Chapter 103 - Festival

“Is this right?”

Renée stood straight in the middle of the clearing, holding the sword in both hands as she asked.

Bera was examining her stance when her question made him wonder, 'Why am I doing this right now?'

He had only meant to teach her how to hold a sword, yet somehow he had ended up teaching her how to swing it as well.

Just as it occurred to him that perhaps they ought to go inside and rest...

“Bera?”

“Yes, Saintess.”

“Now I bring it down like this, right?”

Renée continued her questions, her face brimming with excitement. Her cheeks were faintly flushed, her smile so deep that it carved dimples into them, and even her movements were lively.

At the sight, Bera unwittingly found himself thinking that none of it really mattered. Dismissing his earlier doubts, he approached her.

“You're tensing up too much.”

He meant to correct her posture.

His right hand settled over the back of hers, while his left moved to the small of her back.

Renée gave a little start, and he felt every bit of her shiver.

Watching her press her lips together, Bera felt an inexplicable embarrassment creep over him.

Beneath the left hand resting at the small of her back, he could feel how stiffly she held herself. Under his right, the soft skin of a girl who had never done rough work tickled his palm.

He felt as though he were doing something forbidden. For some reason, it felt like committing a sin.

There was only one reason he could not stop: even as he thought he was doing something he should not, the sensation of their skin touching kept urging him on.

Instinct pinned his reason down and supplied excuses. He was doing nothing wrong. He was merely correcting her stance.

“Could you relax a little?”

“... Yes.”

Her answer came a beat late. The faint tremor in her voice sent little pricks through Bera's chest as he adjusted her movements.

“... I'll guide you through the motion.”

Shamelessly feigning composure, he guided her body.

He moved his left hand from the small of her back to her other hand. They ended up in an odd position, as though he were embracing her from behind.

It was the stance for a vertical slash.

Even as he slowly guided the sword downward, Bera's thoughts strayed elsewhere.

Standing like this, with his arms around her, made their difference in height newly apparent, drawing his attention to it.

She barely reached his shoulders. Lowering his eyes a little, he could see the rounded crown of her head. For some reason, the way she held her breath as she brought the sword down struck him as cute.

He flinched.

The thought made Bera jerk.

“Bera?”

“... It's nothing.”

Having answered, he pressed his lips firmly shut.

Cute? What the hell did he mean, cute?

Startled by his own thought, Bera had twitched. Now he frowned slightly and cursed inwardly.

'... This damned Empire.'

It was all the Empire's fault that he felt so strange. That was what Bera decided.

Wasn't it? He had served Renée without incident for nearly three and a half years, yet now, after entering the Empire, she looked distinctly different to him.

He did not mean that she seemed strange, or that he had become disillusioned with her.

He meant that he was seeing her not as the saint who would become a light for everyone, but as a fresh-faced young girl.

He remembered Renée in everyday clothes for their visit to the library. He remembered her sitting on a bench in a corner of that library, resting her head on his shoulder.

And that was not all. The little smile always playing about her lips, her prettily flushed cheeks, the warmth and pressure of her hand with its fingers interlaced with his—memory after memory stirred up his heart.

That moment from that day was overlapping with this one.

Her small, soft hands lay enclosed within his, and their warmth seeped tingling through his palms.

Every soft breath she took seemed to bore into his ears.

And with her pressed so close, her scent seemed to fill his nostrils, making it difficult to breathe. That was because he feared she might misunderstand his behavior. He was worried she would think him a scoundrel secretly sniffing her.

Stiff and visibly tense, Bera guided Renée's sword, struggling to rein in thoughts that kept darting elsewhere.

She was concentrating so hard that he felt he, too, ought to do his utmost to teach her.

Of course, had Renée known what he was thinking, she would have felt terribly guilty.

Ever since getting to her feet, she had not concentrated on the sword for a single moment.

The fact that she had originally arranged this to learn how to hold a sword had already vanished from her mind.

Only one thought occupied Renée's mind now.

'So hot...'

Her face felt as though it were burning up.

With her whole body enclosed by Bera, her heart was pounding furiously.

The back of her head touched his firm chest. She could feel the heavy thud, thud of his heartbeat. Both her hands were caught between his, and she felt their pressure. Something she did not know how to describe—if she had to, she would call it a man's scent—filled her lungs.

Far more honest with herself than Bera was, Renée wished he would simply put down the sword and hold her tightly like this.

A pleasant languor spread through her whole body, making her thoughts hazy.

She thought she could fall asleep at once if she closed her eyes and leaned into his embrace.

... No, sleeping would be a waste. If she fell asleep now, she could not savor this feeling fully. What could be more wasteful than that?

She just wanted to lean back, held tightly in his arms, and concentrate on the sensations reaching her.

As they had in the library, she wanted to spend the entire day close enough to feel each other's presence.

As soon as that thought occurred to her, she spoke.

“... Shall we rest a little?”

It was just like the day they had gone to the library. As her longing grew, her embarrassment fled far away. She simply wanted this. That desire filled her so completely that there was no room left for shame.

“... Yes.”

When Bera answered and began to lift his hands away, Renée hastily added,

“Right here.”

