PCP – 57

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Determined, Dami wiped her face away with her hands and said goodbye to Cecil.

“I’m off now, Cecil. I’ll find a way somehow, so don’t worry too much.”

Damia was going to stop by Akkard’s mansion on her way. He was a fickle, mysterious man, but he certainly wouldn’t turn down her visit.

‘Because you haven’t conquered me completely.’

That’s the way a playboy thinks. Instead of thinking of a woman as a person with intelligence and soul, she sees her as an object to own.

Damia woke herself up from her cynical thoughts. Then Cecil frowned and asked again,

“What? You’re going now? While it’s raining like that outside.”

She pointed outside the window at the summer-time rain. It was neither a light rain nor a heavy pouring rain.

“It’s fine. I’m going to take a carriage anyway.”

Damia had already made her uncomfortable decision. Her voice was light, but her blue eyes had a gloom similar to a pool of water that was puddled outside the window.

Seeing this, Cecil resigned and sighed deeply.

“Yes, you are probably very troubled too. You should go home and get some rest as well.”

“You don’t have to see me out.”

“I didn’t plan to anyway because it was raining.”

Cecil, who snorted, laughed. She saw her cat-like mouth and Dami, who was also depressed, and laughed unintentionally.

“Yes, laugh like that. Because you’re the prettiest when you’re happy. “

Cecil, lying face down on the sofa, gently waved her hand goodbye.

Thanks to you, I feel much better.

As expected, a friend was the best.

‘So I’ll never let anyone hurt Cecil.’



The road to Akkard’s mansion was quiet. The wet ground was softer than usual, so the carriage hardly rattled. Add to this the languor of a rainy day. Damia fell asleep quickly and closed her eyes.



Her eyes opened wide at the same time as she felt her body leaning to one side. Damia unconsciously touched the wall of the carriage even though he was half asleep.

‘What’s going on?’

Barely awake, she immediately checked outside her window. I thought it was a dream, but the reality was the carriage was truly tilted to one side. Just in time, the restless coachman found her looking outside the window and shouted.

“I’m sorry, miss! The wheels must be bent because of the rain, and the spare wheel is missing.”

“The wheel’s missing?”

“Yes, it’s raining, so just stay in the carriage, and I’ll try to pull the wheel out somehow.”

The coachman was confused and shook his head. He strained himself and began to groan as he tried to lift the twisted wheel in the mud.

Damia looked at the scene out of the window, bashful and uncertain. This was the first time something like this had happened. She glanced at the robes of the muddy horseman.

‘You look tired.’

The coachman was still strong, but Damia knew he was in his mid-40s. However, it would have been hard to pull out the heavy wagon wheel alone. And even more so if Damia remained inside.

The horseman was now almost invisible because of the mud. I felt sorry for the sight of him picking up the wheels with both arms, grunting and trying to wipe the dirt off of his shoulders.

When Dami saw this, she made up her mind.

“I’ll just get off and wait. Bring me an umbrella.”

“But miss, are you okay? If you catch a cold outside…”

“It’s still summer, plus won’t it take much longer if I’m on it?”

Damia, who opened the door, willingly stepped down to the ground. Her spotless new skirt was soon marred by mud. Damia, who looked down at the dress with a deep regretful sigh, soon gave up her lingering affection.

“Here, clean your face.”

“Thank you very much, miss! I’ll be done in a minute.”

The coachman who received her handkerchief was moved to tears with elation. Damia, who opened her umbrella, stepped back so that the horseman could work.

She didn’t even remember how long it had been since she held an umbrella herself. The feeling of raindrops bumping into each other on top of the thin umbrella was refreshing. Damia watched the back of the struggling horseman while spinning her umbrella around.


The horseman raised the wheel with a voice of victory. Since Damia was off the carriage, lifting the wheels was more manageable than before.

But that was it. The muddy mud clung to the wheel like a stiff dough and did not fall off. Because of this, the coachman continued to struggle hard.

As time passed, the sun had long crossed over the mountains. The rain had weakened, but it hadn’t stopped. Damia’s dress, which had been standing under a weak umbrella for hours, was also completely wet at the bottom.

‘It’s cold.’


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