Chapter 71

It was a peaceful morning.

On that day, Elma—having already gripped the souls of the chefs in the kitchen, polished the hallways with such speed she left only afterimages, and finished sorting the vegetables by sugar content—was about to craft a national-treasure-level piece of silverware while casually polishing the cutlery. It was then that her colleague, Irene, called out to her.

Apparently, yet another summons had come from the new King, Felix.

With a look of mild annoyance glinting behind her glasses, Elma headed to Felix’s quarters with Irene. However, upon opening the door, they both tilted their heads in confusion.

In the room lined with luxurious furnishings, Prince Lucas—who was supposed to be leading the Knights’ training—was present. That in itself was a common enough sight, but the person who mattered most, Felix, was nowhere to be seen.

“Pardon me, but where has His Majesty gone?”

“The sunlight was pleasant, so he said he was going to sleep on the castle roof. Well, whether that’s his true motive or not, I couldn’t say.”

When Elma asked, Lucas, who was already sitting on a sofa with his legs crossed, answered with a shrug.

Even though he had likely been summoned just as abruptly—evident by the fact that he was still wearing the shirt the Knights used during training—his expression was unusually free of weariness or irritation. In fact, he seemed to have been eagerly awaiting Elma and the others, and he lightly waved a sheet of stationery that had been resting on a small side table.

“Rejoice. A massive shipment of wine has arrived from the Frenzel territory as a ‘token of friendship.’ All of it is of the highest quality.”

“Oh!”

Irene, who had been standing quietly in reserve, let her face brighten at Lucas’s words. Though perhaps not to the same extent as Lucas, she was a lover of fine spirits.

This was especially true for Frenzel wine, a region famous for its vintages—particularly its rich red wines, which were praised as “drinkable rubies.”

“Lord Jonas certainly knows how to be thoughtful. Might we, perhaps, be allowed to share in the bounty?”

“Yes. For some reason, several dozen bottles were delivered specifically to me as an individual as well.”

“My. As expected of Your Highness—you and Lord Jonas must have become quite close before we even realized it.”

Irene and the others knew nothing of the “contract” Lucas had exchanged with Jonas. With a look of simple admiration, she then noticed a large wooden crate that had been carried in beside the sofa and cast a gaze full of expectation toward it.

“Could it be that the wine is in there?”

“Yes. These are the ones addressed to me personally. The ones for my brother were so numerous that I had them moved to the castle storehouse. Incidentally, my brother said that seeing such a vast quantity of wine made him lose his appetite for it. He told me I was free to handle the bottles addressed to me however I liked.”

Since Felix had flatly stated, “Do as you wish; they’re yours,” regarding who to serve and where to drink, Lucas had invited Elma and the others without hesitation. The King’s quarters were the perfect space to indulge in the finest wine to one’s heart’s content without having to worry about prying eyes.

“Consider it a reward from me. You may drink as much of the wine in this crate as you like. However, do not go blabbing about this to your fellow maids.”

“Of course not!”

“Um—”

In contrast to Irene, who had already begun rolling up her sleeves with gusto, Elma spoke up hesitantly.

“I am terribly sorry, but I must respectfully decline the offer.”

Exactly. Due to her constitution that caused her to collapse upon drinking alcohol, she was unable to consume strong wine.

However, upon hearing this, Lucas smiled as if he had anticipated her response.

“Ah. I thought you might say that—here.”

What he held out was a bottle a size smaller than the others. The contents were a deep purple liquid that, at a glance, looked just like wine. However, the bottle had been treated to reflect light like a crystal, and a beautiful ribbon was tied near the cork, giving it the elegant, high-class atmosphere of a premium gift.

“This is…?”

“It’s grape juice (Zaft). I thought you might be able to drink this.”

He smoothly hinted at special treatment without being overbearing—a true display of a charming man’s expertise.

“If you pour this into a glass and drink it, you can experience the feeling of drinking wine, right? We’re drinking during the day. I permit it. Let’s drink.”

“…!”

At Lucas’s suggestion, Elma showed a look of joy so clear it was visible even through her glasses. As is often the case with those who cannot hold their liquor, it wasn’t that they disliked the idea of drinking; rather, they simply couldn’t, and they actually wanted to participate in the festivities.

