Chapter 38
If only he had known Lucien earlier—if only they had more time together.
That thought soon led to another: it would’ve been better if he’d been born into the troupe.
‘If that were the case…’
Lucien would’ve looked at Benedict with the same desperate gaze he now gave Jun, willing to risk his life.
Benedict had completely forgotten about the performance by now. All he could do was stare at Lucien’s anxious face.
Yet even now, Lucien didn’t spare him so much as a glance. The lack of attention was driving Benedict insane.
That smile from earlier—directed only at him—had meant the world.
‘What do I have to do to make him look at me?’
If he could just catch Lucien’s attention, he felt he could give up anything he had. He truly meant it.
Lucien was so tense now that his lips were slightly parted, and he didn’t even blink.
Benedict stared absentmindedly at his round, flushed cheeks.
Then, at a thought that surfaced naturally in his mind, his heart began to beat in a strange, unfamiliar rhythm.
The soft, unstoppable fantasy that had taken hold of him now constricted his breathing—he could hardly breathe at all.
He had to stop.
A warning bell rang deep in his mind.
Was it not rude to gaze so intensely at someone like this?
But he couldn’t tear his eyes—or his heart—away from Lucien.
Then, someone in the audience shouted.
“I got it!”
At once, the murmurs of anticipation and anxiety grew louder.
Simone, perched on the swing with only her two feet hooked onto it, threw the key with the red ribbon into the water tank.
Everyone’s head turned to follow its path.
Could the man struggling in the water catch such a small key? What if he missed it or lost it—and died?
Even the drumbeat of the performance began to speed up, keeping pace with the crowd’s racing heartbeats.
“…Jun!”
And the moment Lucien whispered his name—
Splash!
A hand shot up from the water and snatched the key.
“Waaaaah!”
The audience leapt to their feet, cheering wildly. Jun quickly unlocked the shackle and nimbly climbed out of the water tank.
The cheers intensified, and the applause was relentless. Before long, Lucien joined in and clapped with the others.
Which meant—his hands were no longer connected to Benedict’s.
Benedict looked down at his now empty palm.
It was warm.
Though he had lived with heat all his life, and had always thought of it as something loathsome—
This warmth didn’t feel bad.
No, it felt precious. So he quietly clenched his fist.
* * *
After a successful show, another opportunity always followed.
It didn’t take long for word of the troupe’s magical performance to spread to neighboring villages.
The troupe decided to perform twice more in the same place.
A few days passed, and Lucien had completely recovered—but he didn’t return to the mansion. He continued living at the troupe’s camp.
Just like before, he ran errands for the older girls and helped guide the audience.
And so, on the night of the final performance—
Benedict, who had watched the show from the audience this time, approached Lucien with a determined look on his face.
She was laughing heartily among the troupe members, celebrating the successful show.
Standing among them, Lucien looked completely at ease—so different from when she used to furrow her brow over her studies at the mansion.
Jun, now changed into dry clothes, soon joined the group. His wet black hair still dripped, clearly not dried properly. Likely because of Lucien—he chatted with her enthusiastically, his face bright.
‘What are they talking about?’
Benedict imagined the conversation in his head.
Maybe they were discussing the next performance?
Perhaps they were making a promise to succeed just like today—in a performance that wouldn’t include Benedict.
Benedict found himself staring at Lucien’s face again. He thought he had made up his mind about her over the past few days.
And yet—
He hoped Lucien would shake her head at Jun’s story. Or at least look troubled.
At the end of his anxious gaze, Lucien smiled softly.
‘Ah.’
Benedict suddenly forgot how to breathe, overwhelmed by the pain of his silently crumbling hopes.
He turned away.
Bringing Lucien back under the guise of a contract would’ve been easy.
But he had learned from convincing his grandmother just how foolish that would be. He didn’t want to repeat the same mistake.
So Benedict chose to be glad for Lucien’s smile, rather than dwell on his own pain.
To live with people she loved, in a place she felt comfortable—what a wonderful thing that was.
‘It’s a good thing… really.’
Suppressing the ache in his chest, he walked away from the troupe’s camp.
His steps gradually quickened—he was afraid if he slowed down, regret would catch up with him.
Just as he was about to break into a full run—
“Benedict!”
A breathless voice called from a short distance behind.
Benedict stopped in his tracks.
When he turned around, he saw Lucien running toward him, her white hair a mess.
“Wait—”
She stopped in front of him, panting too hard to speak properly.
Then, without a word, she grabbed his arm tightly.
“…!”
Once she caught her breath, she finally spoke.
“How could you just leave without me?”
“Huh…?”
“I mean, sure, I can get back to the mansion on my own.”
Lucien was going back to the mansion?
Benedict couldn’t quite believe it, so he asked:
“Really?”
Lucien hesitated with a guilty look, then mumbled:
“Sorry… Actually, the woods around here creep me out a little. I don’t want to go alone. Ugh… Benedict, can you come with me?”
As she tugged on his sleeve, Benedict couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face.
She asked him to come with her!
Wasn’t that exactly what he had wanted to say to her?
“Ah, unless you’ve got something urgent and need to head back right away—then you can—”
“No!”
Benedict responded immediately.
“I wasn’t planning to leave yet anyway.”
“Then… can I go say goodbye to everyone first? They’re all leaving at dawn.”
“Of course! I want to say goodbye too.”
“Everyone will love that. Let’s go!”
As Lucien led the way, Benedict looked down at her. When she glanced back and met his gaze, she smiled shyly.
‘…She’s really cute.’
The thought embarrassed him so much, he quickly turned his head. Even though she’d been giving him the attention he’d longed for all this time.
‘This is a weird feeling.’
Benedict blamed his heart for acting on its own.
But even so, it wasn’t a bad feeling.
* * *
While Benedict stepped away to speak with the troupe leader before their departure, Lucien approached Jun, who had just returned in his damp clothes.
She had something to say.
“Jun, you lied to me, didn’t you?”
Jun’s eyes widened, and he said nothing. Lucien smiled knowingly.
“Lu… Look, I—”
He tried to explain, but Lucien quickly shook her head. She wasn’t trying to scold him.
“Sit down, Jun.”
She made him sit on a small box, then gently began drying his wet hair with a towel.
“It’s okay. I wasn’t fooled.”
“…You weren’t?”
Jun peeked up at her through the towel.
“Nope.”
Lucien nodded confidently.
Back when she had just regained consciousness, Jun had told her this:
That Benedict didn’t seem worried about her at all—not even curious.
“You knew… from the start.”
As Jun muttered in defeat, Lucien replied with a cheerful smile:
“Of course! Benedict is such a kind person.”
He was the kind of person who sighed in worry over accidents in far-off villages after reading the newspaper.
There was no way he wouldn’t be concerned if his friend, Lucien, had been hurt.
“That’s the only reason?”
“Hm?”
“I mean… the reason you thought the Duke cared about you.”
