ISGJV 54

Chapter 54

“……!”

He had words he meant to say and actions he meant to take, but none of them came to mind.
It was because of the sight right before his eyes.

It was Cassia, looking just as familiar as she always did—someone he saw every day.
And yet, the reason he was this startled, this tense, his body stiffening, was simple.

The sight of Cassia, looking so unmistakably like she had just stepped out of hot water, felt unfamiliar.

Not just her cheeks—her entire skin was flushed a rosy red.
Her hair was still damp, its color deepened, shining like the shell of a chestnut at night.
The white shirt she had changed into was loose enough to cover her body, and yet… even so…

He had no idea why he was so conscious of her, why his face was heating up this much.
The splashing sound of water he’d heard just before leaving this room earlier suddenly resurfaced in his mind.

Cassia, having no idea why Edmund was acting like this, tilted her head casually.

“…Why are you just standing there? Aren’t you coming in?”
“I—I will.”

Edmund unconsciously lowered his gaze to the floor and shuffled sideways into the room.
He’d assumed the nanny would be inside as well, but it was just Cassia, alone.

‘Wait—does that mean it’s just the two of us right now?’

Suddenly, the situation felt oddly, overwhelmingly conscious.
So much so that his limbs felt like they might move out of sync when he walked.

That was when Cassia said something that made Edmund nearly jump.

“Ah. It’s your turn to wash now, right?”
“W-what—what did you say?!”

With her cheeks flushed red, a towel draped over her still-damp hair, the destructive power of what the girl said was tremendous.

‘I’m not mentally prepared for this yet…!’

As Edmund flailed and stammered, his face burning bright red, it was—unsurprisingly—Cassia who poured a bucket of cold reality over his head.

“The maid changed the hot water. Hurry up and wash.”
“O-oh, uh, o-okay!”

Edmund suddenly felt deeply embarrassed.
He was mortified at what he’d even been thinking.
At least he hadn’t said it out loud.

If he had actually spoken those thoughts, he would’ve wanted to bite his tongue and die on the spot.

Only after darting behind the partition did Edmund finally manage to ask a question.

“But why are you alone? Where’s the nanny?”
“Hm? Oh, she went out to give the inn staff our laundry. Oh—take off your clothes and pass them over too.”
“H-huh?”
“So we can give them everything together to wash. You clean your body, but then put on dirty clothes—that’s not great, right?”
“O-oh… okay.”

She was just saying what needed to be said.
He knew that perfectly well.

So why did everything feel this awkward, this tense, this embarrassing?

Edmund couldn’t understand himself—why his face was red and why he kept stumbling over his words.

“Here.”
“Mm. Got it.”

After taking off his dirty clothes and handing them over the top of the partition—

Edmund heard something so outrageous from Cassia that he screamed.

“Oh, should I scrub your back for you?”
“No! It’s fine!!! I can do it myself!!”

The boy practically fled into the bathtub.
From outside, he heard a giggling sound.

Submerging even his head into the hot water, he muttered inwardly.

‘It’s just because the water’s hot. That’s all.’

There was absolutely no other reason his face was red right now!
That’s what he kept telling himself.

And yet, something still bothered him.

‘Does Cassia still see me as just a little brother?’

It showed in her behavior and the way she spoke.
She was overly casual—without the slightest hint of tension or awkwardness.
What she’d said just moments ago was proof enough.

Offering to scrub his back while he was bathing.
When Edmund had heard that Cassia was bathing, he’d immediately bolted out of the bedroom.

Cassia didn’t come inside the partition herself, but she did keep up the nagging.

“Be careful washing your hair. The dye can’t come out.”
“Wallace said it’s a magic potion, so bathing is fine. He said the color will fade on its own over time, so that’s what I should worry about instead.”
“Really? That’s a relief. Make sure you wash behind your ears too.”
“I know.”

She definitely thought of him as a ten-year-old kid.
Why that realization—something he already knew—made him this angry, the boy couldn’t yet put into clear words.

When Edmund came out after washing, I was a little surprised.

“Wow. Our Edmund is really pretty.”

The boy immediately furrowed his brows.

“Stop saying things like that…”
“No, I’m just telling the truth.”

