PCP – 168

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In an instant, he stopped breathing. As if a dagger had stabbed his throat, no sound could come out of his mouth.

—I need to clear up her misunderstanding quickly, and show her true feelings, which I noticed too late. That’s why I need to heal her broken heart.

“… … .”

Only a painful gasp came out of his trembling lips.

In front of his eyes, she was close enough for him to reach out his hand and hold. But her heart had gone so far away that he couldn’t seem to reach her no matter how hard he tried.

So Akkard was forced to open his mouth even though he knew it was an unreasonable attempt. Otherwise, Damia will become more and more distant, and in the end, he wouldn’t be able to glimpse even her cold back.

“… … if so?”

“What?”

“What if my feelings are sincere towards you?”

Akkard asked with the feeling of cutting open his torso and giving out his heart.

This time, Damia was silent. She stared into his face, as if trying to figure out what Akkard was thinking.

At that cold gaze, Akkard smiled sadly. And feeling naked without weapons, he uttered out as if he had become a defeated soldier, begging only for his opponent’s tolerance.

“Dami, I’m afraid I’m… … I think I like you.”

His first confession was more mellow than expected, miserable, shabby and humble. To the point he couldn’t even deny the fact himself.

“… … Ha.”

Hearing this, Damia closed her eyes with a short sigh. He had no idea what she was thinking.

During her silence, a second seemed like an eternity. Akkard struggled, unable to breathe properly, and waited for her answer with a feeling that his heart was about to explode.

And after a long silence, Damia had a brief remark:

“… … Are you serious? If so, why did you tear the handkerchief I gave you?”

In truth, Damia didn’t believe his confession at all.

In the first place, Akkard Valerian was a flirt and promiscuous playboy well-known in the capital—even in the kingdom. So how many times did he lightly spit out ‘like’ and love?

There were too many sincere things in the world to give meaning to the confession of a playboy.

‘A cowardly liar.’

Damia thought he was sincerely pleading simply to get out of trouble.

He just doesn’t want to admit that he was trash. In order to somehow subdue her in this quarrel, and reclaim his emotionally advantageous position with her.

‘Is it because he’s a flirt? Everything is said so lightly, so easy.’

Damia kept her bitter smile. She was disgusted and wanted to slap him on the cheek, but at the same time, she was envious. Confessing so lightly, and flirting around with ease. Then the life of a playboy can change as he pleases.

On the contrary, his heart was like a heavy pendulum. Scared to make the other person tired of you even before they get an answer. It was like a damn sickening shackle that he couldn’t help drag and limp around with, but can’t undo in the end.

She laughed self-disparagingly. And she looked at his pale white face and she asked again,

“Explain it to me. If you said you like me, why did you throw away the handkerchief I gave you?”

The sharp, punishment-like interrogation struck him. Akkard couldn’t say anything. He never even dreamed that Damia would know that.

No, the handkerchief had long since been completely forgotten in his memory. Because it was already thrown away.

He is indifferent to the woman he once abandoned, let alone things. He was very perplexed when he was questioned by Damia in a completely unexpected part.

“That—how… … .”

“Does it matter how I know, now?”

Damia asked back, looking exhausted. They only talked for a short time, but she was clearly very tired.

Her annoyed and scornful countenance. Her contemptuous gaze made his heart ache as if she was constantly scratching his heart with an awl. The sharp pain made his confident head dizzy, and even the smooth tip of his tongue rusted.

So there was nothing to say. Akkard, who had distorted his face not knowing what to do, could barely open his mouth.

“I swear I didn’t throw away the handkerchief because you were insignificant to me. I just… I was traumatized by handmade gifts… … .”

His voice, which was gradually becoming blurred, was weak, unconvincing and sullen even to his own ears. So it couldn’t have touched Damia’s heart.

“Then you shouldn’t have taken it in the first place. At the very least, you could have put it in a drawer.”

Akkard’s lips froze.

“Did you even need to tear it up and throw it away? Was the gift I gave you so insignificant? Is it okay to treat it so carelessly and throw it away?”

There was a bitter anger in her voice as she retorted in indignation.

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