Chapter149 – What a small world
Still not satisfied, Clarissa probed a little more gently. “Is Atticus the only guest he’s requested to see?”
“Yes. For now, my master has only asked for Mr. Atticus.”
“...I see.”
Everything about this castle—the architecture, the odd collection of things, even the man in front of her—whispered of power, mystery, and danger. The master of the house was clearly no ordinary host.
Lost in her thoughts, Clarissa didn’t notice David speaking.
“Miss Clarissa? Miss Clarissa?”
She blinked and turned. “I’m sorry—what did you say?”
David’s tone remained calm, unfazed by her distraction. “Would you still like to go outside?”
Clarissa hesitated, then gave a polite smile. “No, I think I’ll head back for now. Thank you, though. I’ll have more time to explore later.”
David bowed with a courteous smile. “It’s an honor to serve a lady as gracious and beautiful as you, Miss Clarissa. Allow me to escort you back.”
“Thank you,” she said with a soft nod.
Just as Clarissa and David approached the room, two familiar figures appeared at the end of the corridor.
Clarissa froze for a moment, caught off guard. It was Dorian and Lyra.
Dorian’s expression remained composed—there was no flicker of surprise in his eyes.
But Lyra... Lyra went pale the moment she saw Clarissa. A flash of shock crossed her face, and her fingers curled tightly at her sides.
Why was Clarissa here? Why did she always seem to appear wherever her was?
As Lyra turned her head slightly, she noticed Dorian’s eyes—locked on Clarissa, unwavering, unblinking. That made something twist inside her.
Clarissa, for her part, felt her stomach knot. She narrowed her eyes slightly, her brows furrowing. Dorian's gaze made her skin crawl. She acted as if she didn’t recognize them and turned her face away.
Just then, David opened the door for her.
Clarissa stepped inside without looking back.
David was about to return to his duties when a voice called out behind him. “David, is that you—the butler?”
David turned politely to face them. “Yes, sir. How may I assist you?”
“That woman just now,” Dorian asked, his tone carefully neutral, “Does she stay here alone?”
“Yes,” David replied without hesitation. “That is Miss Clarissa’s private room.”
Dorian exhaled slightly, as if relieved to hear it. Just as he was about to press further, Lyra tugged lightly at his sleeve.
“Dorian, I’m tired,” she said coolly, her voice laced with frost. “Let’s go back.”
She may not have understood the French exchange just now. But her instincts were sharper than that. She could feel it in Dorian’s tone, he had been asking about her. About Clarissa.
And that burned.
Dorian hesitated, annoyed by the interruption. Offering David a small, practiced smile, he said, “Apologies. That lady is an old friend of mine. I was simply concerned for her well-being.”
David’s polite demeanor didn’t waver. “If you wish to check on Miss Clarissa, it would be more appropriate to ask her directly. We do not share guest information.”
“Of course. Thank you for the reminder. Kindly extend my greetings to Duke Gabriel.”
David gave a small nod. “I will. Thank you, sir.”
Then he turned and disappeared down the corridor.
As they made their way back, Lyra couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“What were you talking about with that man?” she asked, eyes fixed on Dorian’s face.
“Nothing important,” Dorian replied smoothly. “That man is the steward of the estate. I wanted to network a bit, perhaps get closer to Duke Gabriel.”
Lyra narrowed her eyes. “That’s all?”
Dorian’s voice dropped a degree colder. “What else would it be? It’s getting late. We should rest. The Duke is hosting a dinner and party tonight. We’ll need to be ready.”
And just like that, he strode ahead of her.
Lyra watched his back as he walked away, frustration curling in her chest. She bit her lower lip, wanting to say more—but Dorian had already turned the corner, widening the distance between them.
.......
Back in her room, Clarissa muttered to herself, “What a small world.”
She stood and walked toward the window. Pulling back the heavy velvet curtains, she was met not by light, but a strange, enchanting darkness.
Outside, the wall was blanketed with thick vines of thorned blue roses.
The view was mesmerizing—and eerie. Each blossom was intricate and lush, glowing faintly in the low light. Their deep indigo petals gleamed like silk.
Beyond the flowers stretched dense, black woods, the kind that swallowed sound and light whole.
Clarissa had never seen flowers like these before. Just as she reached out to touch one of the indigo blooms, a hand suddenly caught hers.
"Don’t touch it," Atticus's voice came from behind.
She turned her head, startled, and saw a rare flicker of intensity in his expression.
"Atticus, you—"
"The thorns are poisonous," he said, his fingers still wrapped gently around hers. "You can't touch them with bare hands."
"Poisonous?" she echoed in disbelief.
He nodded. "Yes. These flowers have harmed many people in the past."
A chill crept down Clarissa’s spine. She slowly withdrew her hand.
Atticus glanced at her. “Scared?”
“Not scared,” she murmured, “just... surprised. I didn’t think something so beautiful could be dangerous.”
Atticus gave a small, wry smile. “They're part of the Rosaceae family, but they’re not really roses. Not like the ones you’re used to.”
As he spoke, he reached for one of the blossoms himself. With careful fingers, he snapped the stem, removed the thorns one by one, and then offered it to her.
“The thorns and the sap are toxic,” he said, “but the flower itself is harmless.”
Clarissa took it cautiously. The rich, heady scent filled her senses, both delicate and intoxicating.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said softly. “It’s beautiful. I wanted to see them up close earlier.”
She glanced up at him. “You don’t like them?”
Atticus’s gaze burned into her, his voice low and rough. “I only like crabapple blossoms.”
There was something in his tone—smoky, suggestive. His eyes darkened with heat.
Clarissa’s heart gave a sharp little jolt. She dropped her gaze quickly. “I…”
Her lips parted, but before she could say more, Atticus caught her hand again.
Startled, Clarissa gasped. The flower slipped from her fingers and landed silently on the ground.
“A-Atticus…”
He only laughed, drawing her against him in one smooth motion. His breath was warm against her ear. “Relax. I won’t bite.”
Her cheeks flushed hot. “Then let me go.”
Atticus didn’t move, only tightened his hold a little more. “And if I don’t?”
Clarissa glared at him, her tone flustered. “Stop playing around…”
Atticus chuckled again. One word and her face turned red. He found it ridiculously charming.
This time, he let her go with a quiet exhale, then reached out to take her hand and gently led her a few steps away.
“There’s a dinner and a ball tonight,” he said casually. “We’ll need to get changed.”
Clarissa blinked. “A ball? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I didn’t bring a dress…”
Atticus’s lips curved into a familiar, lazy smile. “That’s taken care of.”
He snapped his fingers.
Almost instantly, the door behind them opened. Two women in crisp black-and-white maid uniforms entered, each holding a different but equally stunning European-style gown.
They approached Clarissa, holding out the dresses with practiced grace.
Clarissa turned toward Atticus, eyes wide. “This…”
“It’s borrowed,” he said, stepping back with a smirk. “Hurry and change.”
When the maids made to undress her right there, Clarissa quickly stepped back, alarmed. “Wait—Atticus, leave.”
He laughed softly, hands raised in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll wait outside.”
Only after his intense gaze disappeared behind the door did Clarissa finally take a breath.