Kyle has seen something similar, albeit in a different situation, when a maid slips and falls while carrying food. However, this girl is wearing a gown, even if it is rather old, and he can’t imagine she’s a maid. “……” While he’s struggling to interpret the situation, she seems to recollect herself. “…I-I’m terribly sorry! Please pretend you never saw me…!” The girl jumps to her feet and turns to go, but her high heel slips on the tray. “Ah—” “Look out!” She reels over backward, and he hurriedly puts a hand against her back, catching her and landing on his rear in the grass. The lawn cushions his fall, but as he puts his other hand down to catch himself, a small, sharp pain runs up his palm. He’s cut it on a piece of glass. “I-I’m so sorry; this is all my fault! A-are you hurt?!” “Ah, no.” But she’s already seen his palm. Watching the color drain from her face, Kyle gets flustered. “It’s only a scratch. Please don’t concern yourself.” Besides, it would probably heal up in a few seconds. Seeing him do something inhuman like that would probably frighten her, so he tries to hide it, but she takes his hand with unexpected firmness. “W-wait, please. I fall down quite often, so I carry this with me.” Still with the cupcake on her head, the girl searches her bodice, then offers him a handkerchief with a look of relief. “Oh, it’s clean!” she quickly adds. “I—I see…” He doesn’t really understand why she felt the need to say that it was clean, but Kyle responds automatically, and the distraction makes him forget. By the time he remembers, she’s gazing at his palm, eyes wide, as the cut vanishes. Kyle looks away, trying to hide his hand behind his back. Before he manages, though, she speaks gently. “Goodness… I’ve never seen magic before.” “Huh?” “Might you be a magician? Come to think of it, you did fly here, didn’t you.” Far from being repulsed, the girl gives a musical laugh. Telling him that since she got it out, she might as well use it, the girl covers the now-nonexistent wound on his palm with her handkerchief. She’s acting just as she would with a normal, injured human. “Thank you for saving me, Sir Magician.” “Oh… No.” Kyle’s response is delayed, as he’s been staring transfixed at the soft handkerchief wrapped around his palm. The girl rises to her feet. “I—I don’t know much about places like this. To whom should I speak about tidying up?” “Oh, erm… I’ll let someone from the mansion know. You should hurry and get changed.” “Thank you very much. Um… I’m embarrassed, so please forget about tonight,” she tells him quietly and blushes. Kyle simply nods. “All right. Please excuse me, then.” “Oh—” With the cupcake still perched on her head, and before he can ask who she is, the girl has plucked up her skirts and run off with light footsteps. She really does seem like a fairy. He would be able to catch her if he chased after her at full speed, but Kyle can’t bring himself to do it. “What are you doing?” “Huh?” As a matter of fact, he doesn’t even realize he’s left the scene of the spilled sweets and wine and returned to the ballroom until Walt speaks to him. “What’s this on your coattail? Wine stains? Where did you pick those up? Go change; you’ve got a spare set of clothes in the dressing room. Sweet Ailey’s going to rip you a new one for looking like that.” “…Yes, I’ll be back.” “Hang on, where did the handkerchief come from?” “Oh,” Kyle says, and even he thinks it sounds vague. He unties the handkerchief. It’s neither lace nor silk, but a simple cotton one, though it is spotless. He can tell it’s been washed and used many times. There’s a bit of frayed embroidery on it: a name. “Lira Revanche?” Walt mutters, peeking at the handkerchief. “But she’s…” “A fairy.” “Huh?” Kyle gazes at the handkerchief, and Walt looks from him to it and back again, perplexed. Still unable to put it into words properly, Kyle quietly murmurs to himself. “I met a fairy…” His partner’s gone off the rails. The guy is always so conscientious and meticulous that Walt gets fed up with him, and yet for some reason he’s gazing off into empty space in a daze. He’s been like this for three days already and shows no sign of getting better. Walt’s been very worried that this inattentiveness might incur Claude’s displeasure. However, even Claude seems to have been put off by Kyle’s murmurings of, “So fairies really exist…,” and has decided this is a matter he should simply keep watch over. The demon king is surprisingly good at crisis management. He hasn’t messed up on the job, and that’s good, but I hope he’ll be okay… No, I guess that’s not the problem here. The story is spotty in more than a few places, but piecing together what Kyle said, apparently a fairy gave him a handkerchief during last week’s soiree. Fairy is most likely an invention of Kyle’s addled brain. He’s probably just taken a fancy to a girl. Walt’s personal theory is that there are no fairylike women, only women who cunningly disguise themselves as fairies. Not that he’s tactless enough to say this to Kyle when the guy is head over heels. That’s not even the only reason he can’t say it. Walt sighs. “Master Claude is definitely enjoying this…” Going from that handkerchief, the name of the woman Kyle’s infatuated with is Lira Revanche. That’s also the name of the woman Walt is just about to meet for his marriage interview as Isaac Lombard’s stand-in. How is this happening again? He mentally organizes what he knows while waiting in the tidy parlor. First, Lira Revanche is a count’s daughter, and she’s suspected of selling demon snuff. The rumor was started by her very own relative: her uncle, who became Count Revanche in her parents’ place when they passed away a few years earlier. He wanted his niece to marry and settle down quickly, partly because of what happened to the girl’s parents, and Claude had heard that the man had been terribly concerned about this at a soiree. There was a reason the emperor was concerned with a mere count, of course. Several years ago, the previous Count and Countess Revanche, Lira’s parents, had needed money. They formed a secret connection with the church and began selling demon snuff. The uncle had reported them, but before the truth of the matter could be determined, Lira’s parents and older sister died in an accident. Walt suspects the church got rid of them. Either way, the count, countess, and their daughter died. Since their illicit trade routes were never discovered, the suspicion was never confirmed. However, the former count Revanche did have a strong motive for using demon snuff to acquire capital: While the Revanche family was old, distinguished, and noble, their territory’s harvests had recently failed, plunging them into desperate poverty. Once the uncle who had informed on them inherited the title, the family gradually found its feet again. The new Count Revanche remained a bachelor, and he raised Lira as his own daughter. He said that even if his older brother and sister-in-law had been selling demon snuff, his niece hadn’t known anything about it. Up to that point, it was a fine story. More recently, having turned sixteen, Lira made her society debut at a ball hosted by the emperor and empress. The young woman had avoided the public