Chapter 18
Luirene gazed, mesmerized, at the silver hair reflected in the mirror. Within it was a beauty so different in saturation from her own black hair. Like a pearl buried in mud, she felt a nobility that couldn’t be hidden just by looking—as if it were the line between them that could never be crossed.
“How’s the room you’re staying in now? Isn’t it cramped and shabby? Uncomfortable?”
“It’s fine.”
“Shall I ask Nanny to move you to another room?”
“Then people might find out about us.”
“True. Things like this are more fun when they’re secret, I suppose.”
“And once we’re caught, we wouldn’t be able to handle the consequences.”
“Just thinking about it is exhausting.”
Luirene twisted a strand of her hair and looked at Hitaon, who was giggling softly.
“I like my current room.”
“That musty old storage closet?”
“Yes. It’s close to the library, and there are plenty of bookshelves so I can store a lot of books. On nights with a full moon, the moonlight stretches in long and makes for good reading.”
“I can’t argue with that. You love books that much?”
“Yes.”
“More than me?”
Luirene only smiled, and Hitaon’s eyes narrowed.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Because I thought it was a childish question, unworthy of the young master.”
“Childish… I’m being serious.”
“Comparing a person to an object is nonsense. The meaning of value is different.”
Despite her explanation, Hitaon’s expression remained sour. Luirene stroked his arm and continued.
“Books contain the dream I want to achieve.”
“A dream?”
“Before I die, I want to publish a book with my own name on it.”
Anyone else would have scoffed, but for Luirene, this wasn’t mere fantasy. She had never been seen apart from books; she always remained close to the printed word. Even genres that made one think, ‘Surely she doesn’t read this kind of thing?’ would appear casually in her hands.
It showed in her communication as well. Though she was a commoner who had likely never received a formal education, she faced no major obstacles in carrying a conversation, and on certain topics, she often revealed deeper insight than even he had.
“I think you can do it.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Talking with you is interesting. I feel like I’m getting smarter just by being around you.”
“Surely not.”
“I mean it. It’s a hundred times more beneficial than playing at petty jokes with others my age.”
Something seemed to occur to him mid-sentence, and Hitaon frowned.
“I’ll probably have to listen to a bunch of that nonsense again soon.”
“Do you have an engagement?”
“A young nobles’ gathering. Pesche’s leaving for the Academy, so we’re meeting as a sort of farewell party. Just thinking about all the foolishness I’ll have to witness is already giving me a headache.”
“Are you not on good terms with that young gentleman?”
“Between us, it’s fine. It’s our parents who keep each other in check.”
He grumbled uncharacteristically. If it were a matter she could step into, she would have helped, but this was Hitaon Glair’s affair. The uncrossable line she’d felt earlier—this was exactly that point. The world of nobles, which she dared not cross.
“When I return, can I come to your room?”
He always asked this on days he was particularly irritated. But he had never actually visited. Sneaking into a corner where no one was around to kiss her was different from coming directly to the room where she stayed; the level of risk was not the same. Understanding that what he wanted was purely encouragement, Luirene always answered the same way.
“I’ll leave the door unlocked and wait for you.”
Whether it was the right answer, Hitaon smiled generously.
* * *
“Hita! You were in a corner like this? I didn’t see you earlier—I thought maybe you weren’t coming today.”
It was around the time when the young nobles, draped in brooches and ornaments engraved with their family crests, had entered with composure but were gradually coming undone—and Hitaon had been sitting in a corner, watching them like a form of amusement.
Broil Pesche, who had made a grand entrance, receiving greetings from all directions and flaunting his presence, then drifted between gaming tables where drinking and betting ran rampant, now danced over and sat down. Hitaon had heard that his preparations for the Academy had been no small ordeal, but his irritatingly lively voice remained unchanged.
“I was starting to forget what your face looked like.”
“Broil, that’s because you haven’t attended in a while.”
“True enough. The Academy really grinds a person down. Feels like I can finally breathe being here.”
Broil, sprawled across the sofa like a bed, swept back his dark brown hair. He must have had a few celebratory drinks while mingling—his face glowed with a deep flush under the lighting.
“I was surprised to hear the news. Broil, were you always so academically inclined?”
“As if. I only started because of my parents’ nagging. Of course, even I’ve come to see the necessity after getting into it.”
“The Academy’s diploma?”
“Exactly. The talents produced there are sweeping up key positions in every nation. Without connections, you can’t even get a foot in that lofty door. By our generation, its influence will only grow larger.”
Broil, rolling his glass, turned his head with gleaming eyes.
“Hita. Instead of that, why don’t you come too?”
“What?”
“To Arnoba Tenbra Academy.”
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