Chapter 20
“When do you leave?”
“Two weeks from now. I’m planning to do everything I want before then. Honestly, I’m not even sure I’ll graduate properly.”
“After all that boasting, now you’re sounding weak.”
“It’s a place notorious for making graduation difficult. I’ve been losing sleep lately, worried that I might get kicked out without even graduating after entering with such high spirits.”
As if to prove his accumulated fatigue, Broil cracked his neck left and right. His cravat was gone, likely tossed aside in excitement from gambling, and red marks were visible inside his open shirt. Hitaon, sipping his drink, narrowed his eyes.
“Seems like you’re losing sleep in a different sense?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Your neck.”
“Hm? Ah—.”
Catching on immediately meant this wasn’t a once-in-a-while thing. Perhaps the one whose desires had accumulated the most at this gathering, preparing for the Academy, was this guy. The lecherous smile curling Broil’s lips was proof.
“Once I go back, things will get busy, you know. I need to enjoy myself while I can.”
“How bold of you.”
“Of course I do it in secret. A cute maid just came in. She gets so wet just from being touched that it’s easy to put it in anywhere.”
Chin resting on his hand, Hitaon looked at Broil with lazy eyes.
“What kind of touching?”
Broil’s eyes went wide as he filled his glass.
“Hita, since when do you ask about that? You used to hate this kind of talk. You’d pretend to be disgusted and leave.”
“Enough talking. Just tell me.”
Broil, sending him a curious look, grinned and leaned his upper body forward. Hitaon readjusted his cigar and bent toward him. Amidst the noise and clamor, their lewd whispers continued in secret.
* * *
The period at the end of each day was always writing. Whether thanks to unleashing her abundant imagination without filter, the page was already densely filled.
Luirene, having set her quill in the ink bottle, picked up the paper and read it through once. It read smoothly without any awkward parts, but something felt lacking. The problem was that her own writing always seemed poor to her.
Publishing a book under her own name. That was one of the dreams she had inherited from Hopper.
Old Man Hopper’s original dream, she’d heard, was to become a traveler. He wanted to bind a book recording what he saw and felt, stepping with his own feet on unfamiliar, unfolding lands.
That was why he’d started the bookshop, but somehow things got busy and the dream remained just a dream. Hopper had taught her repeatedly how important it was to put one’s thoughts and feelings into writing. It was only natural—so natural it was almost inevitable—that Luirene, having grown up hearing and seeing this, would come to share the same dream.
If Hopper’s dream was to publish a book of travel records, Luirene’s was to create a world of her own. The fairy tales and novels she had held and grown up with stirred up much inspiration.
Luirene neatly gathered and organized the pages, placing them in a box. Including the ones she’d left at the bookshop, there were already four boxes full.
The time spent growing from a minor to an adult was also a time of realizing how far-fetched that dream was. Can I really do this? Plagued by vague anxiety whenever she ran up against reality, she had recently regained her confidence.
Thanks to the young master.
She had spoken her ambition with courage, prepared to be mocked, but the response that came from Hitaon’s mouth was the calm affirmation: I think you can do it. Her heart beat in a different rhythm, as if a second life had begun with the courage he’d given her.
Secret meetings with the young master. Though there was a sense of having been swept along into them, Luirene now found herself waiting for that time as well.
Hitaon Glair was a special person in Luirene’s world. A man. A beauty. And a noble. The fact that someone composed of such descriptors desired her, grew excited by her, fiercely elevated her pride. Now, intoxicated by the elation, just touching him made her heart tighten.
Even as she gradually adapted to pleasure, her anticipation outweighed her fear. Unknown sensations were thrilling, and the uncharted lake made her want to gauge just how far it might extend.
Probably soon… that would happen too.
For now, he was waiting patiently, but she instinctively knew that the end wasn’t far off.
Perhaps because it had grown late, the lamp’s light had dimmed. Luirene tidied her desk and stood up. She checked everything one by one—whether the window was properly closed, whether the books were in order, whether she’d chosen and set out tomorrow’s clothes—before extinguishing the lamp.
As she walked toward the bed, she suddenly felt a presence near the door. Thinking she might have misheard, she stood still, and then the doorknob rattled. Quickly relighting the lamp, Luirene found her shawl and wrapped it around herself, then opened the door. And she was startled.
“Young mas…”
“Shh.”
Hitaon silenced her and stepped inside the room.
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