Wrapping Up the Day (2)
“No, answer me properly. Does my expression really look that grim?”
Crushed under a disaster of his own making—that was the only way to put it. Dogeon could only heave a silent sigh.
Dangerous as it was, he had been right to check. If something was bothering her, he needed to step forward, share her feelings, and soothe that seething temper.
Yet he had stepped on a landmine with the very first move. He turned the problem over and over in his mind, but no clever escape presented itself.
Having dated a few women before, Dogeon knew full well that questions of this sort had no right answer. No matter what sweet talk you spun, you only ended up drawing their wrath.
So he tried to wriggle free by lowering himself.
“…I’m sorry. I asked something I shouldn’t have.”
“No, what do you have to be sorry for? I simply wish to confirm what sort of face I have been wearing. So tell me.”
Does my face look grim? The pressure truly was crushing him. He could not even guess what might happen if he told the truth to a girl who already looked displeased.
Still, he had not added that final damning remark, so he told himself it was not completely over yet—until the finishing blow landed.
“I won’t get angry.”
How could she so unerringly choose only the worst possible thing he could imagine? Dogeon felt a flicker of genuine awe.
In all his experience, he had never once seen a woman who said “I won’t get angry” and then actually didn’t. To him, those words were nothing less than a threat: answer right now or explode.
Yet answering would make it explode just the same—in short, it was a “Mommy or Daddy?” trap. Either way her favorability would only drop, and knowing that, he still had to ask, even if it made him look pathetic.
“…You… really won’t get angry…?”
“What do you take me for? I keep my word. So there is no need to worry. I am simply curious how I appear.”
Hoyeon thought she was being considerate, but to Dogeon every sentence was a coil of barbed wire tightening around him.
He would have preferred to keep stalling, but once she put it that way, he could put it off no longer.
“…Except when you were at the shelter, you never smiled, so… that was how I saw it.”
“So other than when I was at the shelter, I wore this expression the entire time.”
Dogeon waited for her judgment with the heart of a condemned man being led to the scaffold. How did she get angry? Did she start by shouting? Or was she the type who went straight for a slap? He almost hoped it would end that cleanly.
He projected every past relationship onto her and painted the bleakest future imaginable—yet none of it came to pass.
“…Is that so. Even when I met her… Then be specific. Exactly what sort of person do I look like?”
In the end it only piled more weight onto Dogeon’s anxiety. Hoyeon scrubbed a dry hand over her face at the shocking revelation, but to him the gesture looked like she was lighting the fuse on a bomb.
“You look… angry, I think.”
“An angry expression.”
The way she simply muttered “angry expression” without another word filled him with the desperate urgency that he had to do something—anything—right now.
“…Perhaps you could try smiling?”
“Smile, you say?”
Even he knew it was a crude suggestion—more excuse than advice. A desperate blurt to dodge the moment, yet to Hoyeon it sounded perfectly reasonable.
What he did not know was that she regarded him as a master of human relations: an absurd creature who charmed women with every word and won affection from everyone he met.
So Hoyeon tried smiling for him.
“Like this?”
She had aimed for a natural, merciful smile like a Buddhist statue’s. The result was catastrophic.
Her eyes were still narrowed, her brows still arched as if furious, and that distinctive black aura kept pouring off her—yet only the corners of her mouth had lifted in an unnatural curl, making her look more threatening than ever.
Dogeon turned over possible replies, then gave up thinking altogether. Whatever he did would only dig him deeper, so he decided to affirm whatever she did and get out of this situation.
“Yes. It looks much better.”
“Hmm. Is that so.”
In the end she looked far more menacing than before he had pointed anything out, yet neither of them found fault with the result.
“…Right. You asked whether something unpleasant had happened. To answer that—no. Nothing in particular.”
One wrong word had left Dogeon utterly drained, but somehow they had returned to the original topic.
“I see… Then is there anything that bothers you, by any chance?”
“Anything that bothers me.”
Hoyeon thought for a moment, then answered readily.
“The air is unpleasant. More precisely, I should say the pure magic is unpleasant. I can scarcely breathe.”
