Episode 24. Under the Table
Surprisingly, however, Adel—unlike her usual self—had her eyes wide open, looking back and forth between the two men.
It didn't seem like she was startled by Gray's teasing the way Doran was. She simply looked troubled, as if worried they might actually start fighting right there in the middle.
What is this? It's hilarious. Who do you think is stuck in the middle here? Me.
Even more challengingly, Adel seemed to judge that she needed to lighten the mood somehow.
"Young Master, why block someone's mouth... with meat?"
She even subtly dropped her fork to the floor.
"Oh? My fork fell. What now?"
Accompanied by some truly wooden acting.
Wow....
At this point, Doran couldn't help but seriously question what he was even doing there.
If Gray had a natural talent for pretending to be oblivious, Adel wasn't pretending—she was just genuinely oblivious.
In the world... Adel was the type with zero awareness in situations like this. She was just good at her job.
Perhaps embarrassed by Doran's blatant stare, Adel cleared her throat with a hem-hem and reached for the bell. She probably planned to request a new fork.
But out of nowhere, Gray's hand shot out and enveloped hers. He neatly returned her captured hand to its original position.
"No need to call. Adel."
What trick was this now?
Doran eyed Gray observantly. Of course, Adel looked puzzled too.
"Why?"
"Wait."
Gray abruptly turned his body, his upper half disappearing under the table. In that instant, both Doran and Adel's mouths gaped open simultaneously.
Is he crazy? Picking it up himself?
Gray easily spotted the fallen fork under the table and picked it up right away.
And then he lifted his gaze to what he truly wanted—not the fork, but that.
The real reason he'd stuck his head under this dim table.
Adel's legs, neatly together, perfectly flush against the chair and floor.
Of course, he wasn't trying to see her actual legs. They were naturally hidden inside that drab dress today as well.
Yet Gray felt like he could see them anyway. Ridiculously so. As if that pale, smooth expanse was perfectly visible.
Lately, he'd been unconsciously recalling them often without meaning to.
To be honest, it had only been occasional at first, but recently it wasn't even occasional anymore. They popped into his mind constantly. The shape and texture of those bare legs stretched neatly under her skirt.
As Gray narrowed his eyes, tracing their outline in his mind, something wondrous happened moments later. Suddenly, the drab skirt vanished as if it had never been there, leaving only her legs clearly visible.
The revealed legs were still long and straight. But rather than the pale glow from before, they were shadowed by the table, giving them a pallid hue. And that was fine in its own way.
Thus, fully aware of his inability to tear his eyes from Adel's legs—no, her skirt—Gray let out a smirk.
Is this normal? I feel like such an idiot for this....
They said guys with dicks thought about stuff like this every day, some even more than once every half day. He wondered how anyone lived like that.
What was it called again?
Gray examined Adel's skirt more closely. Yet seeing the real thing—even partially obscured by fabric—felt a bit better than mere imagination. Vague parts faded from memory came back to life, expanding anew.
Like the instep stretching straight up from her round shoes.
Or the prominent kneecaps, fully exposed due to her lack of flesh.
Or the plump curve bending just below her undergarments, slipping inside.
Come to think of it, Adel had pulled two large needles out of those undergarments with her hand....
Recalling that scene made the legs before his eyes sharpen even more. Her slender-boned hand joined the vision anew.
Soon, that small hand recreated the exact scene Gray had witnessed that day.
The vanished skirt re-covered Adel's legs, and her hand descended to the floor, loosely grasping the hem and lifting it.
From the modest heel of her low shoes, it brushed her pink ankle bone, slowly tracing up the side of her slim calf.
Beneath the rising skirt hem alongside her hand, those legs he'd recalled so often revealed themselves bit by bit once more, as if for the first time.
Yet they seemed different. Like a shy seductress coyly unveiling a hidden face, these gradually emerging legs differed from the ones that had invaded his daily life at will.
