Chapter 6

"What happened to you?"

"Where's the viscount?"

Lelouch straightens and clears his throat. Glancing at the old head cook, he nods at him and says, "You are dismissed."

Mr. Darlton worriedly shifts his gaze to the governess before he hesitantly nods and obeys. Lelouch catches the crumple of confusion? Annoyance? Anxiety? (with this woman, the possibilities are infinite) in between Miss Corabelle's eyebrows as he turns to her.

"The viscount is quite occupied in the dining hall and couldn't meet you right now. Instead, he sent me on his behalf to listen to your concern." He tilts his head and examines the battered appearance of the once pristine governess. Her emerald hair that was perpetually tied high up at the back of her head is now messily and asymmetrically resting at the sides of her face like wild vines in the jungle. That's it. She looks like someone who was lost in a jungle for several days after surviving an accident. Faint bruises are blooming on her cheeks and neck while a thin trail of drying blood is on the left side of her forehead. There's a tore on the hip part of her dress and Lelouch's tries to hold himself from staring at the exposed porcelain skin. She looks bad. She looks like she'd been through Hell. And her golden eyes reflect its pits of fire. "Or rather, whatever devastating trouble that happened to you."

"I was attacked... by a carpenter of the gazeebo."

Lelouch's eyes narrow at her words. "What do you mean by 'attacked'?"

Miss Corabelle gulps, looks away, then looks back at him. "I was headed to the kitchen using the other path when I felt someone following me. Then I was roughly pushed against the wall where I hit my head. After that... He buried his face on my neck and whispered nasty words."

"Why didn't you call for help?"

"His large hand covered my mouth immediately."

Lelouch nods, a strange sensation begins flowing through his veins. Gently grabbing the governess' arm, he pulls her along with him as he starts walking. Where he is heading, he doesn't know, but as if they have a mind of their own, his feet begin moving with vague yet intense purpose.

"Where is the bastard now?" he asks in a low voice, his eyes never leaving the long corridor infront of him.

"I left him just outside the kitchen," answers Miss Corabelle, "The cooks went after him as soon as I told them about the incident."

"And how did you escape?"

"I stabbed him."

His head whips so fast that he had a dizzy spell. His feet halt all at once causing the governess to stumble before him. Eyes wide with disbelief, he asks, "Pardon?"

"My apologies, that is not the truth. I was just able to cut him on the side and legs. But that was only to prevent him from escaping."

"Cut? With what?"

The governess gives him a judging look probably because of how foolish he had sounded as he repeated her words.

"A comb, Mr. Lamperouge. I cut him using a comb with bristles so sharp they can cut a tree in half," she deadpans. Then, to Lelouch's surprise, she rolls her eyes. "Of course, I used a knife."

When he does not manifest any sign of movement, Miss Corabelle resumes walking and strides past him. Shaking his head, he immediately follows and falls into step with her. "A knife? I thought you weren't able to reach the kitchen."

"I wasn't," her short answer signals that she wouldn't entertain any of his shallow questions. Lelouch clamps his mouth shut as they continue to trudge the way to the kitchen. As soon as another servant appears in their vicinity, the young man holds the governess' arm and calls the servant's attention.

"Fetch the doctor quickly and make sure that he will attend to Miss Corabelle's injuries. Those are the viscount's orders," then to the governess he says, "You may go to your room. I'll handle everything from here."

"But – "

"That's the viscount's command, too, Miss Corabelle."

He watches her fight the urge to question his words, his lies. The tension below her eyes and on her swanlike neck is both captivating and exhilarating to look at. But she won't be able disobey his statement – not when he just the used the viscount's name and there's another person who have heard the pseudo-command.

They stand there, staring at each other for what seems like a few breathless moments until the stubborn governess looks down and says, "I shall take my leave then."

The man then hurries to the kitchen where he is pointed to proceed to the stables where Mr. Darlton and the other men brought the attacker.

There, he towers over the tied man like a cruel master with his disgraceful servant. "How dare you commit such sin in the land that brings food to your mouth?"

"It was her fault, sir! She enchanted me with her beauty and eyes! She kept on looking my way this afternoon and I thought that it was an invitation! She seduced me, sir!"

Tilting his head, Lelouch addresses their audience and asks, "You lot know Miss Corabelle more than I. Say, is it in her character to act in such way as this man said?"

