Chapter 32

Chapter 32
“Pardon? But if we’re caught, wouldn’t it be uncomfortable for both Sir and—”

“You were the one who asked me to pretend to be in love with you,” he interrupted. “Are you planning to go around hiding that you’re my fiancée from the locals? What exactly are you planning to do while hiding that I’m your man?”

The man turned to leave through the front door. Elio hurriedly slid her feet into her shoes.

‘My man’… How could he say such embarrassing things so calmly? It left her utterly speechless.

“W-what do you mean, ‘what am I doing’? I’m trying to make money! I’m actually really good at purifying. Even the mercenaries praised me, saying my purification skills were top-tier, and gave me free beer!”

The man, who was taking wide strides out the door, suddenly stopped and turned around. His large frame approached her with an imposing aura, making Elio flinch and clutch the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

“…Did you drink?”

He let go of the door handle and narrowed his sharp eyes, leaning down toward her.

“N-no, I didn’t?”

With his face so close to hers, Elio shook her head vigorously. Seeing the fierce glint in his eyes, she hastily added, “It’s true! I only performed purifications for them. I don’t usually drink. I only drank when I was with you, Sir.”

Carlos stared deep into Elio’s innocent, teal eyes—eyes that looked cheekily as if she were showing her trust only to him.

“Seeing you constantly make your eyes sparkle around other men and trying so hard to be liked bothers me. You look like someone starved for affection.”

He unbuttoned two more buttons of his damnably tight shirt collar. Just as Elio blinked rapidly and opened her mouth to speak again, he stepped out the door.

“Now go to sleep. It’s nine o’clock.”

“Ah, who goes to sleep at nine o’clock already…? Sir! Are you leaving? Do I need to thank Sir Grita separately? It’s getting late, is Sir Grita still at the Duke’s castle?”

Elio, who was following closely behind Carlos, bumped her forehead against his broad chest when he suddenly turned around.

“Ah,” she groaned softly.

He immediately cupped the back of her head, pulled her close, and rubbed her rounded forehead with his thumb, his voice low and growling.

“…What are you thankful for? Did you ask Grita to introduce you to a man?”

“No? A man? I meant thank him for bringing me dinner!”

As much as she stepped back, the man closed the distance. With the evening breeze came a refreshing pine scent—his natural scent. Elio shook her head, pulling at her fingertips.

“I’m not interested in anyone Sir Grita wants to introduce me to.”

Carlos looked down at her quietly.

“…S-Sir, you said you’d introduce me to a good person.”

“How do you know what kind of person I’d introduce to you?”

“…Someone wonderful, I’m sure. Someone soft like a peach.”

Carlos raised one corner of his mouth and let out a dry laugh.

“……It’s late, so please go home quickly.”

He narrowed his eyes, watching the woman cling to the wall—her small hands fidgeting restlessly like a sick night, her red lips bitten tight.

“Should I tuck you in?”

“Sir…! Do you really think I’m a child?”

“Lady.”

At his sudden, polite tone, Elio paused and tilted her head.

“…Yes?”

At her suddenly gentle voice, Carlos let out a faint chuckle.

With a flushed face, Elio could only stare blankly at the blanket that had dropped near her feet. Her heels felt cold against the marble floor.

Carlos swept back his bangs and looked down.

Her tiny feet were awkwardly shoved into her yellow shoes, leaving her heels half hanging out.

“…I was going to see you off, but you walked out so fast, Sir, that I couldn’t put them on properly,” Elio muttered like an excuse, pressing her bare heels down to force them into the shoes.

Carlos closed his dry eyes slowly, opened them, and brushed his lips where a smile had just passed.

“Then please see me off, Lady.”

Elio, who had been staring intently at his large combat boots, softly lifted her gaze. But the moment she saw the cool smile on his lips, she haughtily turned her eyes away.

“…Shall I? On this night blessed by the glory of the God Himmel, thank you for treating me to a splendid dinner. Thanks to you, I was able to enjoy plenty of soft foods and have a wonderful evening.”

Elio gave a graceful greeting like a princess in a romance novel. Straightening her back, she reached for the door handle, shoving her feet into the half-worn shoes and hastily hooking the straps over her heels.

“Wrap the blanket around you. They say it gets chilly at night.”

Carlos bent down, picked up the linen blanket, shook it off, and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“……Why are you dropping the formal language again? You were just using it a moment ago…” Elio grumbled softly under her breath, clutching the blanket.

“Do you like it when I use formal speech?”

Carlos turned the doorknob, loosening his cravat. The veins on the back of his hand bulged again.

He quietly tucked the pig-pink envelope from the wild princess—which had been shoved into the front-door mail pouch at some unknown time—into his inner chest pocket.

“…Well, just because….”

Standing right behind him, Elio licked her dry lips, enveloped by his pine scent as his arm reached over her head.

As soon as he pushed the front door wide open, she quickly took a step outside. Click. The sound of her shoes hitting the marble rang out loudly.

