A Flower Caught at the Tip of a Branch (2)
Wearing a butler’s uniform for the first time in ages, Chester looked down at the suit that felt uncomfortably tight—his muscles had filled out more than he realized—and let out a quiet sound of admiration.
So this is what butlers from other houses have been wearing all along.
The butler’s uniform of the ducal house had never felt this constricting. Part of that was because Chester had grown up thin from never eating properly, but even setting that aside, the old uniform had been almost too comfortable for something that was supposed to be formal attire.
If I move a little too hard, this thing’s going to tear.
Monia clearly wanted to see him in a butler’s uniform, so he decided to treasure the one that actually fit him and keep it from ripping as long as possible.
Still… it’s warmer than I expected.
The air that had stayed pleasantly cool for a while was turning cold again, yet the uniform made it bearable.
Winter won’t have much hard physical work anyway. Maybe I can get by with this. Monia made me clothes, but…
Unfortunately that bearskin outfit was so roomy the wind would whistle straight through every gap.
Chester walked over to the mirror hanging on one wall of the storage shed. He had driven nails salvaged from the shipwreck into the wood and then tied the broken shards of mirror in place with cord.
He had bound the cord so carefully that the glass would never fall, which meant the cord now covered nearly half the mirror’s surface.
“I still don’t know why anyone would haul this many mirrors around on a ship, but at least I can shave properly now.”
They had been the mirrors Rotin prepared because of Monia. To commoners a mirror was a luxury that didn’t matter one way or the other, but to a noble young lady who had to keep every detail of her appearance perfect, mirrors were closer to daily necessities. From hand mirrors to every other kind, he had stocked them all.
Jewels and ornaments, of course, and even scissors and combs for her hair. Most of it had been swallowed by the sea and never reached Chester and Monia’s hands.
At least Chester had managed to steal a ring beforehand, but they hadn’t recovered a single pair of scissors or a comb.
“A little tight?”
He examined himself in the butler’s uniform, then slipped on the shoes and tested the feel. Chester’s hands and feet had always been large.
“Chester!”
Monia’s voice floated up from below the house.
“Come down!”
Chester left the shed, climbed down the ladder into the yard, and looked for Monia, who should already be waiting.
Finding her was easy. Near the tree they used as a landmark, the hem of a skirt fluttered gently.
Smiling, he walked toward it.
When he drew close enough, Monia, who had been hiding behind the tree, spun out into view as if she were dancing.
In the twilight forest, dressed not in the worn-out rags that had long since become little more than tattered cloth, but in a proper gown, Monia appeared with the grace of a fairy.
“Heehee.”
She swayed her waist lightly, cheeks shy, and looked down at the dress she wore.
What she had on was a seamless blend of a jet-black heart-top gown that began midway down her chest and left everything above completely bare, and a sheer off-shoulder overdress of the lightest fabric.
The heavy inner cloth moved only the slightest bit even when the wind blew, holding its elegant shape, while the delicate sheer layer fluttered and danced, laying a second, natural grace over the first.
Without meaning to, Chester’s eyes followed the drifting fabric, sliding from the pale black sheer down into the deep jet black. The black cloth caught the moonlight and drew his gaze along the lines of her figure until he was simply, quietly, admiring her.
Then his eyes caught on one place and refused to leave.
Even covered by the off-shoulder sheer, the base was still a heart-top. Half her chest was exposed, and the deep valley between her breasts stood out with startling clarity.
Was it his imagination, or had the dress lifted and shaped her so that the volume looked fuller?
His gaze locked on that soft, deeper-than-usual hollow.
“……”
Sensing his stare, Monia followed it to her own cleavage, then gently covered the valley with her left hand, cheeks coloring.
“Pervert.”
She twisted her body just enough to turn her chest aside, smiling playfully. Chester’s head snapped away so fast his neck flushed bright red. Watching that flush, a wave of feminine triumph and the thrill of having captured the eyes and heart of the man she loved rose from deep inside Monia’s chest.
Excitement, joy, and the mischievous delight of finally having a chance to tease Chester all mixed on her face as she stepped closer.
“Well? Chester?”
She pressed right up against him, her breasts flush to his body, and wound both arms around his neck.
Feeling him tremble, she whispered against his throat.
“I’m wearing the dress you wanted, you know?”
“……!”
“This is a dress, right? Putting it on by myself was really hard. But I managed.”
She pressed a shy kiss to the side of his neck while he desperately tried to look away, then molded herself even more tightly against him.