“This is… the first time I have ever shared a drink with everyone like this.”

And sharing a drink with people she felt comfortable with was, apparently, one of the items on Elma’s “Ordinary Outside World List.” With a fluttering heart, Elma reached out and clutched the bottle of Zaft to her chest as if it were a treasure.

“Thank you very much, Your Highness.”

“It was nothing.”

Lucas raised a single eyebrow in amusement.

“If it makes you that happy, then it was worth the effort.”

For once, the charmer was operating at full capacity. Just then, Irene, who had been peering into the crate, found something and let out a cry.

“Oh! It’s not just wine. Cheese, raisins, nuts… you’ve even prepared snacks! How thoughtful!”

“Yes. Apparently, that was Lady Deborah’s consideration. For proof, look here.”

Lucas paused his hand as he was flipping through the stationery back on the sofa and gave one sheet a flick.

“I received a message from Lady Deborah as well. The wording is unnervingly polite… but for some reason, the intent that this is strictly meant for Elma comes through loud and clear…”

Lucas lowered his gaze to the stationery again, reaching his hand toward the crate beside him to pick up a parcel. “Here,” he said, handing it to Elma.

“For now, you take this. It seems to be a butter cake made with raisins. Somehow… I feel a sense of madness, as if the cake itself would attack anyone other than you who tried to eat it. Just eat it here and now.”

“I am honored.”

“Hey Elma, are we just going to gloss over the wording of that letter!? To be polite yet feel like madness… exactly what kind of wording is that!?”

Irene, who considered herself the representative of common sense, leaned over with momentum to peek at Lucas’s hand. There, in an unexpectedly masterful hand, a dead-serious message was written.

I am delighted to hear of your continued prosperity (E).

Thank you very much for visiting our territory the other day (L).

I could not provide much in the way of hospitality (M), and on the contrary, it ended up being a situation where you saved our house and our territory from distress (A), which weighs heavily on my heart (-sama).

However, welcoming the three of you to our territory and spending a fruitful harvest festival together (E) has become a wonderful memory beyond compare (L) for my house (M) and for everyone in the territory (-sama) (E).

This is a small token of my gratitude (L), but I am sending a few items that pair well with wine (M).

In particular, the butter cake kneaded with raisins (-sama) is a point of pride for our territory, so I would be honored if you would accept it (Lady Elmael!!).

“…It’s true. For some reason, I feel such a mad love for Elma that the actual content isn’t even registering in my head.”

“Right? The writing itself is actually quite composed… I wonder what it is?”

It was a subliminal effect. Though Lucas and Irene both tilted their heads, they felt an inexplicable urge to comply and had Elma open the butter cake parcel on the spot.

“…It seems to have quite a unique scent.”

As she skillfully unwrapped it, Elma tilted her head slightly.

“Does it? …Ah, there’s more to the letter. Apparently, Lady Deborah added her own arrangement to the original recipe, pursuing a flavor worthy of being tasted by a ‘Supreme Being.’ But what is this? Why does reading this letter make my skin crawl more the further I go…?”

“It is strange… But for some reason, I feel like I have to keep reading…”

“I shall start ahead of you then.”

While both Lucas and Irene were reading the letter from Deborah with intense scrutiny, trying to pinpoint the source of their unease, Elma casually glanced at them from the corner of her eye. With elegant yet bold movements, she sliced the cake and put a piece into her mouth.

“…”

The moment she silently widened her eyes was the exact same moment Lucas and the others reached the next sentence.

Furthermore, to befit the majesty of the “Radiant One,” the raisins were soaked for a week in the territory’s highest quality and highest proof brandy to achieve a profound aroma.

As a result, the strength of the alcohol has deviated significantly from what one would call a butter cake, but compared to my reverence for Lady Elmael, such a thing is merely dust in the wind, like a gentle breeze.

I hope you enjoy it.

—Love Infinity. From your eternal believer, Deborah.

“Why did she save that for the very end—!?”

“I mean, why wasn’t the most important handling information about Elma communicated in the first place, eeeeeh!?”

Lucas and Irene screamed, but it was already too late.

In the direction they both snapped their heads toward—

“…”

Elma was standing there in a daze, pressing her cheeks with both hands, an intoxicating, dreamy aura wafting around her.

