Intoxicated by the Night's Magic
The sun's chariot, racing across its azure curtain, slipped beyond the horizon.
As if following in its wake, the moon's chariot began to glide across a black curtain of its own, bathing the dark night in a soft, silver glow.
The spring rain fled as though hiding from the moonlight, and when its song at last fell silent, stillness settled over the royal capital.
I truly loved this quiet night.
Wherever one might be in the world, the dark of night became a refuge for people.
When people grow weary and worn, become the curtain under which they may rest.
That was why black. That was why Noir.
I had never known my mother's face or her voice, and yet I loved the name she had given me — Noir.
The words urging me to become not someone who illuminates the world, but someone who becomes the will of others, had always struck deeper than my father's insistence that I become a proper noble.
Looking back, even when I was still bound by the word "nobility," before I ever met Blanc, it was this quiet night that let me endure.
When I wandered without a destination, the night alone let me set down my burdens and claim a little time that was mine.
But tonight… would I be able to rest through this night in peace?
"My lady."
As I gazed out the lodging-house window, sinking into the mood of the evening, Blanc's voice reached me from behind.
No matter how many times I heard it, it was a clear, lovely voice.
"I have finished bathing."
"H-huh? You're here, Blanc…?"
I turned. Blanc was already standing there in her maid uniform, having finished her bath at some point without my noticing.
Ah. Even in the room, it's the maid uniform.
Even for Blanc, who clung to her maid attire every day, I had half expected pajamas in the bedroom — or at least ordinary clothes.
Or was she wearing it because we were sharing a room?
If that were the case, it would make me a little sad.
I felt at ease beside Blanc. If she could not feel the same ease beside me… that would be a lonely thought.
"Blanc, do you keep wearing your maid uniform even at the estate and in the dormitory?"
"Yes. Of course. I wear my maid uniform at all times, wherever I may be."
"Doesn't it get uncomfortable, wearing it all the time like that?"
"Please do not concern yourself on that account. This particular maid uniform is a sleeping model, made of lighter, more comfortable material than the one I wear for ordinary duties."
I see.
I had been fretting that she might not be able to rest because of me. What a relief.
But a sleeping maid uniform… did that mean she had other kinds as well?
Did maids usually keep spare uniforms sorted by purpose like that?
Thinking of Dorothy padding around in her rabbit-print fuzzy pajamas, it didn't seem to be the usual practice.
Well — that only proved how special and extraordinary a maid Blanc was.
I did want to see her in something other than a maid uniform, but I had already gotten to see her in her school uniform. That would have to be enough for now.
At any rate, having just come out of the bath, Blanc's snow-white skin looked even paler than usual.
The heat of the water still clung to her so strongly I could feel it from where I stood, and instead of her usual loose hair she had gathered it into a single ponytail at the back. Her nape, still damp and soft with moisture…
"My lady? Your breathing has grown uneven. Are you feeling unwell?"
"H-huh?! No! I'm fine!"
Ugh… Why have I been like this lately?!
It was strange. Every time I looked at Blanc these days, my chest would tighten, and I would find myself staring at her in ways that felt… wrong.
Something weighed on my heart; I grew tense for no reason at all.
My eyes kept finding her, and when she was out of sight, every thought in my head turned to Blanc.
It had happened now and then even before, but lately the frequency had only grown worse.
Haa… Calm down. Just calm down.
Blanc and I were more than lady and maid — we were indispensable partners, family in all but name.
So this was affection. Fondness for a partner. That was all.
We were always together, so the way I felt around her wasn't strange at all… right…?
By a twist of circumstance, my lady and I had been assigned the same room.
How could a maid possibly share a bedchamber with her mistress?
I had tried every means I could think of to sleep alone, but my lady ordered that we share the room, and in the end I had no choice but to yield.
I had at least meant to take the sofa, but…
"Blanc. Sleep in the bed."
"My lady, how could a maid share the same bed as her lady…"
"If you're going to sleep on that sofa, then so will I. Do you want the two of us crammed onto a sofa that narrow?"
In the end, under my lady's thinly veiled threat of a command, I committed the discourtesy of lying in the same bed as her.
Sob…
That my lady thought of me filled me with both gratitude and joy — and yet the moments that put my Maid Soul to the test were so frequent I hardly knew what to do with myself.
