Smooth Sailing for Karl and Mar - 1
Ever since that incident, Margeta's whole demeanor had changed. Calling it an "incident" made it sound as if some catastrophe had broken loose. Calling it "that remark," on the other hand, made it sound as if he had blurted out some outrageous gaffe fit for the front page of every newspaper.
Of course, from Margeta's point of view, it really was front-page news that would keep her head spinning for quite some time.
"Father… you'll come?"
Her eyes flickered restlessly; her voice trembled with a pitiful, fragile edge. Yet unlike earlier, he could tell at once that the signal filling her was not grief but pure exhilaration.
"Yes. If it were only up to me I'd go this very instant, but both Mar and I are rather busy, aren't we? Once His Excellency finishes the New Year's Audience and heads home, we can travel together and—"
He never finished the sentence. Margeta had suddenly thrown herself into his arms.
"Thank you… thank you, Karl…!"
Seeing actual tears spill from her eyes nearly stopped his heart. That he managed to hug her back while his entire body had gone rigid was pure last-ditch effort, wringing every scrap of strength he had left.
Watching her look so happy—happier than he had ever imagined—filled him with more bitterness than pleasure. What right did he have to hear words of thanks?
If I'd known it would make her this glad…
If he'd known that one simple sentence would make her smile so brightly, he would have said it ages ago. The thought only fed his self-reproach.
How much had she been suffering inside to react like this? How long had she been smiling on the surface while her hands burned with anxiety? And knowing his past, she had never even been able to bring the subject up first.
In the end, marriage was always going to be with Margeta.
Recalling the thought he had carried for so long drew a hollow laugh from him. He was going to marry eventually. And if he married, of course it would be Margeta.
Of course. Naturally. In his own head she had already been settled as his wife for a long time.
But had he ever actually shown her that certainty? He had promised to be honest from now on and then said nothing. He had taken comfort in her promise to wait as long as he needed and then done absolutely nothing.
"An older partner is supposed to take the lead with confidence! Come on, lean on this big sister!"
"An older partner only feels reliable when they actually act like one."
Hecate's words chose that exact moment to surface. Back then he had written her off as a childish older girl who had somehow aged in all the wrong ways.
And now that's me.
Now he was the unreliable, childish older partner. Adding his age before the possession made him forty-something or fifty; even in this body he was still three years older than Margeta.
How embarrassing. If she had been the older one, he probably wouldn't be feeling this particular brand of shame.
Of course, even if he had been the younger one, acting the way he had until now would still have made him an absolute bastard. He had almost started rationalizing himself for a second there.
After the New Year's Audience, then.
He shut down the self-justification engine and lay back on the bed. Right now he needed to think about doing better going forward, not dwell on past mistakes.
The New Year's Audience was less than three months away. Once that time passed, he would finally have to go kneel before the Iron Blood Duke.
—Come to the ducal manor and I'll turn you into a half-cripple.
The Iron Blood Duke's terrifying declaration… well, maybe he hadn't worded it exactly like that. Still, the general feeling had been roughly the same.
Either way, he was going to eat a solid meal before he went. Who knew whether he'd end up kneeling for three days or four?
There's a real chance of that.
In his active years the Iron Blood Duke had been famous for being fiery and aggressive. Age, retirement, and watching his late-born daughter grow up had mellowed him considerably—yet there was no telling when that spicy old nature might flare up again.
…All of it was karma. He would accept it with humility.
And that night, he dreamed of performing a tearful grand prostration before the Iron Blood Duke.
Anyone you stopped on the street would have said she looked happy. That was the person who greeted him.
"Welcome, Karl."
The moment he opened the vice-president's office door, Margeta welcomed him with a bright smile—not seated at her desk as usual, but standing right by the door.
"Wait, were you just standing there the whole time?"
How could she possibly have known when he would arrive?
"I saw you coming."
She answered with a soft little chuckle. That was a relief, at least. He had been worried a busy person might have wasted time waiting on him.
"Shall we—"
He started to suggest they sit down, but Margeta simply opened her arms wide.
He understood the meaning perfectly and pulled her into a hug; she wrapped her own arms around his back in return.
"From now on… could we greet each other like this every day?"
"As much as you want."
He nodded without the slightest hesitation at the adorable request. Frankly, even if Margeta ordered him around in casual speech, he was in no position to refuse her anything. This barely even counted as a request.
Only after holding each other for a long while did they finally sit down.
"I'm looking forward to the next one too."
The words drew an automatic smile onto his face.
She hadn't slept a wink. The pounding of her heart seemed to echo through the entire room; there was no calming it.
