Andrea, Drunk, Craved Another's Warmth
Andrea, Drunk, Craved Another's Warmth
Andrea shrieked and scrambled to cover herself as the full weight of her situation crashed down on her.
"Wh-what? I—I'm sure I washed up and went to bed last night. Wait. Am I dreaming?"
Her face blazing red, she bundled herself in the blanket and stared at me, then at herself, utterly flustered.
"W-why are you in my room, boss?"
"Not your room. My room."
"What? Huh?"
She looked around.
The wok I'd forged from a knight's breastplate sat quietly in the corner.
Anyone could see it was Lucas's possession.
"Ah....... I-I'm sorry."
Her face burned. She couldn't lift her head, burying it in the blanket while her ears flicked up and down.
"You're awake?"
Ivan opened the door and walked in calmly, as if the commotion from her room had been nothing more than background noise.
"Sir Lucas, you saw, I take it."
"Wait. Ivan, you knew?"
"Yes. After turning in last night, I was meditating for my training when Miss Andrea opened my door."
Andrea pointed a finger at herself.
"I did?"
"Yes. She came in, said it wasn't the boss's room, and slammed the door shut."
"......."
"I tried to stop her, but my strength was insufficient...."
Andrea's mouth clamped shut at Ivan's indignant report.
It came back to her.
Exactly what she'd done the night before.
-Good work today. Please, go in.
Tipsy from a decent amount of alcohol, Andrea had forced the haze away and washed herself clean.
-Phew. I'm drunk.
The liquor still rode on her hot breath. Bathing in the warm water, she'd felt the heady scent of alcohol. The chill of the night she hadn't noticed while soaking hit her once she slipped on her nightgown, and she shivered.
-Nngh, cold.
Faced with sleeping alone in a wide room, she'd felt abruptly lonely, unbearably cold.
That never used to happen.
For a solitary hunter like Andrea, being alone every day was simply the way of things.
Day after day, she'd faced the cold night wind and the morning dew, chasing away the encroaching chill with a campfire. Ever since she'd left the Elf Forest, there'd been no one she could trust.
Humans were always looking for an angle, ready to stab her in the back. Her own kind couldn't understand her dietary choices. Dwarves were a frustrating race who never listened.
That was why she'd kept her attitude so cold.
Because she could trust no one.
But after meeting Lucas, things changed.
The warm meals he gave her soothed her heart every time she ate them. He made Andrea his employee and, at the very least, never tried to exploit her or take advantage.
People gathered around Lucas, and she was one of them.
How to put it?
To Andrea, Lucas was a warm presence.
A man who cooked tirelessly over a blazing fire every single day. A man who offered warm meals and burned with more passion for his work than anyone. Strong but unassuming, never disdainful of the weak, a human with his own unshakable principles.
Maybe that's why.
-Cold....
In the dead of night, she'd risen from her bed, seeking Lucas's warmth.
Something she'd never dream of doing normally, but she was heavily intoxicated, and the unfamiliar bed had roused her.
BANG!
-Wh-what?
She'd seen Ivan's back, sitting rigid in meditation inside his room.
-Not the boss's room.
BANG!
She closed the door and opened the one next to it.
There, she saw Lucas, sound asleep.
-Don't go in! What are you doing?
Ivan had tried to stop her in a hushed voice, but he was no match for Andrea physically. Protagonist buff or not, Ivan at this stage was weaker than her.
-Move. Don't get in my way.
-Urk!
Leaving Ivan crashed on the floor behind her, Andrea lay down beside Lucas.
Warm.
Truly warm.
Just like the meals Lucas gave her. His words might be a little gruff, but the affection he poured into his cooking was warm through and through.
So warm it had changed a cold-hearted elf like her.
-Boss....... So warm.
Warmth.
The faint scent of cooking oil and food that clung to him, mixed with the natural musk of a man's body.
Snuggled up beside the deeply sleeping Lucas, she'd drifted off, breathing softly.
No wonder she'd dreamed of tearing into meat that night.
"Aah...."
Andrea's face went crimson as the belated realization hit.
"S-s-s-sorry, boss!!!"
Face beet-red, she wrapped herself in the blanket and fled the room.
How am I supposed to look him in the eye after this?
That was the first thought that tore through her head as she ran.
***
"......."
"......."
"......."
Clink. Clink.
The air was suffocatingly awkward.
Nothing broke the silence but the clink of utensils against the imperial-style breakfast of fried bacon, ham, and Coco eggs with corn soup. Andrea, the cause of the morning's chaos, couldn't lift her face. Ivan ate without a word.
I kept my mouth shut because I had no interest in making her even more embarrassed than she already was.
"This food here is flavorless. It lacks the chivalric spirit I always sense in Sir Lucas's cooking."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. The endurance of hot broth sliding down the throat, the challenge of a soup so spicy it stings the mouth! The dedication of long, slow simmering to make the meat impossibly tender! This meal offers none of the conviction or the spirit of challenge a knight requires."
"You don't need my cooking to feel those things."
