unabashed smile: black hair straying across his smooth forehead, glossy green eyes, a sleek nose, and red lips curled in amusement—an unblemished face even amid that dreadful fire. Impossible to imagine him here for vengeance.“ So you came for revenge?”“ No. I came for compensation.”“ Compensation for what?”“ You tried to burn me to death. Of course I deserve compensation. And you killed my friend.”“ What do you intend to do to me?”As if waiting for the very question, Jerome replied in a dreamy tone between glances, “ Rape you… beat you… kill you.”“ When, exactly?”We exchanged words as if we’d had this conversation last night.“ While nursing me so diligently every day—when will it happen?”“ That’s up to Ms. Acacia (아카시아). She’s our boss. But since you’ve recovered so swiftly, perhaps very soon.”Jerome spoke in a monotonous, rehearsed tone.“ She’ll decide the method too. But what I want, what really interests me, Raymond, are not those trivial details.”We both fell silent. The summer sun began to chase away dawn’s chill, painting our cheeks pink. The blanket still covered our lower bodies. Though we weren’t hugging, the warmth of holding each other through the night left little space between us. I noticed Jerome growing aroused as he spoke—but he did not wish to rape me yet. He wanted to wait, because“ I want you to be fully healthy. That’s all I wish for.”This time Jerome flicked my nose with his fingertip.“ First, you need to eat. The drugs have mostly worn off. I expect you’ll eat a lot now.”Jerome suddenly sat up, tossing the blanket over my face. When I brushed it aside, he was already buttoning his shirt and putting on shoes. Catching my gaze, he glanced back and smiled broadly.“ While I fetch your meal, you wash up and change clothes, okay? I’ll bring something tasty.”He strode out of the living room. Left alone, I stretched out my limbs and stared at the ceiling. A chandelier bracket was firmly fixed overhead; the ropes had vanished as if they had never been there. What assurance allowed them to leave me unbound? Though I had no intention of fleeing, I couldn’t fathom why they felt so secure. Unless someone watched me covertly—especially someone like Ms. Acacia—I doubted I’d be left so carefree. I was curious, but saw no need to investigate further.As I said, I had no thought of escape.Having grown accustomed to lying on the mattress, it felt strange to stand. I couldn’t recall how long I’d lain still without walking. How much time had passed? A week? Two weeks? A month? My longing to fall asleep beside Simon, to be loved by him, and the jealousy I felt toward “that man” of my true self all seemed like stories from a book.Thanks to life with Jerome, I’d become more proficient at washing myself. Without a faucet or shower, I filled an empty paint can with water. Though slow, I brushed my teeth well and managed to wash my hair and body competently. How foolish that I’d once forgotten how to shower.After washing, I changed into the clean clothes laid on the hearth. Standing there with dripping hair, I heard a humming from the entryway. It was Jerome, carrying a heavy plastic bag. Upon spotting me, he exclaimed cheerfully,“ You’ve already washed and changed? Good job!”He hurried over, grabbed the towel hung by the window, and rubbed my wet hair vigorously. Humming, he dried the back of my neck as well. He tossed the towel around my shoulders, studied me for a moment, then suddenly combed my hair with his fingers and smiled.“ Hmm, nice. Handsome.”“ ………”“ Hungry, aren’t you? Sit down—let’s eat. Today I’ll teach you how to use a knife.”For some reason nearly bursting with joy, Jerome hummed as he unpacked. From the bag he produced two thick rolls of meat, wrapped neatly in paper and tied with string. Cutting the string and unfolding the paper revealed steaming meatloaf. After a week of bread, boiled vegetables, and soup, the aroma made me ravenous. Jerome laid out a fork and knife wrapped in white linen and gestured.“ Come here.”“ ………”“ Hurry.”He jumped up and took my hand, leading me to sit opposite him. I stared at the knife set before my portion. Jerome cut a large slice of meat, placed it on a disposable plate, and said,“ Today I’ll teach you how to use a knife. Meatloaf is soft, so it’s easy to cut—good practice.”I didn’t pick up the fork or knife, only watched him. Jerome cocked his head, holding the utensils. I spoke first since he seemed inscrutable:“ What if I stab you?”He grinned.“ That’s why I’m teaching you how to use them. First: use the knife only on what’s on your plate.”“ ………”“ Come on. Try it.”Still, I didn’t touch the fork or knife—only stared. Jerome narrowed his eyes.“ You’re not thinking it’s poisoned, are you? If so, don’t worry; I won’t kill you that easily.”“ ………”“ Don’t tell me you hate meatloaf. Americans all love it.”I raised an eyebrow.“ How do you know I’m American?”“ Raymond, focus on the main point.”He sliced his portion of meatloaf as he spoke.“ The point is: you like meatloaf.”Ignoring his chatter, I asked,“ How did you know I was a Marine?”No need to pry now—he was right there, willing to answer.“ What else do you know?”“ That you like meatloaf.”Jerome answered with a broad smile.“ ………”“ It’ll get cold. Eat it. If you don’t, I won’t answer anything.”I picked up the cutlery. Even without instruction, cutting the meat wasn’t difficult. Nothing felt difficult anymore—just unfamiliar. As I chewed a generous bite, Jerome nodded in satisfaction. I ate diligently as he encouraged. We sank into a peaceful morning scene.I no longer intended to resist anything. Even his casual “I won’t kill you that easily” felt comforting. After all, I’d wanted to die long ago. The notion that I could endure everything and still live was false. Looking back, there was nothing normal about my life.I slept wherever I could, ate to fill my stomach rather than for taste. I’d lived a chaotic life, killed many people—including one friend.Friend.I’d long avoided thinking of knives. Yet I couldn’t escape his death. The knife had been the first—and last—thing to try to save me after my father died. I wanted to die painfully for him, to receive atonement from the boys left on the top floor and from Judge Acacia.I continued to eat the meatloaf in silence. Jerome spoke only when he cut my fourth slice:“ You eat well. I knew you’d like it.”“ … I like it. It’s cheap, too.”I responded despite wanting to ignore him; conversation seemed the only way to learn more.“ You care about price?”He teased.“ You pick things based on cost?”“ Unlike you, I grew up poor.”“ Poor? Modest of you.”“ My father didn’t drive a Rolls-Royce and «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» wave to people; he worked in a brick factory.”“ Your mother had a similar duty to ours—standing on a red carpet waving, a grave responsibility.”So he knew even that. Jerome seemed to know everything about me. When had he learned all this? I glared at him in silence. Suddenly he offered me his fork and lifted my chin.“ If you’d traded on your looks like your mother, you’d be rich too. Why did you enlist?”“ ………”He poked my chin with the fork until it smarted.“ How about your mother? I heard you haven’t seen her for five years.”“ Why do you care about my family?”I glared at Jerome.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.