Freshly washed and fluffy, Edmund had always been a pretty child—but now he looked even more so.
His clear cheeks were tinged pink, and his hair, dyed black, looked oddly fitting despite the contrast.
More than anything, his complexion and eyes looked much healthier.

‘Compared to when we were at the villa.’

Thinking about it, it was only natural.
At that villa, Edmund had spent seven years surrounded by enemies, under constant surveillance.
He’d only just taken his first step in escaping that place.

And just that alone had already softened his expression this much.

‘Thank goodness.’

When I smiled with a “heehee,” Edmund muttered softly.

“That’s the wrong word. It’s not pretty—it’s handsome.”
“Right, right. Our Edmund. Very, very handsome.”

I almost fell into my habit of ruffling his hair, but thankfully stopped just in time.

‘Boys that age hate being treated like kids.’

The fact that he’d insisted on correcting “pretty” to “handsome” was proof enough.
In many ways, he looked far better than he had at the villa—but there was one thing that bothered me.

“It’d be nice if we could tidy up your hair a bit.”

When we fled after leaving our “corpses” behind in the carriage, I wasn’t the only one who’d cut their hair.
Everyone had trimmed theirs quite a bit—but Edmund was the only one whose hair had originally been short.

‘But making people think Edmund was dead was the most important thing, so we tried to cut it as long as possible.’

As a result, Edmund’s hair now looked like it had been chewed on by a rat.

Edmund complained sulkily.

“You’re one to talk. You cut off the most hair.”
“Hm? Well, that’s true, but…”

Unlike my ordinary hair, Edmund’s silver hair was a beautiful color—like scattering transparent jewel dust over ice.
Its texture was silky beyond compare.

Dyeing it couldn’t be helped, but hacking it up like this…
It was such a waste.

Holding the scissors we’d borrowed from the inn, I asked,

“Want me to fix it for you?”

Edmund looked at me with an extremely serious, distrustful gaze.

“You?”
“What do you think of me? I’ve cut so many kids’ hair—boys and girls alike!”

Ah. The moment I said it, I realized my mistake.

‘That’s from the orphanage.’

I hastily patched things up.

“Oh—there were lots of servants’ children around. I was close with them.”

Depending on how he interpreted that, Edmund’s expression grew complicated.

“So… you mean you didn’t grow up as a baron’s daughter, but among the maids?”
“Uh… well.”

It didn’t feel right to deny it outright.
According to Cassia’s memories, it was pretty similar anyway.

‘But is it really okay for me to talk about this like it’s my own past? It’s not even my real story.’

That doubt—and the prickle of guilt—passed quickly.

“Something like that.”

There was no way I could explain where I really came from, or how I’d possessed Cassia.
So I let Edmund’s misunderstanding stand and glossed over it.

“So… you mean you didn’t grow up as a baron’s daughter, but among the maids?”

Even as he asked it himself, Edmund immediately regretted it.
What if that had hurt Cassia? What if he’d touched on it too carelessly?

Maybe that was why.
Cassia’s expression looked a little gloomy.

Edmund hated seeing that look on her face.

That was why—despite having doubted her skills just moments earlier—he took the risk of entrusting his hair to Cassia’s scissors.

And then—

Edmund was genuinely astonished.

“…My goodness.”

The hair reflected in the mirror looked neat, as if it had been done by a professional.
Cassia couldn’t hide her pride and shrugged.

“See? I told you. I’m good, right?”

Edmund nodded sincerely.
But the next moment, a thought crossed his mind.

‘If that’s true… then what Cassia said earlier must also be true.’

That she’d grown up being neglected among the maids, without ever being properly treated as a baron’s daughter.

Cassia began trimming her own roughly cut hair with the scissors.
She was just as skilled at that.

‘If she can even cut her own hair like this, then the Florence family really did raise Cassia as a discarded child.’

And then they sold her off to her uncle for money.
As a sacrifice.

Fresh anger surged within him.

‘Once I reclaim the duke’s seat, I’ll never let the Florence family off.’

‘My scissor skills haven’t gotten rusty.’

Unaware of Edmund’s silent vow, Cassia simply hummed to herself as she continued tidying her hair.

It was truly a perfect picture of two people dreaming entirely different dreams.