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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 75
Chapter Title: A Street-Side Date
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✵ ✵ ✵
…That thought vanished the next morning, erased by the butler's nagging.
“You must practice your daaaancing, you know?”
Ugh! Practice! Study! Lessons! I hate those words more than anything.
When the butler found out I'd received a whopping three invitations yesterday, he didn't look up to me, respect me, and let me rest comfortably… far from it!
Instead, he began burning with a new passion, insisting that I now had to uphold the virtues of a true socialite.
As I shuddered, Eric, who was sitting across from me at the breakfast table, stared at me.
It was as if he were saying, ‘Isn't there a solution?’
I ground my teeth and glared at him.
So there was only one way to avoid dance practice.
I forced the twitching corners of my mouth into the best smile I could manage and said to the butler.
“Butler. Today, my darling and I have plans to go see a moving picture. So please! Let me go!”
The butler looked at Eric.
“A moving picture? But our Young Master doesn't care for such things…”
Eric nodded at the butler.
“I asked her to go on a date with me.”
A date.
*‘Let’s hang out together.’*
I remembered Eric from last night, smiling bashfully at me over and over.
So he knew that ‘hanging out’ meant going on a date…? Ah, seriously…
This is so strange!
“……If that's the case. But you are aware that the Duke returns tomorrow, are you not? You must come home early today.”
…Huh?
The butler clicked his tongue as if he had no choice.
I looked at Eric in a panic. He nodded, as if he already knew.
✵ ✵ ✵
“You knew? That the Duke was coming?”
I began walking the streets of the capital for the first time in a long while. It was because Eric had suggested we get off about a block from the department store and walk.
He said it would be crowded in front of the theater.
“…A message came yesterday. He's likely coming to attend the princess's birthday party. It means that starting tomorrow, we'll have to deal with my father.”
“He'll be itching to tear me apart again.”
I replied glumly. No wonder he'd asked me to hang out… It meant he was fattening up his warhorse before tomorrow's battle.
*‘Damn it.’*
Eric took my hand and looped it through his arm.
“Just have fun today. I said let's hang out, didn't I?”
Then he smiled brightly, as if he were genuinely excited to be out.
*‘What a strange man.’*
When he's still, he's like a jaguar, but when he smiles, he's like a goofy puppy.
*‘I can’t keep my wits about me, honestly.’*
To clear my head, I took a deep breath in and out. Then I breathed in and out again, planted a hand on my hip, and looked at Eric.
“…?”
“So, shall we eat ferociously today?”
“Eat what? I said let's hang out.”
“Hanging out means eating. You didn't know?”
I took a coin from my pocket and whistled.
At once, children scattered throughout the capital's streets looked at me. They were all children who had been driven from their homes.
A boy selling crackers. A girl selling bread. A boy selling candy.
I gave them a wide grin.
“Everyone, gather 'round! I'm buying everything!”
Eric, watching my triumphant smile, let out a soft chuckle.
✵ ✵ ✵
While I was buying up a mountain of food from the young vendors, Eric, who had managed to pick up a single apple, wiped its surface on his trousers several times, still looking at me dubiously.
I was already looking back at him, my mouth smeared with some kind of cream.
“What? Don't tell me you're about to say one shouldn't eat food from the street.”
“That's right. That's exactly what I was about to say.”
Eric looked disapprovingly at the young vendors who had swarmed us to take the coins I was handing out.
Towering over me, he looked like a giant among the small children.
Moreover, he seemed unaccustomed to dealing with children.
He would flinch and pull back if one of them so much as brushed against him, as if he thought they would shatter like porcelain. And then he'd say…
“You have to be careful. You'll fall.”
*‘Look at him. He’s the one who looks most likely to fall…?’*
I grabbed the arm of Eric, who was stumbling through the crowd of children and on the verge of falling. His large frame leaned against me as he caught his breath.
“…We should get out of here quickly.”
“Mmm, this cream is delicious. Give me a strawberry one, too.”
“Are you listening to me?”
“Can't help it. Give me a melon one as well.”
Seeing me with bread not only in both hands but also tucked under each arm, Eric shook his head.
“You're going to eat all of that yourself?”
