The Night the Full Moon Fades
The breeze brushing past was quite chilly, but it was perfectly offset by her heated body temperature, leaving Euphemia el Lerenne Ruerg feeling rather refreshed instead.
How curious...
It was something anyone standing beside him could notice at a glance. When Ferzen von Schweig Brutein walked, he didn't look ahead but down at the ground. And following his gaze revealed his deliberate steps, avoiding the perfectly laid lines of the square-paved road.
She wondered if there was some special reason, but to Euphemia, it was just a peculiar habit she had no choice but to overlook. There weren't enough clues to connect it straight to severe OCD.
"Here."
"...?"
His steps halted in front of a certain shop. The pretty name Shanellia caught her eye immediately. Beyond the shop's glass windows, various beautiful paintings were on display.
Was it run by a famous painter, perhaps?
"Let's go in."
"Y-Yes..."
The interior emphasized excessive luxury, so Euphemia clung almost to Ferzen's back as she entered, narrowing the distance between them.
"Welcome!"
Contrary to her expectation of an apron splattered with paint, the greeting painter was dressed in remarkably refined attire.
"I'd like a portrait of me and my wife. Personally, I think oil painting would suit it best."
"It takes about a week to dry enough not to smudge on your hands—is that alright? To frame and hang it, you'll need to let it dry for around a month..."
"That's fine. And on the left side of the painting, I'd like some blank space left for an inscription. Is that possible?"
"Yes! Of course! Then please come inside. Follow me."
A portrait? The unfamiliar word echoed strangely in her mind, but Euphemia followed Ferzen as he pulled her along.
"Feel free to pose however you like."
Unlike Euphemia, who stood there blankly, Ferzen glanced around, fetched a chair, and sat down.
Should she do the same and bring a chair to sit beside him? But...
"Euphemia."
"Yes...?"
"Come here."
Ferzen patted his lap.
"You're serious...?"
"What's not allowed between husband and wife?"
"..."
"Please don't mind me."
Doubting his sanity, Euphemia glanced at Ferzen, then at the painter setting up, who responded with a bright smile.
With a sigh, she shuffled over and cautiously sat sideways on his lap.
He supported her back with one hand, drawing her head to rest comfortably against his firm chest.
It was more comfortable than expected, but...
"You'll be the uncomfortable one. I could just sit beside you..."
"Euphemia. Once you've become the artist's subject, it's etiquette not to move. If it were uncomfortable, I wouldn't have started in the first place."
"But... a portrait, all of a sudden?"
There were no photographs in this world.
So...
"If you want to preserve a specific moment forever, painting is the only fitting method."
"That's just your opinion..."
Ferzen didn't deny her words. But since his goal was to forcibly etch this moment into her mind and make her revisit it repeatedly, he fell silent.
Euphemia, too, quietly placed her hands on her belly, relaxing to avoid disturbing the painter, though it would strain the hand supporting her back.
That's not for me to worry about...
More than that, her eyelids grew heavy. After a full meal with wine, postprandial drowsiness seeped in like sleep sprinkling down like stars in the night sky.
"If you're tired, sleep. It'll take about three hours."
"Th-Three... hours...?"
"Yes."
She worried it would be tough for him to support her back that long, but as if reading her thoughts, Ferzen whispered in a low, soothing voice.
"I'm not frail enough to need your concern."
"..."
Right, as if her worries mattered to this man.
With a hollow chuckle, she arched her back demonstratively, but his large, sturdy palm steadily supported her.
Ferzen—this man—would she ever see him unmoored and adrift? A futile thought that might never come true, she closed her eyes.
Thump.
Thump...
From her ear pressed to his chest, his steady heartbeat rang clearly.
Stroke.
Ferzen tilted his head, bringing his lips near her hair, and gently patted her back with the large hand supporting her—like singing a lullaby.
She wanted to tell him not to treat her like a child, but her languid body, floating on clouds, was too lazy for that, pulling her drifting consciousness downward.
Once fully asleep, Euphemia...
Naturally, like a tamed creature, burrowed deeper into Ferzen's warmth.
The painter, Jelros, paused as he captured the couple on canvas.
They suit each other well.
The wife slumbering peacefully in her husband's arms. And his meticulous care to let her rest comfortably—it made them seem blissfully harmonious.
Watching such noble couples occasionally shattered prejudices against nobility, delivering a refreshing shock that lifted his spirits.
Wondering how much of their tenderness he could capture, he resolved to do his best and resumed painting.
