“Miss Eveline.”
“Yes?!”
“There is no need for concern. I will escort you there safely — without His Grace ever finding out. Absolutely guaranteed. Trust in me…!”
Hugo’s eyes shone with grave intensity, his expression solemn as a vow.
“…Ah. Yes. I’m counting on you.”
I decided, in the end, to simply let Hugo do as he pleased.
Telling him that all of this was rather unnecessary felt like it would only disappoint him — and I couldn’t bring myself to do that.
The front entrance of the main building finally came into view.
Hugo’s excessive vigilance along the way had turned what should have been a ten-minute walk into a thirty-minute expedition.
“Ho ho! Hugo!”
Just as we arrived, a warm, gravelly voice rang out from somewhere near the entrance.
Hugo — who had yet to release a single thread of tension — and I both turned toward the sound at the same moment.
“Oh — Uncle Brandon?”
The man called Uncle Brandon made his way cheerfully toward us. He had a thick, full beard, and his face lit up the moment he saw me.
“Well, well! If it isn’t Miss Eveline!”
“I’m sorry — how do you know who I am?”
“Why, Miss Eveline, you are the only woman permitted entry to this estate — besides the household staff, of course. Ha ha! I am the gardener here, by the way! Ha ha!”
“Oh! Of course! How lovely to meet you, Brandon!”
“Goodness! Miss Eveline — what of your leg injury? I was told you were hurt quite severely — that you could barely walk!”
“…I’m fine, thank you. As you can see.”
Kael. He’d spread the word that I was practically an invalid, just to keep me confined to his bedroom.
And then—
“Uncle Brandon… Shh…!”
Hugo raised his index finger to his lips.
Uncle Brandon, following Hugo’s lead, brought his own finger to his lips and murmured in echo.
“Shh…?”
“We are in the middle of a highly important covert operation.”
“Oh my, is that so! My apologies! Miss Eveline, I shall see you again another time, then!”
At the mention of a covert operation, Uncle Brandon asked nothing further, offered a quick farewell, and promptly took his leave.
One might expect him to at least ask what kind of operation it was.
And besides — could this really be called a covert operation?
But once again, I decided to let Hugo be.
I changed quickly into my father’s shirt.
It was quite large on me, the hem reaching well below my thighs. I wore no skirt or trousers beneath it — only my undergarments — which left my bare legs entirely exposed. My hands were swallowed entirely by the oversized sleeves, invisible beneath the cuffs.
The reason I was wearing the shirt instead of my dress had everything to do with Emily’s advice.
“When you arrive at His Grace’s bedroom, you must change into this shirt. Without fail.”
“Why? Wasn’t this the one I brought for practice?”
“Think about it, miss. A woman in a neat, proper dress — versus a woman wearing an oversized man’s shirt that doesn’t even fit her.”
“…”
“Which one looks more like a woman who is sexually experienced and uninhibited?”
“…The one wearing the oversized man’s shirt!”
“Exactly. So once you arrive at the bedroom, please make sure you’ve changed before His Grace comes in.”
“But Emily — what should I wear on the bottom?”
“Just your undergarments. It’s undeniably more… uninhibited that way.”
“Oh… it’s a bit much, but… I have to manage it, don’t I? All right! Emily, I’ve practiced unbuttoning all night and worked on my poses — I’m going to do this properly this time!”
“Wonderful. I’m rooting for you with everything I have, miss. You can do it!”
And so there I was — shirt, undergarments, and nothing else — folding myself under the table.
I curled up tightly, making myself as small as possible so nothing could be seen.
Everything was in place.
All that was left was for Hugo to let Kael know I was waiting.
But…
Sitting alone in that silent room, with nothing to do, waiting for over two hours — it was unbearably dull.
“I’m so sleepy…”
Without warning, a wave of drowsiness washed over me.
I tucked my face into the crook of my folded arms and let my eyes begin to droop.
Then — at the precise moment I was about to slip into sleep — heavy, deliberate footsteps sounded from beyond the door.
That sound…
Kael!
My head shot up like a squirrel who’d spotted an acorn.
A moment later, the door swung open.
“Eveline?”
The deep, resonant timbre of Kael’s voice snapped me wide awake.
Still crouched beneath the table, I looked toward the door. All I could see were his neatly pressed trouser legs and shoes.
“Eveline. Are you in here?”
Kael moved through the empty room with an unhurried, composed stride.
I waited, holding my breath.
