I Don't Like Mikhail Anymore

I no longer liked Mikhail. After sending off the Histania siblings, I stood before the young lady's door with breakfast in hand. Today's menu was the world's favorite "paprika" juice and bacon toast that she adored. It was a meal made with her health in mind after she'd eaten nothing but meat for a week straight—juice blended from carrots and paprika, plus crispy bacon toast. She was sure to see the thick juice and declare, "This isn't food for humans," but considering the master's health was a butler's duty, I planned to commit some noble abuse today. I'd expanded the noble for a week; now it was time to shrink her back down. Imagining her face after drinking the juice already had a smile tugging at my lips.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

No response came. Instead, passionate snoring echoed from beyond the door.

Snore... Grunt... Hack... Grunt. Hack. Hiyoo...

The young lady seemed deep in sleep. She'd chatted with Hanna until late, so her enthusiastic snoring was understandable. It had been about Mikhail, I thought. I wasn't in the habit of eavesdropping, but she'd definitely stayed up way past her usual bedtime. That must be why the snoring was so loud.

Snore... Grunt... Growl... Grunt...

Out of consideration for her deep slumber, I waited about five minutes in front of the door before opening it.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Pardon the intrusion."

The room was filled with cool air. The window was wide open. I'd told her to close it before bed, but there she was, sleeping with it flung wide again. I sighed.

"Seriously, you suffered so much from that cold last time... and now this..."

Hmmnya... Haaack...!

My scolding died in my throat at the sight of her peacefully sleeping. It was my fault for not checking. I'd just have to be more attentive.

I approached her bedside and whispered quietly.

"Air raid alert..."

She twitched, brows furrowing. I leaned close to her ear, whispering like an ASMR from my past life.

"Young lady, air raid alert."

At the wake-up call, she tried to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pull the blanket over her head, but as her butler who'd roused her from sleep for thirteen years, I easily stopped her. I grabbed the edge of the blanket to keep her from escaping inside.

"Hieeet! ...Ughhh..."

She scrunched up her face.

"Ricardo... gravity's too strong... the blanket won't budge..."

I couldn't help but laugh. I felt bad for waking her from such deep sleep, but as a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠butler who believed breakfast was non-negotiable, I had no choice. She'd surely get mad, but health came first.

Poke.

I nudged her cheek, and she squinted. Seeing her cute expression, I brought my mouth to her ear.

And then.

—Nom! I bit her ear.

"Hiet!!!"

The young lady's eyes flew open as she screamed.

"Hieeek!! I'm being eaten! Eaten by a slime... Huh?"

As she bolted upright noisily, a familiar blue window appeared above her head.

Eh...?

Something felt empty. What was it...? I rubbed my eyes, wondering if I'd seen wrong, but one keyword that had held its spot for a year was gone. The familiar name that always topped her favorite topics.

[Mikhail]

That name had vanished.

I rubbed my eyes again, wondering what was going on. The old keyword I'd thought would disappear someday eventually. I asked the young lady, who was hurling a doll at me, just to make sure this wasn't a dream. Had she finally ended her long unrequited love? Or was it on vacation?

I asked cautiously.

"Young lady."

She wiped the saliva from her ear irritably and looked at me.

"What..."

She rubbed her sleepy eyes.

"Did you sleep well?"

"No, because you woke me up."

"It's the magic to awaken Sleeping Beauty."

"Am I the princess?"

"No. A pig."

She furrowed her brows. I couldn't hold back my curiosity.

"About Mikhail, young lady."

"Mikhail?"

Her face hardened instantly at the name. I felt like I'd get scolded, like I'd stepped on a landmine. Maybe too soon? But confirmation mattered more to me.

"Do you still like Mikhail?"

"Why ask that?"

"Just curious."

She knew what I'd say next, since I usually only cursed Mikhail. If she said yes, "lolicon..." would slip from my mouth, and the mood would sour. She knew that.

I thought: If she still liked him, she'd curse me; if her feelings had cooled, she'd say nothing. I waited for her answer. I was used to insults, but hearing she still liked Mikhail would sting a little. The favorability window never lied—for everyone, including her. But Mikhail vanishing from her heart felt even harder to believe. I wanted to hear it directly. Clutching the tray tightly, I waited.

"Hmm..."

She pondered, taking the cup from the tray and pressing it to her forehead to cool off.

"Hey, Ricardo."

"..."

"Don't talk about Mikhail anymore."

"Sorry."

"I... now..."

My lips went dry. I knew what she'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠say, but hearing it terrified me. Worry about another long fight, disappointment that the hoped-for answer wouldn't come. I bit my lip and waited as she finally said the words I'd longed to hear for a year.

"I don't like Mikhail."

"Pardon?"

"Don't like him. He's ugly."

"Didn't you say he was handsome?"

"No."

She looked at me.

