Chapter 27
Seeing the Nanny, whose voice and demeanor had both gone rigid, reality crashed over him like cold water. Until just moments ago, he’d been in a daze, as if intoxicated. Hitaon pretended to be slightly flustered as he spoke.
“I meant to go to my bedroom, but the alcohol confused me. My mistake.”
“Inside, what were you—”
“No, Nanny, nothing happened. I apologized for mistaking the room and was just on my way out.”
Despite his tone, which sought to cut off any grave misunderstanding, the Nanny’s expression did not soften. Her eyes, hard as a frozen statue, darted between the young master and the small room behind him. Finally, she reacted.
“I see.”
“It seems I startled you over nothing. I’ll return to my bedroom now, so…”
“Luirene must have been frightened as well, by this late-night incident. I should check on her myself.”
“Nanny!”
She stepped forward without hesitation and, with a hasty knock, opened the door immediately.
Before leaving the room, Hitaon remembered Luirene lying on the bed, naked, covered only by a blanket. Even to an indifferent eye, she would appear as a woman languid from lovemaking. If that sight were discovered, the suspicion now taking root would harden into undeniable certainty. If that happened, this secret relationship would…
“Nanny?”
The Nanny’s lamp brightly illuminated the small room, which until recently had been thick with a dense atmosphere.
The bedding was undisturbed, the bookshelves filled without a single empty space, and the night breeze coming through the open window circulated the air gently. And by the window stood Luirene, holding a lamp she had just lit. Neatly dressed in a one-piece with her hair half-tied.
“…It’s late. You’re still awake.”
“Yes. I was reading and lost track of time. I was just changing clothes and about to get ready for bed… Did something happen all of a sudden?”
“The young master said he made a mistake because of the alcohol, so I came to check, worried.”
“Ah, it was nothing serious.”
Luirene waved both hands and smiled. Realizing she had noticed the situation outside the door and acted quickly, Hitaon hurriedly played along.
“That’s what I told you, Nanny. I only mistook the room.”
“…It seems that really was the case. My apologies, Luirene.”
“Not at all. I’m relieved no misunderstanding occurred.”
“Young master, let’s go now. I’ll escort you to your bedroom.”
Only after they closed the door and left did Luirene relax. She had pretended to be fine, but her waist and legs ached so badly she could barely stand. If she had been even a little slower, she would have been caught in the middle of frantically dressing. She was grateful she had laid out tomorrow’s clothes in advance.
‘Will it be okay?’
Though she had verbally agreed, the Nanny’s expression had been strange. She had always kept in mind that this relationship might be discovered, but now that it had nearly happened, her heart pounded unreasonably. As if paying the price for the heated secret meeting.
Her heart stung. Though the crisis had passed, it was a night that left her fearing the aftermath.
* * *
A sunny afternoon. The thick sunlight had tightened around their throats, stinging. In the sweltering weather where even standing still made sweat flow, the practice grounds of the marquisate were radiating heat in a different way.
Clang, clang. The sound of blades clashing rang out in succession. The sharp friction split the increasingly dense summer air as if cutting through it.
Dodging a blade coming toward his shoulder by lowering his stance, Hitaon thrust the tip of his sword hard at an offbeat rhythm. The transparent blade, reflecting sunlight, stopped at a hair’s breadth from the opponent’s solar plexus.
“I yield.”
Stepping back a few paces, the knight, with a graceful motion, sheathed his sword and admitted defeat with a courteous demeanor, as if he had never lunged with such intensity. Hitaon, relaxing now that the sparring was over, swept back his sweat-dampened hair.
“Next time, I’ll have to choose Linjo as my training partner.”
“Am I insufficient, my lord?”
“You’re too serious. It’s suffocating. It’s just practice—you could ease up a bit.”
“Practice as if it were real combat. That’s what I was taught.”
“In real combat, one bullet is all it takes to end it.”
“…Please don’t say such things.”
Mikale, a staunch proponent of the sword, immediately showed a skeptical reaction at the mention of firearms. It was a topic that could draw the only response from the otherwise rigidly expressionless man, so Hitaon had brought it up half in jest.
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