You Are Gentle, But You Don’t Love Me - Chapter 42

The back of the man walking ahead was graceful—so different from Juliet, who stumbled endlessly as she followed.

Yet he neither stopped nor looked back at her.

Of course, he wouldn’t. He always strode forward with long, confident steps. From a distance, he seemed leisurely, his movements fluid. But in reality, his towering height gave him an expansive stride, making his pace swift—too swift for Juliet, who was much smaller in stature, to keep up.

So she thought to herself,

“This is a dream.”

Even so, Juliet forced herself to quicken her steps. But her feet, encased in unfamiliar high-heeled shoes, refused to move as she willed. She staggered once more.

And in that brief moment, he had already widened the distance between them by several more steps.

“Surely, this must be a dream.”

From afar, his figure appeared slender at first glance. But that was merely an illusion created by his impressive height. A closer look would reveal the well-defined, sturdy frame of a man whose strength was evident beneath his finely tailored garments.

His red hair swayed above broad shoulders. Not too long, not too short—vivid even under the blue glow of the moonlight.

Cassio Bellanea, Duke of Escalus.

Juliet’s husband.

She was chasing after him. In a dream.

“Is this the place?” she asked. “The one you spoke of—the place where no one will hear our conversation?”

Cassio did not turn around when he replied.

“…Yes.”

The words escaped her lips effortlessly. Perhaps because it was a dream. Juliet heard her own voice as if it belonged to someone else, unfamiliar and distant.

But the surroundings were unmistakable. The deepest part of the garden. The front of the gazebo.

“I never knew there was something like this in the garden,” Cassio remarked, as though he were seeing the moonlit stone pillars for the first time.

Why?

This was where she had first encountered him upon his return to Sardinia. They had spent countless evenings here together since then… yet his words left her thoughts in turmoil.

But when Cassio finally turned around, Juliet understood.

“Ah…”

Of course. He had never truly explored the estate.

Even after Cagliari was renamed Escalus, Cassio had shown no interest in the castle that bore his name.

Now, standing before her, he wore a flawless smile and extended his hand toward her.

Cassio Bellanea.

No—Cassio Bellanea Escalus.

Her one and only husband.

The sharp click of Juliet’s heel against the white marble echoed as she stepped up onto the gazebo. As soon as she did, Cassio withdrew his supporting hand.

“…Thank you.”

His manner was courteous, as always. So natural it seemed effortless. Yet there was something about it—something cold, precise, as if drawn within carefully measured boundaries. Just like his perfect smile.

“It is true,” he said, “that there is no one here to eavesdrop.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

This must be a dream.

“Then may I ask you something now?”

“…”

“Why?”

For a moment, Juliet hesitated, not understanding the question. Then, belatedly, she realized what he meant.

But she hadn’t expected him to ask in this way.

“Why do you say you love me?”

“…Do I need a reason?”

“I’m simply curious.”

“Hmm…”

Juliet hesitated for a long time. Wasn’t this a bit embarrassing? Yet Cassio, who had just asked why she claimed to love him, showed no embarrassment at all.

Perhaps that was only natural. He had probably been adored by countless others before. Confessions of love must have seemed trivial, barely worth noting.

But for Juliet, it was the first time she had ever said such words to someone. And the first time anyone had questioned her about them.

She thought in silence for a moment before finally answering.

“Because you call my name.”

The moment she spoke the words, she felt certain.

“Yes. That is why. Because you alone call me by my name.”

Only Cassio Bellanea called her Juliet Cagliari.

No one else addressed her by name anymore. Not in Escalus… nor in all of Sardinia.

Her parents had left Sardinia almost immediately after her marriage. And there was no one else, regardless of rank, who was close enough to call her by name.

Once, years ago, there had been someone who had not only called her name but had spoken it with an affectionate nickname.

A sharp pang pricked at her heart.

“Can one feel pain in a dream?”

Or… was this even a dream at all?

“Hah…”

Cassio let out a quiet sigh, as if dissatisfied with her answer. His breath, warm and faint, brushed past Juliet’s small shoulders.

The sensation was so vivid that she couldn’t help but wonder—

Could it be that this was, in fact, reality?

“Juliet.”

“Yes?”

“I call your name only because I can. Because I am your husband.”

Cassio Bellanea had returned with the midsummer sun. Together, they had walked through the gardens, ridden horses to the beautiful coastline, and shared daily teatimes.

Had that been the dream all along?

Once the thought surfaced, it spiraled out of control—like pages caught in the wind, flipping chaotically, losing their place.