"He's ugly. Too skinny, not my type."

She's serious.

No lie on her face.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Couldn't hold back. Time for an outing with the young lady today...

Gulp... Gulp...

Eh? Why'd she go for that?

She was chugging the juice. Downing the paprika-carrot poison like a champ.

Oh no, big trouble.

She drained the cup cleanly and stared blankly at me.

"What... is this?"

"...Paprika juice."

"Pa... paprika?"

Spurt.

She spat out the juice from her mouth.

"Cough...!"

She collapsed, spewing juice. A successful assassination, if unintentional.

I started the day in high spirits. It felt like I'd had a painful tooth pulled—light as air. But the young lady was in a foul mood. She glared at me.

"Noble abuser."

"..."

"Noble murderer."

"..."

"Noble assassin."

The unintended assassination had succeeded, and she huddled in the corner of the bed, glaring. She declared she'd never eat anything I gave her. Even offering three chocolates didn't help; she turned away, pouting that it wasn't ten, no negotiations otherwise. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠She vented her grudges, scribbling tiny letters on paper.

Her petty rebellion made me want to laugh, but I held it in. She yelled at my upturned lips, gargling and spitting.

She was so cute it drove me mad.

"Why are you laughing!"

"I'm not... Pfft... laughing."

"You are!"

"No... Pfft... Puhahaha! I can't help it. Paprika up the nose... Pfht...!"

She crumpled the paper irritably.

"Argh...!"

Then posed like a baseball pitcher and threw it.

Whish!

It traced a grand arc.

Plop.

It fell limply to the floor. Our eyes met awkwardly over the pathetic paper ball.

"Pfft...!"

"Don't laugh!"

Our shoulders shook. I couldn't hold back the laughter. She couldn't contain her rage. I gave her a thumbs-up.

"Great trajectory. A bit more effort and it'll reach."

She threw the pen in her hand.

Time passed, and after fifteen chocolates were stocked in her emergency pouch, her anger finally subsided. Seeing them peeking from her bosom, she beamed innocently and offered me one like a queen's grace. Warm from her body heat. I'd stash it in a drawer.

"I'm rich! So rich!"

"...That good, huh."

"Yeah. You only give me one chocolate a day."

"That's for your health."

She turned away primly.

"That's noble abuse. I'm reporting you to the Noble Rights Committee."

"Does that exist?"

"Nope."

I got my old joke thrown right back. After the long breakfast, she pointed to the corner. A gift wrapped in shiny paper with a ribbon—the birthday present I couldn't give her because she'd spotted my scar. She pointed.

"That. Bring it."

"The gift?"

"Yeah."

Crumple. I placed it in her arms. She cleared her throat.

"Lights off, eyes closed."

I smiled faintly and obeyed. Lights out. She clacked across the floor, stacking chocolates on a plate—like making a cake. Peeking, I watched fondly as she pulled more from her pouch.

"No peeking."

"Yes."

"For real, no opening."

"I won't."

She smiled contentedly. Crumple. Crumple. The wrapping tore. Struggling, she yelled, "Hiet! Haaap!" ripping it open. She wiped snot on her dress, then again. Not very ladylike. Prep seemed done. She placed a candle on the chocolate cake, cleared her throat. I glimpsed it through slitted eyes. She told me to open now. I did slowly.

Morning sun filtered through curtains, but the fluffy vibe lingered. The chocolate cake and gloves came into view. Her innocent smile was more beautiful than ever. She set the plate on the bed and held the gift.

"Gloves?"

"Yeah. Winter's coming. Cold hands hurt."

Yellow chick-embroidered mittens. Her thoughtfulness for winter. She slipped them on me carefully. Her clumsy touch on my cold hands felt strangely good. Warm. Cozy. As she did, she said,

"Happy birthday. Late, but."

"Thank you."

"Sorry it's not expensive."

She bowed her head. I shook mine.

"Feels worth more than a million gold to me."

"...It's one gold."

Honest in the weirdest places. The gloves warmed my hands. Fluffy feelings welled up, chest warm. After about three minutes, she made a weird noise.

"Huh...?"

Hng! She tugged harder at the glove stuck on my hand. It wouldn't budge. She teared up, looking at me. Nostrils flaring, snot dripping, eyes brimming.

"Too... small...?"

I smiled awkwardly.

"Perfect fit."

"Sniff... Don't lie..."

She cried, blaming the maid for the wrong size.

"Waaahhh!!!"

Sobbing buckets. I thought: How could anyone hate a girl like this?

Imperial Academy training ground. Silver hair flying as Mikhail sparred, he said to his opponent Hanna,

"That sword... looks nice."

Hanna grinned.

"A gift."

Thinking of the assignment in a week, Mikhail asked,

"Can I borrow it for a bit?"

Hanna smirked.

"Get lost."