Chapter 38
Chapter 39
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 38
Chapter Title: What the Grand Duke's Heir Needs
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The Eliad mansion, without Celen, was shrouded in a cool silence.
The sunlight that had infused a touch of warmth into the Eliad mansion
was gradually fading away in quiet desolation, casting long shadows across the floor.
Ruena quietly gazed out the window.
By now, the carriage carrying Celen must be passing over that hill, dyed in the hues of the sunset.
As the sunset faded, Ruena's eyes grew ever colder.
'He won't come... tomorrow either. Again...'
It had already exceeded the count of five fingers this month alone.
The number of times Celen hadn't shown his face at the mansion due to various family matters.
Something that had been rare in childhood was increasing more and more as he approached adulthood.
She could say with certainty that
if left as is,
he would eventually drift completely away.
Just like on those young days—
when Celen had often said he couldn't come due to lessons.
'Surely... he'll cut off contact even more than back then.'
Ruena knew.
She herself was a noble as well.
And among them,
from the Grand Duke Eliad's house,
which bore the most brilliant and heaviest chains—
that as duties and obligations were given, her own desires would gradually lose their place.
A short sigh escaped Ruena's lips.
Celen—
always habitually calling himself the awkward third son,
someone not particularly noteworthy even in his own house—
yet the calls for him from his family, House Noir, were steadily increasing.
House Noir's attitude, contrary to Celen's words.
Not only House Noir, but even she knew it—yet Celen, the person involved, was the only one unaware.
That his habitual words had long since diverged from reality.
'Idiot...'
Ruena fell into thought, recalling her longtime childhood friend.
Celen Noir.
He was quick on the uptake, but strangely obtuse when it came to matters involving himself.
Like how the area under a lamp is the darkest,
or how it's hard to notice what's on your own back.
Incredibly perceptive with others' affairs,
piercing through others' innermost thoughts with astonishing clarity, yet endlessly insensitive to his own issues.
About himself,
about the feelings directed toward him,
about evaluations of him.
Ruena recalled the things Celen always said.
"I'm just the awkward third son of a count's family, that's all."
"Even my family doesn't really... expect anything from me?"
"What a hassle. Just handle everything half-assed and it's fine."
His habitual self-deprecation, lacking any objectivity, explained nothing about who he really was.
They say they expect nothing, yet House Noir keeps seeking him out.
He says it's a hassle, yet no one moved more diligently than he did.
Ruena recalled an incident from two years ago.
Swordsmanship class.
Celen, with his sharp eyes and agility,
was the type to absorb knowledge like blotting paper.
But that day, something had jammed.
Strength and endurance, which couldn't be compensated for with agility alone.
They disrupted his movements and dulled his sharp sword.
Ruena remembered that time vividly.
Celen's movements were different from usual.
His nimble footwork gradually slowed, his breathing grew ragged.
The more he struggled to execute the forms, the more he seemed to sink into quicksand.
"......Ugh."
In the end, the moment his stance crumbled—
Celen collapsed to the ground right there.
Ruena set down her sword and hurried over to him.
"Celen, you okay?"
"......"
Celen gave no reply.
He just silently pondered something while swinging his sword.
But there was no sharpness to his movements.
Half-hearted, perfunctory.
To the point where the swordsmanship instructor shook his head in disapproval.
Even so, Ruena didn't think he was slacking off.
Because Celen's eyes shone more seriously than ever.
She was right.
That resolve was no illusion.
After that day—
Celen's stamina visibly improved.
His breathing steadied.
The tip of his sword no longer wavered.
The crumbling forms connected cleanly.
It wasn't something that could be covered with mere agility.
It was a change impossible without steadily building strength.
'As expected...'
After swordsmanship class ended,
Ruena approached Celen with a beaming smile.
A smile she showed only to him.
The look Celen had said was his type.
It was just imitating others, but if Celen liked it, that was fine.
"Celen~!"
"Haa... Uh, what."
"Your forms today were super clean. Even the instructor praised you."
"And you were swinging your sword so nicely.... You have to grip it tight. What if it flies off and you get hurt?"
"Ehehe~"
Despite Celen's scolding, Ruena relaxed her facial muscles and grinned brightly.