“Hey, are you okay!?”

“E… Elma! Are you alright!?”

Instantly, the two of them quickly extended their arms, preparing to catch Elma should she collapse. But surprisingly, Elma showed no sign of falling.

Instead, she murmured a single phrase.

“It wasn’t communicated…”

She whispered softly, her eyes fixing intently on Irene.

Apparently, Irene’s earlier scream had struck a chord in her heart. With floaty hand movements—movements so uncharacteristically slow that Lucas and Irene broke into a cold sweat and froze—she suddenly reached up and removed her glasses.

Immediately, her dawn-colored eyes, moist and misty perhaps from the alcohol, were revealed alongside an angelic beauty tinged with a slight flush.

“Wh-wh-wh-why are you taking off your glasses right there, Elma…!?”

“When speaking of important things, look them firmly in the eye… the Head Maid said so… before.”

It seemed she had remembered fragments of Gerda’s teachings. Being strangely earnest in odd places, she pressed closer to Irene with those dreamy eyes, yet keeping her gaze locked on her.

“I am going to say… something important now.”

“E… Elma, okay, I get it, so just… the glasses…! Th-the distance…!”

Being approached by a beauty so intense it felt like his breath would stop, Lucas actually felt his breath hitch. What do I do? My linguistic brain is already malfunctioning.

However, Elma paid no mind to Irene’s agitation; instead, she even grasped the hands of the bewildered girl.

“Irene. You are my… very first friend.”

Those slender hands.

Those beautiful brows, knit together in just a hint of a serious frown.

Eyes that held equal parts innocence and enchantment brimmed with moist tears, and a faint, fleeting sigh escaped her lightly tinted lips.

Then, Elma spoke in a soft whisper.

“I love you.”

“Ugh-oh…!!”

In that instant, a scream—a low-pitched, un-maidenlike sound—burst from Irene’s throat. Her brain and heart had been violently gouged by those words, which were utterly straightforward yet carried a trace of childishness.

Irene collapsed on the spot, gasping for breath, clutching her heart and writhing in agony with a “Guooohhh…”

Beside her, Lucas, though shaken by the staggering power of the drunken Elma, found he couldn’t look away. He hesitantly reached out a hand. “H-hey…”

As he unconsciously extended his hand, countless thoughts raced through his mind. What terrifying destructive power. This level of coquetry should be classified as a form of violence. No, now is not the time for commentary; I must stop this girl who has turned into a radioactive, hazardous lifeform of allure. No, wait, first aid.

Yes, this was an emergency where Irene’s heart was in danger. It was absolutely, positively not the timing to take advantage of the situation and ask Elma a certain question—

“—Hey.”

But before he knew it, Lucas was asking.

“…So, uh. Is there… anything you have to say to me?”

It was the moment his self-control and common sense dropped to their knees before his curiosity and instincts.

“Eh…?”

In response, Elma still looked somewhat dazed. She had crouched down beside the collapsed Irene to stroke her back, but she slowly raised her face and tilted her head.

Then, she pressed her lips together, shuffled her knees slightly to change her angle, and turned toward Lucas. (For the record, he thought the entire sequence of movements was unnecessarily, damnably cute.)

Since Lucas had also crouched toward Elma, the two were now in a position where they were sitting on the floor, staring at each other. Being peered at from the front by such overwhelming beauty, even the veteran Lucas felt his heart skip a beat.

Moreover, Elma suddenly let a smile slip.

“…!”

It was like a flower blooming. Like light pouring through a gap in the clouds. An innocent, completely trusting smile—yet one moistened with the sexiness of the alcohol.

Then, with that melting smile still on her face, Elma slowly reached her hand toward Lucas and—

Pat, pat. Thumbs up.

For some reason, after patting his shoulder, she gave him a thumbs up with a brilliant grin.

“Mmh.”

“Don’t ‘Mmh’ me!”

Lucas screamed back without missing a beat. Where had the romantic atmosphere gone? Had it evaporated?

The moment Elma heard Lucas’s retort, her expression vanished. Her eyes grew even dreamier, and she whispered softly.

“I’m sleepy.”

“How are you this free-spirited!?”

“Good night.”

“Hey, wait! Don’t bury your face there! Don’t rub it against me! You idiot!!”

