The door slowly opened, revealing a shadow backlit by the living room light that filtered through the thin curtains.
Vera stood at the doorway, watching Lynch, who was already fast asleep in bed, and sighed silently.
She couldn’t sleep. Whenever she closed her eyes, she could still feel the sensation of Lynch’s breath on her face. The masculine scent made her toss and turn.
She began to recall the ti since she t Lynch and everything that had happened between them.
It was a strange feeling. She had to admit she was quite fond of Lynch, and sotis she even enjoyed the subtle, almost secret flirting—they both liked it.
But today, Lynch gave her a different feeling: safety and the sense of a real man.
For the first ti, Vera understood why desire was described as thirst. She had a sudden clarity.
She slowly approached the bed, feeling both disappointed and relieved. If Lynch hadn’t been asleep, she would have been very embarrassed.
In the middle of the night, wearing thin pajamas, opening the door to a man’s bedroom was no longer a hint—it was a blatant declaration of her needs.
But Lynch was asleep, and her impulsive heat cooled, turning into a deep sigh—ah…
She reached out to touch Lynch’s face, and just as her fingers were about to brush his cheek, Lynch, who should have been asleep with a faint smile, suddenly opened his eyes. He grabbed her arm and rolled backward, pinning Vera underneath him.
The pen’s tip lightly pierced her skin, but she didn’t feel pain. In the darkness, she looked at Lynch with a strange mixture of surprise and sothing indescribable.
Her fading impulse reignited, and she felt that thirst once more.
Light from outside the door spilled in, allowing Lynch to see Vera’s face. He was a little surprised. “I thought it was the servant you ntioned.”
He moved the pen from her neck, and a drop of dark red blood welled from the wound.
“Sorry, I hurt you…” Lynch casually placed the pen between the mattress and the bed fra. He stared at the ink-stained wound on Vera’s neck, seeming distracted.
Vera felt uncomfortable and a little embarrassed. She tried to explain her actions, “I just wanted to see if you were used to it…”
The next mont, Lynch gently kissed the wound, softly sucking as if to draw the ink out. He’d mistaken who he was dealing with and now had to clean up the ss, but didn’t know how.
For Vera, though, this had a different effect. After a soft, relaxed sigh, everything beca tender and delicate.
They spent the night without a word.
The next morning, Lynch woke to find himself alone in bed. Stretching lazily, he went to the bathroom to shower.
It was a different kind of enjoynt. As he showered, he reflected.
Girls like Penny might be younger, more attractive, or better-shaped, but they often ssed things up. They sought their own pleasure far more than shared enjoynt.
Won like Vera were different. Their understanding of life surpassed that of naïve young girls by far. Perhaps this was the best explanation of serving—gentle as water, leaving one reluctant to leave. ŕ𝒶ΝöᛒЕș
Coming out of the bathroom and dressed, the maid preparing breakfast was slightly surprised to see Lynch but not overly so.
After all, Lynch had co from the guest room, not the master bedroom, which suggested he was only staying for a night and hadn’t been with the lady of the house.
The maid was used to brief stays and didn’t pay much attention to Lynch’s appearance. Watching the hosts or guests closely was considered rude. A quick glance was enough for her to decide.
Lynch’s youth made it unlikely she thought anything improper. She probably assud he was Vera’s relative, maybe a brother or nephew.
Breakfast was plentiful—fruits, vegetables, milk, fried ham, bacon, and eggs.
The maid Vera hired was no ordinary worker. Ordinary maids couldn’t get into high-end service companies or serve social elites.
She held official culinary certificates, ensuring the breakfast was visually appealing.
Soon, Vera ca out of her room. The maid paused when greeting her, lingering a mont since they were both won. She said sothing unexpected, “Madam, you look much better today!”
Vera hesitated on the stairs, then smiled and explained, “I changed my costics. Looks like this ti my money wasn’t wasted.”
The maid lowered her head and continued working. It was clear Vera’s costics were far beyond what a maid could afford.
Sitting at the table, Vera touched her cheek, feeling a bit shy. Everything that happened last night seed like a dream. She had thought it would take great courage and a tough decision, but it had all just happened naturally.
This left her unsure how to face Lynch since she was the one who sought him out, not the other way around.
Feeling her face warming, she lowered her head and quietly asked, “Do I really look better than before?”
Lynch studied her for a mont, making Vera blush more—she looked radiant. He nodded slowly, “You look better than before.”
This reminded Vera of the common but vulgar notion that relaxation improves a woman’s appearance. While partly true, it missed the essence.
What truly makes soone look vibrant and healthy isn’t simple physical exchanges, but changes in mood and mindset. Emotions influence a whole day.
Soone who wakes up smiling and humming feels better to others than one who wakes up gloomy.
But won tend to believe the simpler explanation—and that’s just how it is.
They ate breakfast as if nothing had happened. Soon, a young boy was brought out by the maid. Seeing Lynch, he was pleasantly surprised and wanted to say sothing, but good upbringing made him simply greet politely and sit quietly.
Twice he tried to speak but was silenced by Vera’s look. After breakfast, reluctantly, he left with the maid to go to school.
The federal winter break began the fourth week of December—two days away—and classes resud the third week of January, lasting twenty-one days.
Though it seed short, there were also spring break, sumr vacation, and the autumn harvest holiday, sotis called the autumn fruit or simply autumn holiday.
Together, these four major breaks totaled fifteen to eighteen weeks. Including other holidays, children’s hardship was not as severe as they imagined.
Once the maid and child had fully left, Vera exhaled deeply, but for so reason, the tension that had built up eased into an awkward, uncertain silence after the two possible witnesses departed.
Lynch looked at the newspaper, continuing to enjoy his delicious breakfast. Vera stared at him, montarily distracted as mories surfaced.
“Last night…” she decided to say sothing to ease the awkwardness she alone felt.
Lynch set down the paper and looked at her. “I have to apologize.”
Surprised, Vera lifted her head to et his gaze. Lynch kept a smile on his face. “I have to apologize. You know I’m still young, sotis I just can’t help myself, and you…”
He made a small gesture with his hand, as if brushing aside ripples on water, “…are so beautiful. I hope this doesn’t trouble you.”
Both knew who actually lost control, but Lynch admitting it first gave Vera an easy way out, which deeply moved her.
She reached out and took his hand, feeling touched and stirred by other emotions.
Lynch ran his fingers through his hair, gently caressing her flushed cheek. “Will you forgive ?”
Vera rubbed her face lightly against his palm and couldn’t help but smile. “Of course…”
The atmosphere relaxed instantly. Lynch nodded. “There’s sothing else I want to say. You know, things most people take for granted are luxuries to , including marriage.”
“I’m very sorry, but I probably…” He made a gesture everyone understood, “…can’t marry you. I have to be clear about that. I’m truly sorry.”
“If we both step back, we can still be friends—good friends. And if that’s hard for you to accept, I can disappear.”
To Vera, Lynch’s words were his way of freeing her from any burden, which deeply moved her. In an era dominated by patriarchy, not every man could genuinely care for a woman’s feelings like this.
Moreover, what Lynch said now—including admitting he didn’t hold back—could seriously damage his reputation, but he bravely spoke up so she wouldn’t feel guilty.
She simply and clearly expressed her feelings.
At that mont, Lynch responded warmly while recalling an old con man’s advice—when a woman is moved by you, her sensitivity is no longer sensitivity but blind willfulness.
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