He carefully observes their expressions – each dip of their eyebrows and wrinkles around their mouths. Being a painter had taught him to be more observant of people's faces in order to capture their true self in the canvas. It is a critical feat, one that requires accuracy and deep understanding of humanity. Sometimes, it takes him only a second to capture his customer's desire and put it on paint, but most of the time, it would take days, weeks, or worse, months for him to decide which mask should he bestow to a certain individual. A wrong curve of the eyebrow could make a jolly person look brooding. A wrong angled nose could make someone appear either like an aristocrat or a witch.

Mr. Darlton is the one who shook his head first - his eyes are that of conviction and sincerity. "No, sir. It is not in Miss Corabelle's nature."

"Does everyone agree with him?"

Everyone nods.

"I see..."

Lelouch turns back to the now trembling man and crouches infront of him. Eyes ablaze, he grabs the man's hair and tilts his bowed head up towards his. "How brave of you to do such thing while the master is at home," he begins in a threatening voice, "but it does not matter if he is here or not, doesn't it? No innocent person should experience danger especially when they are alone and vulnerable. Taking advantage of women is not welcomed in this mansion. Therefore..." Lelouch slowly rises, puts his hands on his back and stares down at the man. "As per the viscount's orders, you shall be brought to the authorities and have the incident reported."

"No! I'm sorry! Please don't do this!" the man desperately pleads yet they fall into deaf ears.

It is when Lelouch was about to turn away and leave that he notices the blood on his legs. The man sees where he is looking at and takes it to his advantage.

"That woman cut me! She is a violent lady! One you shouldn't trust!"

Lelouch raises a brow. "Is that so? Well then, I'd rather be stabbed by a brave woman at the front and admire her for that instead of getting attacked by a coward man like you at the back."

And he leaves the man in the stables, begging for his mercy.

A week.

That's how long she should rest and get healed according to the doctor. A week, that's how long she should stay in her room and be out of the children's sight so they wouldn't get frightened and worried according to the viscount.

A week.

That sounds like a year.

The bandage around her head feels heavy and containing, a trap of its own. Her limbs are aching, something that surprises her and which she blames on underestimating the bruises that the man had given her. But she still can stand, walk even without falling forward or needing the assistance of others. Instead, what bothers her the most is her time away with the twins. She had just returned from a three-day vacation, and now, another week of lessons and simply spending time with them would be lost. And days like this is when Ceci feels alone the most. Homesickness is her only visitor with endless thoughts of Shirley and her childhood home accompanying her in the solitude of her room.

It is a couple of days since the attack and the viscount had already informed her that the attacker was sent to the authorities. She silently gave him her gratitude but much to her surprise, he told her that all the credits should be given to Mr. Lamperouge who did all the appropriate actions.

Ceci gnaws on her dry lips as she mulls over this fact. It is only right to let Mr. Lamperouge know that she truly appreciated his efforts. Though she couldn't simply set aside the things that he had done to the children, perhaps there's another part of him - a good part of him - that they haven't seen before. Later, when she no longer look weak and vulnerable, she would seek the man and express her thankfulness, and perhaps, it would be the right time to lay all of her concerns regarding his treatment of the twins at the surface instead of continuing this tension that restrains their conversations.

The thought makes her feel better. Leaving the confines of her room, she secretly proceeds to the kitchen and meet with Mr. Darlton.

It is deep into the night and the soft glow of the lamp guides them as they rummage through the silverware of the mansion and lay them on the big oak table in the kitchen.

"What was it that you wanted to tell me before the attack?" she asks as she touches the cold metals.

"I and some of the servants observed something not right with these utensils. Look closely at them, miss, and you'll see what we are talking about."

Ceci does and under the weak light, she holds one spoon up and notices the small scattered rusty areas. She picks up a fork and a knife and finds the same areas on them. Eyes narrowed, the governess roams her eyes around the silverware that lay before her.

"It was Euphy, the dishwasher, who noticed them the other day. The rust is all over this set of utensils and it is uncertain how long they've been there."

"It can cause danger to everyone's health," mumbles Ceci. "Who is the maker?"

"These are the products of Guilford Kitchenware."

"Have you told the viscount about it?"

Mr. Darlton nods. "We have already informed him. As a temporary solution, we are currently using a different set while a letter of concern was forwarded to the maker."

"A different set?"

Resting his hands on the oak table, the older man leans forward and stares meaningfully at her. "The silverware from the Fenettes. I suggested it and the viscount approved."

"He did?" she whispers, as if doing so will not shatter the hope that is warming in her chest.

"But with strict instructions that we shall only use the existing sets and not to purchase any new one. He's still adamant with his decision, Miss Corabelle."

