The Butterfly That Swallowed the Fog
…….
The bathroom of a stranger’s, left behind alone, Tilia stood frozen like a statue, hand still on the first button.
Without the scent of Elex Davenport drifting from the air, she would have remained in that rigid pose for much longer.
If I don’t wash, I can’t…?
Tilia’s flushed cheeks tilted slightly, as if questioning the wisdom of the very act she was attempting.
Even in such haste, was it truly right to begin this way?
She had paused, dazed, then brought her trembling fingers to the second button.
That could not be the proper order. The book Judy had brought spoke of none of this—simply proceeding without regard for etiquette.
Yet Tilia struggled to believe it, undoing the remaining buttons one by one.
Whether she understood or not, she had no choice but to obey his will.
In this relationship, Elex Davenport was the one who held the upper hand, no matter what anyone said.
And as an untried girl, she had no choice but to heed the veteran’s counsel.
With a sigh that the novel had clearly exaggerated, Tilia finally freed the last button.
Thud.
The skirt slid away, the shirt followed, and as the last, thoroughly soaked undergarment slipped down her long legs, Tilia stood completely naked.
The cool air brushed her skin, dotted with tiny flowers of gooseflesh, and she felt her shoulders curl inward without meaning to.
It felt as though she had been trapped inside an impossible dream.
The lavish tub, the sort that belonged in a dormitory, only deepened the surreal impression.
Everyone knew the General Building and the Special Building were as different as heaven and earth, yet she had never imagined it would reach this level of luxury.
Dazed, Tilia wobbled toward the tub.
The heat that had vanished in embarrassment flared again, the desire that had been curbed by the cold air now rising once more.
It’s burning.
She reached out and twisted the faucet, flooding the tub with water that felt like ice.
It was useless. The fire inside her body refused to be quenched.
It’s burning, it’s burning until I can’t bear it.
Some unspeakable place within her felt as though it were being seared by the sun itself.
The indescribable sensation grew unbearable, so painful she nearly wept.
Even after her skin was drenched in cold water, the heat would not subside.
Her whole body trembled violently, as if with a chill.
Tilia lifted her head under the spray and looked into the mirror ahead.
A woman with eyes swollen from crying stared back—wet and pathetic, like a wet rat.
Only desire and thirst filled her hollow green eyes.
Slowly, she felt her reason slipping away.
Everything she had once thought she could not do now seemed tame.
The limit had been reached.
If she held on any longer, something inside her would shatter completely.
I have to get out.
Tilia staggered out of the tub like a doll on strings.
She ignored the clothes lying discarded on the floor.
After several slips that left her knees raw, she finally reached the far end of the vast bathroom.
Drip, drip—cold water splashed onto the beautifully shaped brass handle.
I have to go out. I have to go out and cool this body down.
Her breathing came in short, desperate gasps as she reached for the handle.
She needed to find someone quickly, someone to hold her and ease the fire.
Driven only by that single, all-consuming desire, Tilia turned the knob.
Click.
A soft, satisfying sound echoed as the lock released.
Click… click, click.
Yet, just as she had hoped, the door did not open.
Tilia’s hand, which had been turning the handle in a daze, grew fiercer.
Why isn’t it opening?
The handle that had been smooth now creaked loudly.
Despite the effort, the lock refused to yield.
Why won’t it open?
Annoyed at the endless spinning, Tilia stamped her foot.
I have to get out. I have to get out and cool this body down.
Her body grew hotter, and the impatient feeling spread like poison.
It gnawed at her, made her lips bleed from biting them, forced her to stop too late, and finally left her tasting blood.
Tilia’s pale cheeks were now soaked from futile wiping.
Tears kept falling in fear.
The fire that seemed to be melting her insides was about to consume her and turn her to ash.
Open it. Please, please, anyone, save me.
Yet even in her desperate prayer, the broken handle would not grant her freedom.
She was on the verge of passing out from suffocation.
“Tilia?”
With the sound of footsteps entering, the voice she had longed for so desperately reached her.
“Elex.”
Tilia, as if she had heard a god’s voice, scrambled to her feet in panic.
“T-the door won’t open. It must be broken. Please, open the door.”
Her voice cracked as she begged and pounded on the wood.
The footsteps that had paused for a moment quickened.
Heavy, urgent steps approached until Tilia felt his hand on the handle she had been clutching.
His warm presence brushed through the narrow gap between the door and the brass handle.
She knew it was impossible, that warmth could never reach her, yet she still wanted to rub her cheek against the handle he held.
It was then that Tilia, gripping the handle with all her strength, heard the voice on the other side.
“Tilia, are you holding the handle?”
“Y-yes.”
“Let go for a second. Push hard and turn it.”
Tilia obediently released her grip and knelt meekly in front of the door.
“I let go.”
She arranged her trembling hands on her knees and waited.
And then, like a miracle, it happened.
Click.
From inside, the stubborn handle finally turned with a satisfying effort.
The wet brass handle slowly rotated.
Tilia’s eyes watched it in slow motion, almost in a dream.
Finally, the handle completed its full turn, and the door began to open.
Tilia knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that no matter what happened afterward, no matter how much she might regret it later, she would never forget this exact moment.
Through the narrow gap of the opening door, she saw the face that would quench her terrible thirst—the man who would save her.
“Sorry. I forgot.”
Elex Davenport’s golden hair, usually so perfectly styled, was now damp from a recent wash.
In his handsome features, the word “handsome” felt inadequate; “beautiful” seemed more fitting, yet there was an unmistakable look of embarrassment on his face.
Tilia, still kneeling, stared blankly at her savior, her sacred gray-blue eyes filled with awe.
“I was so embarrassed because the door wouldn’t open…”
His gaze, which had been directed across the bathroom, finally landed on the girl kneeling at his feet.
Ah.
As his eyes touched her, Tilia’s body trembled on its own.
Confusion flickered in his delicate gaze. His Adam’s apple bobbed slowly, and his eyes, searching for a place to rest, wandered helplessly.
That movement was so strikingly unfamiliar that Tilia could not close her mouth.
“Get dressed and come out. I have something for you.”
Elex reached to pull the handle again in a hurry.
Thud.
A sweaty, white hand caught the door before it could close.
Elex turned his head only slightly to check what had stopped him.
His eyes, moving minimally, were the result of a desperate effort not to look at another’s naked body.
That attitude made Tilia’s eyes narrow.
I hate it.
Tilia’s red tongue licked her swollen lips. The sensation of bare skin brushing against him sent a sharp tingle.
I hate having my body like this alone.
Tilia remained gripping the door and slowly rose to her feet.
Again, Elex’s Adam’s apple moved.
His lowered gray-blue eyes trembled faintly before finally landing on her feet.
His gaze traveled from the threshold up along her white ankles, past her calves, and up to her thighs.
Only when his eyes met hers, passing over her stomach and breasts, did Tilia feel a spark of victory.
Done.
Tilia felt it instinctively.
He had become just like her now.
He, too, was nothing more than a slave to desire.
See? I told you. You’re exactly the same as me.
Tilia stepped one foot further into his room with a satisfied smile.
She had to see it—the sight of him becoming as messy as she was, rolling in the filthy mud together with her.