Chapter 111: Jealousy
The morning sunlight had just begun spilling through the tall, arched windows of Lewellyn Mansion, painting the grand hallways with golden light. Soft footsteps echoed faintly along the polished marble floors—hurried, yet light.
Noir’s curly, light pink hair flared behind him as he strode through the east wing, his pace quickening with every step.
He needed to be somewhere, so despite this, his first time in that place after two years, he did not waste time admiring the mansion and continued walking at a hurried pace.
The Lewellyn Dukedom was nothing short of magnificent, a place befitting nobility.
Towering ceilings held up by carved pillars, velvet drapes that whispered with every breeze, and chandeliers that caught the morning light like scattered stars.
But none of it mattered to Noir right now. He reached a heavy oaken door and didn’t bother knocking. He pushed it open.
"Etienne!" he called, voice echoing slightly through the quiet room.
He didn’t get the chance to take another step. Because, suddenly, something barreled into him—arms wrapped tightly around his waist, almost knocking the air from his lungs.
Noir staggered back a step, surprised. But he knew those arms, the trembling in them, the weight pressing against him, and the familiar scent of daffodils.
Etienne.
"Noir..." came the soft, cracked voice.