CHAPTER 01…………….
— I was admiring the angle of my fiancé’s bangs.
Sir Roland Evans, the gentleman who embodies the ideal of refinement and charm throughout the royal capital, had once again perfected his small, gentle smile this morning.
It was almost unfair how good he was at it.
Unfair—but forgivable.
No, more than that—I wanted him to do it more.
“Iris, your gaze is… um, a little intense.”
“My apologies. Your bangs look adorable today.”
“A-ad… adorable…?”
His ears flushed faintly red. Yes—this was the second conjugation of “adorable.”
In public, we were known as the ideal couple: a beautiful man and woman with perfect posture, flawless smiles, and impeccable timing in conversation.
But inside, we were made of research and experimentation.
“Today’s agenda is the introduction of the ‘Fiancé Date Review Sheet.’”
“Agenda…?”
In the morning salon, I sat by the window and drew a stack of papers from my bag.
The Date Review Sheet—a hand-drawn chart—listed several items:
Walking pace: Fast / Moderate / Slow
Conversation temperature: Cold / Neutral / Warm / Hot
Tea sweetness: None / Light / Normal / Sweet
Sunlit time secured: ___ minutes
Comfort meter: 0% – 100%
Self-declaration of cuteness: ( ) Adorable
“…Is that last column really necessary?”
“It is. I suspect self-awareness of one’s own cuteness correlates with overall happiness.”
“Self-declaration, huh… that takes courage.”
Sir Roland gently adjusted his bangs.
Even that gesture was adorable. I added a small circle to my ‘Cuteness Observation Notes’.
“I dislike uncertainty. So I measure what I can. I like experiments.”
“Yes. You’re a researcher. And I…”
His signature smile wavered ever so slightly—
proof that this ideal gentleman wasn’t made only of ideals.
Something in my chest warmed softly.
“I want to know your temperature, Iris. I’ll help measure whatever you like.”
“Thank you. Then first, let’s establish the baseline for walking pace—”
Just then, the butler knocked on the door.
“Pardon me, the Alliance Company’s envoy is at the front gate regarding this morning’s inspection.”
“Let’s go. It’ll serve as a field test for the review sheet.”
“Field… test?”
Roland blinked rapidly. Adorable.
I jotted down ‘Cuteness: Twice before departure’ on the sheet.
Once outside, we both donned our ideal masks.
Two shadows stretched over the cobblestone street as the royal capital filled with the scents of herbs and bread.
A young merchant hurriedly held down his hat.
“Sir Evans, Lady Lavenda—thank you for coming today—”
“Thank you for inviting us. Let’s get straight to the point. It’s about the new herb transport crates, correct?”
Roland’s tone shifted into his official voice, naturally switching from his private “boku” to the formal “watashi.”
(I knew he used boku in private, but watashi in public. His ability to switch effortlessly was another of his strengths.)
I reviewed the documents beside him. The issue concerned essential oils in the wood reacting with the herbs’ aroma, potentially altering their scent. The solution lay in a new inner lining—
“Iris—ah, no, Lady Lavenda. Your opinion?”
“The interior should be lined with hemp paper, or cloth coated with beeswax. It allows for precise adjustment of breathability. Cost-effectiveness should also be favorable.”
The young merchant’s eyes lit up. Roland nodded slightly and gestured to his secretary to take notes.
Without breaking our ideal public composure, we carried on our private dialogue beneath the surface.
“Our strides… are they matching?” he murmured softly.
“Yes. Perfectly. Rating: ‘Moderate.’”
“How about ‘Slow’?”
I smiled faintly and brushed my fingertips across the back of his hand—so subtly no one could see.
“Adding a new item: ‘Heartbeat rate during hand-back touch.’”
“You add things fast.”
“It’s my policy never to let a variable escape.”
His throat moved with a small gulp.
In my heart, I whispered “adorable” three times.
When the morning inspection ended, we took a shortcut through the royal garden.
Sunlight danced on the leaves; gravel whispered underfoot.
Spotting a sunny bench, I tugged lightly at Roland’s sleeve.
“Shall we sit here? I’d like to log some sunlit time.”
“Yes. I want to share the sunlight with you.”
We sat side by side.
To the world, the ideal couple.
To ourselves, merely two people aligning their breaths.
“…Iris.”
“Yes?”
“Because you often laugh in front of me, I think I’m no longer afraid of being called adorable.”
“You were afraid?”
“A little. I… well…”
He hesitated and lowered his gaze.
Sunlight filtered through his lashes, turning them into threads of gold dust.
“I want to look good. Especially if I’m beside you.
But sometimes, keeping myself ‘beautiful’ feels… hollow.”
I shook my head.
“Sir Roland. You care about appearances not just to show others—but to like yourself, don’t you?
And I love that about you.”
“…Iris.”
This time, his smile wasn’t just unfair—it was beyond unfair.
I circled ‘Conversation temperature: Warm’ on the sheet.
Then, after a brief hesitation, I pointed to the last column.
“Your self-declaration, please.”
“Right now…?”
“Yes. Right now.”
Roland shrugged slightly, pressed his bangs down with one hand, and gazed seriously at the paper.
Then, a bit embarrassed but without running away, he took the pen.
( ) Adorable → ( A little adorable )
“That’s modest.”
“Because the highest score… I want you to be the one to write it someday.”
A faint ache bloomed in my chest—immediately melting into warmth.
The fact that I chose this person filled the air with the scent of sunlight.
“Now then, next measurement: tea sweetness.”
“Here? In the garden?”
“Yes. Experiments should be done while they’re hot.”
I took out a small sugar jar and placed a paper packet into his palm.
He smiled, snapped the sugar in two. Crack.
A bird took off into the sky.
The sweetness was shared evenly between us—
and maybe, that was just the right amount.
