Chapter 109 ….
Benedict, whose temper had been stirred up unnecessarily by the ongoing conflict with Alphe, decided to put his duty as a friend before his duty as a gentleman.
What kind of friends would allow distance between them?
That was absolutely unacceptable. Lucien and he had to remain close—always.
“…Close.”
The moment that word surfaced in his mind, Benedict felt sweat trickle down his spine, even though he was walking through the corridor on a winter night.
It made him recall that moment—this morning, in the drawing room.
When his eyes had met Lucien’s as she stood beneath his outstretched arm, reaching for the books stacked high—and when both of them had frozen in place the instant they realized what had happened.
I—I wasn’t thinking anything weird!
Benedict hurriedly shook his head, forcibly brushing away the image of Lucien’s pink lips that he had stared at so intently back then.
It wasn’t as if he were that infamous “bastard Milburn” known among the nobility. There was no way he would genuinely want to kiss her just because their eyes met for a moment.
He had merely felt a pure flutter in his heart, that was all. After all, Lucien was a girl he sincerely cared about.
“Master.”
When Benedict arrived in front of Lucien’s room, Juliet—who had been waiting while seated on a chair by the door—rose to her feet.
“You weren’t asleep?” he asked.
“No. I’ll be смена duty in thirty minutes.”
“Then I’ll—”
Benedict hesitated, torn between wanting to send Juliet back to rest and wanting someone nearby to keep watch over him.
“Thank you, Master.”
Before he could say anything, Juliet bowed first and withdrew.
“…Get some good rest.”
Right. What need was there for surveillance, anyway?
Benedict decided not to let Alphe’s warning sway him too much.
Harboring desire, losing his reason and coveting Lucien—what nonsense. That was impossible.
After Juliet disappeared down the corridor, Benedict stood before the door.
“Ahem.”
He cleared his throat unnecessarily, hesitating over whether he should knock.
But if the sound woke Lucien, he would be interrupting rather than paying a visit.
He quietly turned the doorknob, and a slightly obstructed sound of breathing reached his ears. Her throat or nose must have been bothering her.
Damn it… she’s sick. What am I supposed to do?
With a heavy heart, Benedict crept closer.
Thanks to the small night lamp left on in case Lucien woke during the night, the room wasn’t completely dark.
Thank goodness…
—or so he thought.
The moment Lucien came fully into view on the bed, he realized that wasn’t the case at all.
She had kicked off half the blanket with remarkable vigor.
Once a fever broke, the blanket could feel stifling—he understood that well enough.
The problem was how forceful her kicking had been. Her nightgown had ridden up past her knees, leaving her pale calves fully exposed.
“…You—!”
Forgetting that he needed to stay silent, Benedict nearly cried out.
He barely managed to clamp both hands over his mouth in time, and Lucien didn’t wake up.
All right. Get a grip.
The important thing was that if she slept with her legs exposed like this, she might get even sicker.
He edged closer to the bed and carefully pinched the hem of her nightgown draped over her knees with his fingertips.
Please don’t wake up, Lucien.
He really didn’t want her to see him like this. She would definitely misunderstand.
Slide.
The soft fabric glided smoothly down along her legs to her ankles. Benedict swallowed unconsciously.
…I-it’s just because I’m nervous!
After justifying himself, he neatly spread out the crumpled blanket at Lucien’s feet and covered her with it.
“Haa…”
A sigh slipped out on its own. Now she would sleep warmly.
“Hm?”
Just then, he noticed a pink fuzzy sock peeking out from between the blankets. Judging by the look of it, she must have worn them to keep her feet warm, only to kick them halfway off along with the blanket.
Honestly, you really are a handful.
Grumbling inwardly, Benedict—his face burning red—folded back the edge of the blanket slightly.
He slipped his fingers into the sock to shape it for easier wear, then guided it over her toes—
He should have pulled the sock on right away, but he hesitated, staring blankly at the pale foot peeking out from the blanket.
…Did her feet grow at all?
They didn’t seem much different from when she was little.
If he wrapped his hand around it, he felt like her entire foot would fit in his grasp. Even her toes were small and round—ridiculously cute.
Her toenails were tiny, too. And the line that ran all the way up to her ankle was just unbelievably beauti—
Stop it, you filthy bastard.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Benedict hurriedly pulled the socks onto both feet and tugged the blanket up to cover her completely.
His back felt drenched, even though nothing had really happened. Maybe it was because the firewood had been piled on too heavily since there was a patient in the room.
“…Benedict?”
At the sudden call, he froze on the spot like a criminal caught in the act.
No—like one wasn’t quite right. He actually was one.
Staring so intently at a sleeping person’s feet—how despicable.
Did she… notice?
Heart pounding, he waited anxiously for Lucien to say more.
“Hand…”
“S-sorry. I moved it. I won’t touch you.”
I won’t. Never. Ever.
As he desperately pleaded in his heart, Lucien spoke again.
“…Cold.”
She rustled slightly and slipped her fingertips out from under the blanket.
She wants me to… hold it?
Though he knew there was no one to answer that question, Benedict glanced around in confusion.
“Cough.”
Startled by her soft cough, he quickly grabbed her cold hand.
“…Warm.”
Lucien murmured with a faint smile, and Benedict found himself oddly grateful for his naturally warm body.
“Go back to sleep.”
At his quiet words, Lucien nodded slightly and soon closed her eyes again.
What could possibly compare to the joy of seeing peace settle on her face? No scholarly achievement or material reward could ever bring him this much happiness.
That Lucien trusted him.
Even though earlier, in the drawing room… there had been that incident where he had hugged her without thinking.
Well, that had just been a rescue. Nothing more. Only his heart had chosen to interpret that moment differently.
…This is bad.
What if, in a moment of weakness, he ended up trampling on Lucien’s trust?
That wouldn’t show her his good points—it would only reveal how dangerous he could be.
I don’t want to scare you. I don’t want you worrying about my feelings.
It was more than enough for Benedict alone to agonize over the distance between them. If Lucien started worrying about it too, he feared their long-standing friendship might become awkward.
“You’re my closest friend, Lucien.”
Benedict said it out loud—if only so he himself could hear it.
“That friendship will never turn into something else. I’ll never… scare you.”
As long as you trust me, I can do anything.
With that thought, Benedict smiled faintly.
It truly felt like everything was all right now. Even at this very moment, holding the hand of the sleeping Lucien, not a trace of improper desire crossed his mind.
There was only the pure wish that not even the slightest chill would touch his beloved friend.
If some beast truly lived inside him, there was no way such peace could exist.
“…Benedict.”
Lucien suddenly called his name.
“Hm?”
When he looked again, it seemed she was just talking in her sleep. Her eyes were tightly shut, and deep, steady breaths flowed from her slightly parted lips.
What kind of dream was she having, to be calling for him?
Probably something from when we were kids.
She still seemed to think of him as the twelve-year-old boy he used to be. Maybe they were playing beneath the cornelian cherry tree, practicing their letters together—
“Ghk.”
In the middle of imagining Lucien’s dream, Benedict suddenly stopped breathing.
Because Lucien had abruptly tugged his hand into the blanket.
That wasn’t all. She pulled his arm in as well, hugging it tightly—and at the helplessly dragged-in tips of his fingers…
Something touched them.
The lace of her nightgown? No—it felt a little different.
Soft. Warm.
Damn it—stop thinking!