eye growing up, and people were hoping for an inspirational story about how Count Revanche had raised a reliable, practical young lady. Whether or not she knew about all the attention focused on her, Lira came to the ball in a magnificent dress made of the very finest silk and adorned with a multitude of jewels, any one of which could have purchased a mansion. Had the frugal Count Revanche gone all out for his niece’s debut? Some might have seen it that way. However, her gown was purple, a color only the imperial family was permitted to wear. Turning deathly pale at the sight of it, Count Revanche groveled before the imperial couple, begging their forgiveness. As the emperor, Claude couldn’t grant forgiveness easily. He was coldly sarcastic, wondering whether the girl had been raised wrong, and Empress Aileen interceded on behalf of the pair. Clearly dividing their roles, she tried to settle the matter—but then Lira herself dropped another bomb. “If the emperor falls in love at first sight, then the object of his favor is a member of the imperial family. That is why I wore purple. Is there a problem? I wore my very best perfume as well. Come, Your Majesty, there’s no need to hesitate. Come to me.” There was no way to excuse his niece’s indiscretion now, and even the ordinarily mild-mannered Count Revanche looked menacing as he dragged Lira from the ballroom. They left the assembly in an uproar. Thinking quickly, the empress sulked, saying, “I’m sure receiving advances from such an adorable young thing hasn’t genuinely displeased you at all, Your Majesty.” Claude pacified her—and so the incident was put to rest. Walt and Kyle were off duty that day, with Beelzebuth and Elefas guarding Claude. That means all of this is hearsay to Walt. However, Lira’s unexplained display of wealth and her arrogance couldn’t be explained away as the consequences of sheltered naivete or an ill-considered attempt to stand out. Count Revanche kept apologizing and apologizing, garnering some sympathy, but the suspicion of dealing demon snuff has surfaced again. Lira’s parents were already under suspicion so, by extension, it seems only natural for many to suspect the daughter. Lira was ten years old when her parents’ accident had orphaned her, but she is sixteen now. If she inherited her parents’ connections, she is quite old enough to make contact with a demon snuff dealer. Not only that, but there is also the “very best perfume” she mentioned. Lira had actually worn a sweet fragrance, but its scent was so faint that even Beelzebuth wasn’t able to tell for sure whether it was demon snuff. That probably meant it wasn’t, but people still can’t help but suspect her. Her excuse sounds way too contrived. I wasn’t there, so I can’t really say, though. Claude seems to have sensed something’s off as well, as he’s decided to look into the matter carefully. However, his niece’s bad reputation appears to have made Count Revanche anxious. Even though Lira only just made her social debut, he’s offered an enormous dowry and is trying to rush her into marriage. He’s issued a barrage of proposals in the hopes that one will stick, which is how the offer of a marriage interview reached Isaac, the third son of Count Lombard. Both Isaac’s and Rachel’s families had been against their own marriage, so the couple essentially chose to elope. This means their marriage hasn’t been made public, so when Count Lombard received an offer for a marriage interview, he accepted. Count Lombard is impressively brazen, but when Isaac learned that the marriage interview was being arranged without his consent, he brought the matter up as a way to put Claude in his debt—an act worthy of his father. Isaac plans to make the emperor owe him, half demolish his own family’s reputation, then force them to approve his marriage to Rachel. Either that, or he’s hoping to ensure that they never meddle with the two of them again. It’s a self-orchestrated carrot-and-stick maneuver. In short, it doesn’t matter to Isaac whether the house of Revanche is guilty or innocent. By simply participating in the investigation by letting them use his name, he’s ensured that the emperor will neatly resolve the issue of the marriage interview at no real cost to himself. As a result, Claude is using the interview as an excuse to begin his investigation, and Walt is the one who’s been singled out for it. I’m getting kind of irritated. But it’s a shame to waste this opportunity; maybe I’ll give him a really bad rep. Bad enough to make things uncomfortable between him and Rachel. Walt suspects Claude might even have meant for that to happen when he chose him. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do, he thinks as the parlor door finally opens. While both families are countships, the house of Lombard is an upstart family that bought its title recently. On the other hand, the house of Revanche is old and distinguished, but its reputation is rather tattered due to the suspicion cast on the previous count and countess. Should he behave as if they’re equals or act like her social superior? Is Lira as odious as rumor would have it, or could she possibly be the fairy that Kyle’s been dreaming about? He glances at the clock; it’s already fifteen minutes past the appointed time. If she’s a fairy, no one could fault her for being late, he muses, rising to greet her. The girl who enters—without a word of apology—is a young beauty with delicate features and a cloud of golden hair. At first glance, her loveliness does make her seem a bit like a fairy. However, the sharpness of her jade-colored eyes makes a deep impression. The fabric of her dress looks as if it would be pleasant to the touch, but its color is a questionable sensuous red. The color gradually fades from the bust downward, so that the hem of the skirt is white. No ordinary artisan could have dyed that. The design of the fine black lace around the sleeves is elaborate and beautiful. It’s an opulent gown, even though this isn’t a soiree. The large diamond brooch that shines on her bosom, in particular, speaks eloquently of prosperity. Except…it’s kind of mismatched. It looks like she spent a lot of money, and that’s it. Perhaps as a threat, her makeup is quite dramatic. A fay prettiness would have suited her much better; she seems to have taken the completely wrong approach. On top of that, the light in her appraising eyes is intense, and yet there’s still a childishness to her face that matches her sixteen years. It’s hard to form a solid opinion of her. It’s almost like…she’s a rural young lady who got enthusiastic going in fifteen different directions and ended up making herself look peculiar. Even if she got rid of that makeup, though, the intensity of her gaze is the real thing. This is no fairy. Apparently, he was right: His naive partner’s eye for beauty can’t be trusted. Mentally shrugging it off, Walt bows first, as the third son of a count should. The girl is technically the only daughter of a distinguished count. