Chapter 9
On the way home, the evening light melted into the cobblestones of the street.
I took out the observation sheet and wrote down today’s summary.
Cuteness Observation Value: High
Self-reported as “Quite Cute”: First time
Side Effects: Increased presentation success rate; my heart rate ↑ (benign)
“It was a good day, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. Your words—‘I can trust you’—have been glowing in my chest all day.”
“You are, in fact, trustworthy. …Um, Lord Roland.”
“Hmm?”
“I’ll continue administering ‘You’re cute’ tomorrow as well. No side effects, I hope?”
“My ears turn red.”
“Benign.”
We both laughed.
When we returned to the garden, the hairpin I’d fixed in place that morning was still dutifully holding its post.
I gently removed it and placed it on my palm.
“I’ll keep today’s pin. As a record of our joint effort.”
“In your research cabinet?”
“Yes. As a memory that can be used in daily life.”
Lord Roland’s eyes softened, their color gently swaying.
As the sunlight turned to dusk, we walked side by side back to the antechamber.
Before the vanity mirror,
I took out a small hand mirror and traced the star along its rim with my finger.
The phrase ‘You’re cute’ protects him—and also seems like a kind of magic that carries my own uncertainties into the sunlight.
(But I don’t want to rely too much on magic. I’ll measure as much as I can. And for what can’t be measured, I’ll stay beside him, and choose again.)
When I closed the observation sheet, Lord Roland leaned over to peek.
“What’s the next observation?”
“A coping method for ‘diligent worker, sometimes overdoes it.’”
“So you’ve already decided I’ll overdo it?”
“It’s preventive observation. I’ll prepare a hairpin for overexertion and some honey-lemon water with reduced sweetness.”
“You’re adorable, you know.”
“That’s a fact.”
His disarming smile spilled out.
The gentle sweetness of the sunlight filled the room.
(To be continued)
