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Chapter 07
At first, Rosia didn’t realize what Clémen intended to show her.
While Rosia crossed her arms and waited, Clémen prepared her little demonstration.
“…?”
Her nose tickled, so she scratched it, and moisture collected on her fingers.
What…? Why is water coming from my face?
She didn’t immediately realize it was sweat—she had never had sweat bead on her face in her entire life!
“W-What is this?”
Recognition came only after she finally understood Clémen’s words about being hot.
Seeing Rosia’s face flush red with shock, Clémen grinned.
“See? You won’t freeze to death at least.”
Rosia, staring blankly at that confident smile, felt her mind spin wildly.
After running several mental simulations, she slammed her palm onto the table.
“The contract! Let’s sign it immediately!”
With mutual understanding, signing the employment contract went smoothly.
Unlike the short secret pledge, this one had multiple clauses, so it took some time to read—but nothing seemed problematic.
Clémen’s concise perspective made everything easy to understand.
All except for one clause.
“You must converse with ‘the lord’ at least once a day? Face to face?”
“The lord” here meant Zephyrus.
“Not often, but you’ll get extra pay.”
Her main duty was cleaning the third floor, where Zephyrus’s room was located. And now she was expected to converse with him directly.
Rosia considered it a clause that also benefited Clémen, since she had wanted direct interaction with Zephyrus.
“Hmm. I won’t do it.”
“What? Why not?”
“You can’t pay me for talking to a friend.”
Clémen wanted to be Zephyrus’s friend.
She imagined a friendship like those in the books she had read as a child—helping each other and having fun.
Her fortune-teller grandmother, who had practically raised her, had always said that relationships in books were full of lies, but that didn’t matter.
If I act like one of the friends in the books, maybe someday I’ll have a friendship like that too…
Friendship usually begins with one person helping another…
Clémen and Zephyrus fit that perfectly. And they could be mutually helpful!
I even want to keep seeing him because he’s cute.
But to receive payment?
Friendship turning into work was something Clémen refused.
“You want to be friends with His Grace?”
The thought of picnics, laughter, and tasty treats with Zephyrus had Clémen suddenly realize the awkwardness and scratch her cheek.
“Friend… is that not possible?”
Rosia’s reply was firm, as if to say Of course it is!
“It is!”
Rosia believed people needed someone they could open their hearts to.
Since Clémen was the first person unaffected by Zephyrus’s curse, Rosia had hoped she would become that person.
Clémen wanted to voluntarily be a friend—there was no reason to stop her. She wasn’t in a position to control every little detail anyway.
“Then, let’s get along from tomorrow.”
The next day, after parting satisfactorily, Clémen encountered a few of the few servants. She raised her hand to greet them, but they scattered and vanished in an instant.
Pouting at the disappointment, she climbed to the third floor. Inspecting every corner, she noticed a lot of dust. The floor looked crumbly.
Having slept on desert sand her whole life, it didn’t bother her.
Her grandmother, however, had been sensitive to the environment.
How could there be no sand dust in a tent on the desert?
Having trained under that discerning grandmother, Clémen knew how to clean properly. Cleaning itself was easy; the real concern was the person inside the room.
She knocked lightly on the door, cheerfully.
“Good morning, my lord! Did you sleep well?”
Thump! Something fell. Curious, she knocked again.
“Are you alright? Should I open the door?”
“Don’t come in!”
“Got it! I’ll be working here from today. Sounds good, right?”
“Good? Hmph. Report what you do in writing before you leave today.”
“Eh? I’ll just tell you… I’m bad at writing.”
“Work.”
The firm tone left no room for argument, so she obediently stepped back.
She would wait for the right moment to barge in.
And that moment came quickly.
“Oh! Is that the lord’s meal?”
“Meal…? Yes, it is. Well then.”
The knights had left a trolley with food. Clémen’s eyes sparkled.
They say it’s easier to be forgiven than to ask permission.
She decided to go in immediately!
Like a fox waiting for prey, she struck at the perfect moment—the food was about to be taken.
“Ahem! Anyone nearby?”
Zephyrus asked as if checking outside, but Clémen didn’t answer.
Click! The doorknob turned. A crack wide enough for the trolley opened.
Now!
“Heave!”
“W-What?”
“Let’s eat together.”
“Wait. Don’t open the door!”
Zephyrus pulled hard at the door—but it was useless.
A Duke who had lived confined indoors could not win this struggle.
“You see, people become closer over meals.”
Clémen pushed the trolley in with a wide smile. Zephyrus could do nothing.
A warm shadow fell over him.
Clémen smiled brightly at Zephyrus.
“Why aren’t you eating?”
“Haa…”
Zephyrus sighed repeatedly, lifted a spoon, then glared at her again.
“Won’t you leave?”
“Meals are tastier when shared. Don’t you know?”
Words seemed to spill out on their own.
“Do you like things cold?”
“What?”
“The food got cold.”
“Cold or warm, it’s all the same once it’s in the stomach.”
“But it’s better hot, right?”
Clémen reached for the plate, making Zephyrus flinch back, snorting.
“Useless. It’ll cool anyway… Wait, what are you doing?”
“Making it warm.”
Clémen lifted the plate, and steam rose. Her own warmth also radiated.
“See? It should be warm now.”
Placed before him, Zephyrus looked at the plate and asked.
“You’re lucky, huh.”
“Lucky for what?”
“To have such a useful ability.”
“You have a similar ability, my lord. Making ice.”
“…Can you really call it an ability?”
He clenched his hand tightly. Wrapped in layers of cloth, it looked awkwardly held—but to the observer, it seemed as though he was gripping pure despair.
“First, eat. Your bad mood comes from an empty stomach.”
“What?”
Clémen leaned closer, slipping a spoon into his hand.
“Eat quickly. Or slowly, if you like.”
Even as she spoke, she tilted her head, sensing something unusual in her words.
“…”
Zephyrus sighed at that foolish face. What could she possibly know? He felt it was the lament of a well-fed person.
Suddenly feeling the urgency of time, he absentmindedly brought soup to his mouth.
His eyes widened.
Unlike the thick, cloying soup he usually had, this one warmed his mouth, flowed down his throat, and heated his body. A second bite did the same.
It was the same potato soup—but it tasted better.
Just the temperature alone made such a difference—he couldn’t believe it.
Clémen was warming the other dishes as well, infusing the cold air with cozy heat.
Come to think of it…
Though she had invited him to eat together, she herself didn’t take a bite. She had only brought his portion.
“Use this.”
She handed him a fork that had yet to touch the food. Clémen’s eyes alternated between the fork and him, then she smiled.
“Thank you.”
Munch.
He ate with apparent hunger.
Clémen focused so much on the food that she didn’t notice Zephyrus slowing down.
Someone made this… it’s delicious! I love it!
Seeing his increasingly full cheeks, Zephyrus finally spoke up.
