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Chapter 28
“It’s late today.”
“Ah, I’m sorry. I lost track of time while reviewing the Braille we learned yesterday.”
I know this kind of thought doesn’t make sense…
But to Litricia, whenever Kilian looked up at her like this and subtly leaned his head against her, it always felt like he was pouting.
‘Pouting, really? I must have gotten way too comfortable here to think something that ridiculous.’
To shake off the idle thoughts, Litricia gave her head a small shake, then stopped Mark from leaving.
“Sir Davis.”
Because Kilian didn’t like it when she called Mark by name, her way of addressing him had gone back to the formal ‘Sir Davis.’
“Yes, Lady Litricia.”
“Did you happen to leave a basket at my door?”
“A basket? No, I didn’t. I’ve never done that.”
“I see… then who could it be…?”
“What kind of basket are you referring to? If you’d like, I can find out who left it.”
“Really? It’s nothing major—just a basket with wildflowers and snacks… Kilian? What’s wrong?”
Litricia, having been focused on her conversation with Mark, turned to Kilian when he suddenly tugged on her hand.
“Litricia, it’s nice to see you getting along with my subordinates, but I’d appreciate it if you paid a little attention to me, too.”
He gripped her hand more tightly, looking somehow dissatisfied.
“Because you were late, my hair’s been wet for quite a while and I’m rather cold.”
Kilian’s elegant complaint made Mark’s jaw go slightly slack. It was possibly the most shocking thing he had ever heard in his life.
“Cold? Who? His Grace?”
Mark’s expression grew grave as he recalled Kilian slicing through icy water in the dead of winter without flinching.
Had something happened to his health without anyone noticing?
“Your Grace! I’ll summon a physician at once—!”
“You’re still here?”
Kilian abruptly cut off Mark’s worried outburst and threatening fist.
“Go on. You must be busy carrying out my orders, yes?”
“But, I…”
Mark, who normally obeyed Kilian without a second thought, couldn’t back down when it came to his lord’s health and tried to protest.
But the moment he saw Kilian’s eyes—clear and piercing, not sickly at all—he shut his mouth.
‘Leave.’
When Kilian mouthed the word as well, Mark could do nothing but stumble out of the room in a daze.
“…Feels like I’m getting kicked out more often these days. Is it just my imagination?”
Mark muttered to himself, glancing back at the firmly closed door.
“His Grace looks perfectly fine. It’s not illness. Rather…”
For once, a flicker of insight crossed Mark’s usually blank expression.
Whatever Kilian was doing, Litricia was certainly involved.
“I thought he brought her in to avoid the Empress Dowager’s schemes, but maybe that wasn’t all?”
One thing was clear: this relationship wasn’t just a contract of convenience.
“Tomorrow…”
“No, maybe we should…”
“That old goat Gorten—! That’s—!”
Just then, a whispering voice tickled his large ear.
Focusing in on the sound, Mark quickly sensed three presences hiding around the corner.
“I keep telling you, blue suits the Madam’s hair better than yellow!”
“Marsha, haven’t you read what Mia wrote? She said the Madam liked my lemon pound cake more than your strawberry tart. So my suggestion is more to her taste.”
“Stop it, both of you! If we keep this up, the Madam will find out!”
They were passionately debating what to put in tomorrow’s basket.
Marsha, Gorten, and Mia were so engrossed in their scheming, they didn’t notice Mark approaching.
Just then, the hallway suddenly darkened, and the trio tilted their heads.
“Marsha… doesn’t it seem darker than before?”
“Yeah, why is it so dim? Did the lights go out—oh my!”
Marsha let out a shriek when she realized the massive shadow blocking the light was none other than Mark.
“S-Sir Davis? How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long. What are you three doing here?”
“Uh? N-nothing. What would old folks like us be up to?”
Marsha waved her hand with exaggerated nonchalance and hastily shoved the paper she’d been scribbling on under her skirt.
It had a list of treats that might make Litricia happy.
