The Nation's President Picked Me Up From Prison-Chapter 24: Elyn: Not a Guest or a Servant

Mr. Brandt lets me sit in the study. He doesn’t say anything as he hands me a glass of water.

I drink it quietly and keep my gaze lowered, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. Of all people, why did it have to be him who found me?

Not that it wouldn’t have been humiliating if the servants or security had discovered me, but with him... I don’t know. It feels worse somehow.

Still, I should be thankful. If he hadn’t found me, I’d probably still be in that room having a full-blown panic attack. Maybe even passed out by the time someone finally thought to check.

"Thank you," I murmur after a long silence.

I’m surprised he hasn’t left. Instead, he stays across from me, leaning on the back of the sofa while I sit in a chair in the middle of the study.

"And I’m sorry—"

"I don’t want to hear more sorries from you."

His cold tone makes my heart jump. I lift my gaze nervously and find him still watching me, eyes grim and unreadable.

Right. He’s not someone who cares for apologies. He doesn’t look the forgiving type, so why would he want to hear them. He doesn’t value sorries. He’s probably mad and disappointed that I was nosy enough to wander into a place I am not allowed to enter.

Maybe he’s already thinking offering me that proposal was a mistake. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

He looks so grim and menacing, like he’s one breath away from punishing me.

"Did you commit a crime? Is that why you keep apologizing?" he asks.

I blink, confused.

Then I slowly shake my head.

Didn’t I, though? Doesn’t trespassing into a secret room count as a crime?

I’m ready to ask him that when he continues.

"Then stop saying sorry if you didn’t commit a crime."

What does that even mean? He thinks I didn’t do anything wrong? So he’s not angry that I stumbled into that hidden room and caused a whole incident? But his scowl says otherwise.

And looking at him now with his hair disheveled, his tie askew, the first few buttons of his shirt undone... did it take him serious effort to find me?

My blood runs cold.

I’m so dead.

Security must have called him when they realized I’d gone missing, so he drove home earlier than planned. He probably thought I ran off, backing out of our agreement. But of course, he’d seen in the CCTVs that I didn’t leave the mansion.

If there were CCTVs inside the mansion, it would have been easier to find me but that wasn’t the case, obviously.

"When... when did you arrive?" I ask, suddenly hyper-aware of the intensity of his stare.

He must be imagining ways to skin me alive. I shudder at the thought.

"Half an hour ago."

My eyes widen.

"Yes," he adds with a nod, "Everyone in the mansion has been looking for you for an hour now. And our wedding is in thirty minutes."

Oh no.

That’s barely enough time to do my makeup, my hair, and put on my dress. Also, did I forget to memorize my vows?

Great, Elyn.

I rise from my seat, but he lifts two fingers, a gesture telling me to sit back down.

"Are we... not getting married?" I mutter.

When he doesn’t speak after a heartbeat, panic claws up my throat.

"I’m so—" I stop myself the moment his glare sharpens.

Right. No more apologies. If I have any brain cells left, I should remember that.

"I mean," I start again, swallowing hard, "I didn’t mean to find the secret room. I just wanted to play the piano to ease my nerves before the wedding. And after playing, I looked around the mini library and I accidentally touched the painting somewhere... which made the door open. I didn’t mean to pry into your mansion’s privacy! I promise!"

The words tumble out so fast they scrape my throat raw. My heart feels lodged somewhere near my collarbone, beating way too hard.

"This mansion is very old," he says calmly, "and it has secret rooms only the family and the older staff know. The one you were trapped in has a broken automation system, that’s why it can’t be opened from the inside. I’ve known this house since childhood, but I only became its master a few years ago, and I haven’t had the time to check its flaws."

He adds, "The room with the piano, adjoining the study, is off-limits to everyone. Servants and guests. That’s why they didn’t search there."

Off-limits?

But when he saw me there last time...

"You didn’t tell me." Heat rushes to my face. I’m more embarassed now. "No, it’s my fault. I should have asked Stannis which rooms are restricted."

I already suspected something back then. The mini library felt too private, too intimate, like a place built for one person alone.

"You’re not a guest or a servant."

I glance up. His eyes hold mine with a weight that makes my skin burn from the inside out.

I’m not a guest... because I’m to be his wife, right?

But that doesn’t make me a permanent resident.

"So you’re afraid of the dark?"

His sudden question startles me. Are we really having small talk right now? We are dangerously close to being late to our own wedding.

"No. It’s not the dark that scared me," I answer quietly. "I guess I have claustrophobia."

I don’t want to unpack childhood trauma in the middle of this conversation, and I’m definitely uncomfortable to give him the full story, so I give him the safest truth.

His eyes narrow slightly, as if challenging me to elaborate. But I don’t.

He notices but he doesn’t push. Instead, he stands and glances toward the door.

"Let’s go before the priest gets tired of waiting."

I nod and slip out of the study first.

His footsteps follow behind me, not beside me, but close enough that I can feel his presence.

"If you want to visit the mini library," he says suddenly, "you may do so whenever you please."