“Pardon?”

“Let's just rest right here.”

Don't move. When her words left Bera visibly flustered, Renée bowed her head and added,

“... My legs are trembling too much to move. Let's sit down like this and rest.”

It was a shameless claim.

All she had done in the name of sword training was wave a sword around while standing in one place.

Fortunately, Bera was in no state to question it either.

Slowly, Bera lowered himself to the dirt, keeping Renée enclosed in his arms.

She settled onto his thighs and laid the sword on the ground.

“Your hand.”

She held out her empty hand, and his settled over it. Then their fingers intertwined.

An unusual mood settled around them.

Although this was supposed to be a sword lesson, both their hearts had wandered far away on idle thoughts—and met there.

Holding his hand tightly, Renée drew it around in front of her body, arranging his arms so that they enclosed her.

He gave a start.

Renée felt him flinch.

It made her feel delighted. She could tell he was conscious of her, and the knowledge filled her with satisfaction.

Of course, she did not say so aloud. If she asked whether she made him self-conscious, he might get startled and run away.

Rather than tease him for flinching, she asked a question to turn his attention elsewhere.

“How much time has passed?”

“... There's still plenty of daylight left.”

It was a lie. The sun was already sinking, and the sky was taking on the colors of sunset.

For the first time in his life, Bera had lied to Renée. Yet he did not even realize he was doing it.

For some reason, he found this atmosphere so pleasing, and having her enclosed in his arms so satisfying, that he wanted to stay like this a little longer. He had answered without even looking at the sky.

“We have plenty of time, then.”

Neither of them said what they had plenty of time for.

They could simply assume there was plenty of time for everything.

“How was Aisha?”

“She's a talented child.”

“I'm glad. Don't be too hard on her.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

“How have Lady Mari and Sir Rohan been lately?”

“They're throwing themselves into purifying the gutter. It is full of germs, after all.”

“I'll join them starting tomorrow.”

“I'll let them know.”

They exchanged everyday remarks, carrying on as though there were nothing unusual about the way they were sitting, as though this were just another ordinary moment.

Deceiving themselves and each other, they leaned together.

Resting the back of her head against Bera's chest, Renée continued in a thoroughly casual tone.

“The festival is coming up soon.”

“It is.”

“You said there was plenty to see at the night market, right?”

“The night market and outdoor performances are well known, as is the auction house that opens only during the festival.”

“When shall we go?”

The question flowed naturally from their conversation. Not going... was not an option, at least for the two of them now.

“There is so much to see at the festival that I doubt a single day will be enough to see it all.”

“Then we can go for several days.”

“I'll plan accordingly.”

“Everyone else will be busy, won't they?”

“Indeed they will.”

“Then we'll have to go alone.”

“It seems we have no choice.”

Bera stared into empty space. Renée kept her head bowed toward the ground.

As casually as could be, as though it meant nothing at all, they were asking each other out on dates.

“There's His Highness the second prince's coming-of-age ceremony, too.”

“Yes. It will take place at the founding anniversary banquet.”

“To think I'd ever get to attend a ball.”

“You'll need a dress.”

“But I'm going to give a blessing. I ought to wear my ceremonial robes.”

“The ball is after the ceremony, so there should be no problem.”

“Changing sounds like a bother.”

“In that case, you could wear your ceremonial—”

“Since you want me to, Bera, I'll wear one just for you.”

TAP.

Renée tapped his fingernail with her index finger. When he shivered, she asked in a voice full of laughter,

“And your thanks?”

“... I'm deeply honored.”

“Deeply honored, are you?”

As she giggled, his heartbeat grew stronger.

In the sunset-lit clearing, they spent a long time exchanging such intimate whispers.

* * *

'Ugh, I'm dying.'

Aching all over, Rohan trudged back to the manor.

'What kind of damned neighborhood stays filthy no matter how much you purify it...?'

It had been a week since he had been assigned to purify the gutter. Every single day, he had poured out divine energy to continue the work, yet perhaps the gutter really did live up to its name.

Progress was far too slow. All that was increasing was his suffering.

'Better get inside and rest.'

If he had a good, stiff drink and lay down, he thought he might forget this grueling day.

Walking along with a haggard face and those thoughts in his head, Rohan suddenly caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye. He stopped short, his face twisting into a scowl.

He could see Bera and Renée sitting in the middle of the clearing, one in the other's lap.

The sight made the back of his neck tighten. His eyes began to turn bloodshot, and he ground his teeth.

'Fuck.'

He was only just returning after slaving away all day, and here were these two sitting in a quiet spot, flirting. How could he not be angry?

Why did his damned eyesight have to be so good, too?

Their expressions and flushed faces were painfully clear, making Rohan feel as though his blood were surging backward.

'Ah...'

Rohan trembled faintly with pent-up indignation and a lonely chill at his side, then resumed walking, utterly crestfallen.

'... The festival is the answer.'

The festival. He had to go to the festival.

Only the festival could soothe his heart.

Rohan was a middle-aged bachelor who had now entered his forties.

As he trudged away, faintly gleaming tears clung to the corners of his eyes.