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Lira. I’m Isaac Lombard. Thank you very much for your invi—” “I have no recollection of inviting you. From the length of the wait, surely you’ve realized by now that you’re an unwelcome guest. What a foolish man you are. I was fifteen whole minutes late, you know. Fifteen minutes.” Her scornful smile is clearly condescending, but the fact that she has a proper grasp of the time seems oddly conscientious. And why has she repeated it as if she’s boasting? I mean, sure, being fifteen minutes late is rude, but… What should he make of the fact that she knows she’s being rude? As Walt hesitates, not sure how to respond, the girl continues on without pause, lifting her chin haughtily, “I have no intention of marrying an upstart aristocrat. After all, I am a daughter of Count Revanche. In my position, even marrying His Majesty the emperor is no mere dream. I’d never marry a third son with no hope of advancement.” “…I hear you made quite an impression at your debutante ball,” he says, casually sounding her out and adding a good measure of sarcasm. However, for some reason, she responds with a sort of gloating challenge. “I certainly did. And yet, to my dismay, my uncle decided to take it upon himself to set up this marriage interview. You may tell them I rejected you; just go home, won’t you? This is a nuisance. You’d prefer that, too, wouldn’t you? I recommend seeking a girl who suits you, rather than aiming too high.” She gestures dismissively, shooing him away as if she were chasing off a dog, but Walt is here on a mission. He can’t just say “I see” and withdraw. “That’s…a problem.” “Huh?” Why has that startled her? The girl seems to have realized it’s odd as well, and she continues in a fluster, “Buh, b-b-b-but Her Majesty the empress thinks well of you, doesn’t she? Even if I turn you down, surely it won’t hurt your standing. Will it?” “No. That isn’t what I meant. It’s, uh…the way I feel…” The girl blinks at him a few times. It makes her look quite young. Both her looks and her thoughts are all flowers-and-butterflies, and she’s bad at subtle maneuvering. In other words—she’s just a dumb kid. …And she’s hiding something. Walt gives her an elegant, mature smile. “No doubt you won’t believe me, but the moment I saw you, I thought, She’s the one. Don’t tell me to go. At least give me a chance, won’t you?” When Claude’s nearby, it makes him feel as if he’s just average, but Walt is confident in his looks. There are no women who aren’t delighted when he gives them a honeyed smile. …Well, other than the demon king’s wife, and other exceptions. “Wha…? Huh?! What—are, you…?” Sure enough, Lira turns bright red, her mouth gaping uselessly. Her gaze darts here and there as if she doesn’t know where to look. “D-don’t toy with me, please. Th-that can’t be— N-nothing could be that convenient for me!” “Convenient?” “N-no! It’s nothi— Y-yes. I said as much, didn’t I? I—I have no intention of marrying the third son of an upstart count. We aren’t a good match!” Her eyes are darting all over the place. Whether or not she genuinely means what she’s saying, it’s clear that she’s shaken. It’s charming, really. Walt continues melodramatically, “True. We may both be descended from counts, but you outrank me. As a result, I had intended to refuse this interview for the same reasons you’ve just given.” “…Y-yes, of course. Of course, that’s the ordinary thing to do. You’d have to be out of your right mind to do anything else.” “You’re right; I must have been out of my mind. At this point, I can’t believe I ever thought anything of the sort.” “Wh-what?! What are you saying?!” He mustn’t tell her what she wants to hear at this point. The girl is being quite genuine; her entire body is radiating wariness and expectation. Wearing a tranquil smile, Walt sets a hand over his heart, bows very slightly, and asks a favor. “Please, milady. At least give me time to be sure of these feelings.” The girl starts to say something, then flushes bright red and falls silent. She may glare at him, but he checkmated her. Without giving her a chance to refuse, he swiftly sets the date and time of their next meeting and tells the girl he’ll see her then, before managing to make his exit while her eyes are still spinning. He doesn’t forget to drop a chivalrous kiss on the back of her hand. Well, that should do it. The servant who’s come to see Walt out hands him his hat and cane. He’ll never get used to how awkward formal clothes feel. He leaves the mansion, then turns to look back at it. It’s old but well maintained. The ornaments and carpets inside were tidy and the servants properly dressed. It didn’t have any of the showiness one would expect from a distinguished family, but they’re still able to keep up the appearances of aristocrats. The rumor that the current count has managed to turn their fortunes around must be true. And then there’s that young woman, with her gaudy clothes and her glaringly weak mind. There’s a definite mismatch between the dependability he senses from the mansion and the girl’s showiness, especially since the count is famous for his simplicity and frugality. No wonder people have ended up gossiping over that young girl. “Maybe she was fed up with her uncle’s nagging and living frugally despite being from a distinguished family, and got herself involved in something naughty.” Is this just a garden-variety rebellious stage? If she’s gotten involved with demon snuff, though, that’s no laughing matter. Either way, when a girl has managed to attain a flashy lifestyle, the next thing she wants is a handsome man—the sort who’ll make an accessory she can boast about. On the other hand, at that age it’s probably hard for her to let go of her sweet romantic fantasies. Selling dreams to starry-eyed girls is Walt’s particular forte. If he keeps pushing, it won’t be long before she confesses a secret to him that she can’t tell anyone. All he’s done is look a little besotted for her. This’ll be easy, he thinks, with a wry, rather scornful smile. In the first place, any young lady who’d turn to demon snuff can’t be all that clever. He isn’t denying there are exceptions, but they genuinely are rare. “Unless you’re conscious of the fact that things aren’t the way they used to be, someday you’ll forget where the boundary is.” His partner’s warning comes back to him out of nowhere. He doesn’t feel any guilt about this, though, so it’s wasted worry as far as he’s concerned. Personally, he’s more worried about Kyle’s eyes. How has he managed to mistake an extremely ordinary girl like that for a fairy? Man oh man. Now I just have to figure out how to snap Kyle out of it… Walt twirls his walking stick, thinking that’s going to be more work than this. The day after the marriage interview, two letters arrive. One is from Lira, saying she intends to turn him down after all; the other is from Count Revanche, urging him to continue courting his niece. The girl and her uncle are saying completely opposite things. “So I’m planning to act on the uncle’s letter and court Miss Lira.” Walt has waited until he’s alone in the office with Claude to give his report. Claude sighs. “When she’s already turned you down… What’s your take on it?” “Well, let’s see. I do think there’s something there. You haven’t found proof yet, though, have you? It’s too well done for a rebellious girl who’s let herself get carried away and gotten