But as a seasoned knight with sharp vision, Mark hadn’t missed it.
His eyes, scarred at the lids, narrowed sharply.
“So it was the three of you bringing the baskets to Lady Litricia’s door?”
*
“Kilian, are you really that cold? Your body is freezing.”
Not knowing Kilian’s body temperature was naturally low, Litricia looked at him with concern.
‘He must be weaker than he looks.’
As she eyed his perfect form—taut muscles shaped like sculpture—she set down the towel and rushed to the bed.
“Litricia, what are you doing?”
“I thought you’d feel better if you were under the covers.”
Wobbling under the unexpectedly heavy blanket, Litricia struggled to steady her balance.
“Haha.”
Kilian, curious what this fragile body could possibly manage to do, burst out laughing.
But Litricia couldn’t see his smile, hidden as she was behind the bulky blanket.
“My wife really is unpredictable.”
Kilian silently approached and took the blanket from her.
“There. The blanket’s enough. Now dry my hair, please.”
Placing the towel in her hands, he sat down on the bed and dropped the blanket to the side.
Since she’d always dried his hair from behind before, now sitting face-to-face with him, Litricia felt awkward and hesitated.
A ticklish flutter in her stomach made her cheeks burn a little.
But unlike her, Kilian seemed completely unaffected. He merely sat between her legs, fingers loosely interlaced, and stared at her.
That intense gaze made her fingertips feel hot. She knew drying his hair wasn’t going to go smoothly like this.
“Kilian, I think it’d help if you closed your eyes.”
“Like this?”
“Yes, just like that.”
Worried their eyes might meet again, Litricia gently covered his face with the towel.
Just that alone helped settle the butterflies in her stomach a bit.
And thanks to practice, her hands quickly found their rhythm, and she began drying his hair without much difficulty.
“Litricia, next time, please call a servant if you need help. Don’t carry heavy things on your own.”
“…!”
Kilian lightly tapped the blanket with his hand, veins visible under his pale skin.
Only then did Litricia realize how un-ladylike her actions had been. Her ears turned red.
“I… didn’t think of that. I’m not used to ordering servants around.”
Her pale skin flushed even more.
“I’m not criticizing you. If that’s what you’re comfortable with, I won’t stop you. But try to get used to it. You’re the lady of this castle now.”
The man feared even by name outside these walls spoke gently, like a docile cat, as Litricia dried his hair.
“By the way, I thought I heard something from your room at dawn. Were you unwell?”
“Uh… no, it must’ve been sleep-talking. I have a lot of dreams.”
Truthfully, she’d had a nosebleed and a headache, tossing and turning till sunrise.
But she’d taken the medicine Piril gave her and felt fine now, so Litricia didn’t see the need to bring up something so minor.
Besides, having a nightmare about the ocean was true—so it wasn’t exactly a lie.
“…I see.”
“Yes. Mmm… all done. Kilian, you can open your eyes now.”
Without much thought, she nodded and smoothed down his now-dry silver hair.
“Already?”
“Yes. I guess I’ve improved. I told you—I learn quickly. Don’t you think I’ve gotten pretty good at this?”
Kilian let out a dry laugh as he touched his flawlessly dried hair.
“Indeed. You learn far too quickly. Even at this.”
He didn’t like how the time she spent drying his hair was getting shorter. He was even considering getting towels that didn’t absorb water properly.
“By the way, Kilian. When do you think your arm will heal?”
“Why? Am I already a bother to you?”
“That’s not what I meant…! It just seems inconvenient. You can’t even hold a sword properly.”
Inconvenient? For me?
He could just use his other hand for swordplay.
Kilian mentally reviewed the past ten days—including this morning’s sparring match, where he’d single-handedly wiped out the knights.
Honestly, he hadn’t been inconvenienced at all.
“…It is hard.”
After hesitating between pride and honesty, Kilian awkwardly hugged his injured arm.
Maybe this’ll make me look a little more pitiful.