"My lady…"
"…"
My lady liked to pretend at cool composure, but the act always cracked easily into a bright smile; she was more forgetful than one might expect; she read strange novels with alarming frequency and sometimes mixed them up with reality. Setting those quirks aside, however, she was a truly perfect mistress.
And yet if I had to name the single most dangerous habit of that perfect lady, it would be this: when she sank into thought or fancy, she stopped noticing anything around her at all.
"My lady…?"
She lay on the bed, staring straight into my face.
She had fallen into thought again, it seemed. No matter how many times I called her, she gave no answer.
Mm. It was time she slept.
Even if today's magical-beast subjugation had ended early, that did not mean the body carried no fatigue.
If she slept now, the weariness would melt away and she could meet tomorrow with spirit…
But I could not bring myself to disturb her while she was so deeply lost in thought.
So I simply waited in silence for her thoughts to run their course.
"…"
"…"
Hmm…
Still, lying here quietly locking eyes with my lady was somehow… embarrassing.
I met her gaze often enough in ordinary life, but moments when we simply looked at each other without a word were rare.
The first, I thought, since the mock battle.
Back then, too, I had met her eyes like this and been so happy to witness her growth.
"Hehe…"
Staring so openly at my lady's face might have been a slight breach of etiquette.
But today she had told me to act according to my own will. Surely this much was allowed.
Even something as simple as lying still and looking at her face was surprisingly pleasant.
In that stretch of time when we simply lay and looked at each other, it felt as though nothing and no one else existed in the world.
I could not hear the night wind tapping at the window, nor the second hand of the clock on the wall.
All that reached me was the beat of my own heart and the soft sound of Blanc's breathing across from me.
Spellbound by a magic called night, it felt as if only the two of us had been left behind in the small universe of a bed.
"Hehe…"
Blanc, watching me, let out that familiar little laugh and smiled.
I had seen that expression countless times, and still it struck me as impossibly beautiful and noble.
"Hey, Blanc."
Long ago — before I met her — I had clung to the formless shape of "nobility" and lost my way.
Unable to step out from my father's shadow, I had only tried to run the path he laid out for me.
Then I met Blanc, and I left that shadow and began to walk a road of my own.
That was why I admired her.
I wanted to become someone worthy of Blanc — a splendid version of myself.
"Thank you."
"Pardon? For what, exactly…?"
"Hmm? Just… thank you."
So every day, I was grateful to her.
If I could not feel gratitude toward Blanc, who from beginning to end supported someone as incomplete as me, I would be no better than a beast.
But even I was not sure what, precisely, this particular thanks was for.
Gratitude for always looking after someone so lacking?
Or for the delicious meals she made every day…?
I didn't really know. I simply wanted to pass my feelings to Blanc without thinking at all.
Drunk on the night's magic, I wanted to speak honestly, without a single calculation.
Thump. Thump.
And yet even after offering that gratitude, something still felt incomplete.
As if my heart, in the form of its own pounding, was crying out that it was not enough.
"Blanc."
Just a little further — one more step. That was what it seemed to be shouting.
So for once, I meant to do exactly as my heart asked.
"Yes, my lady."
"Good night."
"Hehe. Sleep well, my lady."
In the end, I could not take that single step.
I had thought that following my heart too rashly, taking that one stride without care, was something I must not do.
The feelings that never found their way into words became little nails, pricking at my heart — but for tonight, this was enough.
There was plenty of time, after all.
I could leave the task of conveying this nameless feeling to my future self.
Still… since I had already let myself be drunk on the night of the royal capital, I would try to find just a little more courage.
"Blanc, can I hold you while we sleep?"
"Pardon…?"
Before Blanc could even answer, I crawled over beside her and wrapped my arms around her startled form.
With our faces so much closer than usual, my heart pounded like a drum.
Through the chests pressed together, I thought I could feel the quiet, steady beat of Blanc's heart.
I was this flustered, and yet she remained perfectly calm — somehow both irritating and unfair.
So I held her even tighter.
So that my racing pulse might reach her, so that the beat of my heart might set hers racing too, I pressed closer still.
"Ah — my lady…?"
My own heartbeat was so loud I could no longer hear hers, but even so, perhaps her heart had quickened just a little.
"Hehe."
In the warmth of the shared quilt, the soft give of Blanc's body was, quite simply, the best feeling in the world.