into mischief. Also, the girl herself is a poor actress, so something doesn’t add up.” “I see. So you got the same impression,” Claude murmurs. “Oh,” Walt says. “Right. She hit on you at the ball, Master Claude. Do you remember anything about it?” “Do you think I’d remember every little thing like that?” his master says brazenly. For just a moment, Walt feels seriously irritated. “You really should pay attention to details, even when they’re not about sweet Ailey…or were you bragging just now? Argh, that’s annoying.” “That’s not it. Aileen said her dress was peculiar.” “Well, yeah. Anybody who’d wear forbidden purple to a ball hosted by the emperor definitely needs their head examined.” “That wasn’t it. She said she wasn’t showing much skin.” Walt didn’t attend that particular ball. However, he remembers what she looked like on the day of the marriage interview. Actually, yes… The color of the dress and her accessories were flashy, but she was thoroughly covered up…I think. He’d been distracted by how expensive the dress looked, and he didn’t notice. “Maybe she was…cold? You’re sure that wasn’t it?” “The nights have been rather warm lately, and the ball was indoors.” That’s true, Walt thinks with a nod. “She wore a dress in the forbidden color, decked herself out with gaudy jewelry, and made a sudden advance on the emperor. That suggests a lot of confidence in her appearance, and yet the dress she wore had lace that covered not only her bosom but her arms. Aileen said that was strange.” “…The lace itself was fairly expensive, right? Could she have been flaunting it?” “Gowns are weapons meant to make women look beautiful, and on top of that, if she’d come to woo the emperor, she would have had the dress tailored to make her appear as stunning as possible. In fact, even Aileen was impressed by its design. What’s more…apparently it’s public knowledge that I prefer dresses that show more skin…” Claude’s words have turned evasive, and there’s a distant look in his eyes. Walt knows how he feels to some extent but can’t sympathize: The dresses Aileen wears make his preferences obvious at a glance, so it’s his own fault. “If she weren’t confident in her figure, it would have made sense, but apparently that wasn’t the case, either.” “Yeah, if I had to say, it was better than I thought it’d be.” “If she’d been the sort of mature woman who tries to make men look forward to undressing them, her attitude wouldn’t have been so direct. Conversely, if she’d been attempting to catch my attention by being more modest—Aileen’s complete opposite—color aside, the dress’s design would have been about right. Again, though, her demeanor was off. In other words, according to my wife, her appearance and personality clashed.” “Ah, I see. I did think her makeup didn’t match the rest of her, but that’s about it…” Walt’s impressed by this unexpectedly analytical female viewpoint, but then a chill runs down his spine. “…Do women always put this much thought into their gown selections?” “Stop it, you’re frightening me. Rachel and that bureaucrat, Serena, also joined in on that conversation. What’s more, they were discussing how they would polish her to make her my type… I prefer Aileen, just as she is.” “Uh, no, that’s a lie.” “The one who reflects my preferences is Aileen, just as she is, isn’t she?” Hearing the emperor openly boast about his beloved was just embarrassing. “All right, I understand. I’ll give more attention to things like that… If we don’t overthink it, could there be some sort of reason? Maybe she deliberately behaved senselessly because she didn’t want to get married or something.” “She could have been genuinely naive and simply wanted to stand out, but… Well, I doubt you’ll misread her. I leave it in your hands.” “Oh-ho. That’s what I like to hear, Master Claude. In that case, I have a request: In a little while, would you help me out during a date?” Walt holds his clasped hands against one cheek, begging. Claude gives him a reproachful look. “Is this another indecent scheme you’re plotting?” “That’s why you chose me, right? I’m a human weapon who’d murder babies without breaking a sweat and lure sweet, rebellious young girls into honey traps.” “What are you saying? No human weapon could be as kindhearted as you are.” That response takes Walt by surprise and leaves him speechless. Claude hands back the letters from Count Revanche and Lira. “If it’s necessary for your investigation, I’ll arrange it. If I ask Keith, he’ll put it on my schedule.” “Okaaay, I’ll give it my best. If you find anything, fill me in, too, all right?” “Yes… Actually, we’ve run into a bit of trouble. You’ve seen the state Kyle’s in…” Claude settles back in his chair, looking glum. This other problem makes Walt scratch his cheek in embarrassment. “Is that idiot still talking about fairies?” “Yes. I have to be careful not to mention Count Revanche’s name. It’s scary.” “Did you tell him about the ball?” Kyle is a painfully serious man, so Walt can’t see him accepting a young woman who was discourteous to his master. “I did tell him, in a roundabout way. He shrugged it off, saying it must have been somebody else.” Apparently, what he wasn’t able to accept was reality. Love is blind indeed. Understandably, Walt curses. “That idiot… Argh, fine. In that case, let’s make him find his fairy and shove reality in his face.” “And what if he clashes with you, and you end up with an extremely nasty scene on your hands?” That could happen. Visualizing it in spite of himself, Walt tilts his head back, gazing at the ceiling. “Of course, as Kyle says, there’s a possibility that this fairy of his is someone else entirely who just happened to have Lira’s handkerchief. However, even if we wanted to get to the bottom of this, Kyle has no intention of searching for her.” “Huhn? So the wimp’s denying reality, and he won’t go look for her?” “He says fairies don’t appear in the human world that frequently.” There’s a moment of dead silence. Claude folds his hands on his work desk and smiles. “Not only that, he also told me that since he’s affiliated with the demons, even the light of her wings is too dazzling for him. It made me think I still have a long way to go.” “Please don’t compete with that, all right?!” “It made me a little sad, too. That Kyle thinks he can’t meet his fairy because he’s with me…” “Look, fairies don’t exist in the first place. Don’t you go off in a weird direction, too, Master Claude.” “Kyle says fairies exist. They probably do. By that, I mean that my fairy is Aileen… So as the demon king, do I not have the right to meet my wife?” “You’ve been married for over a year; what are you babbling about? Please don’t make this conversation more complicated than it already is!” “I can hear you outside. What are you being so noisy about, Walt?” Walt almost screams. Clapping a hand over his mouth to stop himself, he turns around. “Kyle… Don’t scare me like that. Did you knock?” “Yes. You were the one who didn’t answer. Master Claude, it’s almost time for your meeting.” “Oh, already? Wait a moment; I’ll go right after I finish this up.” Claude picks up his quill pen and turns to his desk. Nodding, Kyle comes over to stand beside Walt. “Giving a report on