# 42
42
The sunlight that was pouring down on her moments ago was suddenly blocked by Hugo's broad body.
Angelica immediately raised her head, fluttering her eyes as shadow engulfed her face.
The next moment, tears streamed down her cheeks without warning.
Hugo extended his hand, his large palm almost covering her entire face, and gently wiped the traces of tears from her reddened cheeks.
“Why are you crying?”
His voice was devoid of highs and lows, but it sounded like he was scolding her.
However, Angelica picked up on the worry hidden in his tone, so she raised her trembling hands in front of him.
“My hand... hurts so much...”
Only then did he realize, and he held his breath as he looked down at her hands.
Her fingertips were dark red, as if the blood had congested in them to the limit.
In an instant, anxiety turned into silent anger.
Hugo gripped her arm, then quickly released it, as if he was afraid he would hurt her more.
“Angelica...what were you doing in the lab?”
“Uh... that's because...”
Her fingers hurt even without being touched, and she frowned as she tried to find the right words.
She wanted to tell him everything, to complain to him, to lean on him, to ask for his consolation.
But...the napkin is not complete yet, and the surprise should not be spoiled.
“Nothing… really.”
She said it after hesitation, although tears gathered in her eyes again.
"Good."
Hugo said slowly, realizing that she wouldn't tell him anything now.
He immediately turned around as if he intended to head towards the laboratory.
"I am waiting!"
She hurriedly reached out her hand and grabbed his fingers.
At the same moment, a sharp pain pierced her like an arrow, and she gasped involuntarily.
"Yes!"
Hugo stopped immediately, lowering himself to her eye level.
“Can you walk?”
“I can... I mean, my hands hurt, not my feet...”
Despite the pain, a weak smile crept onto her lips, as if the absurdity of the question relieved her a little.
His gaze was fixed on her, filled with something heavier than worry.
The more he looked at her pained features, the tighter his chest became.
He carefully lifted it, as if it were fragile glass, and leaned it against him.
“Let's go.”
“But—”
“I'll take care of it.”
His tone was categorical, brooking no argument.
Despite the pain, she felt her breathing calm slightly as she leaned against him.
However, she couldn't stop herself from shuddering whenever his hands moved near her wounds.
'I can't tell him... not yet.'
She thought, biting her lip.
As they walked, Hugo's mind was boiling.
It wasn't just the pain she was experiencing that was bothering him, but rather the heavy feeling that had settled in his chest for days.
That feeling he gets whenever he sees her talking to someone else...
Especially when he remembers Cyril's smile when she talked about Angelica.
He clearly remembered their conversation hours ago.
<……>
That memory alone was enough to make his chest tighten.
The idea of Angelica being close to others...
It made something dark rise up deep inside him, something he could no longer ignore.
The sword is not a tool to protect anyone, but a weapon wielded to wound.
Whoever carries the sword must be more cruel than others, and that is why Hugo did not want her to feel like this, even one iota.
The fires of anxiety burned in his chest with Cyril's words.
“Hyperion Jervah.”
That name that came out of Cyril's mouth kept repeating in his head.
Angelica's first love...
And now, he himself would come to the empire.
Unconsciously, Hugo's gaze moved to her.
She was standing there, her palms open in confusion, as if she did not know what to do with them, and there was no trace of confusion or anxiety on her face.
'Angelica...'
He almost called out to her, but he barely restrained himself.
He wanted to ask her, to understand, to know how she felt about meeting that man again.
He wanted to see her hesitation, her confusion, or even her revulsion.
'What am I doing?'
He scolded himself harshly.
Since when has he been this greedy?
Not long ago, he wouldn't have even dared to think of standing near her like this.
But once a person gets used to the warmth, he begins to demand more.
'I've crossed my limit.'
He clenched his fists, trying to suppress the feeling that was beginning to brew in his chest.
At that moment, the carriage finally stopped in front of the Duke's Palace.
“Hugo…”
She called him in a low voice, unable to get down alone.
He extended his arms without hesitation, and held her in his arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
She felt the heat of his body surrounding her, and she shivered unintentionally.
“I'll come down—”
“No.”
The word came out of him faster than he intended, and he pulled her closer to him.
“You may need my hands soon.”
She didn't object. Instead, she automatically raised her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest.
His pulse was racing... noticeably.
He took her into the palace with steady steps, not caring about the servants' glances.
When they reached his room, he opened the door with his foot and closed it behind him.
“We arrived.”
He gently placed her on the bed, and as soon as her feet touched the bed, she tried to push his hands away.
“I'm fine, really.”
But he didn't go far.
“Let me see.”
He sat in front of her and held her hands very carefully.
As soon as he saw the traces of redness and injury, his face changed.
“It hurts.”
“I told you, just scratches.”
But he didn't answer.
He grabbed the first aid kits set aside and began carefully cleaning the wounds.
"Yes!"
She shivered, so he leaned closer.
“Sorry… just be patient.”
“You say that, but you don't feel what I feel!”
He smiled faintly, despite the tension that did not leave his features.
“If I could take the pain away from you, I would.”
She tried to pull her hand away, but he held it more gently.
“Just a little...please.”
She bit her lip, then exhaled resignedly.
“Okay…but quickly.”
Heavy moments passed, then the pain gradually eased.
When he finished, he looked at her for a long time, as if to make sure that she was really okay.
"I finish."
She breathed a sigh of relief, but her eyes remained fixed on him.
“Thank you…”
The word stopped in her throat when their eyes met.
The silence between them was heavier than any conversation, warm, tense, and charged with something yet to be said.
And in that silence, they both realized that what was between them was no longer simple... and would never be so again.
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