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Chapter 08
“Take your time… You don’t need to rush. I won’t take it away.”
“Khh… ahem. I showed a foolish side. One should eat when one can—habitually…”
“A habit?”
“Ah! Yes, that’s right.”
“Why? Did you grow up somewhere food was scarce?”
“Um… it wasn’t really scarce. It’s just that…”
Clémen’s gaze drifted briefly to some distant point.
What was she thinking? For a moment, Zephyrus wondered—but then she returned to her usual bright expression and extended a fork with a piece of meat toward him.
“Now that meals will be provided every day, I think I should… change that habit!”
“…What’s this?”
“Eat.”
Zephyrus’s lips twitched at the strange politeness—but he coldly said:
“…Take it away.”
“It’s delicious, though.”
Clémen pivoted the fork and ate the piece herself.
“You seem not to know something, so I’ll tell you.”
“Huh?”
“It’s rude to hand someone food with the utensil you were just using.”
“…Even with a friend?”
“Even a friend! And we aren’t even friends, are we?”
“Then we can be friends.”
“I refuse.”
“Why?”
“I don’t need friends.”
“Then let’s be meal-friends at least.”
“I don’t nee—”
“Especially when someone makes food this warm and nice?”
Zephyrus faltered, and Clémen continued in a singsong voice.
“Eating with me~ Food’s warm~ Delicious~ And it feels good~”
“I’m losing my mind here.”
“But it’s warm, isn’t it?”
Clémen leaned closer to him.
“At least during meals, it’s nice if it’s warm. Right?”
“I—”
“Even the ice seems to soften a little.”
She wiped the moisture on the table; it slowly evaporated from her hand.
As she said, he had noticed before: having Clémen nearby weakened the curse.
If he remained completely composed, the curse wouldn’t manifest. Not unless there was direct contact.
If the situation were as shaky as now, the entire room would have frozen long ago.
I meditated to prevent this exact situation…
Yet, now that he was officially a duke and working, it seemed all that meditation was for nothing.
Still, one undeniable fact: having Clémen around made the meal infinitely more enjoyable.
Even if the presence of another person felt strange, it was worth it. The curse couldn’t touch her.
But one thing nagged at him.
“Do you gain anything from this?”
There was no benefit for Clémen.
Taken aback, she blinked.
“Does it matter?”
“It’d be troublesome if you suddenly decided not to do it halfway through.”
Better to have something and lose it than never have it at all.
“Then make a reason for yourself to be here. If you don’t, I won’t allow it.”
Her firm tone made Clémen let out a soft “Hmm,” lifting the corners of her mouth.
“It’s cool next to you. Cooler than anywhere else.”
“Cool?”
“I can be at ease too.”
“Ahh.”
Having a companion who made you feel comfortable was reason enough to stay. He wouldn’t collapse easily.
The corners of Zephyrus’s mouth, hidden behind the fur mask, twitched slightly—a fleeting, unconscious change.
If I can, I want to stay close…
He shivered. Even thinking that made him uneasy.
“Then I allow it. But remember, only during meals.”
“Yes.”
Clémen sat obediently, staring intently at Zephyrus.
“What’s this? Will you keep wearing that thick coat?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“Seems hot, though.”
She was right. Her body radiated heat, like having two stoves in the room, and he didn’t know what to do with the warmth on his face.
“Next to me, it’s warm enough. That coat’s too heavy.”
Clémen seemed to know exactly how he felt. It was a light, well-intentioned remark—something only possible from someone who didn’t yet fully understand him.
“It’s not something you can say lightly. Meal’s over, take it off.”
Clémen, unsure why, was sent away.
His mood seemed to plummet all of a sudden.
Why was he upset? He couldn’t figure it out—perhaps he told her to remove the mask.
Clémen scratched her head and wheeled the trolley back to the kitchen. She knew she understood less about Zephyrus than she thought, which caused moments like this. She didn’t want to fret over things she couldn’t solve yet.
Grandma said time would fix things like this.
She had never suffered from listening to her fortune-teller grandmother.
When young Clémen had fretted over how book characters reconciled after fights, her grandmother had said:
“I don’t know why you waste energy on trivial things, but they fight because someone touched a sore spot. Once they know each other well enough, they won’t fight over that. So how do you reconcile? Don’t let your pride get in the way—just talk!”
It wasn’t exactly the same, but she guessed Zephyrus’s anger was similar. So she needed to talk.
Time was on her side. She would carefully and patiently create a reliable, comforting friend.
Clémen burned with determination. She looked forward to the next evening.
As she lifted the trolley and headed down to the first floor:
“Clémen, over here.”
She met Rosia’s curious expression.
Rosia had watched Clémen carry the trolley down. No signs of struggle—she seemed to carry it as easily as a light book.
Knights could lift shiny trolleys, but Clémen wasn’t one of them. She had noticed before that Clémen was surprisingly strong.
What kind of training did she undergo?
Touching her own soft arm for a moment, Rosia gestured to Clémen with a bright smile.
“This way. Just a moment, very brief.”
“Why?”
Clémen approached the wall where the trolley was stationed, whispering—seemingly aware of Rosia’s plan to act secretly.
“I want to introduce someone to you.”
Normally, Rosia would never have done this. To voluntarily reveal a truth as guarded as Zephyrus’s curse…
But given the current circumstances, she had to try. Worst-case scenarios could not be ignored.
If the worst happened, Rosia’s priority would be simple:
To make the duchess feel at least a little more at ease.
The fact that her son, the Duke, had a friend immune to the curse would be a relief.
“I like new people.”
Clémen, with a gentle, eager expression, followed Rosia.
At the top of the manor stood a large room, guarded by two knights.
“I have a request.”
“Yes.”
“The person you’ll meet now is the duchess… your mother.”
“Oh.”
Clémen’s heart raced. Meeting a prospective friend’s mother was thrilling—but Rosia blocked her excitement.
Placing a hand lightly on Clémen’s shoulder, she spoke solemnly:
“She’s not in good health.”
“Ah…”
Clémen grew serious.
“She’s spent her life worrying only about His Grace. Before she embarks on a long journey, I want to ease some of that worry.”
“What should I do?”
“Just tell her you’ve become friends with His Grace.”
“….”
Rosia’s expression was grim. She didn’t seem to expect the duchess to actually believe the lie.
Becoming friends in just one day? Even Clémen found it hard to believe.
“I can’t lie like that.”
“But—!”
“There hasn’t been enough time to be friends. Just say you eat together.”
“To the duchess—yes?”
Rosia’s eyes widened.
“The meals… just now?”
Ah—so that’s why she had brought the trolley!
“Was it… okay?”
“Of course. The meal was delicious. And I’m sorry… how about being a meal-friend? That isn’t exactly a lie!”
Clémen interpreted the duchess’s concern as answered—she was safe.
“Do as you wish!”
Rosia’s face brightened into a smile.
“You look best when you smile! Pretty!”
“D-Don’t say useless things!”
Blushing, Rosia walked with purpose to the door and made the request:
“Announce her arrival.”
“Duchess, Rosia has arrived.”
The door opened quietly. Rosia entered, followed by Clémen, who nodded politely to the knights.
Immediately, the familiar scent greeted her.
Where have I smelled this before…?
Clémen’s expression stiffened as she quickly realized the answer.
