Run Away From Me - Chapter 45


45. Me too, like you

I have to run away.

I want to run away.

I want to leave him.

This time, for sure, perfect.

The more Daphne painted the picture of her killing Asherad with her brush, the more she discovered her own desires. She wanted to punish Asherad for making her miserable. She wanted to hurt him like this.

But it was impossible to punish the man, for to him Daphne was nothing more than a fluttering wind.

The painting was just a one-time play. She would not paint anymore. After meeting Artemisia, Daphne had no hesitation in tearing up her painting of herself beheading Asherad with a knife.

The important thing was that she drew it.

That image will remain in her heart forever.

That alone was enough. The motivation and vitality that had been drained away were coming back to her.

How can I escape?

She wanted to ask Artemisia for help. But would she really have the strength to do so, and would Asherad really leave her alone?

He is the man who also threatened Fabian's family.

Daphne thought of Fabian. Should she threaten Fabian's family? For a moment, she felt chronic helplessness again.

It was Daphne who ran away, even though she knew Sarah might die.

She was already... a selfish and ugly person who was willing to sacrifice someone for her own freedom.

Yeah, let's think of a way. Let's apologize to Fabian's family and convince them to run away. Let's try everything.

She didn't want to die like this. She didn't want to just sit there and give up on herself, afraid of Asherad's whims.

There might be a way.

“I need to think about what to do once I run away.”

Making a living is not something that can be easily done. Ironically, working as a maid was what gave her a clear sense of economics.

It would have been difficult for a noblewoman to run away and survive, but she had to do something. She could do it. She could survive as a maid.

Didn't she run away with the same mindset the first time? Even if she succeeded once, she just needs to refine her plan the second time.

Daphne's mind was spinning. She wasn't very smart. But she tried to struggle.

Because she was a human named Daphne, not a dog or a lust doll.

There was a knock.

It's Asherad.

Daphne flinched. Her heart pounded and her body tensed. She tried to regain her composure, running her hands through her hair and checking her attire.

This was because he liked a neat look rather than a disheveled look. Of course, he liked the look of things being messy with his own hands.

Daphne looked puzzled. There was something odd about his walking towards her.

His cheeks were flushed. His shirt was also tangled. He tried to walk with an orderly gait, but there was something off about it.

“Were you awake?”

Daphne nodded. Then Asherad snickered. Asherad's beautiful face, illuminated by the moonlight, glowed softly. It seemed like a work of art carved from white marble. Even his disheveled appearance was beautiful.

He was as beautiful as a poisonous flower, and so he charmed Daphne.

Asherad came over to Daphne, who was sitting on the bed, and put his arms around her waist as he sat down, burying his face in Daphne's lap.

It was clearly an uncomfortable position, but he buried his head in her knees for a long time, panting. His heavy breathing and the ups and downs of his massive back were visible.

For a hero who ended the 100-year war and a sun god, he looked too shabby.

The large back looked somehow weak. Daphne stared at it blankly, then raised her hand and stroked its head.

Then it became impossible to tell who the individual was.

Daphne felt a strange pleasure. Asherad didn't seem to care what she looked like. He accepted her touch.

“Haa... Daphne.”

“Have you had a drink?”

Daphne didn't try to put on a flashy smile. This quick-witted and perceptive man couldn't help but notice that it was strange if she suddenly smiled.

“Yeah. I drank it.”

“...”

“You don’t even ask why.”

He let out a small laugh. Asherad finally lifted his waist and looked at Daphne. He lowered his green eyes as he looked at her unsmiling face.

“I don’t know why either.”

“...”

“Why did I take it for granted that it was me, and why was that so annoying?”

She doesn't really know what he means. When she made a face that said she didn't understand, Asherad chuckled.

“Why did I feel wronged?”

Asherad reached out to Daphne and stroked her face. When Daphne didn't resist, Asherad now rested his face against her chest.

It was a truly defenseless and undignified posture.

“Are you very angry with me?”

It was a slightly dead voice. It was shameless and disgusting.

Why are you asking me why I'm angry? A strange and strange hope came over her, making the firm heart she had been eating pale.

Hope that something will change.

The vain hope that this man, who asked if she was angry while drinking, might see her differently.

But Daphne soon pulled herself together. She tried to calm her jumping hopes and put on a calm expression.

“I’m not angry.”

Daphne spoke softly. Asherad looked at Daphne with a puzzled look. Even though he was dim from the alcohol, his eyes were as sharp as a blade as he tried to find out her intentions. When his gaze was fixed on her, his breathing trembled for a moment.

“So, what I’m saying is, I’m not angry anymore.”

“...”

“I won’t draw anymore. I’ve decided to give up.”

Asherad lifted Daphne's chin with slightly clouded eyes and spoke.

“You hate me a lot, don’t you?”

“...”

Daphne stared blankly at Asherad's self-deprecating words, along with his suspicions. Why didn't he know the answer? Why was he looking at her with such an expression when he had only done things she disliked?

When Daphne again did not answer, he said,

“Even the look in your eyes has changed.”

“...”

“It was better before.”

Daphne's eyes wavered. She tried to suppress the emotion that was about to burst out. As she shook off her resignation, a strong anger toward Asherad came over her.

Does this guy really not know anything about the problem?

Does he miss her from back then? The Daphne who worshipped him without knowing anything?

Did he really not know what he was like back then?

You are...

You're telling me to be a 'dog' again.

He doesn't like that attitude; that's why he's doing this now. He's pretending to be nice. This person is good at making people take his side like this.

She pretended it wasn't true, but she had too much hope.

It came back to Daphne as complete despair. As if unaware of the torrent of emotions, Asherad placed his hand on Daphne’s cheek and caressed it.

“You wish I could...  be like I used to be?”

He nodded without a moment of hesitation and said

“Just like back then, when you didn’t try to run away and stayed in my hands.”

Just like back then, like an idiot. Not knowing what situation she was in, just like that. She tried to swallow back the tears that were about to well up in her eyes.

“Then I will try.”

Asherad frowned slightly, perhaps because of the unexpected answer. He tried to regain focus by trying to straighten his blurred gaze. Even though he was drunk, his head was probably spinning.

As the sharp eyes stared at Daphne, Daphne said.

“I was... scared.”

"What?"

“I... didn’t know when I would return to that room again.”

It was somewhat sincere. She had been rotting away in that closet-like room for too long to enjoy anything.

It was a comfortable place, but dirty, dark, and a place that made the people who stayed there feel like they were being poisoned.

“Why me, you?”

“You left me in that room.”

Asherad slowly closed his eyes. He smiled coldly.

“That’s it...”

“...”

“No, no.”

He paused again, as if thinking about something. Daphne spoke, feeling somewhat impatient.

“You left it like that and then suddenly and impulsively brought me here.”

"Ah..."

Asherad seemed to recall that time. His breathing quickened. Asherad could not bear it any longer and lay down on the bed, hugging Daphne’s waist.

As Daphne lay down on her back, he buried his face in her arms. She could smell the pungent smell of alcohol along with his unique scent.

“Well, I didn’t know.”

She doesn't know what it means. Daphne looked at Asherad, who had buried his head in her arms. It seemed as if he was conveying some sadness. Daphne looked at his flowing black hair. Through his bangs, she could see his eyebrows and the bridge of his nose.

“...Like you...I too...”

Daphne couldn't understand the soft, mumbling words. She just looked at Asherad in her arms.

Her reddened eyes and lips, and her moist pupils, took on a pitiful glow.

But that feeling soon disappeared in an instant.


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