Chapter 63

Chapter 63

“What do you mean, which side?”

James calmly undid the buttons on his shirt as he answered her question.

“It’s already past midnight. Mythos or Revis alike, people still need to sleep.”

That was an obvious enough statement, but… what exactly was he implying?

Rose followed James’s gaze to look behind her—at the bed.

A single, magnificent bed covered in top-quality linen, part of the Bellamont Hotel’s famously luxurious accommodations.

Wait.

One bed.

There was only one bed.

The realization crashed over her far too late, making her eyes go wide as saucers and her jaw drop open.

How did I not notice this until now?

She stood there frozen, staring dumbly at the bed. James, watching her reaction, couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips.

She looks like a startled rabbit.

He mentally captured the sight of Rose’s shocked expression like a photograph, then turned and walked toward the bathroom.

“Since you were gracious enough to let me use the bath first, I’ll cede the first pick of bed position to you, Rose.”

“W-wait, James!”

“I’ll be quick. Decide where you want to sleep before I come out.”

Click! The bathroom door shut firmly behind him.

As if Rose’s head wasn’t already overflowing with the Mythos kidnapping case, James himself, and the threat of the Ouroboros priests, now it had to deal with one big bed on top of it all.

Her brain promptly went on strike.

She tried to coax it back to work, but judging by the total collapse of coherent thought, negotiations had failed spectacularly.

Calm down. Rose Taylor. Breathe. Calm down! Sharing a bed? You used to do that all the time when you were little. With Mother, the nanny, Grandmother… Even Catherine. You’d stay up gossiping all night and end up tangled together on a tiny bed. Nothing to panic about. Absolutely nothing!

Liar. Nothing to panic about?

The person you’ll be sharing this bed with is James Dautryche.

Not Mother or the nanny or Grandmother or Catherine. A fully grown adult man!

And it’s not like you haven’t already… spent one night together.

Even if alcohol had given her the courage back then, the memory alone was enough to make her want to bury her face in her hands.

Shame and embarrassment crashed in waves, and she suddenly couldn’t stand being in the same room as that bed for one second longer.

She bolted for the door, fleeing the room entirely.

Being able to bathe in hot water aboard a moving train was an extraordinary privilege.

But tonight, James didn’t have the leisure to appreciate that small luxury.

He stood beneath the pounding stream, letting the water cascade over his head as he replayed the day’s events one by one.

That girl. Iris, was it?

Brown hair with a flush of pink, violet eyes—the exact features he’d been searching for all this time. Even her age matched perfectly.

On top of that, she’d been kidnapped.

A few months ago, James Dautryche would have seized on that detail immediately. He’d have questioned her insistently, demanding to know if she remembered being held with a blond boy around her age.

But today, he hadn’t done that.

Strangely, he hadn’t felt even the slightest urge to press her.

Why?

He asked himself that, but no clear answer came.

There’s no need to rush. I know exactly where she lives now.

As if cutting off the unwanted thoughts, he reached for the tap and shut off the water.

He towel-dried his hair and stepped out of the bathroom.

Unsurprisingly, Rose was nowhere in sight.

Of course. After teasing her like that, there was no way the angry little rabbit would have sat obediently in the room waiting for him.

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he crossed to the lounge area.

He found her there.

She’d fallen asleep by the window, clutching her nightclothes tightly in one hand, head resting against the glass.

“You could at least try to sleep comfortably,” he murmured.

Careful not to wake her, James bent down and gently scooped her up.

She didn’t even stir; so deep was her sleep that she simply relaxed against him, warm and pliant in his arms.

Her soft breathing and the gentle rise and fall of her chest seemed to drown out even the rumble of the train beneath them.

Rose Taylor… how exactly am I supposed to describe you?

He carried this impossible, infuriating woman back to the bedroom and lowered her onto the bed with painstaking care.

Freed from the uncomfortable angle of the window, she gave a contented sigh, turned over a few times, and promptly burrowed herself into the blankets, curling up at one end of the mattress.

James let out a short, involuntary laugh.

Anyone who saw this sight would probably react the same way.

“Sorry, Rose,” he said quietly, watching her peaceful face. “I’m not exactly the type to give up my share.”

Of course she wouldn’t hear him, busy exploring dreamland without a care in the world.

He shook his head, amusement curling at the edges of his mouth.

“I can’t wait to see your face in the morning.”

Waking up to morning sunlight streaming through the window and the rhythmic clatter of train tracks was something both wondrous and strangely thrilling.

She remembered that time when she’d fled to Morgenia. Back then, she’d scrimped on every coin, riding for four days and three nights in a third-class carriage with no bunks, eating and sleeping on a hard bench the whole way.

So even if it was just for a single night, being able to stay in such a luxurious compartment was pure indulgence; the kind of small miracle she ought to be savoring.

Yes. Ordinarily, the morning on a train bound for Egard should have been full of wonder and delight.

Instead, when Rose opened her eyes, what she actually found was James Dautryche’s warm body curled around her from behind, holding her tight.

As she tried to shift carefully out of his grasp, his large arms tightened like a snare, pulling her even closer.

“Awake already?”

His voice, still rough with sleep, brushed against her ear, low and heavy.

A slow wave of his quiet, familiar magic seemed to seep through her, shivering all along her skin.

“L-let me go.”

“Wrong answer. You’re supposed to say good morning, Miss Rose Taylor.”

“Ngh…!”

His face buried against the side of her neck, James spoke in a husky murmur that forced her to stifle a sound of surprise, leaving her with nothing to squeeze but a fistful of blankets.

This was going nowhere.

If they kept struggling like this, it would never end. Rose decided her best chance was to get up before he could tighten his grip again.

All right. That’s the only effective move.

“Hyaah!”

She even gave a fierce little battle cry, trying to sit up with all her strength, but his arms were like iron bands that didn’t so much as budge.

“We still have a long way to Egard.”

“I’m still in yesterday’s clothes.”

“That’s fine.”

“My hair is a complete mess.”

“Your hair is perfect.”

“I didn’t even wash last night!”

“And?”

He countered every single protest with maddening ease, chuckling low in his chest.

“Your face is bright red. It’s quite a sight.”

Finally, just as she was about to truly explode like an angry rabbit, James relented and released her. Rose barely managed to tumble out of the plush bed.

What the hell kind of morning is this?!

She wanted to yell at him, to vent all the bubbling frustration she felt. But where should she even start?

The way he’d teased her last night about the bed and the bath? Or the fact that they’d actually shared a bed?

Forget priorities. I’ll just start wherever I can.

“Rose. What’s with that expression?”

“That’s because you…!”

She spun on her heel, ready to unleash it all—only to freeze, words catching in her throat.

There he sat on the bed, practically half-naked.

“What…what are you even wearing?!”

She nearly bit her tongue in shock.

James, of course, answered with perfect calm.

“What do you mean? This is an evening gown. Surely you don’t expect me to sleep in a suit.”

“Who sleeps in just an evening gown?!”

Rose jerked her gaze away, doing her best to avoid looking at him any more than necessary. All the scolding she’d meant to do about last night and that ridiculous bed arrangement vanished into the back of her throat.

James stretched languidly and pushed himself upright, the corners of his mouth curling in a satisfied smile.

“You’re acting like it’s your first time seeing my bare skin. It’s honestly flattering.”

“You’re teasing me again!”

She lifted her head to glare at him, only for her eyes to land on the solid muscle of his chest—and the soulmate mark half-hidden within the folds of his robe.

It was the first time she’d seen the mark so clearly since that night.

And James noticed exactly where her gaze had stopped, that same teasing smile spreading wider across his face.