Cecilia practically skipped down a brick-paved avenue as she dragged a nervous Ichika by his hand. This is finally my chance! It’s like they say in Japan, ‘mochi fallen from a shelf’! Cecilia tried not to clench her fists in excitement. I need to take it slowly, coolly, but boldly! Just like Sherlock Holmes would!
Focusing on the ‘boldly’ part, she realized something. Oh no! My lingerie today... I didn’t wear anything special... Forgetting a girl’s final weapon, her date night panties, was a fatal mistake. But this was all so unexpected. Cecilia tried to convince herself that it wasn’t her own fault. What was the line in that show? Ah, yes! ‘Fortune is a fickle ally’! Thinking back to an anime Kanzashi had sat her down and made her watch, she tried to pump herself up. Anyway! I do still need to show Ichika London. She let go of his hand, before wrapping her arm around him.
“Uhh, Cecilia...”
“You’re cold, aren’t you? This should warm you up a bit.”
“I guess, but...” For once, Ichika decided to shut up rather than draw attention.
“Shall we be off, then? I have so much to show you!”
Ichika knew well that there was no way he could stop Cecilia once she got started. I guess it’s a good way to keep her mind off Chelsea. He had his own way of caring. And no matter how embarrassing it was for him, he wasn’t going to slip out of her embrace.
“Cecilia, I know it’s not all that fun, but do you know where I could get a coat? It really is cold here.”
“I know just the place! I’m sure you’ll find something perfect for you.” She smiled, pleased with herself.
Ichika walked along beside her, entranced by its gleam. “If it’s something you recommend, won’t it be expensive, though?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll cover it.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Why, it’s nothing to worry about. I’m an Alcott. I have a castle, for goodness’ sake.” Meaning she was nobility. They really did live in different worlds.
“Thanks, then.”
“If it bothers you that much, you’re welcome to pay me back, of course.”
“Eesh. Uhh, maybe I don’t need a coat.”
“Ahaha, I was only kidding.” Cecilia, feeling even better, held Ichika tighter. His pulse began to rise as he felt her chest rub against him.
“And here we are.”
Ten minutes later, they’d arrived at a shop right in the middle of a block on the high street. Ichika marveled at its very English fusion of classical design and high style. As he gawked at his surroundings, an English gentleman poked his head out to receive them.
“Why, if it isn’t Miss Alcott. And such a marvelous young man. It’s an honor to be graced by your presence.”
“Why, thank you,” said Cecilia with a nod. “Go ahead, Ichika.”
“Huh? Ah. Okay.” He pushed the heavy door open and stepped into a warm room heavy with tradition. As he slid his borrowed coat off, a gentleman, dressed in black, stepped up to take it.
“Your coat, if I may,” said the man.
“Th-Thanks.” He awkwardly handed it over, and the man stepped back. Not being asked for his name or given a claim check was definitely a departure from how things worked in Japan. “H-Hey, Cecilia. I’m a bit out of place here.”
“Why, not at all! Look at that coat there, I think it would be wonderful on you.”
The lack of a price tag made Ichika nervous as the attendant helpfully raised it so he could thread his arms through. It was a trenchcoat, in all black. It made him look more mature.
Cecilia gasped in relish as he tried it on.
“Oh my! Ichika, it looks wonderful on you!”
“Really?” He wasn’t much one to argue with praise.
“We’ll take this one. He’ll be wearing it, so no need to wrap it. Bill it to my account.” Cecilia quickly handled the formalities and, arm-in-arm, they stepped out of the shop. “It’s the British way to decide these sorts of things on first impression.”
Ichika wasn’t sure if she was joking with him or not, but she followed up with a wink.
“Well, if you say so.”
“Would I lie?”
Next up was a stroll around London. The well-made coat was warmer than it looked, and protected Ichika from the winter chill. And also made Cecilia’s warmth and curves feel a little bit further away.
“Let me show you a café next, Ichika. They have my favorite tea.” A playful smile drifted to her face, before suddenly being wiped off. “Chelsea...?”
Cecilia spied her across the road, in the corner of her vision. Chelsea wasn’t wearing her usual maid outfit. Instead, she had on Phantom Task’s trademark black cloak.
“Catch me if you can,” she intoned quietly. The words were lost in the drone of a passing car’s exhaust, but the meaning came through loud and clear.
“Ichika!”
“I know!”
They had no IS. But they had to give chase. Neither was experienced enough to pass over the obvious bait.