And with that, the hope withers even before it blooms. Of course, he would say that. That's the viscount for you. After all, the supply of the Fenette's silverware here is enough to be used in a large banquet. Purchasing more would be impractical at the moment. But this incident with the other utensils, she wonders if she could somehow turn it into their shop's favor. In total, the mansion uses silverware from three shops - the Fenette's, the Guilford's and the Cardemonde's. Among the three, it is the Fenette's which is the youngest supplier of the mansion, one that only started when Ceci's grandmother was the governess here. Yet the quality of their product had continuously proven that excellence not only comes with age, but with efficiency and dedication to service. So when the viscount announced that he would be halting his purchase from her family, Ceci knew that product quality has nothing to do with his decision, not when she had talked to him of her plan to buy the contract forged between the Britannias and the Corabelles to end the servitude of her family to the nobility on her that certain morning. A contract that was incredulously overpriced and is being paid by dreams and future. A contract that had already been fulfilled by her ancestors but not yet deemed ineffective.

"I see," Ceci says with determination. "Thank you for telling me about this, Mr. Darlton. I truly appreciate the help that you've been giving me."

The old man smiles. "I recognized your mother's spirit in your eyes and she had been a very good friend of mine."

An image of a tall woman with stern golden eyes, long orange hair and a permanent frown on her lips appears in Ceci's mind. It seems like it was just yesterday, when she was only a child who had followed her mother in every corner of the mansion in order to learn the way of life of governesses and of the Britannias. It seems like it was just yesterday, when she still saw the high ceilings of the mansion the same as a palace's and she's a princess living in it instead of a cage and she's a bird trapped in it.

It seems like it was just yesterday when her mother had combed Ceci's hair at night and uttered silent apologies that her younger mind couldn't comprehend.

I'm sorry for not being able to protect you from this fate.

I'm sorry for trapping you in this destiny.

I'm sorry for taking away your dreams.

Dreams.

Whenever her mother said that word, Ceci would automatically answer with wanting to be a famous pianist who travels the world to have a concierto, and mother would quietly cry on her shoulders.

She had long forgotten about that dream. Had already buried it together with her other mundane desires.

"Are you going to talk to the viscount?" asks Mr. Darlton.

Ceci shakes her head. "There will be no use. And I think that talking to him would only worsen the situation. Perhaps, I'll try to find a way to turn things positively without his knowledge."

"Hmmm. Well, be careful when dealing with him, Miss Corabelle. We all know that he's a cunning man."

"I always am, Mr. Darlton. I always am."

He didn't plan on getting drunk tonight.

When he had left the mansion earlier, all he had in mind was to explore the city so as to defuse the tension that had rooted itself in his veins during the confrontation at the stables a couple of days ago.

He is still a stranger and the twists and turns of the city is a big labyrinth for his troubled mind. Fortunately, the viscount was generous enough to lend him one of the horses and heading to the main city became easier and faster.

Yet what greeted him inside was beyond the comprehension of a small town boy. The fast-paced transactions of shops, markets and barters on the streets, the lively pubs that were ten times more than the number of pubs in his village, the howling laughter of nobles and ordinary people alike, the bright establishments and even the well-lit streets, to say that Lelouch's sensations were overwhelmed would be an understatement.

He was astounded that he had the horse stand in the middle of the crowded street for a few minutes before an angry shout snapped him out of his amazement. His exploration led him to a nondescript pub which offered the cheapest drinks, cheap enough to be paid by his limited money.

It started with one drink.

But it always started that way, correct? So why was he so drunk right now?

The drink might be cheap but it was unexpectedly strong and Lelouch being Lelouch couldn't help but challenge himself with how many bottles he could consume before he passes out.

Solitude also played a big part in his game. With no one else to talk to, he had settled on watching people and had noticed the few women that were in the room. Attractive women. Or attractive enough to his drunken mind. A blonde girl waved at him and he gave her a tipsy smile, then he turned away to nurse his bottle.

And now, he is only on his third bottle and he is already too drunk by his standards. Luciano would certainly have a laughing fit and call him a weakling if he was here. His mother would glare at him from her seat in the living room when he comes staggering in their house in the middle of the night. Meanwhile, Kallen would surely help him to his bed, take his clothes off and give him warm water to settle his ruined stomach.

Oh, Kallen. He wonders how she is right now. He had sent her a letter yesterday together with his mother's but he doubts that it had already reached them by now. Closing his eyes, he takes a huge gulp of his drink and the image of a blue-eyed pretty woman appears behind his lids. Oh, bloody hell, he misses her tremendously. He misses her as a puppy would with his owner. Yes, he became a docile dog everytime he was in her strong presence for he never feared being rejected and ignored when he was with her. Kallen was always there with her arms wide opened despite the troubles he had brought in his wake. Kallen's anger at him was always short-lived and a few tender kisses would always erase her frown, and a few secret touches would immediately make her breathless.

