Chapter 163: Bathside Encounter
“Enough of this.”
A voice, clear as a ray of light, cut through the murmuring crowd. Oscar’s face lit up as he turned his head.
The onlookers parted smoothly, and Frederick emerged from their midst.
“Bickering like siblings in front of foreign dignitaries—what an embarrassment.”
His stern tone reprimanded both Oscar and Damian in one breath.
Damian’s brow twitched, stung by the unfairness of being labeled as part of a sibling squabble when he was the clear victim.
Feigning impartiality with shameless composure, Frederick turned to Damian and asked, “So, Sir Vandemir, are you alright? No injuries?”
“…None.”
“Good to hear. While this was an unfortunate incident, there were no casualties, so let’s wrap it up appropriately.”
At those words, Aracila and Lucas simultaneously wore expressions of protest.
If not for Aracila’s magic, Damian could have been seriously hurt. To brush it off just because he ended up unharmed was absurd.
“But…!” Aracila began.
“Of course, that doesn’t mean I plan to leave Sir Vandemir without any compensation. After all, an accident occurred at an event hosted by the imperial family.”
Frederick raised a hand to silence Aracila’s objection, offering a placating smile.
“The winner of today’s competition was to receive an invitation to the imperial banquet as a special prize. Originally, only Lord Vandemir would have qualified, but I’ll ensure Sir Vandemir is invited as well.”
“…”
“The Vandemir ducal family is a cornerstone of our Cetron Empire’s nobility. Rather than stirring up unnecessary family disputes, isn’t this the better option? Otherwise, it could tarnish the reputation of both the Vandemir house and the Red Hawk Knights.”
His final words, whispered low enough for only Damian to hear, carried a veiled threat: Comply, or your knightly order will suffer.
Damian nodded reluctantly. “Understood.”
“Good. I appreciate how well you listen.”
Frederick praised Damian as if commending an obedient child, then turned and fixed his gaze on Lucas.
Lucas, who had been subtly siding with Damian among the crowd, wore a faint grimace.
He was displeased with Frederick’s high-handed resolution but held his tongue, knowing he couldn’t openly challenge the crown prince.
“Brother, instead of lingering here, why don’t you join me in smoothing things over and closing out the event? Isn’t that our duty as royals?”
Lucas flinched at the subtle jab in Frederick’s words but grudgingly complied.
As the crown prince and prince departed, the crowd gradually dispersed. Aracila, still visibly displeased, turned away with Damian.
And so, the equestrian competition came to an end.
The official winner, Oscar, and the injured Damian were the only ones granted invitations to the imperial banquet.
As soon as they returned to the imperial palace after the day’s events, Aracila was summoned by her mother. Damian had business to attend to as well, so the couple parted ways for the time being.
When Aracila knocked on her parents’ door, the Marchioness appeared, her face etched with worry.
“Here, I brought some ointment just in case. Go check on Damian and make sure he’s really alright.”
The Marchioness pressed a jar of ointment into her daughter’s hand. Aracila recognized it instantly as a remedy commonly used in their household.
Hoping to ease her mother’s concern, she replied, “He’s fine, Mother. I, the future master of the Magic Tower, saved him with my exceptional skills—he’s not got a scratch on him.”
“Oh, as if anyone doubts your abilities. But Damian seems the type to hide his pain and suffer in silence, so you need to keep a close eye on him, Aracila.”
Aracila’s eyes widened in surprise, her gaze asking, How did you know that?
The Marchioness let out a soft chuckle before speaking. “You’re the same way, Aracila. But you and Damian seem to have a lot in common, so I figured his temperament might be similar.”
“…I do that?”
“Yes. I didn’t raise you to be that way, but somehow, ever since you were little, you’ve always insisted on handling everything on your own.”
At her mother’s heavy sigh, Aracila gave an awkward smile. “Think of it as having a strong sense of independence.”
“Indeed. My fiercely independent daughter should go tend to her own family now.”
The Marchioness laughed and gave Aracila’s shoulder a gentle, playful swat. Scratching the back of her head, Aracila returned to her room with the ointment in hand.
Damian hadn’t yet returned, and the room was empty.
“My lady, shall I prepare your bath? The water’s already heated.”
“Yes, please.”
Aracila set the ointment on the side table and answered Sally.
She figured it was better to bathe before Damian returned, so he could use the bathroom comfortably afterward.
With Sally’s help, she changed into a robe and prepared for her bath. As she did, she noticed Sally glancing around.
“What are you looking for?”
“The bath oil is missing. If you go ahead and get in, I’ll fetch it quickly.”
“Alright.”
Without much thought, Aracila walked toward the bathroom. She didn’t sense anything amiss, even as she turned the doorknob and opened the door.
But the bathroom, which she had assumed was empty, already had an occupant.
The moment her eyes met those of the person seated in the spacious rectangular tub, Aracila froze.
Silver hair, glistening with moisture. Broad shoulders and a tightly knit frame of lean muscle. Golden eyes, wide with surprise.
It was Damian.
Caught off guard in such an unexpected place, the two stared at each other, momentarily stunned.
Why are you in there…?
Why is my lady appearing here…?
After a prolonged, dazed silence, Aracila was the first to move.
“My lady, I’ve brought the bath oil!”
Hearing Sally’s voice accompanied by approaching footsteps, Aracila instinctively stepped into the bathroom, shut the door, and called out, “Sally, come back later!”
“Huh? Why…?”
“I just want to soak in the warm water for a bit. Could you… um, tidy up the dressing room in the meantime?”
“Oh, alright. Call me when you need me!”
Fortunately, Sally left as requested, but the real problem came next.
Now unexpectedly trapped in the bathroom with Damian, Aracila cleared her throat awkwardly as their eyes met again.
