MDCHC 28

chapter 28

“So, in conclusion, Daniel just got a little bump on his forehead?”

Sir Winchester summed up the situation neatly.

“It’s not just a little bump! There’s actually a fist-sized bump on his forehead!”

But that was too simple a way to put it! I protested, feeling indignant.

“I know a thing or two about injuries, but on a child’s forehead—or rather, anyone’s forehead—that big of a bump shouldn’t even be possible.”

“It might be a little smaller than that… but still, there’s a bump on the child’s forehead! On our Daniel’s forehead!”

Sir Winchester’s calm reaction made me even more worked up.

“It’s on our small, neat, cute Daniel’s forehead! Ugh! I should’ve gotten revenge after all!”

Unable to contain my excitement, I clenched my fists and jumped up from my seat.

“Did he get hurt?”

Sir Winchester asked as I was still panting.

“Infuriatingly, he didn’t get hurt much. After all, he’s just a child. Ah! I said that, but later, when there were more women around, I did grab that little rascal’s arm and even pulled on the Countess Aytley’s hair a bit. I did pull some strands, but he probably wasn’t hurt. Unfortunately.”

“I was asking if Miss Neary got hurt.”

“Oh, me? No. I’m fine.”

“Here…”

Sir Winchester pointed to his own forehead—the very spot where I had seen him injured last night.

Wait, is he talking about his own injury? Or is he saying it hurts now?

“It looks like it’s bleeding.”

“Eh? I thought you said you weren’t hurt badly then?”

“Not me—I mean Miss Neary.”

“Oh? Ah…”

When he said that and placed his hand on my forehead in the same way, it stung. It seemed that blasted mother-in-law had scratched my forehead with her long nails while grabbing my hair.

“Looks like a scratch.”

“Did you put any ointment on it?”

“No. It should heal quickly on its own.”

I felt a little embarrassed—this was a wound I hadn’t even noticed.

“Applying ointment will help it heal faster.”

That sounded familiar… Right! I had said the same thing when looking at Sir Winchester’s injury.

Unlike me, who only talked, Sir Winchester opened a drawer and took something out.

“Ointment.”

Ah, I see.

I looked at the ointment as he spoke.

“…….”

“…….”

And Sir Winchester was staring at it the same way.

Something felt off.

It seemed Sir Winchester had the same thought.

“Go ahead and apply it.”

He handed the ointment toward me, adding,

“It’s not that serious a wound…”

He said that, but I sneaked the ointment into my hand. If Sir Winchester’s face, so handsome by nature, got scarred, it would be a waste. If it were me, who’s ordinary, a scar would make things worse.

I opened the lid, dabbed some ointment on my hand, and applied it to what I thought was the right spot on his forehead.

If this were a romance novel, the male lead would probably say, “That’s not the spot,” and then apply the ointment himself in a romantic scene…

I glanced at Sir Winchester, but he sat rigidly in his chair, showing no intention of moving.

As expected.

There was no romance in him. Only the dignified, aloof presence of a virtuous man.

Let’s see… where should I wipe my hands?

After applying the ointment, I removed my hand. I looked around for something to wipe my hands on, but tissues weren’t a thing in this era.

But so much ointment left on my hand… what a waste.

I had scooped it without looking, busy observing Sir Winchester’s face, unaware of the wound’s exact location.

“Sir Winchester, did you apply any yourself?”

I asked him as he closed the ointment lid. He looked up at me, his forehead completely free of any shine.

“No, I shouldn’t. It would be a waste for such a handsome face.”

I reached out, thinking of applying the leftover ointment to his forehead. A good idea—finish off the ointment and apply the medicine at the same time.

“Ah!”

Before I could do that, he grabbed my wrist.

“W-Winchester?”

His grip was strong, as if subduing an assassin about to attack him, and his eyes were flashing as he looked at me.

Just like the first time he saw me, his gaze was icy and sharp.

“…….”

I froze, caught off guard by his stare. Sir Winchester’s eyes even briefly flickered with surprise at seeing me like that.

What? Why is he like this?

“Oh, I’m sorry. Force of habit…”

He hurriedly apologized, and indeed, it seemed to be a reflex. He quickly released my hand.

“No, I was a bit rude. One shouldn’t touch someone else’s face so carelessly.”

I lowered my already tingling hand and gave an awkward smile.

“It’s not that. I was just a little startled by the unexpected movement.”

For someone startled, he sure shows no emotion.

“No, it was just my wound—you might have thought it was dirty…”

“I didn’t think that.”

“You might have been worried about infection or something.”

“It was purely instinct.”

“Yes, that’s fine. I understand.”

“……”

After some back-and-forth about understanding each other, Sir Winchester suddenly pressed his lips together. Curious, I mirrored him and watched.

His chest rose and fell slightly, and then he looked straight at me. His gaze seemed resolute. He raised his hand and swept his bangs fully back.

“Apply it.”

With his forehead exposed and eyes locked on mine, Sir Winchester spoke. Honestly, his gaze was so intense and his expression so firm that it felt less like a request and more like an order.

“Yes.”

And so, the ordinary extra could do nothing but obey the Sword Master’s command.

His skin is smoother than I expected.

As soon as my fingers with ointment touched his forehead, that was my thought. I had assumed it would be rough or hard, based on his imposing image.

Of course, he’s human too.

Rubbing the ointment over his smooth forehead, I thought that. In the novel, he barely appeared—just Daniel’s father, essentially a paper character. Even after meeting him in person and marrying, he had just been Daniel’s father to me.

But touching him directly, I realized Sir Winchester was truly a real person, with real warmth.

And a really handsome man at that…

Up close, Sir Winchester’s sharp yet refined features—the elegant eyes, prominent nose, and firm lips—looked strikingly handsome.

“Miss Neary?”

“Yes? Me?”

Ah! Did he catch me staring? Startled by the sudden call, I quickly removed my hand.

“You got hurt there too?”

His chin nodded toward somewhere below my face.

“Oh, really?”

I lowered my gaze to where I thought he was looking, but I could only see my chest and stomach. Even leaning further down, it looked the same.

“Not there…”

Sir Winchester’s voice made me realize something.

That pose just now… wasn’t it the one that looks worst in selfies, with the corners of the mouth down and upper lip stretched?

My face flushed with embarrassment. Just as I tried to lift my head, a large hand suddenly moved in front of me.

Before I could even notice how close he had come, he grabbed my hand. Unlike Sir Winchester, who habitually swatted hands away, I had no such reflex and ended up caught in his grasp.