that matter?” “Yes, that’s about the size of it. I had a favor to ask, too.” “Don’t cause trouble for Master Claude.” Irked, Walt glares at Kyle coldly. “That goes double for you: Don’t get all giddy over a fairy and neglect your work.” “And risk harming the fairy’s reputation? I wouldn’t do anything so foolish,” he says, looking sharp and professional. Walt cringes a little, but he’s sure no one could blame him. Even Claude, who’s been listening in, gives a sigh that sounds terribly worn out. “You know, it would be wonderful if you let the fairy distract you too much to keep a close eye on me…” “Did you say something, Maser Claude? In any case, until an extremely unlikely miracle allows me to meet the fairy on the night of another full moon, I have no choice but to live properly.” “Agh, you took that in a tiresome direction!” “What about it is tiresome? It’s just that all I can do is pray and dream of the day I’ll be able to see her again.” “You’re right. And all I can do is pray and dream of the day when Aileen and I can go out on the night of a full moon…” “In that case, join me in striving to do good, Master Claude. Work comes first.” Claude has set down his quill, preparing to pray, but Kyle mercilessly marches him off. Walt watches them go, his face rigid. It’s fine. I just won’t talk about the fairy to him. It doesn’t seem like it’ll negatively affect his work, but he does get strangely excited and sweeps up other people along with him. He’ll have their master shoulder the burden of Kyle’s earnest, exacting eye. After all, he is the demon king. He pens two responses, one to Count Revanche, the other to Lira. In the first, he says that of course he’d like to continue courting his niece with marriage in mind. In the second, he outlines his reluctance to give up. In both, he arbitrarily sets a day and time for a date. It’s one of those “I’ll wait until you show up” situations. A certain someone had once waited for ten hours, and although the guy in question had probably just trusted the girl to meet him, it was an extremely effective strategy: It capitalized on the other person’s guilt and sense of superiority. First, I’ll sway her heart. However, the one who appears at the park he designated as their meeting spot at the appointed time is Count Revanche. The man wipes his sweaty face with a handkerchief. “I’m terribly sorry, I’m having her get ready at the mansion right now! Please don’t be angry!” “Oh, no, don’t worry about it. It’s not as if anyone asked me to wait.” He’d written the time of their date in the uncle’s letter as well because he hoped the man might drag Lira out to meet him, but he didn’t expect the uncle to come running in person. Sighing, Count Revanche raises his head. “I may have spoiled her too much. The child’s terribly unreasonable… I’ve told her again and again that matches this good are extremely rare. I had no idea she’d shut herself up in her room on the day of your date.” “It’s only natural that I’d pale in comparison to His Majesty.” “I’m so ashamed. The sheer impudence. Even for marriage interviews, all I ask is for people to simply meet her once and speak with her, and still they refuse one after another… It’s humiliating for me as well.” That’s generally what happens to anyone who publicly disrespects the imperial couple. “I understand your concern. However, personally, I’m grateful. It means I’ll be able to court her at my leisure.” “I can’t thank you enough for saying that.” Count Revanche gives an exaggerated sigh of relief. Then he beams at Walt. “Someone from the house will bring her, so please wait just a little longer.” “…If she’s that reluctant, I don’t mind trying again some other day. This was something I’d proposed without consulting her anyway.” Certainly, he’ll make more progress on his assignment if she does come, but having her dragged out here is likely to sour her image of him. Count Revanche’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head. “No, no, you mustn’t indulge her like that! My niece is in the wrong here. Besides, you’re a real ladies’ man who’s fallen for her at first sight. That would delight any girl.” “I’m…honored to hear it.” “I’ve given her a stern lecture, and she’s repentant as well. She’ll come quietly. And I won’t even be angry if she doesn’t return home this evening.” Count Revanche laughs. Walt tries to follow suit, but his cheeks feel stiff. The man’s probably joking; he knows that. Still, it irritates him. Maybe that was a bad move. I only needed Count Revanche to put in a few good words for me… I had no idea he’d be this enthusiastic. If the uncle gets carried away before he’s managed to get any information out of Lira, they’ll have trouble on their hands. “I’m not going to take advantage of her. I want to build a relationship with Miss Lira in good faith.” His disapproval must have gotten through, because Count Revanche looks flustered. “Ah, I don’t mean to rush you. It’s only the thought that my niece has perpetrated another blunder has made me very anxious…” “You’re worried, I take it.” “Yes. It’s rather embarrassing, but in spite of my age, I have plans to wed as well.” This is news to Walt. “Well… Congratulations. But then what will become of the title?” “Oh, don’t worry. It won’t happen until after Lira’s married. No doubt I’ll act as an adviser for a while, but the title will go to Lira’s husband.” “Ah, that wasn’t what I was concerned about.” This man had set the family back on its feet, and yet he wasn’t thinking of keeping the title for himself? Walt gives him a dubious look. Count Revanche shakes his head. “Unless this sort of thing is done properly, it will cause trouble in the future. Could you find it in yourself to trust me?” “Of course; I’ll be counting on you. In any case, your reputation as an honorable man is renowned.” When the suspicion of selling demon snuff had reared its head, no one had seriously entertained the idea that Count Revanche could be involved. “Ha-ha. I’m honored to hear that. I would also like to count on you, though. You see, it sounds as if strange men have been hanging around my niece recently, and I’ve been wondering what to do about it.” Are they from the church? Either way, there’s a good possibility that they’re somehow connected to the demon snuff. “What sort of people are they?” Walt asks quickly. Looking startled, Count Revanche waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, I have no proof of anything. As a rule, Lira doesn’t set foot outside the mansion. However, the servants have reported seeing men hanging around…and it really looks as if…” “As if they’re connected to Miss Lira?” “Yes. If my niece says or does anything odd, could you confer with me about it first? The survival of the family may hang in the balance,” Count Revanche says, lowering his voice. He looks worried about his niece. Walt nods. “Very well. Miss Lira is a guileless young lady, so by incurring the emperor and empress’s displeasure, she may have attracted attention from strange quarters.” “Yes, yes, that’s right. She is of a certain age, and she really is naive, with a tendency to dream. It may be because I kept her out of the public eye— Ah, I believe that’s her.” A carriage bearing the crest