The End of the Special Contract Romance (4)
“A Philosophy of Happiness and Life Through the Eyes of the Great Philosopher Michael Rogers”
The book Iris had recommended had a long title, and it was thick and weighty. It didn’t seem to have been read by many, judging from the lack of wear on its pages.
Eric settled at the desk with the book in hand. The row of solid oak desks was lined with lamps spaced at regular intervals. With the day so bright, he didn’t bother lighting any.
Across from him, Iris took her seat, her book titled 72 Wisdoms for Nurturing the Human Soul. It was a consistently aligned taste in reading.
The two began reading in silence. In the quiet library, the occasional rustle of turning pages echoed softly now and then.
It’s more interesting and fun than I expected?
Eric thought to himself as he opened the book without much anticipation. The philosophy books he’d been forced to read as a child by his parents had been so dull they didn’t even elicit a yawn.
But the one Iris had given him struck a perfect balance—not too difficult, yet profound, with plenty of passages that resonated deeply. It was genuinely enjoyable.
This could be a life-changing book for me.
Grateful, Eric looked up to thank Iris for the recommendation. But no sound escaped his slightly parted lips.
Because Iris, who had been reading with perfect posture, had her eyes closed, dozing off.
It was the aftermath of staying up late the night before to draft the budget for the second half of the year in Marquis Hugo’s territory. She’d hidden the fatigue with makeup, but in this quiet space, trying to read, sleep had inevitably crept up on her.
Rather than wake her as she slumbered upright, Eric simply watched her quietly. Her pure, gentle features remained unchanged even with her eyes shut.
…I can’t seem to look away.
Watching someone sleep quietly wasn’t exactly the most entertaining pastime, yet for some reason, his gaze kept drifting there. Eric propped his chin on his hand and observed Iris, whose head teetered on the brink of tilting over.
Ah, there she goes, furrowing her brow.
The sun, nearing noon, blazed with intense light. She happened to be seated by the window, and the rays poured directly onto her face.
Eric reached out, casting a shadow over her with his hand. Slowly, the crease between her brows smoothed out. He smiled to himself without a sound.
“Cute.”
The word slipped from Eric’s lips unbidden, and the corners of his mouth curved into a gentle arc.
His hand, basking fully in the sunlight, grew warm and toasty, but he was so utterly focused on Iris that he barely registered the sensation.
Somehow, it left him feeling oddly delighted.
* * *
Iris swore she hadn’t come to the library intending to fall asleep.
Yet when she came to, her head was resting against something warm yet slightly firm. Blinking groggily in that half-dreaming state, she panicked to see the book she’d been holding now splayed across the desk.
What…?
She blinked dazedly, then realized what was supporting her head. It wasn’t an object at all—it was a person’s hand.
“…?!”
Startled, Iris jerked her head upright and looked across the table. Eric, as if he’d been waiting, met her eyes and flashed a bright smile as he spoke.
“Sleep well?”
“Ah, no… I’m so sorry, Viscount Roberts. I must have been such a bother…”
“Lady Hugo, it wasn’t any trouble at all, so don’t worry. You were so light, it wasn’t even tiring to hold you up.”
“Still…”
Iris’s face crumpled in distress. She’d been the one to suggest coming to the library first, only to nod off—it was mortifying and embarrassing.
What must Viscount Roberts think of me now! I’m such an idiot.
Overwhelmed by self-reproach, Iris checked the time and gasped in horror. Noon had long since passed; how long had she been out?
“I’m sorry, you must have missed lunch because of me? You could’ve just woken me…”
“No, it’s fine. We can go eat now.”
“Then let’s hurry to lunch! I’ll just put the book back—give me a second!”
“Ah, Lady Hugo…!”
Iris scrambled to her feet and vanished between the shelves in a flash. Eric scratched the back of his head. It wasn’t that urgent. He, too, headed off to return his book to its place.
Hiding behind a bookshelf, Iris thumped her forehead against the spine of a book. She was too mortified to even look Eric straight in the eye.
What if Viscount Roberts thinks I’m lazy from now on? How pathetic must I have looked, dozing off right in front of a book? What if I drooled in my sleep?
She hastily touched around her mouth—thank goodness, no drool marks. Letting out a sigh of relief, Iris suddenly realized she was fretting far too much.
It wasn’t just regret over inconveniencing Eric; she was anxious about how she must have appeared to him.
As if she desperately wanted to look good in his eyes.
What on earth am I thinking right now?
Her grip tightened on the book as Iris composed herself sternly. This was just a matter of apologizing politely and moving on without dwelling. No need to overthink it.
With her resolve steeled, she dragged a ladder over to the shelf. The book was shelved quite high; Eric had helped her retrieve it earlier, but now, on her own, she’d need the ladder.
Creak.
A ominous sound leaked from the ladder as she carefully stepped up, but Iris—deliberately emptying her mind—didn’t notice in time.
Let’s see… it was around there, right?
She stretched toward the empty slot to slide the book in. Either she’d misjudged the ladder’s position, or the distance was farther than she’d thought.
Grunting softly, Iris flailed her arm a bit, then rose onto her tiptoes. At last, her hand reached the gap, and she was able to slot the book home.
Ah, got it…!
Crack.
In that instant, one leg of the precarious ladder snapped.
Iris’s face drained of color. Losing its balance, the ladder toppled, sending her pitching sharply backward. She reached out too late to grab the shelf, but it was no use.
“Lady Hugo!”
Eric, who had come searching for her just then, witnessed the scene and threw himself forward.
