HBM 11

“What… what is this?”

Dozens of pen nibs were bared at her like wild beasts, their sharp tips aimed straight at Grace.

Clatter, clatter.

The first thing to react was her jaw.

As if she had been thrown out into a raging snowstorm, her teeth began to chatter uncontrollably.

Those sharp, pointed tips looked as if they would stab into her at any moment.

She wanted to shut her eyes in fear, but even her thin eyelids wouldn’t move. It felt as though she had forgotten how to breathe; her chest tightened, and cold sweat poured down her back like rain.

Grace felt dizzy.

Her body was frozen stiff, yet the world before her spun wildly.

The tightness in her throat loosened only because of a violent hiccup that burst out of her.

“H-hi, hic! Hic!”

She clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the hiccup that sounded almost like a scream, and pressed down on her heaving chest.

Once she could breathe again, her mind cleared slightly.

I have to get out of here. Right now!

Forcing down the rising terror, Grace squeezed her eyes shut and quickly turned to leave.

But had she tensed up too much?

The upper part of her abdomen—where Norman had kicked her—throbbed as if it were being torn apart.

“Ah, ngh…!”

She instinctively bent forward, about to twist away, when someone’s clothes brushed against her cheek and forehead.

Her small body was pulled into a large, solid chest as if being swallowed whole.

“…Grace?”

A low, deep voice whispered her name in surprise.

Still not fully aware, Grace trembled and instinctively grabbed the arms that had wrapped around her.

“What on earth is…?”

Lucas looked down at the small woman nestled tightly in his arms, unable to hide his confusion.

How was he supposed to interpret this situation?

The moment she saw him, she had run into the fountain pen shop as if inviting him to a game of tag. He had followed her inside.

And then, she had suddenly jumped out from where she’d been hiding and thrown herself straight into his arms!

Her pale fingertips were trembling, and the tips of her ears were red—she was clearly embarrassed. Yet she showed no sign of pulling away from his chest.

How was he supposed to understand this?

Lucas felt his heart beating faster than usual.

“What in the world is this woman’s boldness…?”

At a loss, he let himself be carried by Grace’s actions.

She didn’t just cling to him—she put all her strength into her small body and pushed him back.

The problem was that she was stronger than he expected.

“Wait, Grace—!”

Caught off guard by the sudden physical attack, his solid body staggered backward.

He could have resisted.

But if he did, the woman in his arms might get hurt. Unable to bring himself to push back, he simply embraced the force that pressed into him.

Their bodies tangled together as if becoming one and fell to the floor.

Thud!

Lucas’s sturdy body skillfully shielded Grace.

Because of that, she felt no pain at all from hitting the ground.

Of course, she wasn’t in any state to feel pain anyway.

…I have to get away. I’m scared. I hate this!

Even with her eyes tightly shut, she could vividly see dozens of pen nibs in her mind.

No. I don’t want this. Go away!

Screaming silently, Grace struggled to escape the hallucination.

Fortunately, the solid warmth holding her tightly helped a great deal.

Normally the episode would last much longer, but someone’s warmth calmed her far more quickly.

The unfortunate part was that she hadn’t yet regained enough awareness to realize she was being held by someone.

She bit her lip hard, trying not to gasp.

Remembering what Notia had taught her, she tried to breathe through her nose. Her chest rose and fell wildly.

Like this… just like this. A little more. Just a little longer.

Her mind was still hazy, but the warmth enveloping her small body steadied her quickly.

It felt as though that solid warmth would block those terrifying things like an iron fortress.

Like a child seeking her mother’s arms, she burrowed even deeper into the embrace.

Meanwhile, Lucas, who had been holding her protectively, finally noticed the slight trembling of her body.

Why is she shaking like this?

Puzzled, he looked down at her carefully.

“Grace? Are you all right? Are you hurt—”

“Just… please, just a little longer like this…”

Her small voice trembled, but her request was firm.

Stay like this a little longer.

Thump.

Lucas’s heart leapt again.

Flustered, he awkwardly tightened his hold around her.

He couldn’t refuse her request—and he didn’t want to.

Feeling his lips grow dry, he held her stiffly, unlike before.

His unsure eyes wandered in the air before he let out a small groan and shut them.

As he waited for her “just a little,” his thoughts grew complicated.

Should they really stay like this?

Or… would it actually be fine to remain like this a bit longer?

While he stood there rigid, uncertain even of his own feelings, Grace gradually calmed down.

Breathe slowly… yes. Imagine cute, adorable things.

