It was the dead of night, and I quietly opened the door of our bedroom. The light inside was still on. Ever since Rose had learned she was pregnant, she’d begun going to sleep early, so it was unusual for her to be awake this late. She sat on the sofa with her back facing me, still unaware of my presence. I didn’t know what she was doing, but she was deep in concentration.
I was about to call out to her, but I stopped. Instead, I furtively sneaked toward her and peeked over her shoulder. She was embroidering something on a long, thin piece of fabric. It was a sash—similar to what I used to wear diagonally across my shoulder for ceremonies during my time as the captain of the royal guard. It was a blue fabric with a glossy surface, likely silk. She was using silver thread to embroider the outline of a plant. She intended to present it to the victor of the contest of strength at the harvest festival, so the motif was a laurel, the symbol of victory and glory.
Her gaze was fixed on the work in her hands, and her profile was very serious. Although I found my wife lovable for how she always tackled everything without sparing any effort, I was also worried. No one would criticize her if she let up a little bit.
I watched her intently. When she reached a good stopping point, her hands fell away from the sash. She put down her needle, placed her hand over her mouth, and yawned. “Fwaaah...”
The way she exhaled was adorable, but I didn’t let this opportunity escape me. “Rose.”
Her petite shoulders jolted in surprise. “Leon.”
“It’s not good to stay up late.”
She timidly turned around, and I purposefully put on a stern expression. She awkwardly averted her eyes, which were still moist from yawning.
“I had time before bed, so I thought I’d make a little progress. I was so focused that I lost track of time and—”
“Now it’s this late,” I finished for her.
“Yes...” Rose said dejectedly.
It was hard to remain angry at her when she appeared so crestfallen. My expression softened. “Please don’t burn yourself out.”
She breathed out a relieved sigh. “I’ll be careful.” She meekly admonished herself in a way that reminded me of a child being scolded, and it was an endearing sight.
As I watched Rose tidy up her embroidery supplies, I said, “I know it’s important that you finish that in time for the harvest festival, but your health is the most important to me. We’re short on time this year, so wouldn’t a simpler pattern be fine?”
She forced a smile. “It is a simple design. I’m merely slow.”
“I think it’s plenty intricate, though.”
“I can’t simplify it any further. I know my work is shoddy, but at the very least, I’d like to make it neat.”
Originally, the sash and the flower crown for the winner of the cooking contest were both supposed to have been crafted by artisans. The design for the flower crown had already been given to a craftsperson. However, the plan had changed during the third harvest festival meeting.
After examining the sample, someone had suggested that since it was already finished, we could use that one without making a different one—no, they’d insisted that we ought to use it. I’d also agreed that the artificial flower crown Rose had crafted was well-made. However, as she’d said, it wasn’t on par with something made by a professional.
I thought there was a certain charm to it, so I liked it, but I also saw her point—the flaws did stand out upon closer inspection. However, I could also understand the villager’s point that who made it was important. Rose was the principal force behind reviving the harvest festival, and on top of that, a portion of her fanatical followers worshipped her as a goddess. To the villagers who believed in the Fertility Goddess, a prize handmade by Rose was worth more than an item crafted by a first-rate artisan.
This and that happened, and at the end of the meeting, it had been decided that Rose would also make the sash. In all honesty, I hadn’t been amused by the conclusion, as childish as it was to feel that way.
“I haven’t even gotten one myself before,” I muttered.
“Hmm? Did you say something?”
I’d meant that comment for myself, but Rose had caught the last half of it. I shook my head. “No, nothing.” She looked up at me, about to say something, but I swept her up in my arms as though I were trying to prevent her from speaking. “We should go to sleep.”
Rose was bad at embroidery. No matter how much she practiced, she showed little sign of improvement. She rarely showed me her work, let alone gifted me something. I owned nothing with Rose’s embroidery.
I’d be happy even if it weren’t perfect. A small handkerchief would be fine too. I’ve told her that, but Rose won’t make me one. She’s generally soft on me and grants me whatever I wish, but this is the one thing she won’t do. According to her, she doesn’t want me to carry something that would bring me shame.
“My fave carrying around something shabby that I made in his pocket would be out of character!” she’d once asserted nonsensically.
Rose doesn’t understand a man’s heart. Rather than a lavish sash made by artisans employed by the royal family or medals bestowed by His Majesty, I want that “something shabby.”
“Thank you,” Rose said with a smile as I gently placed her down on our bed.
I pulled the blanket up to her shoulders and patted it a few times to comfort her. It was long past the time she normally went to bed, so her eyes were already fluttering closed. She slowly blinked, her eyelids heavy.
“Close your eyes if you’re tired,” I said.
“Leon... What about you?” She peered up at me with a bleary gaze.
“I have one more thing I need to do for work. I’m just checking a few documents, so I’ll be right back.”
“Then—”
“No. I’ll get angry if you get up,” I interrupted before she could insist she’d wait.
Rose wordlessly pouted in defiance, and I poked her puffed-out cheeks. Her brows drooped.
“You’ll go to sleep, yes?” I asked.
“I will.”
“Very good.” I chuckled and caressed her cheek.
She looked like a cat in a good mood with her eyes shut. I moved her bangs aside with my fingers and kissed her forehead.
“Are you having trouble falling asleep?” I asked.
“Mm-hmm...” Rose’s eyelids were completely shut. She was already one foot into the dreamworld and no longer replying in full sentences. It was so cute that even though I wanted to let her sleep, my mischievous side surfaced.
“You can treat our people kindly, but please pay attention to me too, okay?”
“M’kay.”
“Will you embroider something for me too?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Then, one embroidered handkerchief, please.”
“’Kay...”
“It’s a promise, then.”
I wrested a promise from my half asleep wife. I was fully aware that this was unfair of me. However, I wanted Rose’s embroidery so badly that I was willing to resort to pathetic tactics.
“Good night.”
Rose is honest to a fault, so even if she doesn’t remember a promise, she won’t renege on it. I left our bedroom with such underhanded thoughts floating in my mind.
I continued down the empty corridor. The air was still tonight, and my footsteps were the only noise that echoed in the silent halls. With a lantern in one hand, I pulled on the doorknob to the office. It swung open with a low creak, revealing the silhouette of a person standing inside the pitch-black room. This shadow of a tall man—who was leaning against Rose’s desk in the very center of the back of the room—stood out against the moonlight streaming in from the large window that faced south. He lifted his head when I stepped inside.
“Hey there,” he said.
I could tell that he was handsome, even under the dim lighting. The man’s face morphed from deadpan to an exemplary pretty smile, and he raised his hand in a small gesture. However, strangely enough, he seemed eerier with a smile.
He seems more human to me when he’s devoid of expression because I know his true nature.
“I’m sorry for calling you over when you were about to sleep,” he said unabashedly.