I Start with a Bad Hand!

Receiving the bouquet the florist had meticulously crafted, I noticed the streets had grown busier in the meantime. I retraced my steps back the way I came. As I neared the academy, the crowds thinned until it was as deserted as when I had left.

I placed the bouquet under the clock tower. After that, unsure of what to do next, I stood awkwardly for a moment before closing my eyes to observe a moment of silence in our own way.

“May the departed rest in peace.”

I murmured a silent prayer, then added softly,

“May you achieve paradise and find the Lord’s grace on your way.”

Despite living a life without religion, I acknowledge this was somewhat a religious tribute. I wasn’t sure if there really was such a thing as rest for the soul, but if there was something out there… I hoped Dietrich might catch even a scrap of it.

Truly, I couldn’t ensure Dietrich’s soul’s peace… But as someone who owed her, I wanted to do what I could. It might be meaningless, but I wanted to do it—taking the feelings that had roused me at dawn as a trace Dietrich had left in me.

Arriving back at the dormitory, it was too awkward a time to try to sleep again. I grabbed my books and limped toward the classroom for my morning class.

It was the day for “Advanced Translation Studies of the Thomple Region through the Modern Conflicts of the Cabaluna Continent.” Normally an early class, I arrived an hour earlier than usual to find the classroom completely empty. I opened my book at my usual spot by the window.

“Wow… how can this be?”

As soon as I opened my book, I felt an unprecedented level of mental fog. Just by opening it, it felt as if all my mental energy was melting away. Eventually, despite arriving early, I could only doze off with my chin propped on my hand.

My consciousness flickered in and out until at one moment, I felt a shadow loom over me and I slowly opened my eyes. Without needing to look, I knew whose long, calloused fingers they were.

Once he saw that I was awake, the hand withdrew carelessly, and a sharp morning sunlight flooded my vision. I squinted, and he covered the sunlight from my forehead with his palm, saying,

“You’re here early.”

Anyone would think I had slept here and just woken up. He spoke in a husky, teasing tone, but he didn’t look much different from me. His face bore the marks of exhaustion, and his usually neat hair was wildly tousled in every direction. He pulled up a chair and sat down, looking at me sprawled out like laundry on the chair’s back.

“I feel like I’m going to die of tiredness.”

“I didn’t sleep a wink all night. Just couldn’t fall asleep.” I covered my eyes with my arm and replied,

“Same here.”

My heart was racing. He casually placed something on my desk with a thunk. Lying back with my eyes closed, I was lost in thought for a while before a familiar aroma drew me forward. Only then did I notice what he had put on my desk.

“Huh?”

Still groggy, I blinked several times before carefully picking up the cup placed in front of me. It was still warm. Turning to him, I asked,

“Is this… something the Prince brought down for you?”

“It’s what he usually drinks in the morning.”

“How did you know I would come?”

Tap, tap. He tapped the desk as he spoke.

“You usually come in about 30 minutes early anyway.”

“Don’t tell me, like yesterday, you put it in the pepper shaker?”

“I crushed it. Thought it would last till the end of the class.”

As I giggled, his lips curled into a deep dimple. He now quietly closed his eyes and then said in a still husky voice,

“Let me know when the professor comes.”

The morning sunlight now gently settled over him. Under that thin light, his face was clearly visible. It was then that I noticed a small mole on his right cheek. Perhaps sensing my gaze, he lazily opened his eyes and mouthed, “Why?”

I looked at him for a moment then touched my right cheek and said,

“Here. You missed a spot shaving.”

“Ah, damn.”

He quickly brushed the area I pointed out and then propped his chin, covering his cheek. I watched his sparkling hair and then turned my gaze back to the cup filled with coffee.

In the quiet classroom, only the sounds of me sipping coffee and turning pages echoed. My foggy mind sharpened.

So anyone would understand.

What it meant that he came down with coffee without shaving properly. What it meant that he, being right-handed, propped his chin in an awkward position throughout the class. What it meant every time I made a slight noise, and he looked over unnecessarily. What it meant that the tips of his ears turned slightly red. It was unmistakable.

The one beside me was showing an unhidden heart.

“Ah, what do I do now.”

Why does he like me?

There had been many moments entwined with Icarus, but none that were romantically stirring in a rational sense. Even when we met at the hunting grounds, I ended up vomiting.