Kallen is his safe haven. A constant since childhood who he had never feared of losing. Because no matter how troublesome he gets, no matter how furious she gets, at the end of the day, she likes him more than he deserves to be liked. More than he does with her.

Lelouch opens his eyes and the bottle infront of him doubled. Narrowing his eyes, he tries to grab the other one only for his hand to meet air. Truly, definitely drunk. And comfort-deprived.

"Are you waiting for someone?"

A smooth voice comes from his left and it takes all of Lelouch's remaining concentration to turn his head. Blonde hair, his hazy mind could make out. Red lips, pale skin. The woman who waved at him? He isn't certain. He is too intoxicated to ascertain.

"I am alone," is his tipsy response.

The woman laughs and he does not know why but he laughs with her.

"You're quite drunk now, are you?"

"I am perfectly sober, my lady."

The lady giggles and Lelouch decides that he likes her giggle.

"What's your name?" he asks.

"Karen. What is yours, mister?"

"Kallen?" he repeats. "Kallen, Kallen..."

The lady shakes her head and briefly appears to correct him but stops herself at the last second. Instead, she gives him a tantalizing smile and drunk Lelouch decides that he likes her smile, too.

"Well, you could be the first one to call me that mister...?"

"Lelouch. Lelouch Lamperouge at your mercy." His bow is slight but it is enough to cause him unwanted dizziness.

"I see, Mr. Lamperouge, it's the first time that I see you here. Are you a tourist? A tradesman?" Karen/Kallen reaches out to rest her hand over his arm. Her thumb caresses the fabric of his clothes and he could feel her desire on his skin.

"No, I am not, but I just arrived a week ago."

"Is that so? Then it must be lonely." Scooting next to him, Karen/Kallen puts her other hand on his thigh, dangerously close to his groin, and whispers to his ear, her hot breath tickling his lobe. "To be alone in an unfamiliar place with all of these strangers. No one to talk to, no one to share your secrets with."

If Lelouch was sober, he would still end up in this scenario but he would have the control to make wise decisions and remember his promise to his lover. But Lelouch is not sober, and a not sober Lelouch makes unwise decisions and forgets promises.

He follows her voice and his face comes too near with the lady's. Too close that a soft push on his shoulder would land his lips on hers. "But you are not a stranger, Kallen," he whispers back. Against the light, her eyes are dull with undetermined color, but in Lelouch's unfocused gaze, they are morphing into blue, her blonde hair turning red, her voice turning familiar.

Kallen... Why is she here? How did she get here?

A squeeze on his thigh. His eyes shut at the heightened sensation.

"No, I am not."

And something covers his lips.

Something soft, warm and seeking.

Something that bites on his lips and forces them to open.

Something that tastes like alcohol and honey.

He opens his eyes and meets blue ones.

"Kallen, I'm so glad you're here."

And he dives into her with a hunger of a lion and eagerness of a dog. His lips smash against hers as he grabs her waist and pulls her towards him. Desperate, his tongue seeks entrance only to be refused. He releases a frustrated growl as his head is pulled away from the woman.

"Not here, Mr. Lamperouge. Come, can you stand?"

It is a miracle how he is able to stand and walk without toppling over, but he does and in a blur of his surroundings, they are in a dark narrow alley and his head is buried in the woman's neck, his teeth lightly biting her skin.

"I missed you so much, Kallen. I missed doing this with you."

'Kallen' does not respond, but her short breaths and wandering hands are enough for Lelouch to know that she likes this too. His mouth finds hers once again and this time, his tongue is granted entrance - sweeping the roof of her mouth, tangling with hers. 'Kallen' tastes different, her whimpers sound different but all of his doubts vanish when her fingers brush his front and his hips voluntarily buckle towards her waiting hand.

Another giggle.

Odd, 'Kallen' never giggles.

"Someone seems to be deprived for a week. Do not worry, Mr. Lamperouge, I'm going to give you the best pleasure you could ever imagine."

'Kallen' pushes him away to gather her skirt, but when her eyes clash his, they had suddenly turned into gold. In the darkness of the alley, her golden orbs shine like a pair of fireflies playfully teasing him to follow them.

Golden eyes...

"Miss Corabelle?" he asks, confused.

The woman stops collecting her skirt and raises a curious eyebrow at him. "Now I am Miss Corabelle?"