The children from the orphanage came to mind first.

Mischievous Chris, freckled Anna, sensible Christine.

And… the youngest of them all, little Rene.

After a few more seconds—

“Is… someone there?”

The shop owner, who had been dozing at the desk, finally woke up and called out.

At that sound, Grace’s eyes snapped open.

Where am I…?

Her foggy mind slowly began to grasp the situation.

The solid body she was pressing down with her entire weight.

Muscles woven tightly without a single gap, so different from her own soft skin.

And that sensual scent she had smelled just days ago.

“Do you still need more time, Grace?”

The whisper was familiar.

A voice that sounded faintly amused yet deep and courteous.

This scent… this voice…?

A chill ran down her spine, and she quickly lifted her head.

The face of the man she had been flattening beneath her was far too close.

It looked like a statue roughly sculpted by a master craftsman, staring straight at her.

“Hu… huh?”

At her foolish sound, Lucas raised one eyebrow.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

Even seeing him smile right in front of her, Grace couldn’t feel that this was real.

Fortunately, the shock of this situation was so overwhelming that her fear of the sharp pen nibs completely vanished.

Looking blankly at her, Lucas cleared his throat and spoke.

“You… surprise me every time, Grace. It seems I have greatly underestimated you.”

The reverent light in his eyes only made her more confused.

“Y-your Excellency, why are you…? Hic!”

Startled, she hiccupped again.

Her pale face gradually regained color, until both cheeks turned bright red—so red that even the bridge of her nose stood out.

Why is this man in front of me? No—where am I right now? And how did this situation even happen? My head hurts!

Even as she scolded herself internally, the hiccups wouldn’t stop.

“Hic, hic,” like a cuckoo’s call, they kept bursting out.

She covered her mouth and looked like she was about to cry.

“I-I’ve been so rude, hic—!”

Damn it.

“It’s all right. I was surprised, but… well, I suppose such things can happen.”

What does he mean by that?

Grace scrambled to get up without even questioning him.

But her weakened legs and uncertain hands betrayed her.

Flustered, she ended up collapsing right back onto Lucas’s solid chest.

As she wriggled on top of him, his expression gradually turned strange.

“Grace, if you move like that—”

“Huh? Y-yes! I’m, hic! trying to get up! Hic!”

Ah, I want to die.

Grace thought miserably.

And at that moment, Lucas Black felt much the same.

Die. Please.

…Die, Lucas.

He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath.

To calm himself, he recalled a hymn. Perhaps because it was sacred, it worked.

“I’m just, hic, out of strength, hic! I’m really, hic, sorry!”

Why was there no dish of water to drown herself in today?

Thinking it might be faster to find a mouse hole to crawl into, she turned her head—

And then her face turned pale.

She had been looking at the large glass window of the fountain pen shop above Lucas’s head.

“What is it, Grace?”

Her hiccups stopped entirely as she froze.

Following her gaze, Lucas looked as well.

“Oh, my.”

Several familiar faces were plastered against the window, watching them without any regard for dignity or decorum.

The old woman in the red hat was Marchioness Rhodia, the loudspeaker of high society. The yellow fan belonged to Countess Girash, who loved gossip so much she had founded a daily newspaper.

And… that blond head was Thomas Hopkins, Viscount, the close friend of Norman Oelin.

The moment she saw him, Grace felt her blood run cold.

Damn it.

She could already hear Norman’s shrill scolding ringing in her ears as he would surely come charging over.

The places he had hit her before hadn’t fully healed yet. If he raised his hand again, she would likely be bedridden for days.

Grace’s face hardened.

Her heart, which had been pounding in embarrassment, sank heavily.

“Your hiccups seem to have stopped, but your expression looks worse,” Lucas said softly, concern evident in his voice so close beside her.

Only then did Grace realize she was still lying flat on Lucas Black’s chest.

Why was she being so foolish today?

It was strange.

Whenever she stood before this man, she no longer felt like herself.

Perhaps that was why she felt especially uncomfortable around him.

It was as if he carried some sort of current that made her unlike herself.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been terribly rude.”

A quiet sigh slipped past her tightly pressed lips.

As she tried to get up at last, strong force entered Lucas’s hands for the first time.

“It seems those gazes outside are troubling you… Would you like to leave it to me?”

Meeting her eyes, Lucas raised his dark brows slightly.

The smile he wore was not just confident—it bordered on arrogant.

To Grace, that smile made him look like an even greater villain capable of overpowering all the wicked ones.