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“—Pardon me. I must insist you observe proper manners toward my wife.”
I was scooped up by the speaker in one smooth motion. From the familiar feel of his hold, I knew who it was without seeing his face.
“Hyuetos!?”
“…No, more importantly—w-wife?”
The men stared wide-eyed at Kardia. Their gazes steadily shifted into the way one looks at a madman.
“Look, bride. Don’t you think everyone’s being rude?”
The finger Kardia pointed wasn’t only at the men. Even the ladies who had been crowding around him earlier were now looking at Kardia as if he were something odd.
“Our apologies… Is she a princess of some great power?”
Realizing it might be a political marriage, one man voiced the thought, and those around him nodded with “ah” and “I see.”
“Haha, maybe so. Well, whether you’re a princess or whoever from wherever—it’s all the same to me.”
As if to show the whole room, Kardia kissed my forehead. Even after lifting his lips away, he looked at me with cheeks flushed like a lovesick boy.
That stirred my heart into turmoil.
Wordlessly, I picked up a piece of cheese from the plate and shoved it—plop—into Kardia’s mouth.
He looked taken aback, but under the force of my will he said not a word and began to chew—munch.
When he had quietly chewed—munch, munch, munch—and I judged he had swallowed, I poked a pickled olive into his mouth next. Once again, he ate obediently.
Munch, munch, munch.
An uncanny scene spread as a full-grown man, glared at by a girl, was hand-fed while everyone watched in silence.
When he swallowed again and I went to grab a hunk of chicken, he stayed my hand, sweat beading as he asked:
“…Could it be—you’re angry about something?”
“…Angry? Me? Why?”
“…You’re angry, aren’t you? You don’t realize you’re angry, but you’re angry, right?”
Brows drawn and eyes tipped up, I glared as Kardia asked timidly. He no longer seemed to be posing for the crowd. My lips naturally pressed into a pout.
“I don’t know. But if you say so, I suppose that’s it.”
I hadn’t meant to be angry.
It just felt like something in my heart was twisting round and round, a heat with nowhere to go prodding me on.
“…I want to go home.”
A small truth slipped out.
Kardia answered at once.
“All right. Let’s go.”
“—Is that really okay?”
“It is. We’ve fulfilled our obligations, and if you’re not happy, we’ve no business staying in a place like this.”
Holding me, Kardia swept his cloak and headed for the exit. He strode quickly through the waves of nobles left gaping.
“—Hyuetos!”
“Hyuetos Magic Count—!”
Voices called from behind as people came back to their senses, but by then Kardia was already in the carriage. He set me on his lap and peered into my face.
“I’m sorry. I let myself lean on your cleverness. Will you forgive me, my bride?”
(You’ve got a nerve. The moment I said I loved you, you panicked and started treating me like a child.)
I didn’t know what part of that stung. Was it that, because my mental age didn’t match my looks, I couldn’t bear being treated like a child? But that wasn’t anything new. Ever since becoming his fiancée, it hadn’t bothered me in the least.
(And yet in front of everyone, I get the convenient ‘fiancée’ treatment.)
That alone galled me, and I thumped Kardia’s chest.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. What happened? Did those little brats say something nasty to you?”
With a face of utter distress, Kardia stroked my head, my shoulder—trying desperately to soothe me.
I saw my reflection in the carriage window as we started moving and sagged in dismay.
(Even in such a lovely dress, no matter how you look at us, we’re brother and sister.)
Kardia was being reasonable.
As a guardian toward a child, he had done nothing wrong.
(If only I could grow taller right now.)
Stung and choking up, I hit him again with a small fist.
(If only I could turn back into an adult right now—)
I had thought being a child again wasn’t truly inconvenient. I’d been dead anyway; I meant to consider mere life a windfall and walk my second chance.
And yet now, for some reason, this small body felt unbearably frustrating.
“I shouldn’t have left your side. I’m truly sorry.”
Kardia hugged me tight. I still struggled, but wisely, he did not let me go.
Since he wouldn’t let me go, I had no choice—truly no choice—but to press against him.
When I gave a long, sniffly snort, Kardia jolted.
A man with money, power, and magic—who could obtain anything in this world—was frightened by the single sound of me sniffing.
Heat rose in my chest.
Having recovered a sliver of my good mood, I pretended not to notice his trembling and wiped the tears welling at my eyes’ corners on Kardia’s clothes.
“…You always refused, didn’t you?”
“Hmm?”
“The palace balls.”
“Ah, yes.”
In the end, we had left without dancing even a single song. I had meant to lead Kardia with the steps I’d drilled as a royal palace mage.
“Why did you decide to go this time?”
Knowing Kardia, whether our engagement was acknowledged by the king or not likely didn’t matter to him either way. Our relationship seemed excellent. It hadn’t felt like anything so urgent it demanded appearing after eighty years.
“…At the royal balls they serve rare ingredients, and there are splendid dishes Ornis couldn’t make.”
Kardia peered into my eyes with his crimson ones, softening his brows. Then he gently wiped the tear pooled at my eye with a fingertip.
“…And—I thought girls might like it.”
He said it in a voice honestly pained and apologetic.
“…So it was for me?”
“That was the idea. Somehow, I never do get it right.”
As he sighed the words, I felt the twist inside me unwind.
(…A place you hadn’t gone in eighty years—just for me?)
Those words made me happier than any palace dish could.
My chest tightened. With a hand over my heart, still nestled against him, I murmured:
“Kardia, I love you.”
“…Yes, yes. Thank you.”
Leaning back against the seat, Kardia stroked my head; feigning nonchalance, he nonetheless sounded somehow relieved.
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