“Of course. I have a big appetite.”
I might be a bit scrawny, but that was because I didn't eat well during my growth spurt. And while I wasn't big on meat or rice, I loved sweets, so I was confident I could polish off several plates of dessert.
“I guarantee it. In a little while, you'll be asking to throw it all away.”
Despite saying that, Eric took the strawberry and melon cream puffs a young boy offered. Then he took my hand and swiftly navigated us through the crowd of vendors.
When we were finally alone, Eric looked at me, my mouth covered in cream, and asked.
“Have you eaten a lot of street food like this?”
“The opposite.”
I mumbled, mid-chew. Horrified, Eric offered a handkerchief from his pocket.
*‘What, does he want me to cover my mouth while I eat?’*
I completely ignored his handkerchief and continued.
“I've sold a lot of street food like this. When I was twelve? When I was living on the streets, and also when I was kicked out of Viscount Wedgwood's house with nothing but the clothes on my back. I was a bit older then, so…”
It was more embarrassing.
I swallowed the rest of my words and chewed on my bread.
“Ugh, back then, if I didn't bring back the daily quota, the witch wouldn't even give me dinner.”
*‘If you can’t meet the quota, shouldn’t you at least pickpocket someone?’*
Whenever the witch nagged me, I would get so frustrated I'd scream back at her.
*‘You think it’s that easy?! I almost met the quota today, anyway. And how am I supposed to pick a pocket! Am I a professional pickpocket or something?!’*
Then, the witch would always say to me with that terrifying face of hers.
*‘According to old folklore, the heart of a red-haired maiden is…’*
I shuddered, recalling the witch's curly black hair.
According to the chatter of the witch's minions, she didn't just sell strange potions; she also sold human organs.
They said she once took a person's legs as payment for a potion when they lost their voice.
Ugh!
*‘She’s someone I must never meet again…’*
Remembering my time in the witch's clutches, I completely lost my appetite. I found myself just staring at the bread in my hand.
Eric furrowed his brow.
“A quota?”
“Yes. Something like, ‘earn this much in one day.’ If you couldn't make a profit by selling, you had to make up the difference by pickpocketing or begging.”
Eric stopped in his tracks.
He looked at me with a strange expression.
“Why do you talk about these things so casually?”
“Should I be crying my eyes out, then?”
I don't really feel like crying…?
I mean, it would have been nice if I could have lived like our Young Master, sitting quietly at home being waited on by tutors, butlers, and maids, but 90 percent of the commoners on this continent don't live like that, do they?
And as I always say,
*‘What I truly despise isn't being poor…’*
I could probably stand another thirty years trapped under the witch's thumb, but if I were told to go back to Lord Violode's side…
The sharp memory of his words.
*‘You can never survive on your own without me!’*
…I might not be able to last even three seconds.
“I told you before. You're too numb to pain. That makes me…”
Eric scratched his chin.
Makes you what?
I looked up at Eric.
No, more importantly—
*‘You’re too numb to your own pain. Anyone who caused you that kind of pain must be a real bastard… so… so…’*
*‘I’ll have to kill them.’*
Did you remember?
What you said when you were drunk? Then do you… remember what you said after that, too?
I glanced at Eric, who seemed lost in thought.
“About what you said when you were drunk that time…”
I was about to cautiously bring up the topic of that night. Eric had randomly asked me to hang out today, and the atmosphere was just ambiguous enough that it seemed like the perfect time to ask.
Why he told me to covet him.
What he meant by that.
But before I could continue, Eric snapped his fingers at the young vendors behind us.
“You lot, what's your quota for today? I'll cover it. All of you, go home.”
“…?”
My face stiffened.
*‘Uh, oh, if he does it like this…!’*
Before Eric could even finish his sentence, the young vendors were already charging toward us like a herd of young rhinos.
“Really?”
“Is that true, sir?”
“Mine's ten gold!”
“Mine is fifteen gold…!”
They began to surround Eric, their faces splitting into wicked grins. I pinched Eric's arm hard.
“…That's not how you do it!”
I glared at the young vendors.
“Hey, who was the one who said thirty gold! Don't you lie!”
Ah, seriously, our Young Master, always trying to show compassion with money?