of the house of Revanche has stopped on the broad street, and the count smiles. “Seeing me would sour her mood, so I’ll slip away now.” “…Having a teenage niece must be hard.” “No, no. All right, thank you very much for your help.” Count Revanche hurries away, avoiding the carriage. He’s probably a good uncle; it’s hard to see him as anything else. Still, little things keep tugging at me. I keep thinking, “His niece must be in the way, so why is he so kind to her?” …I sure am warped, aren’t I. Scratching his cheek in embarrassment, Walt waits where he is until Lira finally steps out of the carriage. Come to think of it, how is she dressed? He looks carefully, and then he notices it. The girl, whom he hasn’t seen in a week, is wearing a dress with adorable puffed short sleeves. It’s a bit of a letdown, really. Well, sweet Ailey’s instincts are bound to be off sometimes. It’s not as if the dress is a good choice for the occasion anyway; she may just have bad fashion sense. It was probably just a coincidence. There’s a distinct possibility they’ve been overthinking it. When a woman has to hide her skin, the reasons are seldom good. “Thank you very much for coming, Miss Lira.” “What are you talking about? They forced me to come!” Under her parasol, Lira looks frustrated. He couldn’t really expect anything else. Walt thinks it wasn’t the best move, either. “My apologies. Count Revanche didn’t scold you, did he?” Startled, Lira looks up. Walt asked the question casually, but she looks so young in that moment that he finds himself similarly surprised. “Oh, um, you see… I told the count as well, so if that’s what made him compel you, I’m very sorry…” “……” “Um. From now on, I’ll only contact you about these things. That way Count Revanche won’t be angry with you.” Lira looks glum, and when she doesn’t respond, an odd anxiety wells up inside him. This is bad. Did he really bawl her out? Lira looks at the ground. Then, finally, she responds. “…Is that how it works?” “Pardon?” “You aren’t going to report everything?” “…To Count Revanche, you mean?” She doesn’t react, but she also doesn’t correct him, which makes the answer obvious. More than anything, Walt’s instincts are telling him that this is an opportunity. He speaks even more gently, although he’s careful not to sound shady. “I’m proposing marriage to you, so I’m on your side. If anything happens, you can always talk to me.” “…Do you like my clothes today?” “Huh?” Walt hadn’t anticipated a question from that angle, and his attempt to establish an intimate mood falters. Glaring at him with murder in her eyes, Lira shouts, “I’m asking whether you like my clothes today!” “They suit you. You look adorable,” he answers, without even taking a proper look at them. Any womanizer can give that answer as easily as breathing; it’s basically a reflex. However, Lira blushes red, then ducks under her parasol as if to hide it. “I—I see.” “……” “Wh-what? If there’s something you want to say, then say it!” She’d been quiet and withdrawn of her own accord, and now she comes out swinging just as arbitrarily. Her face is still red, though. Abruptly, his expression turns serious. “You’re adorable.” “Y-you said that already. As clothes go, they aren’t much. You don’t really have an eye for these things.” “No, not your clothes. I meant your reaction.” Walt can practically see a magnificent cloud of steam rise from her head as she backs away. “Y-you’re making fun of me, aren’t you?! You think I don’t know anything, that I’m naive. That’s not true, all right?!” “…I, um, I don’t think you should work yourself up like that…” Even her voice sounds rattled. When he gives her a pitying look, she gives him another fantastic reaction. “E-even I can do it if I try!” “Do what?” “Take a turn around the park, at the very least!” She makes that bold declaration with tears in her eyes, and it completely finishes him. As Walt claps a hand over his mouth, desperately fighting back laughter, Lira gets even angrier. “What?! Did you have a destination you’d prefer in mind?! Tell me then!” “N-no… That sounds plenty entertai— I mean, just walking is enough for me.” “Do whatever you want!!” She’s even a poor loser. Perfect. Turning away in a huff, Lira starts down the park’s footpath. Walt follows her, one hand still over his mouth. H-her reactions are too honest…! Really, it’s been a while since I’ve seen someone be this candid. It makes him feel nice and superior when a woman swoons over him or builds elaborate fantasies around him, and it’s stimulating trying to size up each other’s hidden motives. Both cases have their own pleasures. However, blushing when he compliments her, getting angry when he teases her— Interactions that ordinary are novel in their own way. “If I’ve offended you, I apologize.” “Don’t apologize when you don’t feel the least bit bad about it!” She’s got that right, Walt thinks with a wry smile. She’s probably not a bad kid. Not that that makes it okay to let her off the hook. The same goes for him: Just because someone’s doing something bad, that doesn’t make it okay to trick them. Once that thought goes through his mind, he says what he’s really feeling: “I’m sorry.” Lira stops in her tracks, then looks back at him. “I am on your side, though, Miss Lira.” He lies confidently, and those earnest eyes of hers bore into him. But Walt doesn’t look away. After all, this is work. “…Don’t speak so politely.” “What do you mean?” “You were being yourself a minute ago, weren’t you.” His eyes widen very slightly. She’s picked up on the fact that the apology he let slip a moment ago was genuine. She has good instincts. “And don’t call me ‘Miss Lira.’ It makes me feel like you’re mocking me.” “…You say that, but…” “Just ‘Lira’ is fine. Be grateful, would you?” The blunt way she speaks is both arrogant and refreshing. Walt responds with a wry smile. “In that case, Lira, I’ll take you up on your offer. In addition to a stroll around the park, I’d like you to come shopping with me.” “Shopping? Where?” “The Oberon Trading Firm.” Walt is currently Isaac Lombard. His plan is to preempt any doubts she might have; with this sort of thing, an accumulation of subtle details is important. In addition, the Oberon Trading Firm—originally proposed by the empress and now presided over by Isaac Lombard—is an object of adoration for women across a wide range of ages and social backgrounds. If “Isaac Lombard” genuinely intended to woo a girl, it would be only natural for him to take her there. Although the reality is completely different. Aah, poor Rachel. Although to her, I guess that shop is Isaac and sweet Ailey’s, huh… Yikes, that’s complicated. However, none of that has anything to do with Lira, and she blushes and starts to fidget restlessly just like an ordinary young noblewoman. “The Oberon Trading Firm…? What are you buying?” “If you have proof that our date went well, Count Revanche is less likely to get mad at you.” “S-so you’re telling me to just go with you quietly and accept it?” Walt revises his opinion of her: She’s actually pretty sharp. Well, I guess she would be. Those instant responses mean she’s got good instincts. The flip side to having good mental reflexes is not thinking things through. If