Weren't Love Supposed to be Simple? (II)

He immediately pulled his hand away, and his tone turned cold. "Please, Beatrice, not in public," he said firmly.

Beatrice felt a pang of sadness as she looked up at Gilbert. She had always thought of him as a warm and affectionate person, but now he seemed cold and distant. She couldn't help but wonder what had changed.

As they stood there, surrounded by the bustle of Victoria city, Beatrice noticed the way Gilbert's eyes darted around nervously, avoiding her gaze. She could sense a growing tension between them, and it made her feel uneasy.

Feeling a lump form in her throat, Beatrice took a step back, giving Gilbert some space. She couldn't help but wonder what had caused him to become so guarded and distant toward her.

Beatrice took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "Gilbert, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

Gilbert hesitated before responding. "It's just that... we need to be careful. People are watching," he said, gesturing subtly towards the crowded street.

Beatrice furrowed her brow in confusion. "What do you mean? People wouldn't recognize us here. It was too crowded." she asked, searching his face for answers.

Gilbert's expression hardened, and for a moment, he looked almost angry. "I can't explain it now, Beatrice. Please, let's talk about this later, in private," he said, his tone clipped and cold.

Feeling hurt and frustrated, Beatrice couldn't help but wonder what was going on. Gilbert's behavior was so unlike him, and it left her feeling uneasy.

As she watched him disappear down the crowded street, Beatrice couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

…

The sound of flipping and scribbling filled the room, accompanied by the strong scent of ink. Beatrice sat at her study desk, trying to write her novel, but her mind kept wandering back to Gilbert. She sighed, her frustration mounting, and ran her hand through her hair in agitation.

She couldn't focus on her writing, her thoughts consumed by her awkward meeting with Gilbert. The memory of his cold and distant behavior made her heart race with worry. 'What did I do wrong?' she thought to herself. 'Did I offend him in some way?'

The glowshroom from Arthur cast a comforting light in the room, but it was not enough to calm her racing thoughts. 

Beatrice knew that she needed to focus on her novel, especially since Countess Garnet was known for being strict with deadlines. She let out a deep sigh, running her hand through her hair in frustration.

"Come on, Beatrice, you can do this," she muttered to herself, trying to motivate herself. "You need to finish this novel, don't ever get scolded by the Countess! Focus!" 

As she continued to write, her hand trembled, causing her pen to scratch the paper. She tried to steady her breathing, but her chest felt tight with anxiety. The more she dwelled on the encounter with Gilbert, the more worried she became.

"Why was he so cold towards me?" she muttered, her voice shaking. "Does he think I'm not good enough? Was I not acting appropriately?"

Beatrice had always believed that her love for Gilbert was supposed to be simple. After all, they loved each other deeply, so she thought they shouldn't have too many internal problems. 

But, Beatrice might be wrong. She then tried to remember every detail of their encounter that maybe offended him. Then she realized something. 

She frowned as she thought back to Arthur's comment about Gilbert being a low-born. 'Gilbert must feel angry and humiliated because of that,' she frowned. However, it didn't make sense to her since Gilbert was a noble, just like her. 

Did Arthur know something she didn't? The questions swirling in her head were overwhelming, and she needed answers. 'I needed to ask him!' She was determined.

She sighed and decided to call it a night. As she stood up to leave the study, she paused and took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. The comforting glow of the glowshroom and the soft sound of pages turning were the only things she could hear in the room.

"I'll figure this out tomorrow," Beatrice said to herself, as she headed to bed. "I just need to focus on my writing for now and deal with Gilbert later."

….

As Beatrice's eyes slowly fluttered open, the dimly lit room loomed before her like a living, breathing nightmare. The walls, adorned with intricate woodwork, seemed to pulse and throb in the inky blackness as if they were alive and watching her every move. 

The air was thick with an unsettling atmosphere, as though every breath she took was laced with an insidious poison. The flickering flames of the warm fire in the center of the room cast eerie shadows that danced and writhed across the floor, their movements creating an otherworldly and unsettling rhythm. 

The heat of the flames only served to intensify the sense of unease that Beatrice felt. It was the Devil's room, and Beatrice could feel the full weight of his malevolent energy bearing down upon her. 

Anxiety clawed at her chest, making her heart race so fast she could hear it pounding in her ears. Cold sweat began to form on her temples, and her hands shook uncontrollably at her sides.

The scent of rich wine filled her nostrils, but it brought no comfort. Instead, it only served to make her feel lightheaded and dizzy, as though the Devil's influence was seeping into her very being.

Beatrice's mind raced with confusion and terror. 'How could I be here? Did the amulet stop working?' she thought to herself, her thoughts becoming more fragmented and frantic by the moment.

She took a tentative step forward, her eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger. The table and chairs in front of the fireplace loomed before her, but they were empty, adding to her growing sense of unease. 

'The Devil is supposed to be there,' she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her heart.

The low and menacing chuckle that echoed from the balcony sent a chill down her spine. She knew that the source of the sound could only be the Devil, and her anxiety heightened with every step she took toward him.

As she finally reached the balcony, her eyes locked on the figure of the Devil, seated in a chair with a glass of wine and a cigar in his hand. His wide and muscular back was turned towards her, making him seem even more imposing and dangerous. 

The red light of the full moon shone upon him, casting an eerie crimson glow over the scene and adding to the sense of foreboding that enveloped Beatrice.

"You looking for me?" the Devil's words rang out, his voice both seductive and menacing at the same time.

…

Note: Thanks for my first gift from AvalonKing, I didn't expect that 💗💗🤗🤗 Thank you all for still supporting me too! I hope this novel can reach many people haha~

Happy reading everyone!