At first, there’d been no warning signs at all.
At least, not that Carlyle had noticed.
Hm. Both of them are being quiet.
After the first toast, Carlyle glanced back and forth between his two juniors, eyebrows raised.
Finley’s social skills are already at rock bottom, so that part tracked.
But he was mildly surprised that even Leila had gone silent as a mouse.
Somehow, she’d struck him as the type who’d be the first to fill an awkward silence.
Well, I suppose even Rowell gets nervous, being this new.
Fair enough, honestly — hard to relax over dinner with two superiors sitting right there.
True to a department that had never held a gathering like this before, the whole dinner stayed remarkably quiet.
Carlyle tossed back a drink, indifferent, and made up his mind.
I’ll send them home the moment it’s reasonable to.
They’d eaten and drunk enough by now that he could tell the Prime Minister the dinner had gone well, thanks to her generosity.
That was when Carlyle noticed Leila’s glass and raised an eyebrow.
When did she get through more than half of that?
Was she done drinking? Or did she want another?
He opened his mouth to ask her preference.
“Rowell. Would you like a new gla—”
“Ah! It’s fiiine!”
“Hm?”
Both he and Edgar turned to stare at Leila at the same instant.
Even two men who’d weathered every kind of black magic artifact imaginable found their thoughts grinding to a halt at that sound.
And then, on top of it—
She broke into the single brightest, most triumphant smile either of them had ever seen on her.
She raised her fork.
“Watch, like thiiis!”
Clink!
Leila dropped the fork into her beer mug and gave the inside of the glass a cheerful little tap.
A stream of bubbles came fizzing up…
Carlyle stared at the glass, baffled, then slowly looked back up at Leila.
How does a brand-new hire even know a trick like…
Some kind of drinking-game flourish?
Beaming with pride, Leila babbled on at his stunned expression.
“Heheheh, I saved the beer!”
“R— Rowell…?”
“Want me to save yours too?”
“No, I’m fi— wait!”
Leila had already reached over and taken his glass.
But right as she lifted her fork toward it, her expression turned deadly serious.
“Ah, my fork’s dirrty…”
“No, really, you don’t have to—”
“Then look, can I use salt insteaad?”
“Wh— Rowell?!”
Leila picked up the salt shaker and gave the rim of the glass a few light taps.
Sure enough, just like she’d said, the beer foamed up.
She held the glass out to him with both hands, whispering with total gravity.
“I just… saved your beer!”
“Rowell…”
“Aren’t you gonna thank meee?”
“Uh, what?”
“I saved him… he was aaalmost… dying…”
“No, thank you… thank you…”
Carlyle took the glass back, dazed.
Leila kept staring at him, eyes shining.
She was clearly waiting to watch him drink the beer she’d so heroically rescued.
Gulp…
Carlyle, feeling watched, finally took a sip, and Leila immediately pressed him for confirmation.
“Is he aliiive?”
“…Yeah, you saved him. Good job.”
“Heheheh.”
Carlyle found himself at a loss for words at that radiant smile.
Did I swallow my drink wrong, somehow?
There was no reasonable explanation for his chest aching like this, in a moment like this one.
Edgar, meanwhile, had a hand clamped over his mouth to hold back a fit of laughter.
So she’s the type who gets more animated the drunker she gets, huh.
Watching Leila dissolve into giggles the instant Carlyle thanked her, Edgar slid his own glass over casually.
“Miss Rowell. Won’t you save mine too? Or are you just going to let it die?”
“Edgar!”
Carlyle flushed red, flaring up instantly.
“Don’t tease Rowell!”
“Come now, I wasn’t teasing. Just asked a question.”
“That’s exactly what teasing is. Rowell, let’s get up.”
The palace dormitory had a curfew, so it really was time to head out.
But Leila gazed up at Carlyle, babbling sorrowfully.
“Senior, I still waaant to save more beer, thooough?”
“No, you’ve saved them all. That’s plenty.”
“Nooo, look, riiight there! I’ll save Seamuuus’s too!”
