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chapter 42
Rielly paused for a moment, taken aback by the sudden, contextless apology.
What’s he apologizing for? Did I do something without realizing it?
No matter how she thought it over, she couldn’t find a single thing she’d take offense at.
“What is it? Are you confessing to some wrongdoing toward me?”
Arban avoided her gaze, lowering his eyes slightly as he spoke.
“Wearing the clothes of someone who has passed… would that not upset you? I am aware it is impolite, yet I offered them anyway. That was clearly my mistake, so I am willing to purchase new clothes for you as you wish.”
“…Huh? No, that’s not necessary. Why would I be upset? You told me beforehand, and I wore them knowingly.”
Rielly considered why Arban, rarely so humble, would apologize in such a manner.
“Ah, is this because you misunderstood me when I said I was going to buy new clothes?”
“…No. The fault lies with me. Ordinarily, items belonging to the deceased should be burned. I could not do so, and worse, I even offered them to you. I thought it inevitable that I would face criticism.”
Rielly slowly blinked. Even if it was customary, he had asked and she had agreed. What exactly was the problem?
“If I had really minded, I wouldn’t have worn it. So please, don’t worry about my feelings. It’s fine.”
“…I am grateful for your words.”
But why was he avoiding her gaze?
Rielly narrowed her eyes, noticing the way he deliberately diverted his eyes.
“Arban. Look at me.”
The command slipped out more authoritatively than she intended, but she hadn’t noticed her tone.
Arban froze at her sudden order. He didn’t need to, and could have ignored it—but his body reacted instinctively.
Before he even thought further, he met her eyes.
Seeing his gaze finally settle on her, Rielly spoke again.
“Listen carefully, and I’ll say this clearly.”
“…Yes. Please do.”
“I suggested buying new clothes not because I disliked wearing your mother’s dress or was upset, but because every time you looked at me with that expression, it bothered me.”
She didn’t needlessly elaborate, though she considered the Duke’s presence.
“Expression…?”
Unconsciously, Arban raised a hand and brushed along her cheek and mouth.
It was probably the same expressionless face as always—just as he had been trained.
Rielly frowned, exasperated by his behavior.
“No, not exactly the expression… it’s more the atmosphere.”
“…….”
“When we talk, your eyes keep dropping, your gaze avoiding mine… The only difference is this dress. Can’t you sense it?”
Arban’s expression remained as stoic as ever, but Rielly had lately learned to read subtle changes in his mood through his eyes and the energy he exuded.
Even a neutral expression isn’t always the same.
There was a minuscule but noticeable difference—hard to describe, but she could sense it.
Rielly smiled faintly, feeling proud that she had grown close enough to understand him better.
But for Arban, her explanation was hard to believe. He muttered to himself:
“…Did I do that?”
“Yes. You did.”
And even now, he still is, she thought, swallowing the words.
Her slightly displeased gaze landed on him again. His constant avoidance of her eyes annoyed her.
“In any case, you don’t need to apologize. Still, buying new clothes will make things more comfortable for both of us. Let’s go do that.”
“…Very well.”
In the carriage’s renewed silence, Arban quietly chuckled inwardly.
He reflected on her behavior over the past few hours.
Had he really relaxed so completely just because there was no former duke present?
Only after being reprimanded did he realize he had been avoiding her gaze.
A faint shame mixed with relief washed over him.
Overwhelmed by the unfamiliar feelings, he closed his eyelids.
A few simple words had calmed his anxiety and reassured him.
Was he really so simple-minded, that just a few words could restore his peace?
He resolved not to let himself relax so easily in the future.
…Though I wonder if I can truly keep that promise.
The carriage slowed gently to a stop. Seeing Arban’s gaze shift toward Yulen, Rielly realized they had arrived.
“Yulen, we’re here. Let’s get out.”
“No. I’ll just stay here. You go ahead.”
“Really?”
His disinterest was obvious, and his attitude had shifted starkly. She raised an eyebrow in surprise.
Yulen merely turned his head to glance at her.
“Nothing’s really changed. I still have to stay in the basket whether you go or not. I’ll wait here. You go ahead.”
His voice was so indifferent it sounded almost cynical.
Accepting that his interest had truly waned, she smoothed his small head affectionately.
“Alright… I understand. I’ll be quick.”
“Go on.”
He stared at her hand for a moment before burrowing his head back into the basket.
To prevent any unforeseen mishaps while they were gone, she covered the basket with a cloth.
The salon they entered, holding Arban’s hand, differed greatly from the one they had visited at Rosney.
Compared to other lavish salons glimpsed in the city, this one felt more modest—normal, not inferior.
But she wasn’t here for a grand party dress. A simple outfit would suffice.
The woman who seemed to run the shop greeted them with evident nervousness, likely noticing the carriage’s emblem or recognizing Arban.
Rielly approached with stiff hands, smiling to ease the tension.
“Do you have riding outfits here?”
“R…riding outfits?”
The unexpected request clearly flustered her. It seemed wise to get them in and out quickly.
“Yes, a riding outfit. I’ll wear it. Do you have anything suitable?”
“Y-yes… we do. Please wait a moment while I bring them.”
She disappeared inside, noticeably conscious of Arban, despite the employees nearby.
Shortly after, she returned with several outfits and hung them on a rack. Measuring Rielly with a tape, she approached.
“Milady, I need to take your measurements—”
“I’ll pass. I think these will fit; I’ll just try them on,” Rielly said, sifting through the clothes.
She picked one that seemed closest to her size and held it up.
“This should fit. What do you think, sir?”
He studied her and nodded slightly.
“Yes. It should fit reasonably well.”
“Good. I’ll try this one.”
The shopkeeper, frozen holding the tape, quickly recovered and guided her inside the fitting room.
No assistant was needed for a riding outfit. Without a mirror, she roughly judged the fit—comfortable, slightly loose, but fine.
Emerging from the room, all eyes—shopkeeper, employees, and Arban—were on her.
Feeling a little self-conscious, she glanced at the mirror.
It fit perfectly. Now the outfit finally felt right, unlike before when she had awkwardly worn a dress with riding boots.
“You look excellent, milady. How majestic you appear… like a true knight in that outfit.”
The compliment, though awkwardly delivered, made her smile.
Spinning slightly, she asked Arban:
“Do I look okay?”
“You look fine.”
Simple words, but sincere. She straightened her chest, feeling confident.
Even she thought she looked impressive in the riding outfit. Its high-quality fabric added to the elegance.
Hmm, but not quite as comfortable as I hoped…
Compared to Rosney’s clothes, which combined elegance and comfort, this felt slightly lacking. But she would only wear it until returning to the duke’s residence. A little discomfort was acceptable.
“This should do.”
“Try a few more if you wish. I can get as many as you like.”
“No, really, this one is enough. I need to return home soon anyway.”
Accustomed to luxurious items, few other options appealed to her.
“…Very well, then.”
Arban seemed displeased by her firm refusal but didn’t insist. He understood she wanted to return home more than to fuss over clothes.