"It's finished. You may move now."
"I see..."
Cracking his stiff neck, he rose while cradling the still-sleeping Euphemia.
"Come back in a week?"
"If no rain, the sixth day is fine. But as I said, even then it might smudge, so for framing and hanging..."
"A month, yes."
"Exactly. And I've left the blank space you requested beforehand—is this sufficient?"
Nodding at the painter's words, I sat on the chair, took out a pen, and inscribed ancient script in the space.
It might be amusing later to watch Euphemia puzzle over decoding it.
"Um... if it's not too rude, may I display it until you return?"
"...Do as you like."
"Thank you!"
After paying, we left the shop. Euphemia showed no sign of waking.
Instead, when I positioned my arms for easier carrying, her hands naturally looped around my neck, burying her face in my nape.
If only she were this obedient always...
It would put my mind at ease.
"..."
With the alcohol worn off, the night breeze felt piercingly cold. Tightening my hold on her, I slowly headed back to the mansion.
"Do you like my gift?"
March 5th—Lizzy Paul Liana Claudia's 20th birthday.
Uriel Wayne Daina Alfred pushed Lizzy's wheelchair from behind, eagerly asking her reaction.
"Yes. Very much. Thank you."
"You're so stiff—it doesn't feel real."
"Lizzy's seeing Professor Uriel at the academy for the first time... please understand her shyness."
"Professor? Even Lord Roer calls me Uriel casually."
The siblings kept their distance so awkwardly it was exhausting. Her engagement to their eldest sister was all but set—couldn't they treat her more casually?
Or not...
Lately tormented by Ferzen, she'd momentarily forgotten the weight of the Alfred name.
Yes, this was normal.
As she pushed Lizzy's wheelchair onward, a very familiar man appeared across the way.
His presence was too distinctive to mistake...
Ferzen, subtly radiating an unparalleled aura as he approached.
"..."
"..."
Their eyes met, and Ferzen stopped.
Roer, Lizzy, and Uriel fell silent too.
"Out for a stroll? You haven't abused your position, have you, Uriel?"
"It's her birthday today. Abuse what...?"
"I see."
Glancing down at Lizzy in her wheelchair, Ferzen paused before speaking.
"...Happy birthday. Enjoy time with your family."
She didn't want to accept it. But...
"Th-Thank... you."
Lizzy reluctantly acknowledged his well-wishes.
As if nothing happened, Ferzen passed them, cradling the green-haired woman in his arms—likely his much-rumored wife.
"Damn bastard. Running into him on a day like this, ruining the mood... Lizzy, don't mind him."
At her brother Roer's words, Lizzy nodded.
"I... won't."
She wouldn't let him affect her life anymore, even if she wanted to care.
But the atmosphere had sunk anyway—not just for Roer and Lizzy, but Uriel too, who couldn't ignore Ferzen whether she liked it or not.
Screech.
"Ah..."
Waiting for carriages to pass before crossing...
Lizzy's gaze was stolen by the beautiful paintings beyond the glass of a lavishly decorated shop. Spotting one, her purple eyes trembled mournfully.
"Hm? What..."
Following her gaze, Uriel also took in the sight: Ferzen gently cradling Euphemia.
In the painting, Ferzen smiled faintly, holding the sleeping Euphemia like a princess, lips softly brushing her hair.
Jelros had added a touch of artistic flourish, unknown to Uriel and Lizzy.
Grip!
"H-Hng...!"
Clenching her small fists, Lizzy barely stifled a surging sob.
But the tears falling from her eyes were beyond her control.
"Lizzy...!"
Roer hurriedly embraced her.
But that only catalyzed the sobs she'd held back.
"H-Hic...! Waaah!"
Your ruined life flows on like this.
Why do you, the perpetrator, live with such beautiful happiness?
If you have any conscience...
You shouldn't flaunt that happiness to me.
If you can gaze so tenderly, loving someone—why were you like that to me?
Like an immature girl, Lizzy could only pour out her unvoiced rage through tears and cries.
"..."
Unlike Lizzy, Uriel—who could read ancient script—read the inscription on the painting's left side and let out a hollow laugh.
The future approaches.
The present marches on.
The only time one can dare leave footprints is the already passed past.
Was this really written by the man who spat,
"Do you think stagnant gutter water flowing into the sea makes you the sea too?"
If I'd known he could speak like that...
To her, raised hearing only that Brutein seed was all that mattered.
Couldn't he have offered a gentler rejection?
Really...
What an infuriating man.