A play just for Celen.
A role made for him alone in the world.
Cutely clingy,
a bit airheaded,
someone who needed looking after in all sorts of ways—
a clumsy childhood friend who required a lot of attention.
It was fine if it seemed ridiculous.
Even if it wasn't befitting of an Eliad.
As long as she could monopolize Celen's attention.
Above all—
he, who was quick-witted and suspicious of everything,
harbored not a shred of doubt toward her simply because she was his longtime childhood friend—and that was endlessly delightful and lovable.
'So cute...'
Her utterly innocent childhood friend.
The fool who couldn't notice her long-held affection.
Ruena obediently closed her eyes as Celen patted her head.
"Mm, I'll be careful next time."
"...Do you even know how many times you've said that just this week?"
"Ehehe~."
"Trying to brush it off with that smile again."
"Auuuuwong...."
Her cheeks, grabbed by Celen on both sides, stretched like cheese.
"Uu... Ahaha...."
"It hurting is normal. Get your head straight. A sword's a deadly weapon, not a toy."
"Uuu, I'll be cawefuw... Wet gooo...."
Even as she asked to be let go, Ruena remained obediently held.
Because she didn't hate that touch.
Her cheeks stung, but if it was from Celen, even that felt good.
Only after tugging her cheeks a couple more times did Celen's hands finally release.
Ruena rubbed her cheeks and lit up her eyes once more.
"Still, Celen, you're amazing! Your skills have improved so much!"
"...Yeah?"
"Yeah. Did you practice at home?"
"Eh..., just kinda."
As always, a lukewarm reaction,
but Ruena had seen through exactly how much effort he had put in.
Casually,
half-assed,
so-so.
Celen's pet phrases.
But skills that didn't match the word "casual" at all,
had seeped into Celen's body, clearly showing the evidence of his efforts.
Recalling that memory, Ruena smiled bitterly.
That was Celen.
A person who hid diligence behind a mask of laziness.
Always saying he was doing it half-assed, yet never actually doing so.
That diligence, which he himself wasn't aware of,
was surely why House Noir kept needing him.
It was good that Celen was being recognized, but it wasn't entirely joyful for Ruena.
Because she knew all too well that it meant his visits would cease.
'Absolutely not...'
Such a thing couldn't be allowed.
His attention,
the seat beside him,
the one he cared for most,
all of it had to be her, Ruena.
Yes, all of that had to be allowed only to her.
Even if it was his family, she couldn't tolerate anything taking precedence over her.
'It's about time... to use other means...'
Acting alone wasn't enough.
They needed something beyond just shared classes.
Of course... she wouldn't confess her feelings first to Celen.
Not because it was embarrassing,
or out of some petty pride.
If she could have him, she could attempt a confession a hundred times over.
But—
Regrettably, Ruena knew Celen far too well.
He was someone who prioritized his own judgment over others' emotions.
If Celen didn't like her first,
her confession would become nothing but a shackle he wanted to escape.
'That's... not what I want...'
Ruena wanted certainty.
Even if it took time,
she had to make Celen choose her of his own accord.
Otherwise, he could never truly be hers.
So, she planned to employ other means.
A terribly sweet trap that Celen could never refuse.
Ruena—
had no intention of ever letting go of Celen.
Forever.
The door opened, and the head steward entered.
A mountain of reports was placed on the desk.
Ruena examined the papers one by one.
With thorough eyes that tolerated not a single mistake.
Only the sound of the pen nib scratching paper filled the study.
No one dared to even breathe loudly in this office.
That was the authority and weight of the Eliads.
The head steward, who had been silently standing by her side, cautiously spoke up.
"Miss, there's an evening meeting. If you plan to attend, you should prepare your attire and hair."
"...I'm skipping today's meeting. Tell Father as well."
"Pardon?"
"Because Celen braided it for me after so long."
Those who had served long in the Eliad mansion all knew.
When it involved the young master of House Noir,
nothing could override the next Grand Duke's decision.
The head steward bowed his head and exited the office.
Ruena mechanically moved her pen, her gaze fixed on the pile of documents.
The rustling of flipping pages,
the scratching of the fountain pen,
alone broke the silence.