Chapter 42
Was it because I yielded the teacups? Because she liked my dress? Because she thought I had good taste? Because I promised to keep our meeting a secret? Or… all of the above?
I fiddled with the Red Book for no real reason.
Somehow… this feels strange.
In my previous life, enemies were everywhere, and I fought alone. I kept my guard up and sharpened myself into a blade.
(Except for Bambi, of course. He was the only one I could show my real self to—the only one I could pour my affection into.)
But this time, things are different. No—things are changing.
I don’t know exactly why. Too much has already changed in this life.
But I really like this change.
Knock, knock.
There was a knock at the door.
Owen and I both looked up. When I answered, a little boy peeked in through the crack.
“Mom—”
It was Arne. The little boy who had become my son. Maybe the very start of all these changes this time around.
He’d changed into pajamas. With his brown hair wet, a little wave had come out. I couldn’t help smiling.
“Arne, did you finish your bath?”
“Yes!”
He trotted over and plopped down right next to me. He smelled like bath salts—my favorite kind, too.
“The bathtub— it’s huge. There’s a statue in the bathroom, and even a fountain!”
“Oh really? Did you find a robe that fit you?”
“Uh-huh. They were folded by the door. I picked the smallest one.”
“Good job, Arne.”
He grinned, looking proud.
Arne doesn’t like attendants helping him bathe. He says he prefers washing and dressing himself. Maybe he isn’t used to being waited on like a noble child… maybe his old home wasn’t rich enough to have servants?
Still, he’s learned dining manners well, and fancy hotels and restaurants don’t faze him at all.
On this trip too, he washed and got ready by himself. That would seem very strange to normal nobles… but conveniently, Owen and I are far from “normal.” We’re the duke’s eldest son and the marquis’s eldest daughter, yet ordinary we are not.
Arne sat on the edge of the bed, legs swinging. He looked thrilled, like something fun had happened. My guess was right—he began chattering.
“Mom, guess what.”
“Yes, Arne?”
“When I came out after washing—”
“Mhm?”
“I saw a white bird outside the sitting room window. It was really pretty and kind of big.”
A white bird? That’s rare. Funny to see one here.
“But as soon as it saw me, it flew over and started pecking at the window.”
“Oh my, really?”
It didn’t run away from a person, but came closer? As if it wanted the window opened? That’s a very smart bird.
“Why do you think it did that? Did it want to come in?”
“I’m not sure. But that’s what I thought, so… I opened the window.”
“Uh… huh?”
“And then the bird came inside.”
Uh. What?!
“So… Arne, is that bird still in the sitting room?”
Please don’t tell me he came here just now to report that a wild bird has flown into our hotel suite and is flapping around in the parlor!
He nodded confidently.
“Yep! It’s in the sitting room fighting with Popo right now.”
“!!!”
I sprang up like I’d been sitting on a spring and ran—straight for the parlor.
What on earth?!
I’ve never heard of an animal fight breaking out in the middle of a luxury hotel sitting room. Honestly, can we go even one day without something happening?
How do you catch a bird? First, open the window and try to shoo it out. A net would help. There must be feathers everywhere—have to get it cleaned. And Popo—Popo mustn’t get hurt!
I was racing down the stairs when Owen caught up to me in just a few long strides. Matching my quick pace, he asked calmly,
“What’s your plan?”
“Anyway… I’m going to… shoo it out… so first I’ll check what’s going on.”
“Understood.”
He sounded utterly at ease, like he had something up his sleeve. I asked, just in case,
“Owen, have you ever caught a bird with your bare hands?”
“I’ve caught something similar.”
Good. Whatever that means, it sounds useful.
We slipped into the sitting room quickly. White feathers weren’t flying like snow—thank goodness—but I could hear frantic flapping. Judging by the noise, they were evenly matched.
I softened my footsteps and crept closer. Owen followed silently behind me. The fox and the pigeon didn’t notice us approaching.
I crouched behind the sofa and peeked over.
Yikes—Arne was right. There was a bird in the room!
But something was odd. That white bird that had just missed striking Popo… I’d seen it before…
Oh!
“Gugu!”
The white pigeon turned its head toward me when I called its name.
At the same time, both pigeon and fox froze like statues.
The pigeon recovered first. It spread its snowy wings and flew to me, then landed gracefully on my shoulder—
—as if its fight with Popo had been a mere illusion.
Well, look at this little rascal.
I glanced at Popo. He wore the most wronged expression. Come to think of it, Popo and Gugu never got along in my previous life either.
The tension drained from me. At least it wasn’t the worst-case scenario. I hadn’t expected to see Gugu here, though!
“Gugu, how did you get here?”
I stroked the bird on my shoulder a few times. Its feathers were soft, as if well cared for. I tapped its forehead lightly with a finger in mock scolding, and it promptly turned its head away. Cheeky thing.
“Sophia, you know this bird?” Owen asked, tilting his head. He was still behind the same sofa.
“Yes. This is Gugu—the carrier pigeon I used to send messages.”
“Very clever. It found you all the way here?”
“You could say that.”
To be precise, Gugu isn’t my pigeon.
Bambi uses this bird to contact me. You can’t go through the post or send servants when it’s about an assassination request.
And Gugu is extremely smart. He always finds us wherever Bambi and I are, and he knows when it’s okay to be seen and when it isn’t.
Proof? Gugu never showed himself when I was with the Marquis. And even now, he asked Arne to open the window and then came inside.
Wait—hold on. If Gugu, Bambi’s pigeon, is here… could Bambi be…?!
—Clatter!
The sitting room window flew open with a loud noise. I had thrown it wide without thinking.
And out on the balcony beyond the big glass—
“….”
No one.
Of course.
What was I thinking? We’re a three-day carriage ride from the capital. Why did I think Bambi would be here?
When I turned back, Owen was walking toward me holding something. He must have gone off for a moment.
“Was there something outside?”
“Oh—no, nothing.”
I quickly closed the window again, though I couldn’t help feeling disappointed.
Owen was carrying a cage—iron bars, for birds.
Plenty of nobles travel with carrier pigeons, so hotels keep pigeon cages on hand. He must have fetched one. Fast, as always.
Gugu went into the cage without a fuss.
Once Gugu settled down, Popo calmed quickly too and curled up on his special cushion.
Gurgle—
Water poured from the tap into the tub.
I was alone in the bathroom. I’d told the attendants I’d bathe by myself.
The bathroom was as lavish as you’d expect from a top-tier suite. The bathtub was far bigger than a queen-sized bed, made of gold and gleaming. Floral-scented bubbles rose in soft mounds.
My head felt a little hazy—maybe because I’d just seen Bambi’s pigeon.
The moment I saw Gugu, I must have hoped—without realizing it—that Bambi was here. The only one who was truly on my side before I returned. My person.
…First, bathe. Think later.
I put my hands on the knot of my bathrobe.
“Are you going to take that off?”
“Mm, I should if I’m getting into the tub.”
“Will you be alright, Sofi? I don’t mind.”
Alright or not—wait. I’m alone in the bathroom. Then who’s talking to me?
Goosebumps ran down my back. I swear I heard a squeak in my throat.
Stay calm, Sophia. Calm.
I slowly turned, and there—perched on the decorative piece opposite the tub—sat a man.
Jet-black hair. Red eyes. Skin white as snow. Clothes black from head to toe, wrapping his whole body.
He was sitting on top of the solid-gold statue of Polyo, god of springs and streams, grinning as if mocking the deity.
That man was—
“Bambi!”
