Phew. That was hard work…
Cain took the sheet of paper and quickly ran his eyes over the writing. Unlike me, he seemed to be fluent in the ancient language.
“So little is known about Dragonbloods that even we don’t know much. This book may be a great help.”
It was good news, but at the same time, it puzzled me.
That’s strange. The ducal residence doesn’t have this book?
Judging by the way Cain, the head of the house, seemed to be hearing of it for the very first time, it wasn’t a common book, either.
And something that rare had just been sitting around, out of nowhere, in the dusty library of the marquis’s house? It wasn’t as though anyone would have hidden it there on purpose.
Whatever the case, I was glad it was helpful.
After a moment, Cain pressed the silver bell on his desk. He seemed to be calling Conrad.
I can probably go now… right?
Cain still had his eyes on the book’s title, as if deep in thought. His expression was grave.
I’d finished my report on Jayden, and the treatment was done too.
My eyes darted around as I read the room, and I had just opened my mouth in a small voice when—
“Well then, I’ll be—”
“Before that.”
Gasp, that startled me.
What? Is there something else…?
Our words had overlapped, so I steadied my startled heart inwardly and smiled brightly as if nothing had happened.
He set the paper down on the desk and walked toward me. When Cain reached out to me, a heavy weight settled over my shoulders.
Cain’s particular cool scent teased the tip of my nose faintly.
Cain had dropped his own coat over my shoulders.
“Put it on.”
“Pardon?”
I blinked, flustered.
Cain looked down at the woman.
As expected.
She had no idea why.
She was certainly not an indifferent person.
This was the woman who’d come scurrying over like a squirrel to treat him, a stranger, just because he was hurt.
Is she only indifferent to herself?
“Why the coat all of a sudden…”
Those eyes, like tender new sprouts, rolled this way and that.
“Then you mean to parade around the residence like that?”
Oh!
Only when Cain gestured at her bandaged arm with his chin did she let out an exclamation.
“That’s true, I suppose, but… it looks really expensive…”
She didn’t know what to do with herself, as if overwhelmed by the honor. Her face, dazed only a moment ago, was now busy fretting. Her expressions certainly changed a lot.
“A coat is just a coat.”
“But still…”
Glancing at him warily, she let her words trail off. Her big eyes, so large they looked ready to spill over, blinked slowly. Her pink lashes were long.
She makes a face like that even over a simple conversation.
To Cain, whose feelings rarely stirred at all, Viola’s many different expressions were a novelty. Cain quietly watched her.
But she seemed to take his gaze as silent pressure, because her slender shoulders shrank a little.
“Th-then… thank you for your consideration, Your Grace the Duke…”
Only then did she obediently slip her arms into the jacket.
But…
At the unexpected sight, one corner of his mouth tugged up, if only faintly.
It looks less like she’s wearing it and more like it’s swallowed her.
Wasn’t she a full-grown adult? Or was she not quite done growing? He couldn’t even begin to guess how small she was.
But he soon accepted it. Well, squirrels are small to begin with. Though she seemed especially small, even for a squirrel.
“That’s better.”
Cain said it as he saw that her arm was completely covered.
Taking that as a sign she was free to go, Viola took hold of the doorknob.
Conrad should be here any moment.
He was thinking over the day’s work in his head when—
Viola turned around as if something had occurred to her. Her pink hair, fluffy as cotton candy, fluttered softly.
On the breeze, the woman’s own scent brushed past him. Perhaps because she was always handling herbs, she always smelled of green things.
Come to think of it, it doesn’t bother me.
For Cain, with his sharp senses, the heavy perfume of the nobility had always been an ordeal. But Viola alone was different.
Beneath the bittersweet scent, there was a soft sweetness. Her own scent, which grew a little stronger with every beat of her pulse, didn’t grate on his senses; if anything, it put him at ease.
Standing hesitantly at the door, she twitched her lips as if about to speak, then smiled faintly.
“Um, thank… you.”
