“Please pretend you didn’t see anything, even if you did!”
… I understand the first part, but what does the second part mean?
Doesn’t saying “I didn’t see” imply that I actually didn’t see? I thought so, but quickly lowered my head under the intense gaze of my master and picked up the washcloth floating on the surface of the hot spring.
Rachel snatched it away and fastened it around herself once more.
Unfortunately, it seemed she was unaware of her own reflection in the water.
It’s only natural to want to shut one’s eyes at a moment like this, but the male instinct had petrified her eyelids.
‘… Truly, she’s a goddess.’
The gently rippling surface accentuated the curves of her physique.
I wondered if a woodcutter peeking at a bathing goddess in the sky felt this way.
Had the village chief seen this scene, he might have boasted throughout the town that the family heirloom was indeed a divine bathhouse.
Thus, I was forcibly(!) subjected to this view of her naked form, leaving me wishing for… well, my first mixed bathing experience had come to a surprisingly short end.
Rachel, fastening the washcloth around her body, made her exit with a hurried farewell.
“Well, I’ll take my leave now.”
“Ah, uh, okay…”
Only then did I raise my head to catch a glimpse of Rachel’s retreating figure as she rushed toward the back door.
“…She’s surprisingly clumsy.”
I murmured, watching her buttock jiggle with each step, still partly exposed due to her inadequate covering.
If it were up to me, I would have loved to point out her exposed backside, but I figured it might lead to unnecessary misunderstandings, so I chose to remain silent.
Sometimes pretending not to know is more helpful in life than acting like you do.
“Well, should I head out too?”
Confirming that Rachel had completely left the backyard, I rose from the outdoor tub.
Too much of anything is no good.
Remaining too long in the water felt like my muscles would turn to goo, and I felt I had thoroughly enjoyed my very first hot spring experience.
The sky was tinted a reddish hue; evening was approaching, heralding the moment when the top-notch chef, Lumia, would present a marvelous monster dish.
Exiting the backyard, I headed for the second floor of the accommodation.
And then…
“Your Grace?”
I came face to face with Lumia, who was lingering in front of a door.
Room number four.
It was the door to my assigned room.
And Lumia was holding a piece of paper in her hand as she paced in front of it.
While everyone took their time unwinding from their travels for their own purposes, Lumia sat at a desk, writing something.
It was her reflections on what she had seen and heard today.
“I’m really sorry.”
It was an apology regarding the past.
She wrote to express her remorse for denying the changes in the villain, for her scornful attitude towards the days when she relished in the villain’s withdrawal declaration, and for persistently tormenting and oppressing him during those times.
With the winds of change blowing unexpectedly, her determination to wander the nation and atone for her past wrongdoings was scrawled densely across the paper.
Lumia could hardly believe the rumors that claimed she had rescued a mother and daughter from violence on the festival day of the Engagement Contest, as she grappled with her flawed belief that a person’s nature could not possibly change.
In her mind, vivid images of Elden began to take shape—images that she could now imagine clearly.
Not only had he defeated the bandits blocking the road and collecting tolls, but he had also gone to great lengths to wipe out their base, rescuing those who were held captive there and bringing them back to their families and homes.
Elden’s joyful smile as he watched the reunited individuals warmed her heart.
That smile was so pure and innocent that just looking at it felt like a cleansing of the soul and made her believe in sincerity.
Moreover, Elden, warmly comforting those expressing their gratitude, even going so far as to embrace those who were weeping uncontrollably, seemed to lay down the high status he had once guarded so strictly as a nobleman.
In the past, he would have kicked away any commoner approaching him for a hug.
‘People really can change this much…’
Now, she believed in his transformation.
She acknowledged that her previous convictions were misguided.
Thus, she felt ashamed.
Unlike her, who had been ensnared by her past and had only caused trouble, Elden was moving forward, fulfilling his promise to cleanse himself of his past sins and embrace the winds of change.
While she felt herself shrinking and becoming inconsequential, Elden was growing and shining brilliantly in ways unseen.
And at that moment, witnessing his radiant smile and embrace, she realized her curiosity and interest in the character he had displayed since his declaration of withdrawal at the Engagement Contest.
