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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: First Date (5)
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His voice, soft and diffused, was calm. His profile, gazing at the river, was equally so.
But the words uttered by lips sculpted as if from stone were far from peaceful.
“It’s because I, at seven years old, was the first to find my deceased mother. Everyone thought I went mad from the shock.”
Deeper stories lay woven between the sparse words, but he had no intention of elaborating on them.
Demian brought up his reluctant past, however vaguely, solely out of consideration for Aracilla, who must have been frustrated by her lack of understanding.
“Of course, I wasn’t truly mad. It was merely a situation engineered by people who wished me to be that way.”
A son driven mad by the shock of witnessing his dead mother. What better condition could there be to push someone into the abyss?
“I was confined to an annex, subjected to abuse disguised as treatment. If I resisted, they would forcibly hold me down, lock me in a closet, or bind my hands and feet with cloth.”
The ones who spearheaded this were the current Duchess and her maids.
Until Demian grew strong enough to overcome those forces, he, as a child, was subjected to repeated violence. The sensation of those rough hands gripping his small body was still vivid.
“The aversion I felt then to another’s touch still remains with me.”
Demian knew. He knew that no one could treat him roughly as they did when he was a child. He had grown strong enough that countless assassins couldn’t even graze him.
So, the fear had vanished, but the aversion had not.
“Perhaps that’s why I came to reject the touch of people who approached me with goodwill, or even out of affection.”
Innocent touches, however, were accompanied by revulsion.
Meanwhile, the number of people, regardless of gender, who would unilaterally and unreservedly try to touch an attractive person increased.
Thanks to this, far from being suppressed, his trauma made him react sensitively to even minor contact.
Later, he even came to dislike shaking hands. This was because many people would intentionally hold on and not let go, prolonging the contact.
“This is why I avoid physical contact. It might seem trivial, to the point of being anticlimactic…”
“I don’t think it’s trivial at all.”
Aracilla’s voice gently cut in.
Demian, who had inadvertently turned to look at her, paused when his gaze met her face, which was fixed directly on him.
“I’m sorry, Demian. I had no idea you had such circumstances. I just thought it was something like mysophobia. I was too thoughtless.”
Aracilla straightened her posture, placed a hand over her chest, and bowed her head respectfully. Indeed, at times like this, she truly seemed like a noblewoman from a prestigious family.
Demian recalled the exceedingly harmonious atmosphere of the Hugo Marquisate and lightly shrugged his shoulders.
How could a woman raised in such a household imagine such a heavy story?
“It would be a bigger problem if you already knew about my circumstances. That would mean the rumors had spread.”
“Then the Ducal Family doesn’t know either?”
Demian gave a short nod. It was a weakness and something he considered shameful, so it was natural. He also didn’t want to see the Duchess gloating about having left scars on him.
Aracilla’s face turned serious. She spoke again, earnestly.
“Is it okay for you to tell me such a thing?”
“Didn’t you ask me to tell you, earlier?”
“Still, such secrets should only be shared with trustworthy people.”
Aracilla gazed at Demian for a moment, then asked,
“Do you perhaps trust me now?”
“No.”
“What was that?”
*Why did you tell me then?*
Demian chuckled at her muttered thought, which was clearly visible on her face, and replied,
“Didn’t my wife say she trusts me? I merely returned that trust.”
“What did you say…?”
Aracilla’s face grew even more serious.
“Oh no, I don’t trust knights. That was something I said only in reference to my husband.”
“It’s fine. I also spoke as your husband, not as a knight.”
“Ah.”
Aracilla, who had secretly worried that she might have tricked him, visibly relaxed. She had felt uneasy, as if she had tried to trick him into an admission, but thankfully it wasn’t the case.
Demian watched her relief for a moment, then straightened his posture.
“However, as my wife said, I cannot live like this forever. I will practice and try to overcome it. It may take a long time, but please wait for me.”
This time, he assumed a respectful posture and bowed his head, making a request. In any case, as she said, they were in the same boat.
A minimum of trust and effort.
They needed such things between them. Only then would the density of their loosely tied bond increase, even slightly.
Aracilla, who had been looking down, lost in thought, suddenly spoke.
“Non-forced physical contact seems alright.”
It wasn’t as if she had never touched Demian at all.
Recalling when she slipped on the stairs, he had readily placed his hand on her body to save her.
It was an unconscious touch, physical contact that carried no coercion.
“Something where you initiate it, not someone else, and you do it when you want to, not when you’re forced. Couldn’t we start practicing with that kind of physical contact, little by little?”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
When Demian readily agreed, Aracilla smiled, pleased. She lightly tapped below her collarbone.
“I’m ready anytime, so practice when you feel comfortable.”
Demian paused at her words. He had said he would practice, but he hadn’t considered a specific practice partner.
“…Do I have to do it with my wife?”
“Demian, are you truly that dense? Of course, this kind of thing should be done between a married couple.”