it works against her, she’ll wear dresses in the forbidden color; if it works in her favor, she’ll see straight through to the truth. Walt is passing himself off as somebody else. Thinking he should probably avoid underestimating Lira, he redoubles his efforts. “You will come with me, won’t you?” “—So I want you to give me some rare cosmetics; something that’s still in development.” “You barge in on the guy you’re impersonating with no warning and immediately make shameless demands—is that something the church teaches? Or is it the demon king’s policy?” “Both,” Walt jokes, flashing two fingers in a “V” sign. Isaac, who’s been working in the president’s room on the top floor of the Oberon Trading Firm’s flagship store, sets down some documents and sighs. “You’re the one who brought this incident to the emperor and empress, so there’s no way you won’t cooperate. Right?” “Sure, but who brings their marriage interview partner here out of nowhere? What are you gonna do if she figures it out?” “The empress only officially transferred the position of president to Isaac Lombard recently. As a matter of fact, a lot of the employees don’t know what you look like, do they? If I tell her we’re here for a secret inspection and to act like a customer so nobody catches on, there won’t be any problems. Girls her age like that sort of thing anyway.” Isaac props his chin on his hand, his expression sour. “…What if she gets carried away, buys a product, and wants us to put it on her tab?” “Well, that’s a necessary expense. Like I said earlier, you were the one who pitched this idea to us.” “Say things turn sour once this is all over, and she barges her way into the store demanding to see me. What then?” “Maybe I could console Rachel with ‘Yikes, I hear Isaac was cheating on you. You poor thing.’ And then Serena will scream at her to get divorced ASAP, but that’d probably be about it.” Isaac’s eyebrows rise slightly. Walt raises both hands, joking with him. “It’s not like I want to do this. It’s a job.” “Oh yeah? Wasn’t it dumb to leave her alone and let the staff handle it?” “Mm, she’s stubborn. I told her they’d give her special treatment if she said she was my fiancée. Naturally, she said she’d never do a thing like that. Girls like her have a hard time taking stuff back once they’ve said it, so we’ll be safe for a while.” “So you’ve already steered everything where you want it to go, huh? That’s nasty.” Walt decides to take Isaac’s disgusted expression as a compliment. Isaac pulls a bundle of keys out of the desk drawer, gets up, and heads over to a safe in the corner of the room. Watching him gratefully, Walt keeps talking, almost griping. “Actually, I wish she’d pitch a fit and start shouting, ‘I’m Isaac Lombard’s fiancée!’ That would make this go much faster.” “She doesn’t trust you, huh? So the demon king’s guard isn’t much of a Casanova after all.” “The girl’s clever, although she does seems unskilled at subtle maneuvering.” When Isaac hears Walt’s assessment, he pauses in the act of rummaging through the safe. “From what I’ve heard, I really doubt that.” “Were you at that ball, Isaac?” “Of course I wasn’t. If there was a risk I’d already run into her, I couldn’t have loaned my name for this. —Yeah, I knew it: Most of the stuff’s at the old castle. About all I’ve got here are lip rouges in the trial phase.” “If they’re not being sold yet, that’s good enough.” Closing up the safe, Isaac shows him two tubes of lip rouge. “They’re different colors. Which one are you gonna take?” “How a guy like you managed to get married is a mystery.” “Huh?” Isaac scowls. Walt snatches both tubes from his hand. “With things like this, you take both of them, put the rouge on her yourself, compare the two, then put some serious thought into which one’s better. The only person who’s allowed to get away with some lazy line like ‘Everything looks good on you’ is the demon king, and that’s because his face is a universal pardon.” “……” “They don’t feel like luxury items, though, if they’re just like this. Got anything to make them look extra-special?” “We’ve got trays for showing products to customers, but…” “Nah, that would be going overboard. If I want it to feel like we’re lovers, it’s best to have something that can be done quietly in a corner… Oh, can I borrow this handkerchief?” Walt’s sharp eyes have spotted a handkerchief made of lustrous silk; it’s probably used to bring out the Oberon Trading Firm’s high-end products. Isaac shrugs. “Be my guest.” “This’ll do. Okay, I’ll get lost now. —Ah, I might buy some other stuff, too; send the bill to my master.” “If some woman stabs you someday, you’re not gonna be able to complain.” Walt has given him a casual wave and turned to go, but that remark makes him stop. He looks back at Isaac’s appalled face and smiles. “And if you get too obsessed with work and your wife decides she’s had it with you, you won’t be able to complain, either.” “Argh, just shut up and get out!” Walt quietly calls Lira to a corner of the shop, puts his finger to his lips, and reveals the new products that aren’t being offered yet, telling her it’s a secret. The strategy seems to be going well. If she hasn’t been planning on this, he suspects she will run for dear life when he tilts her chin up and offers to apply the lip rouge for her. At least for Walt, this is all according to plan. However, he didn’t expect Lira to begin by taking a long, close look at the rouges. “Both colors are lovely, aren’t they? This pink has a shimmer to it; it’s cute, but elegant. Like a fairy.” The word fairy makes him grimace a little, but she doesn’t notice. “This other one… It does have a shade of pink, but it seems more orange. This really is a new color. The idea of mass-producing a thing like this… I’ve never seen anything like it.” “Want to try it on?” “What are you saying? If it’s a prototype, there can’t be that many of them. It would be a waste to casually test it like that. I wonder what sort of materials went into making this…and which customer demographic they’re targeting…” Lira’s eyes are serious. So she’s not just pouncing on it. This strikes him as unexpected, but then again, maybe it isn’t. She’s sitting next to him on a sofa in the lounge area in one corner of the shop, and he turns to her. “But if you don’t try them on, you won’t know which one suits you best.” “The orange. It looks as if it would be convenient for everyday use, and I think pink is a little too cute for me. Most of all, it’s a new color. I’d like to try it.” She’s decided for herself before Walt can say anything. Apparently, she’s not the type to ask others for their opinions but has very clear ideas about what she likes and dislikes. “Are you sure, though? These may be trial products, but they’re company secrets, aren’t they?” “No, they just haven’t been put on the market yet.” If they were really something that couldn’t be removed from the shop, Isaac probably wouldn’t have handed them over, and they wouldn’t have been keeping them in the store safe. They’d have the demons guarding them at the old castle. Convinced, Lira recaps the lip rouge. “So you really are Isaac Lombard,” she murmurs. “Huh?! Wait, did I do something to make you doubt me?” He