“…Yes. That’s why you’re like a peach gentleman.”

The night breeze tickled her burning cheeks.

“Then I guess I should drop the formal speech.”

Elio shot him a sharp glare. Carlos tilted his head innocently, as if asking what was wrong.

“What about me? We’re in an betrothal relationship as equals, so why am I the only one who keeps using formal speech? Carlos?”

At the sound of the woman calling his name so softly, Carlos raised the corner of his mouth in disbelief.

“You want to speak informally to me?”

“Yes, Carlos!”

“Then I’ll speak formally to you.”

Elio opened her mouth in utter speechlessness.

Seriously… seriously… how annoying. What kind of person is he…

“Well, I suppose so. You’re six years older than me, Sir. Honestly, it feels uncomfortable for me to speak informally to someone so much older. I’d prefer a husband of the same age so we can talk comfortably like friends. I’ll definitely meet someone my age later. Please introduce me to a twenty-year-old.”

Carlos couldn’t help but laugh as he watched her chatter angrily like a chirping chick.

“Sure. Go meet someone your age.”

Elio stared at the broad back of the man walking ahead of her.

“…Do you like people your age too, Sir?”

“Who knows.”

“How many years of an age gap do you prefer? Older or younger?”

Taking quick, short steps through the weeds, Elio caught up to the man who had passed her again. The night breeze rustled the leaves warmly.

“Well. One or two years.”

Elio blinked. When her eyes met his dark gaze, she quickly shifted her eyes toward the green weeds.

……What was that? Just earlier, he said ten-year age gaps were common.

“…That is a good gap. One or two years. Like Sir Grita…?”

“Yeah.”

Carlos answered half-heartedly, pulling up Elio’s slipping blanket and wrapping it snugly all the way to her slender neck.

He slowly scanned the roof and walls where he had stationed guards. Then, gently covering her tiny, red earlobes with his warm hand, he pulled her toward his chest.

Startled by his large, hot hand, Elio bowed her head and grabbed his thick wrist. Is this part of pretending to care too?

“Go inside now. It’s cold at night.”

“…I’m fine. It’s not cold. Really, not cold at all.”

“I’m cold.”

“……Liar. Your hands are really hot, Sir.”

“That’s why I’m hot—because it’s cold out. Go in. Don’t open the door for anyone, and go straight to sleep.”

Pushed inside her house by his absurd reasoning, Elio opened her mouth in disbelief as the door slammed shut right in front of her. Kicking off her shoes, she trotted over to stand by the living room terrace window.

As if he knew she would stand there, the man was already waiting outside the window, a cool smile on his lips.

Her face flushing red, Elio snatched the curtains closed. Pacing restlessly while clutching the linen fabric, she hesitated before pulling them open a tiny crack—only to see his back as he walked away without a single backward glance.

Holding his crumpled jacket and cravat loosely in his hand, his shirt unbuttoned and soaked with sweat, he looked like a drunken man to anyone passing by.

Yet it was a night where he hadn’t drunk a single drop of alcohol.

If she felt intoxicated… it was only because the midsummer night was far too hot.

Though her hands left dense fingerprints on the glass as she tried desperately to peek outside, he quickly vanished from sight.

Elio hurried upstairs to the second floor. She watched his tall, lean frame walk down the alley through the large window until he completely disappeared from view. Only then did she sink onto the floor.

“……It’s completely sweltering. What does he mean, ‘it’s cold’? You could bake sweet potatoes on his body….”

Peep!

“…Seriously, why is it so hot? It must be because of the rainy season. Right…?”

Peep! Peep!

Muttering that she’d rather have a heavy downpour than this humidity, she hugged her knees and reached out to pick up the scandalous romance novels by her feet.

The Noble Knight’s First Kiss…

Pouting her lips, she pushed the book far away.

…It’s all because of this book. I really shouldn’t have read it.

Her heart beat frantically as images from the romance novel flickered in her mind. Pressing one hand over her chest, she crawled forward. Rummaging through a small cookie tin, she pulled out a sheet of stationery and an envelope.

Peep! Peep! Peep! Peep! Peep!

As soon as she brought out the paper, the carrier pigeon flapped its wings.

At the bird’s noisy nagging, she pouted heavily and began writing the reply she had been putting off.

Sister,

Where on earth are you sending these pigeons from? You aren’t sleeping outdoors in random places again, are you?

Anyway, I didn’t tell Sir Carlos about you, and my identity hasn’t been discovered either. So don’t come looking to drag me back. I’m going to stay engaged to Sir Carlos until the end. There are only two months left anyway!

And please stop using vulgar curse words against Sir Carlos. I also think it’s terrible that he put me in this situation…

Still, he’s much better than you, Sister, who always disappears without a word. He doesn’t put me in danger and takes good care of me so I don’t feel uncomfortable in my daily life.

That doesn’t mean I… like… Sir Carlos or anything. Absolutely not.

Flustered by the smudged ink on the last line, Elio pressed down firmly with her pen once more.