6. Traven
Kylie, Olivier, and Emily arrived at the carriage. It wasn't the Belpharos baron's carriage that Olivier had originally ridden in, but a luxurious one from the Traven count family.
"Lady Belpharos, due to the recent disturbance, I must stay behind to clean up here. I hope you understand that I can't accompany you."
Kylie spoke to Olivier, who had already boarded the carriage, with a courteous gaze. Covered head to toe in the beast's blood, Kylie remained composed, her steady and warm eyes fixed on Olivier. Having just saved her from that crisis, Kylie inspired complete trust, and seeing her lifted Olivier's spirits. Olivier nodded immediately.
But her heart was still pounding wildly, refusing to calm, leaving her mind in a fog.
"Then..."
Kylie's gaze naturally shifted to Emily, seated beside Olivier. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
Meeting Emily's eyes, she spoke slowly. "Please take care of the young lady. ...What's your name?"
Emily answered Kylie's question promptly. "I'm Emily."
Maintaining eye contact, Kylie curved her lips into a faint smile. It was an utterly charming, gentle grin.
"Right. Emily. You must have been startled too, but go ahead first and look after the young lady well. I'll follow as soon as the cleanup is done."
Her tone quick and commanding toward Emily, who bowed politely in response. "Yes. Understood."
Kylie gave Olivier a formal bow in farewell, closed the carriage door, and signaled the coachman. The carriage soon departed.
Olivier stared blankly out the window, then shook her head vigorously as if to clear her mind.
"Young lady, are you all right?"
Emily gazed at Olivier with a worried face.
Olivier replied in a feeble voice. "...Yeah. I'm coming around now."
Emily peered out the carriage window and took in the chaotic scene. Right in front of where Olivier and she had been standing moments ago lay the beast's bisected corpse, impaled on a spear in a pool of blood. Soldiers were separating the dead soldier's body from its sharp horn. A short distance behind that was another beast corpse sprawled in a puddle of gore. And standing tall before it, drenched in blood just like Kylie, was Sir Kingston.
Soon, Kylie approached him swiftly, and the two could be seen talking.
"If it weren't for those two, I'd be..."
Olivier, still gazing out the window, crossed her arms and huddled, murmuring to herself.
Emily patted her shoulder. "It's okay now. Resting at home will make you feel better."
Olivier lifted her head and looked out the window again. At the end of her gaze was Kylie, busily directing the soldiers.
"A hot bath will help loosen up the tension."
Emily's voice reached Olivier's ears distantly as she stared blankly at Kylie.
Back in the guest room of the Traven count's residence, after a rough wipe-down and sinking into a steaming bathtub, the tension in Olivier's muscles melted away, her nerves softening into languid relaxation. She gripped the tub's edge with both hands and lowered herself into the water. Fully submerging up to the crown of her head, the hot water seeped into every weary corner of her body, caressing her like a warm embrace. Eyes squeezed shut beneath the surface, Olivier slowly rose. Blinking water from her lashes, the memory flooded back vividly.
In her sharpening vision, Kylie—shining brilliantly—had bent at the waist, extending a hand to her.
Thump. Thump.
Her heart had raced then. Suddenly, heat rushed to Olivier's cheeks.
Yes. Kylie had been magnificent. Stronger than most men, composed, and beautiful all at once. In that moment when tension had gripped her entire body like a vise, Kylie's outstretched hand had felt like salvation, stealing her breath away. Tall and sleek in build, clad in a finely tailored uniform exuding elegance, with straight features and a perfectly straight nose like a sculpted statue—when she had bowed courteously toward the blood-soaked Olivier, that steadfast gaze... Recalling it, Olivier dropped her eyes downward.
"Young lady, is the bathwater too hot?"
Emily asked from the side, and Olivier splashed more hot water onto her flushed cheeks with her hands. "Yeah. It's a hot day, and this is a bit much. Could you fetch some cold water?"
"Of course."
Emily picked up a large basin and headed out of the dressing room.
From the tub in the corner of the dressing room, Olivier gazed at the steam rising from the water's surface, then turned her eyes away. Beside the tub lay her bloodstained dress, the metallic stench of blood seeming to waft toward her at any moment. After such a horrific ordeal, Sir Literven's confession back under the tent—which had weighed so heavily on her heart—now felt utterly trivial. Her first proposal ever, ending in such spectacular fashion.
As Olivier frowned, recalling Sir Literven under the tent, a knock echoed through the dressing room.
—Knock knock.
"Lady Belpharos. May I come in for a moment?"
It was Kylie's voice.
—Splash.
Instinctively, Olivier crossed her arms over her chest. She hadn't expected her to be right outside the door—embarrassment surged, turning her face beet red.
"Lady Belpharos? Are you all right?"
Kylie's concerned voice came from beyond the door again.
Flustered, Olivier stammered, "I-I'm bathing right now! E-Emily's not here either. L-Later..."
Silence fell outside the door.
"...Ah, my apologies. Understood. I'll see you downstairs, then."
Kylie replied politely. Then, silence. Judging that she had left the guest room, Olivier exhaled a long-held breath without realizing it.
She must think it's weird, even though we're both women. Or maybe she understands it was just panic. No, she probably thinks it's strange.
Olivier's mind swirled with a jumble of thoughts about her own bizarre behavior moments ago.
To sort her chaotic thoughts, she sank back beneath the surface. The lukewarm water enveloped her body. Trapped in the water, cut off from the outside world, she pondered.
Why on earth am I acting like this?