The reason she had been so fixated on the illusions she thought he wore was that those ideals were indeed what she had longed for.
Helping injured maidens directly instead of flaunting his noble authority, abandoning debauchery, fostering a bright future, and treating people not as mere status but as fellow humans—this affectionate demeanor she once denied was ultimately what she had hoped to see reflected in Elden.
On the day of preparation for the highlight of the Engagement Contest, the unveiling ceremony, she recalled the words Merien had said as she styled her hair.
“Perhaps… you might have feelings for Elden, My Lord?”
In response to her self-deprecating question about why she was hanging onto that villain Elden, Merien had given that answer.
At the time, she had brushed it off as nonsense, letting it go in one ear and out the other, but Merien had seen through to the essence well before she did.
The transformed figure of Elden Raphelion she observed since the declaration of withdrawal was indeed the kind of man her lady desired.
“Did I have feelings for Elden? No way.”
“Of course, not back then. That wicked villain was entirely beneath you. But if the changes in the current Elden are genuine, he might just be the ‘thoughtful, deep thinker, with much to learn, who doesn’t get tangled up in social status’ that you’ve been longing for.”
“What…?”
“Haha. You seemed disinterested in men, so I pressed a bit, and that’s how you responded, right?”
“W-Well, that is true…”
“To be honest, I think the current Elden, despite being a bit intense, is preferable compared to those other spoiled young masters.”
She felt a pang of emotion.
As she remembered the conversation with Merien, Lumia paused her pen for a moment.
Recalling the gentle touch that had lovingly brushed her hair back, she found herself subconsciously smoothing her locks.
Something welled up within her, causing her eyes to burn, and her sigh was fleeting and shaky, but Lumia began to write once more.
Apologies and Reflection.
If it were up to me, I would want to convey the sincerity of my feelings through my voice. However, I felt that waiting would dull this moment, so I couldn’t hold on any longer.
With a paper filled to the brim, I arrived at Elden’s door, containing unspoken apologies for what I had failed to express, reflections on the torment I had inflicted by denying his change, and blessings for the radiant path he would walk ahead.
Knock, knock.
I tapped gently, but there was no response.
It seemed he was still indulging in his bath.
For some reason, an anxious feeling bubbled inside me as I nervously chewed on my lip, pacing back and forth in front of his door for quite a while.
“Your Grace?”
At the sound of my name being called, I jolted in surprise.
“…!!”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
As soon as I faced the eagerly awaited Elden, I instinctively hid what I had written behind my back.
Feeling embarrassed for only now acknowledging the sincerity of my withdrawal and for finally preparing to apologize, I couldn’t help but conceal the paper.
“…? Do you have something to say to me?”
Someone who normally doesn’t dwell in lies would seem unnatural when trying to hide something.
Elden looked at me curiously, and as I awkwardly hesitated, I pressed my lips together and finally pulled out the paper I had been hiding.
A single sheet fluttered into sight.
His face only expressed confusion upon receiving it.
“What… is this?”
Panicking, I quickly brought out a new sheet and started writing:
[I want to apologize. I wish I could say it with my voice, but I have no idea when it’ll come back, or if it ever will… so I wrote this.]
“….”
For Elden, the remnants of that day had long been buried beneath six months of snow.
After all, both she and he were just equally angry victims of the situation.
It puzzled him why a victim should need to apologize to another victim, but sensing what I wanted to convey, he silently read through what I had handed him.
And then…
“…”
Standing awkwardly in front of him, I fidgeted with my fingers, biting my lip, my anxious face betraying me as I observed every flicker of his gaze, every breath, every gesture as he read my apology.
Would he forgive me?
Wouldn’t he?
Caught at this crossroads of indecision, I created a tumultuous silence around us.
“…”
Then, suddenly.
Drop.
Drop.
When two droplets fell onto the scrawl of apologies and reflections, my pupils dilated beyond their limits.
“Eh, Dr…?”
I finally uttered a word after losing my voice.
Though it wasn’t clear, I distinctly saw the droplets rolling down Elden’s cheek.
Drop.
The words of apology and reflection began to moisten and smudge before my eyes.
“U-uh… er…”
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