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Chapter 12
After seeing Lindsay off, Martin sprawled across the sofa and glanced at Louis, who stood silently before him.
Then his gaze drifted away again, settling on empty air as his fingers gently traced the ivory-colored letter in his hand.
Martin, here.
Lindsay had pressed it into his hands while he was escorting her out.
As if embarrassed, she’d suddenly stepped closer and whispered into his ear.
It’s a letter. Read it when you’re alone.
Ah…
Lindsay had left with her driver, Bill.
Afterward, Martin had been unable to move for quite some time, standing rooted to the spot while absently touching the ear that still burned from her breath.
Only after finally regaining his senses had he returned to his room and opened the envelope.
Inside were two sheets of paper, filled with rounded handwriting that resembled Lindsay herself—warm, earnest, and impossibly sincere.
The beginning had been simple enough.
Hello.
My name is Lindsay.
The sort of introduction anyone might write.
But after that…
The letter contained depths of honesty Martin never could have imagined.
He had thought Lindsay was merely a cheerful, soft-hearted daughter of House Rietberg.
Yet every word he had spoken, every casual remark he’d made, had been carefully considered and given meaning by her.
Martin unfolded the pages again.
And read them.
Then read them once more.
And again.
Eventually, he fell into thought.
Lindsay.
Lindsay Rietberg.
The daughter of Marquis Rietberg, one of the Emperor’s most loyal supporters…
His eyes drifted to the words written at the bottom of the letter.
To the friend I want to support,
—Lindsay
Friend.
That single word shook Martin’s heart again and again.
Can we really become true friends?
Friends were supposed to share their hearts.
Their secrets.
Their burdens.
But there are too many things I can’t tell you…
A heavy sigh escaped him.
Sensing his master’s turmoil, Louis lowered his head slightly before speaking with caution.
“…Do you intend to keep her close?”
His voice was hesitant.
“From what I saw today, she didn’t do anything suspicious. But just in case…”
“No.”
Martin’s answer came immediately.
Firm.
Definitive.
Sweeping his long bangs aside, he spoke in a voice colder than usual.
“She doesn’t know anything.”
His expression softened for a brief moment.
“No. I’d rather she never knows.”
“Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but she’s from House Rietberg! Not just any family—”
“I know, Louis.”
Martin cut him off.
“I know that whether Marquis Rietberg sent Lindsay here because he knows where I am—or whether it’s all a coincidence.”
His gaze dropped to the letter.
“But one thing is certain.”
“She knows nothing.”
The warmth vanished from his eyes.
“So watch what you say in front of her.”
The warning was enough.
Louis immediately fell silent.
Years had passed since he had been sent here alongside his master, almost as though they had been exiled.
During that time, Martin had learned how to survive through invisibility.
Through indifference.
Through silence.
And then one day, out of nowhere, he’d casually said:
“Something interesting happened.”
Louis still remembered it clearly.
“Didn’t I tell you the only daughter of House Rietberg transferred into the academy?”
“I’ve become friends with her.”
The statement had come completely out of nowhere.
When Louis tried to ask questions, Martin had simply dabbed his lips with a napkin and left the table without another word.
After that, Martin began mentioning Lindsay more and more often.
Naturally, Louis had been worried.
House Rietberg was one of the imperial families that stood against Martin’s claim.
One of the Emperor’s hounds.
No.
Louis shook his head slightly.
There’s no point thinking like that.
There was no reason to resent an innocent young lady because of suspicion alone.
After all, from what he had seen personally, Lindsay wasn’t someone who posed any threat to Martin.
If anything…
She genuinely cared about him.
And Master…
Martin himself had changed.
Whenever he was with Lindsay, he seemed like an ordinary boy his age.
Before, it had always felt as though he was merely enduring each day.
Surviving.
Existing in isolation.
But after meeting Lindsay, something about him had visibly brightened.
Well…
A good thing is a good thing.
The future can wait until it arrives.
And if Lindsay ever did become a threat…
Louis could deal with that later.
His eyes settled on Martin’s back.
The boy was reading the same letter yet again.
For what must have been the tenth time.
Watching him, Louis couldn’t help thinking:
Tonight, his young master would likely be awake for a very long time.
* * *
Several days later, Martin returned to the academy.
As always, he arrived in the same rattling carriage.
Fortunately, Thomas and his gang weren’t anywhere nearby.
Even so, the other students continued avoiding him as though by instinct.
Ah…
Lindsay almost turned toward him.
Then stopped herself.
After class.
When the academy is quiet…
Let’s meet then.
Martin’s words echoed in her mind.
Just like today…
So she deliberately slowed her pace.
Taking small detours.
Glancing at the plane trees lining the path.
Then walking forward again.
Anything to make it seem natural.
Anything to avoid looking as though she had deliberately sought him out.
If we’re just walking in the same direction…
If our paths happen to cross…
That’s not the same as approaching him first, right?
She was busy justifying herself when suddenly she felt someone tug lightly at the hem of her sleeve.
“Huh?”
“Ah… h-hi, Lindsay.”
The familiar voice stammered.
“G-good… m-morning.”
Martin stood there awkwardly scratching his golden hair.
Students passing by immediately began whispering among themselves.
Martin seemed unable to endure their attention.
His head lowered further and further.
Lindsay stared blankly for a moment.
Then she broke into a radiant smile and linked her arm through his.
“Good morning, Martin.”
Her voice was bright.
“It’s a wonderful morning, isn’t it? I don’t think there could possibly be a brighter one.”
For a second, Martin froze.
Then a smile bloomed across his face.
A genuine smile.
No matter how others looked at them.
No matter what they thought.
Lindsay didn’t care.
If anything, she lifted her chin higher and squared her shoulders proudly as she walked into the academy beside him.
Teachers.
Students from other classes.
Even Thomas and his group, who had just emerged from the restroom shaking water from their hands.
Everyone stared.
“L-Lindsay… um…”
Martin’s voice grew quieter.
He still wasn’t used to this.
His head kept dipping downward.
Through the curtain of golden hair, Lindsay could see that his face had turned as red as a ripe summer tomato.
She leaned closer and whispered:
“Martin.”
His shoulders twitched.
“Lift your head.”
Her voice was gentle.
“Look straight ahead.”
She smiled.
“It’s okay. I’m with you.”
Martin slowly turned toward her.
Between strands of glittering gold, emerald eyes met hers.
Eyes that resembled the sea.
“…Okay.”
He took a breath.
Then another.
Slowly, he straightened his back.
Opened his shoulders.
Raised his head.
Sunlight streamed through the windows and spilled across his face.
Just as I thought.
Sometimes she’d imagined it.
The current Martin was wonderful.
Truly wonderful.
But she couldn’t help wondering—
What if he’d never been bullied?
What if he’d lived an ordinary life?
The Martin in her imagination was dazzling.
Bright.
Full of life.
Laughing freely with other boys his age.
Smiling at silly jokes.
Living without fear.
And now—
For the briefest moment—
That imagined Martin seemed real.
As he walked down the corridor without shrinking into himself, he looked beautiful.
His long bangs didn’t matter.
His oversized sleeves didn’t matter.
The problem had never been his appearance.
It had been the confidence he’d never been allowed to have.
“Martin.”
“H-Huh?”
He instinctively leaned closer to hear her.
Lindsay smiled.
Then whispered softly:
“You look amazing, Martin.”
“I mean it.”
Martin immediately bit his lower lip.
Turning away, he rubbed the back of his neck.
Lindsay burst into laughter.
His cheeks, slightly round with youth, had turned crimson.
And the skin visible between his fingers—
all the way down his neck—
was even redder.