“Pure magic…? Not mana…?”
Pure magic. Had the original novel ever explained that? Demonic energy had appeared, but the word pure magic was nowhere in Dogeon’s memory.
“Does the air here not feel stifling to you people?”
“No, it isn’t unpleasant.”
“You truly feel nothing? When this place is thick with such oppressive, crushing, twisted pure magic. How?”
Dogeon had no idea how to answer. He had never found the air hard to breathe or foul-smelling.
“Yes. Maybe it’s because we’re in an alley. Even if this is the Academy, keeping every corner this clean would be difficult.”
“…I’ll take that as the reason, then.”
Something about it felt off to Dogeon, but he no longer had the energy to dwell on it. Before long they emerged not far from the dormitories.
The guy packed full of narrative convenience was right next door.
“…So you’re next door.”
“…I see.”
Dorm 4, Room 45. The room assigned to Han Dogeon. I had no idea who used to live next door, but why did it have to be me right beside him?
No—more than that, the way he had started casually adding that friendly little “yo” to the ends of his sentences was getting on my nerves far more than not knowing what pure magic was.
That sly guy… if he kept edging closer like this, the next time I looked up he would have dropped the formal speech entirely, wouldn’t he? Seats next to each other, rooms next to each other—the narrative convenience was already more than enough.
Still, after he had told me exactly what expression I had been wearing in the alley and what to do about it, I could not simply shove him away coldly.
If Dogeon had not pointed it out, I probably would have gone around looking furious forever.
Come to think of it, Anastasiya had seemed uncomfortable when we spoke too, hadn’t she? Stephania, on the other hand, had not looked bothered at all.
It was probably less about my face and more that Anastasiya was just as socially awkward as I was. I knew her from the novel, but to her I was a complete stranger, so a little awkwardness was only natural.
More importantly, what was I supposed to say to Dogeon? “Let’s get along as next-door neighbors”? “Nice to meet you”? No greeting came to mind.
And if I greeted him first it would look like I was trying to be friendly. Then this harem-master of a guy might seize on it at once and start trying to conquer me.
Seeing how he had turned even the lofty Northern Grand Duchess Anastasiya into something that adorable on a bed, I could not afford to let my guard down. If I was not careful, that could be me next.
“Being next door is a kind of fate too, so I look forward to getting along.”
Filthy social butterfly. Stealing even the greeting. Of course I had never planned to speak first, but the moment he did it anyway I somehow felt like I had lost.
Here I was agonizing over what to say, while he could greet people that naturally. I was envious.
No—more than that, the way he kept making the first move made me wonder if he already had feelings for me. Hitting on someone on day one? So no matter what shell he wore, a harem protagonist was still a harem protagonist.
“…Yeah.”
In the end, without ever deciding what to say, I left only that single word and had no choice but to go into my room.
Inside were only unpacked luggage and furniture. The soldiers who had escorted me must have arranged the bags and furnishings.
If there was a holiday, maybe I should go thank them.
In principle the Academy did not allow servants or attendants. The soldiers Father had assigned to guard me were therefore staying at lodgings near the Academy.
It was an academy for nobles, so of course a commercial district had sprung up around it—that was the setting, I supposed. I felt a little sorry for men who had come all this way just to protect one person.
Would it not be tiring? They were here on Father’s orders, not a god’s, so even if they said nothing it would not be strange for them to harbor a little discontent.
Well, I could ask them when I met them later. For now I needed to unpack. Once I started, the sheer volume took time, but after everything was put away the place finally began to feel like my room.
The fine details were different and the smell of the room was different too, yet I still felt a little more at ease.
By the time I finished unpacking alone, the sky had turned crimson.
Dinner time, then. I had not found anything good at lunch, so this time I was determined to find something decent.
Come to think of it—had Dogeon woken up? While I was cleaning I noticed a continuous snoring from next door. No matter how much money you threw at the problem, the technology of this era could not manage proper soundproofing, I supposed.
The Academy cafeteria did not charge money, but it ran on a schedule; if you were late you simply went hungry.
I would just think of it as repayment for earlier.
I knocked on Dogeon’s door to wake him.