“Um, thank you…”
The woman mumbled it with her eyes lowered, as if too embarrassed to meet his gaze.
“For looking after me with the coat, and for treating me so carefully, too.”
She pointed at her bandaged forearm and gave a sheepish smile.
Cain folded his arms and answered indifferently.
“Someone gave me some advice recently.”
“What kind of advice?”
“That I shouldn’t ignore even a small wound. She was very insistent about it.”
His tone had a bit of an edge to it. But Viola didn’t seem to notice at all; she only opened her eyes wide and let out an exclamation.
“Wow. That’s very true! That’s right. Taking small wounds lightly can lead to big trouble.”
She nodded eagerly in agreement. The busy bobbing of her head reminded him of a fidgety squirrel.
Cain was dumbfounded by that naive reaction.
She hasn’t the faintest idea she’s talking about herself.
“You must never take small wounds lightly! If they get infected, they can fester. You were all right this time, but next time it could be really serious!”
The day they’d run into each other on the street, she had lectured him passionately, even making a comical face as she did.
And now that he brought it up, she seemed so oblivious that a small, disbelieving laugh escaped him. He spoke with deliberate emphasis.
“Yes. It was very important advice, so I made sure to remember it well.”
Cain looked at her intently, as if giving her a hint.
“Though at the time, I never imagined the one who gave it would be this careless about herself.”
“Pardon? Oh…!”
Viola, who had been tilting her head in confusion, let out a loud groan, as if she’d only just realized.
“Don’t tell me that was something I said? Ahaha… You have a good memory.”
“It’s a relief you’ve realized it, at least now.”
Ugh. No wonder… With her face burning, she pressed a hand to her forehead and muttered under her breath.
“How embarrassing. I’m supposed to set a good example, and instead you’ve seen me like this.”
Viola squirmed with embarrassment.
If I tease her a little more, will she run off to her squirrel hole?
Watching her, Cain found himself smiling before he knew it—then abruptly stiffened his mouth.
It had lasted barely an instant.
Did I just smile?
He touched the corner of his mouth. It unmistakably felt different from usual. As if to confirm his suspicion.
How strange.
…There hadn’t been anything in particular to smile about.
Born a cynical, emotionless Dragonblood, Cain almost never smiled as a rule. A sneer, perhaps.
So it must have been nothing but his imagination.
Knock, knock.
Just then, Conrad seemed to have arrived outside, because there was a knock on the door.
“Your Grace, may I come in?”
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Conrad came in with an armful of documents. He belatedly noticed Viola hovering awkwardly and gave a start.
“Oh dear. I didn’t realize you were here, Miss Viola. I hope I haven’t interrupted your conversation?”
“No! Not at all. I was just about to leave!”
She lit up as if she’d met her savior. Her eyes shone like a small herbivore that had spotted a chance to escape.
Then she turned and bowed.
“Well then, I’ll be going now! Goodbye!”
She opened the door in a flash and disappeared outside.
Conrad set the documents down with a thud and only then caught sight of her retreating back. But something was odd.
“…?”
Wasn’t that His Grace’s jacket just now? It had been far too large to possibly be her own clothing.
His expression stiffened before he knew it, but there was no way to check again. Viola was long gone.
He was puzzled for a moment, but soon Conrad shook his head.
Surely not. Haha, what am I thinking?
He must be so tired he was seeing things. Cain had never much liked other people touching his belongings to begin with.
It seemed enormously oversized fits must be in fashion among women in their twenties these days.
Conrad put the thought out of his mind and stood before Cain. It crossed his mind that the jacket that had been hanging beside the desk as recently as this morning seemed to be missing, but surely that was his imagination.
While Conrad regained his composure, Cain casually handed him a sheet of paper.
“Look into this.”
“The ancient language? Hm. The title is rather difficult. Is it… a thesis?”
“Who knows. Viola says it’s an old book she often read as a child.”
“Pardon? She read this?”