Eyes squeezed shut, Iris braced for the impending pain of the fall, her body tense—but no hurt came. Eric had caught her at the last possible second, tumbling with her in the process.
Instead of the hard floor, she felt something soft beneath her. Iris cracked her eyes open cautiously. There was Eric, pinned under her, his brow slightly furrowed. They were impossibly close.
How close? Close enough that she could make out every individual lash, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath against her lips where they nearly touched…
“…?!”
The soft sensation turned out to be none other than Eric’s lips. Realizing the unintended brush of contact that had just occurred, Iris flushed crimson all the way to her neck and shot to her feet.
She clamped both hands over her mouth, her eyes trembling wildly.
Thump, thump, thump.
Her heart pounded with frantic speed. She’d never felt her blood racing like this in her life. It seemed as if it might leap right out of her chest, so Iris pressed her hands harder against her lips.
In the meantime, Eric came to his senses and sat up, scanning her with evident concern.
“Lady Hugo, are you all right? Did you hurt yourself anywhere…?”
“I’m sorry, Young Lord Roberts! I’m truly, truly sorry!”
Her legs wobbling beneath her, Iris stood and bowed repeatedly in apology before whirling away and fleeing as if chased by some unseen force.
She knew how rude it was to act this way, but she simply didn’t have the courage to stay put any longer—she had no choice but to run.
Fortunately, Eric didn’t follow or try to stop her. Bursting out of the library in a panic, Iris muttered curses at herself under her breath for the first time in her life.
you are insane… Truly insane, Iris Hugo!
Why was her heart still fluttering like this, as if she’d fallen for him?
Iris bit her lip. Even under the blazing midday sun, her ears burned as red as ripe pomegranates.
Meanwhile, left alone in the library, Eric clutched at his chest.
In front of Iris, he’d played it off as nothing, but in truth, his heart was racing like a galloping racehorse, on the verge of bursting.
With his other hand, he touched his lips gingerly. The soft, moist press—firm as a seal—flashed vividly back to him. The closeness of their bodies, the nearness of her face.
Eric covered his eyes with his palm and tilted his head back. The parts he couldn’t hide had ripened red.
“…This is trouble. It feels like I’ve gone and developed feelings for Lady Hugo.”
He murmured it to himself with utter sincerity. There had been a reason, after all, for why he’d spent the whole day watching her with his eyes, finding every one of her actions utterly endearing.
What was he to do about this?
In Eric’s eyes, Iris seemed to need a full life of her own more than she needed love right now, which made it all the more awkward that he’d gone and harbored these secret affections all by himself.
Such emotions wouldn’t do much to help her through the confusion she was facing at present.
A pang of bitterness settled in alongside the dilemma, though it wasn’t all that surprising to find himself feeling more than mere fondness for Iris.
She might not know it, but Eric had taken a liking to her from the very first time they met. He simply hadn’t let those feelings grow because she hadn’t wanted him to.
So this was an emotion that had always been there, waiting for the slightest spark to bloom. Their contractual romance had kept things at a careful distance, maintaining proper boundaries—that was the only reason it had been held back this long.
“Hah… I’m being a fool again.”
He’d had plenty of unrequited crushes to fuel his botany work already, and yet here he was, adding another to the list all on his own.
Eric ruffled his hair roughly and stood. After informing the library staff about the broken ladder, he made his way slowly outside.
A premonition told him he wouldn’t see Iris’s face for a while.
He would have to uproot these feelings at the root, now that they’d just begun to sprout.
* * *
After the library date, Eric and Iris made no contact with each other—as if they’d silently agreed to it.
Iris, still not mentally prepared to face him, felt a strange mix of relief and vague disappointment. She had been dwelling on that day so much that it even haunted her dreams.
In the midst of her daily routine, she’d zone out now and then, only for the scene to replay in her mind, leaving her cheeks burning all over again. It had gotten to the point where her attendant even asked if she’d caught a cold.
Her lips tingled with the memory several times a day, stirring up a restless turmoil in her heart—and she wondered if Eric felt the same.
Did his heart race like this whenever he thought of her?
If he felt nothing at all and was simply giving her space out of consideration, it would hurt in a way she couldn’t quite explain—far too disappointing for reasons she couldn’t pin down.
..But do I even have the right to feel that way?
If they were truly lovers, maybe. But she and Eric were just in a contractual romance, nothing more. It was absurd to let emotions like these creep in.
Why should it feel like a letdown if he didn’t think of her in his everyday moments?
“…Ah, why am I even like this?”
Iris pressed a hand to her forehead and scowled. She was frustrated and anxious with herself for constantly pushing past the lines she’d drawn.
“Pardon? What was that, miss?”
Milla, who had been tidying the bed linens, snapped her head up. Iris waved it off as nothing, but a sudden curiosity struck her.
How did she appear to others’ eyes? How might her feelings come across?
Gazing at the maid’s brisk movements through the mirror, Iris opened her mouth hesitantly.
“Um, Milla.”
“Yes, miss.”
“This is something a friend of mine asked me, but I’d like to hear your take on it too.”
“Oh, of course. Go ahead.”
Milla clasped her hands politely and perked up her ears. The kind young lady often treated her like a friend, sharing little personal stories from time to time.
“When you think of someone and your heart starts beating faster, or they pop into your head for no reason at all, and if it seems like they aren’t paying you any mind, it makes you inexplicably upset—what do you think that means?”
“Well, that’s obviously because you like them, isn’t it?”
Milla answered without a moment’s hesitation, bright and clear. The response caught Iris so off guard that she went blank.
Because you like them…?
Does that mean… I like Young Lord Roberts?