To top it all off, she ended up burying her face into Lucas’s chest as if it were a pillow, rubbing against him.

Perhaps because of the intoxication, her body temperature felt slightly elevated. The slenderness of her hands pressed against the fabric of his shirt. The sight of her nape right before his eyes—slender, yet wafting with a rising scent of allure.

Lucas had had more women lean against his chest than he could count, yet he cursed himself internally for being as flustered as an inexperienced boy. Seriously, I’ve lost it.

However, without the slightest consideration for Lucas’s state of mind, the lovely and troublesome temptress in his arms murmured in a voice that sounded like it was mixed with honey.

“…Today, there is no… scent of perfume…”

“Hey—”

Lucas’s voice cracked. It might have been because he was flustered that this girl was so well aware of his past reputation as a philanderer, or perhaps because he had just remembered he had been in the middle of Knight training until moments ago.

Lucas was used to wooing women, but that was exactly why he found it unbearable to be unkempt in front of a girl he cared about.

“Stop, don’t sniff me—”

“The scent of skin… and the sun.”

He hurriedly grabbed the girl’s shoulders to push her away, but she instead curled up tighter and pressed her face even harder into his chest.

“This smell, somehow, it’s very, ah—”

Then, she abruptly fell fast asleep.

“Don’t cut off the sentence right there of all places—!”

Is it comforting? Is it savory? …Or does it smell like sweat?

It was only natural that Lucas, having lost the following words, began shaking Elma while screaming.

But no matter how much he called out or shook her shoulders, Elma didn’t twitch. With her eyes covered by long lashes firmly shut, she simply continued to sleep deeply with an expression so blissful it made the onlooker want to yell.

“Hey! Elma! You, in this situation…! How incredibly troublesome can you be…!!”

Lucas, who had been shaking her vigorously, finally realized she had turned into a “Woman Who Will Absolutely Sleep Through Anything.” Eventually, a tone of tragedy seeped into his voice as he looked up at the ceiling.

“You’ve got to be kidding…!”

He resented how her body was slumped against him so trustingly. Her slender waist, her defenseless neck, her slightly parted lips—even if such things were right in front of him, there was no way he could lay a hand on her in this situation.

Eventually, Lucas managed to shake off his intrusive thoughts with a heavy sigh. He carefully pulled Elma’s body away and his eyes fell upon the remains of the butter cake parcel nearby.

“…………”

His face twisted as if he had swallowed a bitter bug. That Deborah… this is like some kind of torture.

“Hey, Irene.”

“…Ha! Y-yes…!?”

Irene, whose entire sanity)value had been wiped out by Elma’s “I love you” attack, finally came to her senses and snapped to her feet. Following his gaze, she understood the “disaster” that had befallen Lucas, her face a mix of agitation and sympathy.

Transcending the boundaries of gender and rank, a sense of solidarity like brothers-in-arms wafted between the two. After staring at each other for a moment, they both nodded in unison.

“About that butter cake.”

“Yes, let’s dispose of it.”

“Make sure that, by some mistake, no leftovers ever find their way into Elma’s hands again.”

“Incineration until not a single crumb of flour remains. Yes, I understand.”

It was a perfectly synchronized breath. Lucas silently laid Elma down on the sofa, while Irene briskly gathered the cake. The two exchanged a single “Well then” and turned their backs to each other, but—

“Wait. Perhaps just one bite—”

“Um. Perhaps just one bite—”

They turned back at the exact same timing, finding themselves staring at each other. Lucas’s sweet indigo eyes and Irene’s upturned emerald eyes crossed for a moment. In each other’s pupils, they recognized their own wretchedness and lingering attachment, and they both looked away simultaneously as if recoiling.

“…I’m trusting you with the disposal, so that not a single bite remains.”

“…Yes, I shall dispose of it so that not a single bite remains.”

It was a fleeting moment where the two barely managed to stay within the bounds of a “meddlesome man” and a “like-minded friend.”

Lucas draped his coat over the curled-up Elma on the sofa, while Irene proceeded down the hallway in a defensive stance as if carrying a bomb, both letting out a long sigh.

By chance, the two of them let out a cry of lament at the same time in their separate locations.

Honestly, this girl… this friend… can’t she even get drunk “ordinarily”?