“Sorry for interrupting your bath. I didn’t know you were in here.”
“It’s fine. I’m done washing, so I’ll step out. I’ll have them draw fresh water for you.”
“Then I’ll go out first. If Sally sees us, she might get the wrong idea.”
A playful smile curled at the corner of Damian’s lips in that moment.
“Couldn’t we just say you called me in to attend to your bath?”
He tossed out the provocative remark, tilting his head languidly. A droplet of water slid down his sharp jawline, creating gentle ripples on the surface of the bath.
Aracila, who had been staring at him with slow blinks, parted her red lips. “If that’s the case, shouldn’t you at least wash my feet?”
For a moment, Damian froze with a blank expression before covering his mouth and bursting into laughter. He’d thought he’d finally gotten the upper hand on his wife, only to be deftly outmaneuvered.
Reaching for the chair behind him, he grabbed a pristine white robe and towel. Still chuckling, he glanced at Aracila, who was staring at him with wide eyes, and asked, “Are you going to keep staring like that? I’m about to stand up.”
“Oh.”
Aracila hurriedly turned around. The sound of sloshing water and Damian’s feet touching the tub’s floor rang out clearly.
Despite her attempt to act composed, her ears burned as she kept her gaze fixed forward.
Damian, roughly drying himself with the towel and slipping into the robe, spoke to her stiff back. “Come here, my lady.”
Hesitating briefly, Aracila turned and complied, walking toward him. Damian seated her on the chair and brought over a basin filled with water.
As he placed the basin at her feet and knelt on one knee, Aracila’s eyes widened in alarm. He genuinely seemed ready to wash her feet.
“Wait… are you actually doing this?”
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
“I was joking!”
“Well, I wasn’t.”
Damian flashed a sly grin, gently taking her slender ankle. Caught off guard, Aracila let him guide her feet into the basin.
The water was pleasantly warm. Sitting still on the chair, looking down at Damian as he tended to her feet, she felt an odd mix of emotions.
Through the loosely tied robe, she caught a glimpse of his sculpted chest muscles. Feeling a sudden flush of embarrassment, Aracila quietly lifted her gaze to stare elsewhere.
Unable to bear the quiet sound of water in the bathroom, she spoke up. “Your business wrapped up sooner than I expected.”
“Prince Lucas’s attendant just did a quick check to make sure I was alright.”
“Oh, I see.”
The conversation fizzled out there. Aracila’s eyes darted around as she searched for another topic, then stole a glance downward.
With his large, calloused hands, Damian carefully handled her small, pale feet. His long, straight fingers gently rubbed between her toes, pressing firmly as if giving a massage.
A strange ticklish sensation spread through her entire body.
When she instinctively twitched her foot, Damian gently but firmly held her slender ankle, keeping it in place.
Watching him casually apply soap to every inch of her feet, Aracila blurted out, “Doesn’t it feel… dirty?”
Touching someone else’s feet wasn’t an easy task, especially for nobles like them, accustomed to being served. Yet Damian washed her feet with such ease and nonchalance.
Aracila found it both curious and oddly unsettling. Did it mean he felt close enough to her to be unbothered by touching her bare feet?
If so, was it as a husband or as a friend?
“As husband and wife, what does it matter?”
Damian calmly chose the former. But Aracila’s heart didn’t settle. They were husband and wife, yes, but not truly so.
Sensing the subtle tension in the silence, Damian added, “Since you’re the one delaying our divorce, you can’t complain about this.”
His words implied she should accept their current act as a married couple, given that she was the one postponing their separation.
Yet, for some reason, his hands slowed as if hesitant. Aracila let out a small laugh and leaned forward slightly, impulsively asking, “Damian, what do you think of me?”
It was a question she’d never properly asked before—a part of her wanted to know what she meant to him, while another part dreaded the answer.
Her soft lavender hair brushed lightly against Damian’s cheek. He looked up, meeting her gaze, and answered, “I think you’re headstrong, confident, unpredictable, but clever and kind-hearted.”
“…Is that a compliment or an insult? Sounds like three insults and two compliments.”
Aracila narrowed her eyes suspiciously, and Damian let out a soft chuckle.
Rinsing the soap from her pale instep with a splash of water, he said slowly, “I doubt I’ll ever meet someone like you again in my life. Even if I did, they wouldn’t be you.”
“…”
“Even after we part ways, the time I’ve spent with you will remain as cherished memories.”
His low, resonant voice echoed softly in the bathroom, warm but tinged with a faint melancholy.
Aracila straightened up, her expression unreadable. His words were half what she’d hoped for—both joyful and satisfying.
He’d confirmed that she was unique to him.
But the other half left her wistful. Whether she liked it or not, all of Damian’s words were framed by the inevitability of their parting.
She felt foolish for the renewed sense of disappointment at such an obvious truth, but she couldn’t help it. The heart rarely bends to reason.
“…I’m done. I’ll step out now, so you can bathe.”
Damian lifted her clean feet from the basin, set them on the floor, and stood. Aracila didn’t try to stop him as he left the bathroom.
A moment later, Sally entered, glancing back hesitantly before cautiously asking with wide eyes, “My lady, I saw the master leaving the bathroom… Did you two bathe together?”
Aracila shook her head slowly, giving the rehearsed response she and Damian had agreed upon. “No, Damian was just helping me wash my feet. Don’t get the wrong idea.”
“…Pardon?”
Sally’s voice shot up at the end, her jaw dropping at the equally shocking explanation. But Aracila didn’t notice, absently touching her ankle where Damian’s touch seemed to linger.
Her mind was a tangle of conflicting emotions, swirling in a complex mess.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
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