had no idea she’d been suspicious of him. The idea startles him so much that he asked his question reflexively, but that’s probably the normal reaction. It doesn’t seem to bother Lira. “You’re one of the empress’s favorites, you know. Even if we do have a long shared history, I wondered if you’d really accept a marriage interview with my family just because you wanted our name.” “Oh… Oh, but that’s… I mean, yes, I did have that sort of thing in mind at first, but now…” “Th-that’s as far as this goes, though, okay?! I don’t intend to let you court me, so don’t get the wrong idea!” Maybe it’s because he’d gotten flustered and slipped into speaking casually, but Lila’s gotten wary even faster than when he tried to sweet-talk her. “Listen. Don’t misinterpret this. I’m only accepting the rouge because I need it to make my uncle shut up.” “…That’s quite clear.” “Why are you saying it like that?” “No, no reason. It may be a trial product, but it’s still a present; I’ll have them wrap it for you.” Walt isn’t Isaac Lombard, but he really is close enough to the Oberon Trading Firm that his face is enough to give him the run of the place. If he whispers his name to an employee, they’ll at least wrap a gift for him. “Yes. I wouldn’t want my uncle to suspect anything odd…” “This was the color you wanted, right? Just stay here and I’ll—” “Oh, wait!” Walt’s taken the lip rouge and started for the counter, but Lira grabs his arm. He turns back, only to see her pick up the other lip rouge. “…Make it this one after all.” She holds the pink one out to him. Walt frowns; he’s still holding the orange lip rouge. “But you said you liked this color best.” “Y-yes, I did. But…I think I can use this one, too!” “Didn’t you say this one seemed more useful for everyday wear?” “I—I remembered I’m having a new dress made. Pink will match it better; besides, it’s a standard color. Th-the new color might not suit me.” Her reasoning sounds logical, but the sheer amount of times she’s blinking makes it obvious that she’s trying to cover something up. He has no idea why she suddenly changed her mind, though. “So not that one, please. I like this one better.” She seems set in her decision. After this, she clams up, as if to say there’s no reason at all behind her abrupt change of heart. Walt sighs, and the girl looks down, aware of how she must seem. “How about this, then? I’ll give you both.” “What?” Lira looks up. Walt smiles at her. “Would you like that?” “U-um, but…” “That was the original plan anyway. It’s just that you went and chose one, and I didn’t want to force you to take something you didn’t want. I’ll go have these wrapped.” When he takes the other lip rouge from Lira’s hand, she releases his arm. As he heads toward the counter, he hears her mumble, “Th…thank y—,” but pretends he doesn’t. Was it mere caprice or selfishness? Saying it was either doesn’t feel right. If she were really selfish, she would have asked for both right from the start instead of choosing. That option didn’t even seem to have occurred to her until Walt suggested it. A moment ago, she’d clearly weighed up something and had been about to give up the new color she actually wanted. “…Why would she go out of her way to choose a color that didn’t suit her?” Was she planning to do her makeup in a way that wouldn’t look good on her? Why? —Well, that was obvious: to pass herself off as someone else. As a girl like a fairy, for example. …I’m overthinking it. Makeup does change a woman, but there’s no way it’d ever make her look like a fairy. Even sweet Ailey didn’t when she dressed up. He was the one who realized Aileen was a girl when she was dressed as a boy. There aren’t too many moments when it’s possible to mistake a woman for something else. That is, unless you have knotholes for eyes, like Kyle. Walt has the lip rouges wrapped and packed into an elegant paper bag, along with some chocolates he’s been told are new. When he returns to the lounge area, he blinks: Lira’s gone. Scanning the area, he promptly finds her again. “Thank you, miss.” “Don’t worry about it. It looks as if the employees are all busy with other customers.” She’s opened the shop door for an elderly gentleman who’s carrying a large package, and she’s now helping him down the stairs. …She really is just a good, decent kid. That’s the only impression he gets from the scene, but he can’t just stand and watch. Walt hurries outside and calls to the gentleman, who’s just reached the bottom of the stairs. “Do you need a carriage to take you home?” “Y-you can go—” “I plan to hail one, so please don’t trouble yourself.” “In that case, allow me to carry your package until then. It’ll be easier to flag down a carriage on the main avenue, so let’s head over there.” He plucks the package from the man’s arms; it’s not heavy, but it is bulky and awkward to hold. Lira looks as if she wants to say something, but she must have decided the old gentleman is more important, because she comes along quietly, lending the man her hand for support. They manage to quickly flag down a carriage, and after they’ve seen the elderly gentleman and his package off, Walt involuntarily murmurs something to her. “You’re a good kid, aren’t you?” “Wh-what? If there’s something you want to say, then— Oh!” Lira cries out, and Walt looks up, following her gaze. The reason is obvious. There’s water falling from the sky. One of the residents of the building’s higher floors has emptied something like a vase out the window without checking to see if anyone’s below. There’s no hostile intent; it’s just an accident. Lunging a little will take him out of its path easily. There aren’t any obstacles in that direction. After arriving at that conclusion, albeit far more slowly than a normal person, Walt is just about to jump when something shoves him in the chest. He staggers. Huh? Lira’s pushed him out of the way, and the water douses her with a resounding splash. “Are… Are you, okay?” Protecting Walt has left Lira soaking wet, but she’s the one who asks the question. H-her reflexes are way too good. Did she just move on instinct? It might be because he’s a little stunned, but that’s the first thought that occurs to him. The next one is something quite different. She protected me without thinking? —Me? “Um, excuse me? I’m asking if you’re all right.” “Y-yes.” Walt nods. Her shove moved him out of the way enough that he’s been hit with only some of the spray. Lira brushes her long, wet hair back over her shoulders with both hands, shakes her head like a puppy, then looks up. The water droplets sparkle as they reflect the sun, adorning her pale blond hair, long eyelashes, round cheeks, and full, smiling lips. “I see. That’s good.” There really can’t be too many moments when it’s possible to mistake a woman for something else. The next thing Walt knows, he’s banging his forehead against the brick wall behind him. “Wha—? What are you doing?!” “I think there may be something wrong with my eyes.” “I’m the one who got splashed with water. Why are you acting so strange?” That jolts him back to his senses. She’s soaking wet; he should lend her his handkerchief, and then… “You’re all red. This is already wet, so that’s perfect.”
Chapter 125
52 min read