Alexander went back alone, returning to an empty apartment.
Moonlight shone through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting speckled shadows across the floor.
He mechanically unwound the blood-soaked gauze and hastily tended to the wound at his waist. Then, he walked over to a cabinet and retrieved a small iron box from the back of a drawer.
All of the items inside were related to Isabelle. There was a movie ticket stub, a button, and a few old photographs.
He gently traced her tender, smiling face in the photos, his fingertips trembling slightly. "Just a little longer, Isabelle… I'll be with you soon."
Suddenly, his phone buzzed and the screen lit up. It was Louise calling.
"Go buy Charles some food he likes. Bring it to Blue Bay," she ordered.
She hung up abruptly, leaving no room for refusal.
It was pouring rain outside.
Alexander stood by the window for a moment, then silently grabbed an umbrella and stepped out into the rain.
He spent nearly an hour waiting in line at a trendy shop. His body had gone stiff from the cold by the time he managed to get the tacos Charles had specifically requested.
By the time he got to Blue Bay, his hair was so wet it was dripping water.
Upon seeing Alexander completely drenched, Charles let out a soft laugh. "I heard the rumors that Louise had you wrapped around her finger. I used to think it was nonsense, but…"
He turned to look at Louise. "It looks like the rumors weren't exaggerated at all."
Louise was nestled deep into the couch with her slender legs crossed. There was a crystal glass in her hand, the orange liquid inside swirling gently. She shot Alexander a glance with an unreadable look in her eyes.
Charles opened the takeout box and took a bite, then frowned. "This is way too greasy. I don't want it."
He raised his head and looked at Alexander. In a casual tone, he said, "Alexander, can you do me a favor and get me some tacos from that other place? I recall theirs being less greasy."
After two seconds of silence, Alexander nodded. "Alright."
He turned around and walked back into the rain.
When Alexander returned with the second batch, Charles shook his head again. "This doesn't taste that fresh…"
When he came back with the third batch, Charles remarked, "This doesn't taste right. Are you sure you bought the right one?"
By the fourth trip, Alexander was totally soaked, and his fingertips had gone pale from the cold. Even his breath was coming out cold.
Charles finally stopped complaining and flashed a satisfied smile. "Thank you, Alexander."
He turned to Louise and pulled her into his arms, murmuring, "I've thought of your 98th task, Louise."
"What is it?" Louise asked softly.
"I want you to finish all of the alcohol on this table."
The room went dead silent.
Louise's close friends shot up from their seats, their chairs scraping against the carpet with a dull, jarring sound.
"Have you lost your mind, Charles? Don't you know Louise is allergic to alcohol?"
"I do," Charles replied, unconcerned. "But I want a woman who loves me with her whole heart. If she's willing to drink for me despite her allergy, doesn't that just prove how much she loves me?"
"You…" Cynthia couldn't help but slam her hand on the table. "Last time, when Louise went deep-sea diving for you, she nearly didn't make it back to the surface! Before that, she went skydiving for you and almost broke her legs! Isn't that proof enough?
"How much longer are you going to torment her? Will you only be satisfied when you've pushed Louise so far that she doesn't love you anymore?"
The rims of Charles' eyes turned red, and he shot Louise an innocent look. "That's not what I meant, Louise… I was just—"
"I'll drink." Louise had already picked up a glass, downing the amber liquid in one go.
A strange, unnatural flush immediately spread across her pale skin, and her breathing grew heavy.
"Louise!" the others cried.
Just as she reached for a second glass, a tall, slender figure suddenly stepped in front of her.
Alexander snatched the glass away, his fingertips turning pale from the force of his grip.
"Move," Louise demanded, her voice hoarse.
"You're allergic to alcohol. You can't love him if you're dead, you know. Is that what you want?" he asked before turning to Charles. "One glass is enough to prove her sincerity. If she drinks any more, the allergic reaction could kill her, so I'll drink the rest."
Charles seemed convinced. His lips quirked to one side as he replied, "Fine. You drink it, then."
Alexander pulled out some allergy medication from his coat pocket and pressed it into Louise's hand, leaving no room for refusal.
Then, he grabbed a bottle and downed its contents in one go. The strong liquor burned his throat like fire.
Fighting back the urge to gag, he chugged one bottle after another.
The entire room went deathly silent, save for the sound of liquid sliding down his throat.
Louise clutched the blister pack of medicine, her knuckles turning white. As she stared at Alexander's pale side profile, she felt a sudden, stifling ache in her chest.
All these years, he had always been like that—silently standing in front of her and shielding her from all harm.
She once thought she was indifferent to everything he did for her, but as she stared at his ashen face, she felt a lump form in her throat.
Restlessly, she loosened her collar, trying to ignore the strange, unsettling emotion rising within her.
She kept telling herself that the man she liked was Charles, not Alexander. It would never be Alexander.
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