Normally an all-nighter that would ruin the next day's work would have drawn a heavy sigh, but that particular racing heartbeat was pure, concentrated happiness. If this was how sleepless nights felt, she would gladly stay awake for three days straight.
At last.
At last she could form an official relationship with Karl. Going to see her father could mean only one thing. He was clearly going to ask for permission.
With no one watching, her expression melted completely. She could feel the corners of her mouth stretching into a foolish, giddy grin.
She already had permission from Karl's mother. Her own father already treated Karl becoming his son-in-law as a settled fact; there was zero chance of refusal.
"That boy's eyes are the problem. What man would ever dislike you? I guarantee it—within three years at the latest, he'll come looking for you on his own."
That was what her father had said last year after Karl turned down the marriage talk. At the time, nothing he said had registered.
But in the end her father had been right. Of course he had. He was her father—experienced, wise, nothing he didn't know.
She had only recently learned that the specific figure of "three years" was exactly how long it had taken her father to court her mother.
Still…
How am I supposed to wait?
The human heart was so fickle. Until yesterday she could have waited forever, yet the moment a date was set—right after the New Year's Audience—her patience evaporated.
It wasn't the ten years she had steeled herself for when she first learned of Karl's past. It wasn't even after graduation. It was barely three months away.
Calm down.
Right. Three months would pass in a blink. And Karl wasn't the sort of person who would change his mind in that time.
She forced her heart to settle and looked out the window. It was almost time for Karl to arrive.
There he is.
Before long she spotted him walking toward the building.
She rose lightly from her seat, stood by the door, and smoothed her clothes. Since Karl had promised an official relationship, she needed to look the part as well.
"Maintaining a happy marriage isn't difficult. When he comes home from outside, go out first to greet him. It's a small thing, but it means a great deal."
Advice from her fourth older sister again. It sounded right. Human relationships were built on the smallest of gestures.
"Welcome, Karl."
Perhaps that was why, when he saw her, surprise crossed his face—and then a smile.
See? Karl liked this too. Before the Academy he had lived alone in the Imperial Capital. No one had ever greeted him like family before.
Family.
Yes—family. The closest kind of family, the kind called husband and wife.
She barely managed to stop her expression from melting again. If she let her guard down even a little, she would keep doing this all day.
"Shall we—"
When Karl started to move, she opened her arms. He didn't refuse; he hugged her at once.
They were family, so this much every day was perfectly fine. Yes. No problem at all.
"I'm looking forward to the next one too."
Not just today—tomorrow, and the day after that.
And someday, not only hugs, but…
Yes. That next step too. And the one after that.
These past few days Margeta's affection had grown even more blatant. She seemed to think she was holding back, but from the receiving end it was anything but restrained.
It was a dilemma. How was he supposed to respond to this?
It's not that it's a burden…
Of course he didn't dislike it. It was simply that if you receive something, you're supposed to give something back, and he had no idea what the proper amount was.
If he kept things too mild she might feel disappointed; if he went too far she might faint on the spot. What on earth was the middle ground?
"Inspector?"
"Ah—yes."
Gerhardt's call snapped him back to reality. He had been thinking about completely unrelated things right in front of someone. Rude of him.
"It seems something good has happened."
Fortunately Gerhardt didn't take offense; he only smiled.
Was it that obvious, though? They hadn't known each other that long, and yet Gerhardt had noticed. It must have been written all over his face.
"Haha. It looks like the same is true for you, Gerhardt."
He couldn't quite bring himself to proudly announce something like "I'm about to get engaged to a beautiful duke's daughter!" so he redirected the conversation. Gerhardt let out a small laugh.
"For me, every day has been good ever since I met you, Inspector."
"That's far too generous of you."
"Generous? Thanks to you, not only I but the students as well have been able to learn the truth. It's only proper gratitude."
That drew a laugh from him. Gerhardt really was working hard to make sure the students learned the truth.
And of course, when a teacher works hard, the students under him get put through the wringer.
"The exams… the exams never end…"
"Everything we learned a little while ago is already garbage. Tomorrow, what we learned today will be garbage too."
Lately the club room had been filled with nothing but the members' groans of suffering. That alone was enough to show just how hard they were being driven.
But well—that wasn't his problem to worry about.
"If I want to keep hearing thanks, I'll have to work even harder, I suppose."
"Ahaha! I'll look forward to it!"
He was the one who wanted northern history to spread far and wide, after all.
Hang in there. Students suffering over their studies was just the natural order of things.
Better over-studying than under-studying. Absolutely.