Then, finally — he was approaching the table.
Now.
“…Kael.”
I drew myself out from beneath the table slowly, deliberately, and called his name in a voice I hoped sounded plaintive and wanting — like a woman who craved him desperately.
“…Eveline?”
His voice shifted in an instant, dropping low and still.
He studied me from head to toe with a rigid expression. Given how severe he looked, it seemed clear that my attire — aimed at projecting the image of a worldly, uninhibited woman — was displeasing to him.
“Kael… would you come closer?”
I whispered to him in a breathless, urgent voice, the way Emily had coached me. As I did, I reached out and took hold of one of his large hands, gently tugging him closer to the table.
He came — expression still stiff and unyielding, but his body moving obediently along with my pull.
Holding his crimson gaze with what I hoped was a forlorn, aching expression, I lifted myself up and perched on the edge of the table. It was slightly too high, and I had to struggle and grunt a little to get up.
Once settled, I wrapped my legs around his waist where he stood before me.
I was rather proud of myself.
Even to my own assessment, it seemed like quite a practiced, confident thing to do.
Kael, for his part, let me draw him forward without resistance until his body was pressed close to mine.
Had he lost the will to fight? Or was it shock? Displeasure?
Heh heh. Good thing Emily and I practiced poses all night.
Kael still hadn’t said a word.
A promising sign.
He’s rendered speechless, clearly.
I pulled him closer, wrapping both arms around his waist — and then, gazing up at him, I delivered what I hoped was my master stroke.
“I… I want you.”
Nerves made me stumble slightly over the words.
But thanks to Emily’s intensive coaching, I had at least managed to keep my voice small and soft. That part was a success.
And then Kael’s eyebrow twisted — in what appeared to be displeasure.
Is this actually working this time?!
But the moment I found myself face-to-face with that terrifying expression up close, the tension hit me all at once.
I swallowed and released my arms from around his waist.
Then I reached up and, with my fingertips, slowly began to touch the first button of his military uniform.
Without breaking eye contact.
With what I hoped read as breathless anticipation.
I held his gaze — trying to project a smoldering look — then began to undo that first button.
But my hands had started to shake.
Don’t be nervous, Eveline. Just do what you practiced. Please…
There was only one problem.
Unlike my father’s loose, familiar shirt buttons, the buttons on his uniform were extraordinarily resistant.
“…”
“…”
I snuck a careful glance at Kael.
He was staring down at me, his face unreadable.
What do I do?
The button won’t come undone…
I moved my fingers faster.
The button didn’t budge.
I stole another look at him.
That sharp, piercing gaze hadn’t softened in the slightest.
The weight of his eyes on me made me increasingly self-conscious.
Sweat gathered on both my palms.
Which only made my fingers slip and slide all the more.
Panic began to creep in.
“…Oh goodness. Wh-why won’t this come undone today of all days…”
“…”
I persisted, fingers working futilely against the stubborn button.
Then it happened.
Kael reached out and seized my hands — the ones still wrestling with his button.
I startled, eyes going wide as I looked up at him.
A faint crease had formed between his brows.
He pressed his lower lip between his teeth briefly, then spoke in a voice stripped of all warmth.
“What are you doing?”
“…Pardon?”
“What. Are you doing. Right now.”
“I-I was trying to unbutton your uniform… so we could… you know…”
“Ha…”
A short, incredulous exhale — half laugh, half exasperation — escaped him.
Then he released my hands.
A heartbeat later, he planted one hand on the table beside me and leaned in, bringing his torso down toward mine — until the tips of our noses were nearly touching.
A sharp, iron-edged scent clung to him. Blood.
His crimson eyes held a cold, gleaming light that sent a chill straight through me.
He was unmistakably furious.
Did I… take things too far? His reaction is so much stronger than I expected…
The naked, penetrating weight of his gaze made my body instinctively draw back as I spoke.
“I-if I’ve offended you, I’m sorr—”
“That thing you’re wearing.”
“…Yes?”
“Whose is it?”
“…”
He tilted his head slightly as he asked.
As though he might devour me where I sat.
“Tell me.”
“…”
He wants to know whose shirt it is?
I had assumed the sight of me playing the part of a brazen woman had angered him — but this was what he chose to focus on?
“Answer me. Eveline.”
He dragged the words up from somewhere deep in his throat, and they came out rough and raw.
…It was, frankly, a little frightening.
“…I-it’s my father’s…”
