Chapter 37
As evening fell, the sound of drums beating and trumpets blaring from afar reached Lucien’s bed carriage. It was a marching tune announcing the start of the show, urging people to hurry.
In the past, whenever that tune played, she had always been running around inside the tent, busy with tools in hand. The older sisters got really scary right before a performance, so Lucien had tried her best not to make any mistakes.
But now, lying quietly in her bed carriage like this—it felt strange. Lucien peeked her head outside the carriage.
Under the last light of the sky, she could vaguely see the fluttering flag of the clown troupe. Her heart fluttered for no reason.
Lucien realized once again how pleasant that pre-performance tension had been—and how much she missed it.
“Why don’t you come back to the troupe?”
Jun’s gentle request soon came to mind.
It would be a lie to say that she wasn’t happy to hear that. It felt like he was telling her there was always a place for her to return to.
Lucien did plan to rejoin the troupe someday. But she couldn’t promise it would be now.
Setting aside those complicated thoughts for later, she found her shoes, slipped them on, and stepped out of the carriage.
The joyful song was calling to her. She couldn’t resist anymore. She wanted to see the performance.
The village square was a fair distance away, so by the time she arrived, panting, most of the audience had already taken their seats.
From inside the tent, she heard a clown greeting the crowd in a graceful, practiced voice.
Every time he spoke, the audience let out gasps of awe—probably because he was moving freely atop a giant ball.
Rather than entering through the fancy tent entrance, Lucien headed to the gray tent connected to the back of the stage.
She had always entered through this hidden way to help with the performance or walk around with the tip basket during shows.
But on her way there, she noticed the shadow of an uninvited guest peeking through the tent flap.
“There’s someone again today,” Lucien chuckled.
In every town, there were always those who couldn’t afford tickets and tried to peek through holes in the tent. Some parts of the big tent had gaps where you could see inside.
It was part of the troupe’s job to shoo such people away, so she cleared her throat and carefully approached the black figure.
But the closer she got, the more familiar that silhouette seemed.
When she finally got close enough to share the same shadow, she realized the person peeking in was none other than Benedict.
Oh, dear! A duke, of all people, earnestly peeking into a tent hole as if he might crawl in!
He was so absorbed in watching the show that he didn’t even notice Lucien standing right beside him.
Unsure how to react to such a ridiculous scene, Lucien lightly tapped him on the back with her finger.
“Hey, wait a sec— I just started to see something—huh?!”
Benedict, sounding annoyed, turned slightly—only to freeze in shock when he saw Lucien, stumbling backward in surprise.
“Benedict, don’t tell me…”
“It’s not what it looks like!”
“But still…”
Lucien glanced at the small hole he had been peeking through.
Watching the performance through indirect means was clearly against the rules.
“I-I wasn’t watching the performance. I was just… checking to see if you were in the audience.”
“…Me?”
Lucien’s voice was still a bit hoarse, though much better than when she had just woken up.
“Yeah… I heard you were helping with the performance, so… Ah!”
Flushing red, Benedict fumbled through his pockets.
“And I—I bought a ticket!”
He held it out to her. It was real.
“…I just wasn’t sure if I was allowed in.”
Anyone with a ticket could go in. Lucien found Benedict odd and held out her hand.
“…Are you saying, let’s go?”
Lucien nodded. She had wanted to show Benedict the troupe’s performance anyway.
Since he hesitated, she grabbed his hand and pulled him forward.
They could have gone to the audience seats, but that wouldn’t show him the true essence of the troupe. Lucien led him toward the gray tent reserved for troupe members.
A senior member who recognized her looked surprised but willingly let them in.
“Duke, your ticket… cough.”
Benedict quickly handed over the ticket so Lucien wouldn’t have to strain her voice.
“What? This little gentleman is really the Duke—oh no, that’s not what I meant…”
While the sister fumbled to cover her slip of the tongue, Lucien quickly led Benedict inside.
Backstage was dim, with colorfully dressed performers waiting in position.
Among them, children in ragged clothes brought over props for the show.
“This way.”
Lucien guided Benedict to the red curtain.
It was the curtain she had never crossed. Beyond it was the stage.
Only acknowledged members of the troupe could pass through that red fabric to receive the audience’s applause.
Lucien had always longed for the stage bathed in bright light, hiding herself in the flickering shadows of the curtains.
Again today, she tucked herself in the small gap between the curtains and gently patted the dusty spot beside her.
A tightrope walker was now performing a daring act on the thinnest of ropes.
The pounding of dramatic drums thundered right next to her. She had never minded it before, but maybe because it had been a while, Lucien flinched.
Immediately, Benedict covered both her ears with his hands.
The drum sounds became muffled and distant. Instead, she could hear the rustle of his palms against her ears.
It tickles.
Smiling at the thought, she noticed Benedict saying something.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t hear it.
But she could guess what he meant. It must’ve been something caring—his gentle eyes made that clear.
And surely…
“He’s not just talking about the drum, is he?”
Lucien hoped he wouldn’t worry too much. She wanted to say, “Of course I’m okay.”
Then she realized the loud drums were still pounding beside them.
So instead of answering, she reached out with both hands and covered Benedict’s ears just the same—grinning brightly.
Hoping her answer would reach him that way.
Lucien smiled!
Benedict couldn’t describe how happy that radiant smile made him.
Though a terrible accident had occurred, and though he’d been unable to do anything, he felt reassured that they were still close friends.
“…Thank you, Lucien.”
Even so, a part of him still seethed with frustration.
“I should’ve protected you… I should’ve been able to.”
To think that the only thing he could do was shield her from some noise—how pathetic for a supposed gentleman.
“I’m sorry.”
Benedict whispered softly.
“…?”
Lucien blinked in confusion, not hearing him, but he simply smiled in return.
Then Lucien smiled back again. If only he could hold that bright smile in his hands—how happy he’d be.
If only…
“Ah.”
But then Lucien’s hands fell away from his ears. The drums had stopped.
“It’s okay now.”
Benedict reluctantly let go of her small face.
The performance had reached its climax.
Inside a water tank, Jun’s legs were chained. The key to the lock hung near the top of the performance tent.
Wearing a gorgeous costume, Simone stood on a long swing, reaching out for the key. Her lace-gloved fingers almost touched it—but the swing carried her backward.
The crowd gasped in disappointment.
The tank was now more than halfway filled. Benedict started to worry for Jun inside.
Simone once more swung in a wide arc toward the key. Everyone’s eyes followed her. Some were praying silently.
But the key remained frustratingly out of reach.
“Is this really okay?”
Benedict felt like he should rush in and help Jun.
In fact, he had already half-risen from his seat.
But he stayed put because Lucien quickly covered the back of his hand with hers.
He finally turned from the urgent performance to look at her.
Lucien, eyes tense with focus, was watching the show intently.
“You mustn’t interfere…”
But it looks so dangerous.
Benedict wanted to protest, but he stayed silent.
Lucien herself was biting her lip, holding herself back.
“Jun… Jun is risking his life for this.”
So they mustn’t interfere.
When Lucien said Jun’s name, her voice trembled a little, but it revealed a deep, long-held affection.
The kind of warmth that comes from a long, close bond.
It was a natural emotion for people in close relationships.
Even so, Benedict felt bitter.