But her words fall into deaf, drunken ears because her face has become that of stubborn delicateness with small narrow nose, pink shiny lips and long emerald tresses. Her eyes carry the defiance that Lelouch is familiar with for the past week.

"What are you doing here? You should be resting," he manages to say while touching her face. She is letting him touch her face. He must be dreaming.

'Miss Corabelle' covers his hand with hers and whispers in a manner that is completely un-Miss Corabelle, "I am here to comfort you."

"Comfort me?"

On her tiptoes, she gives him a feathery kiss. Too shocked, Lelouch remains immobile as he tries to process the kiss that she generously bestows him. Why would she when she had looked at him with only suspicion and rebelliousness? Why would she when she sees him as the wolf that would harm the twins? Something... Something that his drunken mind couldn't remember must have happened between them that led to this situation.

Lelouch stares at her beautiful face as he slowly leans forward and lightly kisses her lips. Testing. "Ceci," he calls reverently dropping the honorific. Another gentle kiss, this time lingering, a hand cupping her cheek. "Ceci." His mouth finds the corner of her lips and kisses her there, too. "Ceci." She never stops him. She kisses him back with equal gentleness. "Bloody hell, Ceci."

In a blink, her legs are wrapped around him and her back is pinned against the wall. A light thud of her head and Lelouch worries for her injury. Yet when he is about to pull back, 'Ceci' grasps a handful of his raven hair and embraces him tighter. He surrenders. In an aggression that is foreign and unnatural to him, he presses his mouth too hard against hers, almost feral, probably revengeful - revengeful for all of the times she spoke words of challenge and wit that easily outsmarted him. He kisses her closed eyes, revengeful for all of the times they stared at him with judgment and subtle contempt. He kisses her neck, nips at her skin to ease the tension of stubbornness that resides there - so that she would stop tilting her chin up as if she's looking down at him whenever they talk. He holds her tiny waist and feels her smallness, feels how she is short compared to him. He basks on how she is a woman and he, a man, and they are capable of sharing a moment like this no matter how impossible and unbelievable it may seem. He basks in this moment for this might be just an anomaly, just a mistake that would never get repeated.

"Whoever 'Ceci' is, I like to play her more than 'Kallen' to get this reaction from you."

"Annalise!"

Suddenly, hands and legs are grabbing and pulling him, and with Lelouch's pitiful drunkenness, he is taken away without any fight until he falls unconscious in a place unknown to him.

He was drunk.

Last night.

Last night, he was drunk.

Lelouch repeats this over and over in his head as he sulkily munches on his bread in a small dining room unfamiliar to him. A tall man hums in the kitchen and Lelouch couldn't remember when, where, and how he met him for him to end up in his house.

The tall man, who earlier introduced himself as Gino, puts a bowl of soup before him and sits on the chair across the table.

"You are quite fortunate that I happen to pass by when the commotion happened last night. That was Annalise's husband going after you with a gun."

"I don't remember any Annalise," Lelouch mumbles.

A bright laugh comes from Gino, and his brightness is too much for Lelouch's aching head. "You wouldn't. She uses different names with different men. No matter how hard her husband tried to control her, it is just how she is. And you were the unlucky victim last night. Or dare I say, lucky?" Gino gives him a bright smile and it is like staring directly at the sun. How can a man possess a blond hair and a bright face all at once? In another day, Lelouch might have appreciated it. But not today.

"This is the first time that I've seen you. What's your name?"

Lelouch tells him and Gino echoes his surname for a couple of times before deciding that he had never encountered anyone with such name. After breakfast, his host offers to take him back to his residence. When he tells him that he lives in the Britannia estate, he earns a surprised and skeptical look from the blond.

Gino brought his borrowed horse, much to Lelouch's relief. The long journey had made him realize how far away he had been from the mansion. It took them a little after lunch until the cart finally reaches the gate of the estate.

"If you need a guide to help you navigate the city, you can find me at the plaza. Though, I am only there when night falls for I have work during the day."

Lelouch gratefully nods at him and carelessly tucks that knowledge away in his box of 'Things He Would Possibly Forget'.

Using the entrance to the kitchen, Lelouch silently trudges his way to his room, his back longing for the comfort of the soft bed and pillows. If he ever passes by the twins, he would more likely ignore them and let them have the triumph for today. Fortunately, he didn't. Unfortunately, he stumbles upon the one person who he doesn't want to see right now.

"Are you well, Mr. Lamperouge?" Miss Corabelle, with her round golden eyes that are strangely looking at him kindly, inquires as she gets out of what seems to be her room.

Of what seems to be her room that is next to his own one.