"As expected of Sir Lucas. Your heart is as wide as the sea. The very posture of embracing enlightenment from other sources! I learn something new from you every day."
I needed to have a word with Lancelot.
Tell him to stop planting weird cult-like reverence in the novel's male lead.
'At this rate, he's going to meet the romance-fantasy heroine and take her on a gukbap date.'
That's what I'm worried about.
What if the heroine gets so weirded out by his abnormal gukbap obsession that she leaves him?
'That cannot happen.'
I hid my inner turmoil and sliced into my half-fried Coco egg with my fork.
The mild, clean taste of the fried egg filled my mouth. The household clearly used fresh ingredients; even with just salt, the yolk held that deep, distinctive Coco flavor.
Filling my stomach with someone else's cooking gave me a peace of mind nothing else could match.
Sometimes a break like this is necessary.
"Andrea, try the fried Coco egg. It'll sober you right up."
"......."
I skewered a piece of the egg with my fork and offered it to her. She was still picking at her food, face down.
"I-I'll eat it well."
Nom.
Warily, she accepted the piece of fried egg and ate it.
"Good?"
"Yes."
"Then quit cringing and eat up. Watching you like that is making me more embarrassed."
"She's right. How long are you going to be mortified? And strictly speaking, isn't Sir Lucas the one who should be more mortified? Finding a strange elf woman in his bed?"
"I-I know that!"
Ivan's slightly over-the-top deflection eased the atmosphere a notch.
He probably meant to do that. Seeing moments like this, the guy was more considerate than he let on.
"I'm sorry. I didn't do it on purpose."
"I get it, so hurry up and eat. It's all going to get cold."
"......Okay."
It was when we were nearly done eating.
"Hey, boss."
"Hm?"
"You're not going to fire me over this, right?"
Andrea's eyes glistened as she looked at me.
"I'm not. If I fired people for this, who'd be left to work with?"
"R-right? Haha! Think about how capable an employee I am!"
Color returned to her face, and Andrea broke into a shy smile.
Watching this, Ivan shook his head and leaned in to whisper.
"Sir Lucas, you would do well to keep your distance. A dangerous elf, that one. She may well be a hazard to your nights. I offer this advice in earnest."
"I can hear you, you know?"
"......."
Ivan took a step back at the chilling tone.
"We'll eat lunch here and head out this afternoon, so everyone gather your things. While we're in Lilyan, let's pick up some gifts for the viscount's household."
"Got it! Sounds good!"
"Understood."
Andrea, her energy fully restored, and Ivan both nodded.
***
"You've returned......alive."
Princess Diana couldn't hide her shock at the sight of Saint Amelia, returned safe and sound. When she'd heard of the saintess's disappearance, she'd assumed the worst—a quiet, certain death.
After all, the saintess's vanishing was a political maneuver by the noble faction to check her power. Diana had never expected Amelia to come back alive. And now here she was.
Relief at her sole ally's return mingled with a sharp question.
How had she made it all the way to the capital without a single holy knight escort?
"I received the grace of a kind benefactor."
Diana's eyes shifted to Camilla, standing beside the saintess.
"Did Lady Camilla assist you?"
"That would be the case."
"......That's unexpected. I never imagined you'd help me."
"I didn't help Your Highness. I merely exerted myself so that the saintess could return."
Diana fell silent at Camilla's words.
"I see. On behalf of the Imperial Household, you have my thanks."
Diana inclined her head with flawless, court-perfect poise. The noble bearing of an imperial princess.
"The Order and, by extension, the Imperial Household owe the Golden Wagon Merchant Group a great debt."
"That would be the case."
Diana regarded Camilla, who answered so coolly.
"I have a proposal."
"What might that be?"
"I would like the Wagon family and Golden Wagon to become my political sponsors."
The trial of winning noble support.
That was Princess Diana's weak point. Growing up with no one in her corner had made her slow to trust. Believing she had to shoulder everything herself because she was too perfect.
Now that even the saintess was gone, she had only herself. That was what she'd believed. But Camilla had suddenly appeared with the woman Diana had assumed was dead.
'Camilla understands what the saintess represents.'
More than just a religious messenger and symbol—she grasped Amelia's precise position on the current political map.
A card with the immense power to make the Order back Princess Diana.
Saving the saintess was Camilla's indirect proposal.
"Should I ascend as emperor, the Wagon family stands to gain a higher title and vastly expanded commercial rights."
"An unorthodox offer."
"You've already shown unorthodox initiative."
"Weren't the two of us at odds over Sir Lucas just yesterday?"
"That's a separate matter."
Camilla smiled.
She knew precisely what it meant to back the princess. Knew exactly what storms it might stir.
"Very well. However, I have a condition."
"What is it?"
"I want you to refrain from poaching my people for the Imperial Household on a whim."
"......."
"Is that possible?"
This woman?
That was her angle?
"......."
Sparks flew between them once more.
Saint Amelia, oblivious to the two women's thoughts, simply blinked and watched them.