Leila pointed dramatically at the seat beside her.
Thunk.
…Seamus Finley, who’d been quiet this entire time, had just face-planted straight onto the table.
Carlyle went blank at the sight.
But Leila buried her face in Seamus’s shoulder, wailing with genuine anguish.
“Noooo, don’t diiie!”
“…”
“I’ll— I’ll buy you dinneeer…! Wahhh…!”
Carlyle found himself utterly speechless, staring at his two thoroughly hammered juniors.
Meanwhile, his insufferable excuse for a boss had both hands over his face, shoulders shaking.
“Edgar. Is this really the time to be laughing?”
“Cough, haah, seems like neither of them can hold their liquor.”
“…”
“Fine, fine, no more comments.”
Edgar rose from his seat too.
“Let’s head back now. I’ll call a carriage for the two of them.”
“Haah. We’ll need to make it before curfew.”
“Don’t worry, there’s still plenty of ti—”
But before Edgar could finish—
—Lord Crowe. My apologies for the late hour.
A red light flickered on Edgar’s watch, and a low, even man’s voice came through.
The Prime Minister’s secretary.
—It’s an urgent matter. Her Excellency would like a face-to-face meeting immediately.
Both Carlyle and Edgar frowned at the emergency summons.
The Prime Minister, calling at this hour?
They’d just met with her a few hours ago.
Carlyle nodded at Edgar.
“Edgar, go on ahead. I’ll get these two back myself.”
“Hm? You sure you’ll manage?”
Edgar jerked a thumb toward the pair across the table.
One had gone completely limp.
The other was currently sobbing into that first one’s shoulder.
But Carlyle voiced a far more practical concern.
“…If either of them throws up on your jacket.”
“Ah. Good point.”
Right…
Even an emergency summons was no excuse to show up at the Prime Minister’s office looking like a wreck…
In the end, Edgar headed off toward the Prime Minister’s office, while Carlyle wrangled the other two into a carriage.
“Haah. To the palace dormitory’s front gate.”
And a few dozen minutes later—
Carlyle would come to regret this decision with his entire being.
The palace dormitory was famous for its strict curfew.
Movement between the “women’s dormitory” and the “men’s dormitory” was flatly impossible.
The reason being, if things went wrong, officials might end up… well, best left unsaid.
And the moment they arrived at the dormitory’s front gate, Carlyle realized the problem.
Damn, the dormitory staff have already gone home too.
He didn’t even know the number for whoever was on night duty.
I should get Finley to the men’s dormitory first.
There was really only one option left.
Carlyle hefted Finley, who was soundly, thoroughly asleep, onto his back, and turned to Leila, who was watching him blankly.
“Rowell. Wait here a moment. I’ll drop Finley off and come right back.”
“Okaaay.”
Good, that answer at least made sense.
Luckily, Carlyle ran into a staff member from the men’s dormitory wing and managed to hand Finley off safely.
Now I just need to get Rowell settled too.
His junior, drunk as she was, had waited quietly and patiently.
“Rowell. Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“…”
“All right, let’s get you to your room.”
Please, let there be someone on night duty at the women’s dormitory.
But the moment they stepped outside the building, Leila grabbed his sleeve.
“Senior.”
“Hm?”
“I want somethin’ for the hangoveeer.”
“…Hm?”
“Ice cream.”
“…”
Carlyle went blank, staring at her.
The single most perfect junior in the entire world, in both drive and ability…
And apparently, once she drank—
She turned into someone who was somehow adorable and completely unhinged, all at once?
No! No! This is not the moment to be charmed!
If she were a man, he’d just knock her out and haul her along!
Carlyle, once again, awkwardly took hold of both her arms.
This is the first time I’ve ever had to talk someone down like this, but I have to manage it.
“Rowell. I’ll buy you some tomorrow morning, so let’s get you inside for tonight.”
“…”
“That’s fine, isn’t it? All right then—huh?”
Carlyle sucked in a sharp breath, without meaning to.
Right now, tears were welling up, one after another, in those pink eyes.