Aracilla, having found another opportunity to tease him, beamed with delight. Her smile instantly dispelled the encroaching evening shadows on her shoulders.
“Or who were you planning to practice with? The butler, perhaps?”
“…I will do it with my wife.”
“Why? Who were you thinking of? Were you going to try physical contact with the knights of the Red Hawk Knights, one by one?”
*There are so many knights in the Red Hawk Knights, that could be a good method too.*
As Aracilla muttered to herself and nodded, Demian sighed deeply and replied,
“I wasn’t thinking of anyone. It wasn’t a remark I made after such detailed consideration.”
“Really?”
“Yes, even if I were to think about it later…”
His golden eyes, the clearest lights in the night scenery, gazed at Aracilla.
“It would still be my wife.”
“…”
“Because, as my wife said, we are a married couple.”
The two of them felt, just a little, the power that the name ‘married couple’ held. It was a word that bound together people who had lived entirely different lives.
That was what being a married couple was.
The two descended below the bridge and walked along the riverside. Since they had failed to conclude their date at the social club, they decided to end it with a stroll along the river.
The Nelly River was bustling with people even in the evening. There were commoners and nobles, men and women, adults and children, without distinction.
Walking side by side among them, the two conversed softly.
“I think it would be good to have at least one meal together every day from now on.”
“Is there a reason?”
“That way, we’ll naturally learn more about each other, and incidents like the Rosalyn situation won’t happen again.”
After their marriage, their excessive focus on their respective duties and their distance from each other had sparked discord within the mansion.
It seemed best to follow Aracilla’s advice, if only to dispel suspicions about their relationship that had leaked from within.
Demian, who had been looking up at the sky where stars had already appeared, suddenly spoke as if something had just occurred to him.
“Isaac was truly right, then.”
“…?”
Aracilla, naturally unaware of what had passed between superior and subordinate, looked puzzled.
“What did Sir Wind say?”
“He said that when a woman tells you to get lost, you shouldn’t actually get lost.”
“Hmm.”
She showed a somewhat ambiguous reaction, then quickly shook her head.
“Demian, that’s wrong.”
When she widened her eyes, her rabbit-like expression shifted to that of a cat.
“When I tell you to get lost, you should really get lost.”
“…”
“And then come back after some time. Otherwise, I might not be able to control my anger and use magic.”
Aracilla smiled sweetly. Considering her performance in the Southern Monster Subjugation, her magic offensive power was top-tier.
While Demian, a Sword Master, was no less skilled, he realized it would be best to avoid conflict to prevent a catastrophe.
In that sense, Demian’s timing of appearance at the social club was very appropriate. He appeared just as Aracilla’s anger had shifted to a third party.
“But it was good that you apologized again today. If you had waited longer, there would surely have been more things to upset each other in the meantime.”
Demian did not deny her words. The atmosphere was good now, but he didn’t know how it might change even by tomorrow.
So, if he was going to do it, it was better to do it now.
“Oh, it’s a rain of petals.”
The tree branches swayed in the night breeze, and flower petals fell like rain. Aracilla reached out her hand, trying to catch one.
As a small, soft pink petal landed in her palm, warmth intertwined with her opposite hand.
She froze for a moment, then her eyes, wide like a rabbit’s, looked up at Demian.
“My hand…”
“Didn’t you say you were ready anytime?”
He had taken Aracilla’s hand without warning, and a mischievous smile played on his lips.
It had been a very long time since he had held someone’s hand like this, but it wasn’t as repulsive or unpleasant as he had expected.
*Indeed, doing it now was the right choice.*
“Why is your reaction like that?”
“…”
“Was it a lie, my wife?”
Aracilla let out a slightly exasperated breath, looking at her husband’s relaxed smile.
She almost squeezed his hand in retaliation but thought better of it. She didn’t want Demian to give up on physical contact.
“Of course not. You can hold my hand like this anytime in the future.”
“Understood. It’s not bad now that I’ve tried it. I’ll make a special point of holding your hand whenever my wife wishes.”
“Do you perhaps not know words like ‘humility’ or ‘modesty’? I’m wondering if it’s really okay to get so conceited right away.”
“My wife doesn’t know them either, do you?”
Demian, who had instantly silenced Aracilla, laughed. It was a charming yet insufferable smile that perfectly suited the spring night scenery.
“I can be like that, but you can’t, Demian.”
“Why not?”
“So only you get annoyed.”
“That’s truly absurd.”
The two of them continued their playful bickering for a long time, their voices echoing around the Nelly River.
It was an utterly ordinary Saturday evening, marking the end of a not-so-bad first date.
The next morning, Monday’s newspaper featured a detailed article about the Vandermir couple’s romantic date.
It reported that the busy couple, after finishing their respective schedules, had tightly clasped hands while admiring the Nelly River’s night view.
For a while, it was sweet enough to withstand any immediate attempts to disparage their relationship, but it wasn’t entirely so.
This was due to an unwelcome guest who had arrived at the Vandermir Mansion.