‘Is it because of Dietrich’s looks?’

I had stopped pondering why he liked me, the one who was wearing Dietrich mask. The reason wasn’t clear, but it was evident I couldn’t reciprocate his feelings.

I was, after all, destined to leave. Accepting his feelings under such circumstances would be no different than deception.

Besides, could what Icarus felt truly be said to be for ‘me’? I was curious how many of his reasons for liking me were genuinely because of who I am.

If you’re going to hide it, hide it well.

Of course, I couldn’t say there hadn’t been moments of doubt. There had definitely been times that made me think, “Could it be me…?” After all, Icarus’s demeanor remained breezy even after I had faintly caught on to his feelings. His attitude played a clear role in allowing us to maintain the same daily routine as before, even after I knew of his feelings.

Icarus hadn’t acted like a lovesick boy, burdening me with heavy looks or touches, nor had he made any overtly sticky, intentional comments. So when I thought perhaps I was mistaken, he unwittingly showed his heart.

Even now.

“I haven’t seen that bow before.”

“Yes, it was a gift.”

“From whom? The kid?”

That comment must never reach Agnes’s ears. Already grumbling that she seemed to be the only one not growing taller, she would definitely have a fit if she heard it.

“No, it was from Klaus.”

At my answer, he looked at me intently and asked,

“Why?”

On a day when the leaves began to fall in the courtyard, Klaus called me out and handed me the bow.

“Isn’t it your birthday today? It feels like autumn has just begun.”

He handed me the bow tied with a letter that read in a playful tone, ‘From the Academy’s finest gentleman to the Academy’s top archer,’ neatly written in square letters.

The glossy black bow, shimmering with polish, possessed a definite power unlike the old, worn bows available for borrowing at the academy. After receiving the gift, whenever I passed by the training grounds, I’d swing the bow I carried over my shoulder at Klaus. He would always respond with a bright smile and a wave.

“Why would the eldest son of a marquess give you a bow?”

“Just… you know…”

As I trailed off vaguely, Icarus touched the bow lightly and asked. But to tell that long story, from not knowing my exact birthday to the tales of Klaus’s birthday banquet, seemed too tiresome to start from the beginning.

“It’s possible… among friends…”

“…You don’t need to squint your eyes like that when you talk; I understood you just fine. Ease up on your eyes, I won’t ask any more questions.”

Since that day, when he grumbled, “And don’t make that face,” Icarus began acting like a crow that brings shiny things to repay a favor, continually handing me little things.

When I had left my hair tie behind and my hair annoyingly fell around my face, when my school uniform tie dangled uncomfortably so I casually threw it over my shoulder, or just for no reason at all.

Each time, Icarus handed over these small, sparkling items as if they were his heart, and it was not hard to refuse them.

“Uh… I don’t wear accessories.”

“Why?”

“Just because. Ever since that incident in the student council room with the young duke… I just don’t feel like it. I don’t want to create issues over something that doesn’t suit our estate.”

“…Is using a hairpin to fix your hair really going to cause problems? And what if someone says something about your hairpin?”

“Still. It would just make my life here even noisier, and I really don’t want that.”

As I spoke with a slightly hoarse voice while washing my face, Icarus reluctantly took back the hairpin he had squeezed into my hand.

Afterwards, there were more things I just had to refuse.

“A tie pin? It’s more annoying to put it on and take it off. …I’ll just take your kindness.”

“My body doesn’t really agree with diamonds.”

“I’m trying to live a life of non-possession these days.”

Until then, Icarus had silently accepted my reasons, but upon this last refusal, he couldn’t contain himself and blurted out, ‘What the heck is non-possession? Since when have you been doing that?’ However, having led a possession-oriented life myself, I couldn’t properly make excuses and ended up fumbling my words.

The same happened when I couldn’t find the lost sleeve button in Agnes’s room. One day, as my school uniform blouse’s wrist sleeve fluttered for days without the button, Icarus poked at it and then turned his head.

The fluttering sleeve irritated me as it got ink on it. As I was about to roll up my sleeve and grab my pen again, Icarus stealthily pulled a cufflink from his pocket. It wasn’t packaged, but the blue gem was delicately crafted.

“Where did you get this?”

“Just happened to.”

Icarus evaded my question, circling around with his words. I stared at him intently and said,

“You didn’t bring this just for me, did you?”