Chapter 17
Chapter 17
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: #3 Harvest Festival (6)
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Thiria watched Elric's expression.
It was an offer so unbelievable that she had no choice but to scrutinize it, and it had only been a day.
What could his true intentions really be? The warmth he had shown today made her wonder.
The words he uttered sounded like something out of a dream.
The flickering flames illuminated his face.
His drowsy eyes captured her through strands of brown hair. The corners of his mouth beneath his high nose were firmly set. The scar below his ear wavered with the dancing red shadows.
Taking in each detail one by one, her chest suddenly tightened, causing her to press her lips together.
She wanted to ask.
Why was he leaving her such openings? Why was he making her hope? Why was he tempting her to greed?
A surge of emotion akin to resentment welled up.
Hiding it as best she could, all she managed to say was a hollow concern.
“Will it be too much for you? I'm worried about your knee. The dancing….”
At that moment,
“It's fine. I can manage a slow step to the beat of the drums.”
He smiled.
Thiria felt her throat tighten.
It was a relaxed, gentle smile she had never seen before, gripping her heart.
“Will it be a bother?”
Thiria shook her head.
It was hasty.
So hasty that her resolve felt ironclad.
Even knowing full well it would harm his body, her desire was crystal clear.
“That's a relief.”
Elric extended his hand. Thiria placed hers atop it.
Their fingers curved gently, interlocking.
The warmth they had shared all day seeped back into her body.
Thiria's head naturally bowed, and Elric leaned on his cane.
Crack—
They took a step.
Elric advanced, and Thiria stepped back.
For a moment, she had a silly thought: perhaps their bodies were moving this way to balance because their hearts pulled in opposite directions.
Boom— boom—
The drumbeats vibrated through her body.
Or was it her heartbeat?
If so, that was fortunate. The drums would drown it out.
“I'm sorry I can only manage steps like this.”
She shook her head at his words.
“Your health comes first, of course.”
She kept spouting insincere words.
It was selfish. Wishing this moment—hands clasped, steps in unison—would last forever was undoubtedly so.
Yet she couldn't stop.
She had to suppress the smile threatening to surface.
Her brows furrowed; worried it might look like a frown, she tilted her head lower.
As their clumsy steps—not quite a dance—continued, the world faded away.
The drums, the people's laughter, the crackling bonfire, even the distant wind—all receded.
The cane's tapping grew louder, as if filling the void.
His breathing sharpened. The rough texture of his hand registered at her fingertips.
His voice hammered into her ear.
“I'm sorry.”
“…For what?”
“For leaving.”
“You've already apologized for that.”
“Still, it feels like I need to again.”
She didn't want such an apology.
That wasn't what Thiria desired.
“It's truly fine.”
The ten years he had been away didn't matter.
She was simply grateful he had returned and was sharing this moment with her.
Grateful for his smile, for their shared steps—and it choked her.
This moment felt like a mirage, suddenly filling her with fear.
That was why she gripped his hand tighter.
Her fingers intertwined between his.
The hold grew firmer, yet loose enough that he could shake it off easily.
But if he didn't, it could last forever.
And Elric did not shake it off.
As calm gradually returned, she exhaled deeply.
Only then could Thiria lift her head.
He was looking down at his feet.
His gaze oddly pricked at her, and just as she was about to speak—
“Kiss her!!!”
They both flinched—
Their bodies trembled in unison.
Their eyes snapped toward the source of the shout.
“Kiss her, I said—!”
“…It's Bart.”
The tavern owner, Elric's longtime friend, was staggering toward them, drunk out of his mind, pointing their way.
His laughing face looked happier than anyone's in the world.
Thiria glanced at Elric.
His troubled expression made her chest tighten for some reason.
“He's got bad drinking habits, that friend of mine.”
She couldn't help resenting Bart in that moment.
The dreamlike instant had been yanked back to reality in a flash.
People's gazes began to converge.
They smirked as if spotting an amusing toy.
“Wooo!”
Cheers egged them on.
Bart's drunken antics had set an irreversible momentum.
Consent was a laughable notion.
Nobles had their dignity; they couldn't show frivolity before the territory's folk.
It was shame beyond compare to dancing.
They shouldn't have started this in the first place, but the festival's excitement was to blame.
It was just an accident; ignore it and leave.
That would be proper, yet,
“…”
Hesitation gripped her just as she tried to refuse.
No—fear that he might tell her to ignore it.
Even knowing that wasn't his intent, his rejection terrified her.
“I…”
She was about to say something when,
“Pardon the rudeness.”
Something unbelievable happened.
Whoosh!
Elric pulled Thiria close.
He leaned in until their noses nearly touched.
And stopped.
Truly, a hair's breadth—any further and their lips would meet—separated them.
Thiria's eyes widened as if to tear.
“Waaaaaah!!!”
“Elric! You're really doing it!!!”
“The troublemaker Elric's finally a man!!!”
Her mind, failing to process the event, froze solid.
Thiria stared at Elric's face filling her vision.
His face was flushed.
From the fire, perhaps, or another reason.
“I figured if I didn't do something, they wouldn't stop. They're all drunk, aren't they?”
His breath on her face sent a jolt through Thiria.
Ah, he's pretending to kiss me.
From this angle, they surely couldn't see.
She knew that, understood his words, yet her body wouldn't obey.
Her mind was going blank again.
“Forgive me.”
But his breath, his smile, etched into her senses.
“…It's a festival today.”
With a convenient excuse, Thiria began erasing her doubts one by one.
First, the dignity a noble must show—gone.
Second, their disloyal antics—gone.
Third, that it was all an act—gone.
Only one remained.
The fact that his breath reached her at nose-touching distance.
“…Yes.”
That was enough.
It's a festival today.
*
The next morning.
“You madman.”
Elric lay in bed, covering his face.
His exposed earlobe burned red.
Now, upon waking, sanity had returned.
What possessed him to do such a thing?
It felt like he'd been bewitched all day.
His nerves fixated on Thiria, blocking rational thought.
That was his excuse, but… it was undeniably rude.
She's a noble by birth, after all.
Wandering the festival must have repulsed her.
Holding hands… fine, but asking her to dance crossed the line.
A stretch, perhaps, but it bordered on toying with a lady.
And that wasn't even the worst! He should have stopped there!
-Today's a festival.
He'd gone and caused a scene.
Pulling her close, nearly kissing her.
Even the “act” was a hasty excuse. Swept by the mood, he'd truly meant to kiss her until cold reason hit at the last second.
A moment later, and he'd never show his face again.
‘Bart…!’
It was all that guy's fault.
If he hadn't gotten drunk and started, this wouldn't have happened!
Grinding his teeth in regret over yesterday changed nothing.
The trance-like festival was over; reality loomed.
“Young Master, did you cough?”
Hearing Aldio's voice, Elric replied.
“…Can I lie here a bit longer?”
He lacked the courage to face Thiria.
He wanted to take breakfast separately.
“No dawdling. You're an adult now.”
But the merciless butler showed no mercy, firmly opening the door.
Elric deeply empathized with a pig dragged to slaughter.
The path to the dining room after washing and changing felt endlessly long.
Creak—!
The moment the dining room door opened, Elric held his breath briefly.
“…Did you cough?”
Thiria gave a short bow.
She looked the same as always. Outwardly, at least.
That only amplified his shame.
Yesterday sharpened into vivid focus.
Not just the incident, but her features up close, her touch, her scent, her breath—all overwhelming him.
“Uh…”
Elric's gaze drifted to the window.
His voice trembled slightly.
“…Good morning.”
Winter had arrived, yet his body sweltered as if stranded in midsummer heat.