The Night the Full Moon Sets
"You…… want me to work as a teaching assistant?"
Rising around 2 p.m. and saying it over lunch, Euphemia wore a reluctant expression.
"You don't have anything else to do anyway. If you're going to kill time, this seems better. And you get paid. It's wealth that's purely yours, not mine."
Next week should be about right.
By then, if the administrative assistants do their jobs properly, the malice toward Euphemia will have spread sufficiently among the students who've tasted the integrated desks.
'The additional hurdle……'
Should I berate her for incompetence to crush her self-esteem? Or make her mistakes force me to take responsibility, burdening her with psychological debt?
Either way, there were plenty of options to further break her spirit.
The more she realizes she's useless and worthless, the more readily she'll submit to reality without other thoughts.
"What…… would I have to do?"
"Just assist with my duties. I won't give you anything difficult, so don't worry too much."
He deliberately omitted that he wouldn't assign too much.
"Tell me exactly what that means."
"Errands. Attendance checks. For lectures needing prior setup, go ahead and prepare. Relay additional schedules to the administrative assistants. Class assistance."
"……"
It might seem like a lot, but perhaps because none appeared too hard, Euphemia—after some hesitation, shooting him a slight glare—nodded.
A faint laugh escaped at her innocence: she'd checked for traps but failed to notice the bait was already spoiled.
"All done eating?"
"Y-Yes……"
"Then get ready to go out."
"Go out……? Where to……?"
"You've probably never properly toured the capital."
It was a rare peaceful interlude. Trying a bit of newlywed bliss wouldn't hurt.
She might hate wandering with him, but her boredom must be nearing its limit.
"……"
"I'll take this silence as a yes. Throw something light on top. It'll get chilly at night."
"It's only just past 3 p.m. now."
"Do you think enjoying the capital ends in just one or two hours?"
He rose, gave a light chin gesture to the nearby maids, and turned away.
"I'll wait at the main gate."
Memories lack a clear definition, but he believed that if a moment rose vividly when recalling a year, that was a memory.
Humans spent most of their 365 days like hamsters on a wheel, and such time left no trace even in memory.
Ask most people about last year's such-and-such date, and they'd shake their heads.
But if a day stood out clearly amid that haze, that became a memory—positive or negative.
Clack. Clack.
Absorbed in prolonged reverie, he turned at the sound of heels to see Euphemia in a yellow dress topped with a pure white robe—more like a modern cardigan than a true robe.
"Why……?"
When a man silently gazes at a woman, what other reason could there be?
"Let's go."
He extended a hand toward Euphemia.
"……"
She hesitated, glancing between his hand and face, then cautiously placed hers atop it.
Even if she refused, she knew he'd seize it anyway. Good conditioning.
"I won't let go, so relax your grip a bit……"
Her hand, interlocked like a vow, tensed slightly, and she tapped his forearm in discomfort.
"My apologies."
"What……?"
"Why so surprised?"
Her sunflower-gold eyes widened round.
"It's the first time I've heard an apology from you……"
"Is that so……"
Unlike Euphemia, he showed no agitation, stepping forward calmly.
"No carriage?"
"No."
"……"
At his curt reply, realizing further words were pointless, she quietly matched his pace.
"This place is……"
Not far into their walk, they stopped before the capital's grand theater, its ornate facade unfamiliar.
Euphemia craned her neck cautiously, peering about.
Leaving her to gawk, he bought two tickets, then playfully slipped inside alone.
"W-Wait…… together!"
Mindful of her heels, she hurried after, latching onto his hand of her own accord upon reaching him.
The imposing venue made her shrink; tension prompted it, like a playground child glancing at her mother on the bench.
Either way, with no one else to rely on outside, he was her beacon—willing or not.
"First time at a theater?"
"First time seeing a play at all……"
"Good. Then you'll enjoy it."
General seats required reservations, but special seats—pricey as they were—did not.
"Looks like it's starting soon."
The glowstone lights dimming over the stage.
Unlike the packed general seats below, the special box was spacious; he and Euphemia settled comfortably.
Not just a plain play—more like a musical?
The curtain parted to pleasant music and harmonious actor vocals filling the air.
While Euphemia watched intently, he closed his eyes, listening alone.
Stage props or backdrops might irk his sense of symmetry.
The quality's…… quite high.
He hadn't checked the staging, but the actors' lines flowed naturally to his ears.
Each evoked clear emotions fitting the imagined scenes, conveying them effectively.
The theme: a clichéd love story……
"Th-That bastard……"
"……"
Watching the heroine forced into marriage with the villain and abused, Euphemia muttered lowly.
"N-Not about you……"
"I said nothing."
"R-Right……"
He'd never abused her, even.
Plus, to heighten audience immersion, the villain actor was exaggeratedly obese and greasy.
Imagining Euphemia briefly equating him to that, his brow twitched—but he endured.
She seemed to be enjoying it.
Observing her reactions, he sank into other thoughts.
Theater here was valuable—undeniably popular culture.
Could he, like novel protagonists, supply scripts like Romeo and Juliet for hefty income?
Not necessarily that; Hamlet, Macbeth…… Though no Shakespeare expert, Lee Seojin's memories held works beloved across media.
Just an idea for now……
If he ever owed his brother Jeremiah big, he could try then—worst case, no loss.
He closed his eyes again, refocusing on the drifting play.
Later……
The ending's a clean happy one, without even a minor twist……
Applause rained on the curtain call.
"Let's go."
He pulled the beaming Euphemia up and out.
A stimulus-filled B-movie vibe, lacking artistry—but that's what sold.
Hence its capital run; theater owners weren't fools to stage money-losers.
"Fun?"
She nodded.
"A bit disappointing that…… they made her poor when she could've been nobility for comfort, but it showed."
"Troupes have an unwritten rule against nobles on stage if possible. Even unintentionally, it risks satire, dooming the troupe."
That held back his comedy script ideas too.
Noble authority was that absolute.
"……Good."
Was she prodding him?
Worried he'd dismantle the troupe if the villain were noble……
"……"
Too petty to pursue; he turned away, and she scurried after.
"……Where to?"
Unlike before, laced with faint anticipation.
Current time: 5:20 p.m.
"Dinner."
"……"
Originally, a Tisbe River ferry for sunset—but the play ran long.
"One more stop after. No need for that sulk. If you wanted to tour so badly, you could've taken maids alone."
"It's not my money……"
"I won't make you repay using mine later."
"You…… forgot how, 74 years ago, Brutein's previous head demanded immediate repayment of aid money as pretext for war on our territory?"
"……"
Surprisingly, yes.
In the ego-blending, trivial memories sank subconscious.
I knew they waged war on Ruerg with minimal pretext, but…… that?
Digging up ledgers, forcing repayment of "aid."
"That place looks good."
"You dodge like that sometimes too."
Her persistent jab irked, but no retort; he quickened his pace.
"S-Slow…… down! H-Heels are high, can't go that fast……!"
Hand-in-hand, she stumbled after, pleading while balancing.
"……"
Only then did he slow, entering the restaurant with her for a relaxed dinner.
Post-meal: 7 p.m.
Sharing a wine bottle extended their stay.
"So…… where's the last stop."
Night air chilled, but wine-warmed bodies warded it off.
"You'll see."
Not far anyway.
Hand in hand, they strolled the capital's streets, glowstone lamps banishing shadows in merry light.