“Hm? I did my best… for you.”
How could a woman who had never been taught such things know exactly how to shake a man’s heart?
He had heard words like these every time they shared a private night, yet they never grew familiar; every time, his chest pounded.
Carefully he turned his face back down. Monia tilted her head away just a little.
“?”
He had expected a kiss and found her drawing back instead. Then the full view filled his eyes and his mind went blank.
Her small face looking up at him with shy, upturned eyes, and—because she had leaned her head back—the deep valley of her breasts right in front of him.
Seen from above it was nothing like the view from the front.
Even from the front it had been striking, but looking down into that hollow, the darkness between was so clear it felt as if everything might fall into it.
Reason slipped; instinct rose; even instinct fell away until only Monia remained.
“Ngh!”
Feeling his mind dissolve, Chester squeezed his eyes shut and jerked his face upward.
I can’t.
He was about to let go of the last thread of reason.
He was about to crush her in his arms without any control of his strength and hurt her.
She was too lovely, too alluring, fatally enchanting.
While he fought with everything he had to keep his arms from wrapping around her, his head surrendered to desire and lowered again of its own accord so he could look down at her once more.
Just then the wind rose. The sheer fabric covering her chest fluttered.
As it moved, the thin black cloth lifted and fell, revealing the dazzling white of her bare skin again and again.
How was he supposed to describe it?
“Ugh……!”
It was nothing more than cloth shifting, covering and uncovering soft white flesh.
Yet that light fluttering shook his soul. Thought stopped; his body locked solid.
“Chester?”
Monia looked at him in mild confusion, then saw the same lost expression she herself had worn the first time she stood before a masterpiece by a great master. She smiled like a cat that had just finished a rich meal.
“Mm-hm.”
A satisfied little hum escaped her as she stepped back and took in the sight of Chester in the butler’s uniform.
“Heh-heh.”
She had chosen the clothes that fit him best, yet they still weren’t perfect; he looked as if he had forced himself into something a size too small. Especially across the chest. The buttons over his pectorals strained and trembled as if they might burst at any second, and Monia giggled at the sight.
She cleared her throat, stopped laughing, and looked at the still-dazed Chester, then at the beautiful stage the moonlight had laid out for them, and smiled again.
This is supposed to be the man’s role, but… well, who cares? There’s no one here to lecture us about etiquette.
If the Duke had seen this he would have had a fit.
What noble daughter asked a man to dance first like some light-hipped street girl? It would have been a stain on the honor of the ducal house.
Oh, just… get lost.
She shoved the Duke’s face and voice far out of her mind, placed her left hand over her heart, and extended her right hand toward Chester.
“Chester.”
“Y-yeah?”
Hearing his name snapped him back. He stared at the hand she held out.
“Will you dance one song with me?”
“……I, uh, I don’t know the first thing about ballroom dancing. I’ve only ever watched.”
“That’s fine. That much is plenty.”
Monia gently took the hand he offered and drew him forward.
“Do we really need formality or etiquette? Those things only matter when you’re dealing with other people, don’t they?”
“That’s true.”
“There’s only the two of us here.”
A world that belonged to no one but them.
She thought briefly of Ant, who was probably spending the evening alone at the house, and felt a tiny prick of conscience, but she continued as if it didn’t matter.
“You’re my Chester, and I’m your Monia, right?”
The Duke who had raised her like a doll, the sycophants who had always fawned and flattered, the political enemies who had watched for the smallest flaw so they could pounce—none of them needed to be considered.
Even if a kingdom’s nobles came after her with two great ships and more than a hundred men, she would not care in the slightest.
As if the chains that had bound her had fallen away, as if the rough hands that had held her down had vanished, Monia led Chester in a dance as elegant and free as a bird soaring through a blue sky.
“We’re right here, touching each other. What else could possibly matter?”
Chester, who had been quietly following her lead, heard those words and let out a soft laugh.
Sometimes Monia led, sometimes Chester; sometimes graceful, sometimes light-footed; sometimes following, sometimes guiding—they danced for a long, long time.
In the quiet that came after the terror of the sudden attackers had ended and the aftermath had been cleaned up, the two who until now had only ever matched each other’s steps truly became one.
One from the groom’s side.
One from the bride’s side.
No priest to officiate, no guests to offer blessings.
No long ceremonial speech, no public vow of lifelong devotion, no well-wishes for a happy new life.
Yet none of that was needed. It was a wedding that belonged only to the two of them.