Even as Juliet’s mind unraveled in disarray, the Cassio standing before her continued speaking in a calm, measured voice.

“So if the reason you love me is merely because I call your name, then it wouldn’t matter who I am. Perhaps anyone could have been in my place, as long as he was your husband.”

“…”

“Tell me, Juliet—would you have loved him?”

His voice, though composed, was unfamiliar.

It was not the tender, gentle tone she knew.

There was something cold about it, something sharp.

Of course.

It only made sense that something so beautiful had been a dream. Reality had never been kind to Juliet.

There was never anyone to walk beside her. Never anyone to take her in their arms and ride toward the horizon.

Never anyone to say, Wherever you wish to go, I will go with you.

No, that was a fantasy.

This—this was reality.

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “Something like that…”

But once again, her lips moved on their own.

“But I want to love you.”

She spoke with a surprising calmness.

She wanted to love him.

Even as she shaped the words, even as she heard her own voice, she could hardly believe what she was saying.

“Everyone speaks of love as if it were something grand,” she continued. “Like a fate decreed by the heavens, a divine calling—something that descends upon us, something humans cannot possibly resist.”

Beneath the flowing sleeves of her gown, Juliet clenched her hands into fists. Her neatly trimmed nails pressed into her palms, sending a faint sting through her skin.

If she could still feel pain, then surely this was reality.

“But, Your Grace.”

Then why?

Why was she saying this?

“I want to love you. By my own will.”

Perhaps this was the dream after all.

Even as she uttered those impossible words, she cast a furtive glance at Cassio.

“…Is that not allowed?”

Ah. If only this were a dream.

The man who always smiled so impeccably now wore a face of cold, rigid stone.

And Juliet awoke.

“Ha… Ah…”

She gasped for breath, as though she had forgotten how to breathe. The rush of air filling her lungs was almost overwhelming.

She inhaled and exhaled, again and again, until at last, her mind cleared.

She was lying in bed, wrapped in a thin summer blanket. The room around her was still and dark.

A faint sliver of moonlight filtered through the half-drawn curtains, carving a pale line in the shadows. Juliet blinked and let her gaze follow its path.

“It… was a dream.”

A dream, but one that had felt unnervingly real.

Yet even as she whispered the words, the remnants of the dream clung to her. The distant murmur of unseen voices. The faint glow of the moon. The rustling of leaves, like waves breaking against the shore.

And Cassio Bellanea—gazing down at her with that frozen expression.

“A dream… It was just a dream.”

Curled up beneath the blankets, Juliet murmured to herself. Her voice, rough and hoarse, sounded unfamiliar. She absentmindedly clenched the fabric, then, as if realizing something, hastily opened her palm.

Soft, unblemished skin.

No marks. No indentations from her nails.

“Haah…”

Only then did the tension drain from her body.

She exhaled a long breath and stretched her legs, unfolding from the tight curl she had instinctively drawn herself into. The crisp, sun-dried linen brushed against her skin, its coolness grounding her.

And yet—

It still felt as though she were dreaming.

“…”

Juliet slowly sat up. Her body felt heavy, as if she had been submerged underwater for too long.

Or perhaps it was light.

Weightless, like floating in the depths.

Am I just exhausted?

She had been restless for days—barely eating, barely sleeping. More than once, she had relied on strong liquor to finally drift into unconsciousness.

She wasn’t sure if she felt heavy or light.

Moving sluggishly, she slid her feet into slippers and pulled on a robe. As she adjusted the fabric around her shoulders, the silence around her remained undisturbed.

Was the maid in the next room asleep?

Or was she still dreaming?

Well, either way… A short walk should be fine.

Quietly, Juliet stepped out of her bedchamber.

The moment she stepped outside, moonlight cascaded over her.

It was still deep into the summer night, with dawn nowhere in sight. A tepid breeze whispered against her skin.

She walked through the corridors, bathed in the glow of the moon. Her body still felt strangely weightless, as if each step barely touched the ground.

And then—

When she reached her destination, she murmured, almost to herself:

“Of course…”

I must still be dreaming.

Because otherwise—

How else could I find you here, at this hour?

A vast field of lavender, deepening into shades of violet beneath the night sky. The towering cypress trees, gleaming with an eerie blue sheen even in the darkness.

And amidst it all, standing motionless beneath the flood of pale moonlight—

A man as beautiful as a dream.

Cassio Bellanea.

“…”

She had not called his name.

Yet, as if drawn by some invisible thread, he turned.

For a fleeting moment, his expression betrayed surprise.

Then—

Slowly, soundlessly, He smiled.