Not just pretty legs, but ones with a power to teasingly tug at the nerves at the back of his head.
Like the tree of knowledge of good and evil, scattering seeds of wicked wishes: 'If that hand were mine...' or 'If my hand overlapped hers, moving together...'
Trying to sprout temptations in the peaceful garden of his mind.
Arrogant and impudent, just like their owner.
Now her slender fingers slowly grazed the side of her knee, bent at a sharper angle than the chair itself.
They traversed horizontally along the pale outer thigh. Heading toward the curved hips pressed against the chair back.
Thus, those teasing, mischievous legs fully revealed themselves. As if blatantly displaying for their secret observer.
Gray's eyes narrowed. Unconsciously, he anticipated the fingers' next movement, whatever came after.
And in that moment, he felt a foreign current.
Suddenly surging between his lower belly and thighs, it was hot and far from pleasant.
Like impudent seeds burrowing warmly into the depths of his gut, into secret flesh.
An intense ache spread through his lower belly and thighs. An itch and thrill beyond words.
What the hell.
Gray finally tore his eyes from Adel's legs—no, her skirt. Before the memory he summoned could reveal the anticipated next scene, he pulled himself out from under the table.
As he slowly raised his upper body, fortunately the fork was in his hand. Gray met the eyes of the two staring at him. Both looked dazed.
"What? First time seeing someone pick up a fork?"
Gray's voice was as calm as ever. He also knew that not much actual time had passed while he'd been retrieving the fork.
He'd learned this fact by repeatedly, unintentionally recalling Adel's legs during meals, walks, or his father's nagging. Those rude imaginings invading his mind constantly felt far longer than real time.
Gratefully so.
Adel extended her hand to him as if entranced, and Gray casually wiped the fork with a napkin before handing it over.
"Thank you."
"If you're thankful, eat more."
"Ah... yes."
Adel nodded in bewilderment and speared a piece of her diced steak with the fork.
Gray watched her quietly, then crossed his hidden legs under the table. He could feel that unpleasant shiver spreading everywhere, even tenting his pants.
Gray slowly speared a piece of his own steak and put it in his mouth.
It was fine. He was confident he could remain composed even if the world ended. This was nothing.
Whether he'd finally gone into heat over a woman's body like any normal guy.
Whether that woman happened to be his most valued aide.
As long as he didn't show it, no one would know.
Gray had no intention of exposing such a private secret and complicating his prosperous, stable future. He could just ignore base urges like this.
Gray smiled faintly.
All in all, the tablecloth made for a not-bad meal.
***
A few days later.
Adel had spent the entire day waiting by a stream at the edge of a quiet neighborhood. She'd even postponed Gray's work in her urgency.
After an indeterminable wait, the awaited carriage appeared along the path she'd been guarding. Adel, who had been sitting hidden by a rock, sprang up.
She dashed out and planted herself squarely in the middle of the bridge. The approaching carriage had no choice but to stop right before her.
"Whoa, whoa."
The coachman, seemingly unfazed by such situations, wasn't startled. Adel immediately asked the man calming the horses.
"Alone?"
"Yes. Just me."
Getting the answer she wanted, she strode to the carriage without hesitation, opened the door, and climbed in.
"Well, Adel. Still as fierce as ever."
Inside the cozy carriage, the lone man didn't flinch at Adel's entrance either. He even smiled.
The carriage smoothly resumed its journey as if nothing had happened.
"Where were you headed?"
When Adel asked, the man replied lightly.
"Where else does a palace clerk go in the middle of a weekday? To work."
To Carlo Palace.
Adel nodded. The carriage ride from this man's estate to the palace took about thirty minutes. Ample time to ask her questions.
"Noel."
"Yeah. Go ahead, ask."
The man naturally accepted that Adel had come for information. Every time she sought him out, she always grilled him on this and that. His Summer did.
The man's name was Noel Bistain.
He was the only son and heir of Gordon Bistain, the palace Chief Secretary.
