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odyssean-flower · 1 month ago

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The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 17 - Summer: In the Moonlight

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: Your sister's birthday ball begins, but a surprise guest arrives...

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Have a picture of Neuvillette with this little baby

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The first drops of precipitation landed on Neuvillette’s face. It took him a second to register it before he looked up at the grey skies.

“Aah...” he let out a sigh. While the rain and damp air soothed his mind, it also brought a heaviness to his mind. I should try to restrain myself for today. A birthday party should be a cheerful occasion, with sunny weather and clear skies.

Besides, he didn’t want to disappoint you more than he already did.

The trials had proceeded faster than he expected, though it was now late afternoon. They were mostly over petty offences and disputes. Even the Oratrice seemed to issue its verdicts a little quicker than usual, as though it was also impatient to get the day over with.

And now he was back at the Palais, standing in a corner outside the doors. He absentmindedly watched the people rushing about, looking for shelter from the rain.

He closed his eyes and tried to calm his mind, imagining the flat surface of the sea. It seemed to work somewhat, but the sky remained leaden.

Throughout the centuries of his existence, Neuvillette had learned a few methods to settle his emotions after a trial. One of them was to distract himself with work, which was why he returned to his office even though he technically had the rest of the day to himself. He could have also returned home, but with Marie visiting family and you away for the whole day, the thought of going back to an empty, silent house seemed almost unbearable.

Yet another oddity that he noticed within himself recently. He usually relished quiet and solitude.

Shaking his head slightly, he entered the Palais and greeted Sedene before heading into his office, where he was met with a surprise but very welcome guest.

“Monsieur Neuvillette!” Sigewinne, the head nurse of Meropide, waved her hand merrily at him from the couch. Feeling his mind lighten considerably at the mere sight of her, he strode over to her quickly. There was a tray of tea and cakes in front of her.

“Sigewinne, what a pleasant surprise. I did not know that you had a day off today.”

“Hee hee, I wanted to keep it a surprise!” she bounced over to him with two small boxes. “The Duke also sends his greetings, as well as two boxes of tea.”

“How generous of him. Give him my thanks when you return,” Neuvillette accepted the boxes and studied them. He recognized them as black tea leaves from a high-end brand. He could smell the fragrance of the tea leaves even through the packaging.

“The Duke says he’s giving you two so that you’ll have more to share with Madame. Oh, actually, he said ‘your friend.’ Don’t worry, Monsieur Neuvillette, I didn’t breathe a word about who Madame is to you. I doubt he knows anything.”

Neuvillette raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t pursue it any further. I suppose it’s alright if it’s Wriothesley, he thought. He is not the type of person to engage in idle gossip.

“He also says that he hopes Madame will like it, and that if she doesn’t, then feel free to ask him for another variety from his collection,” Sigewinne added.

“I do think she would enjoy it,” Neuvillette assured her, though he wondered about it. He didn’t believe he saw you drinking tea very much, except during the meeting with Furina. He did, however, remember seeing you drink Fonta on numerous occasions (it appears his endeavours to introduce you to the many varieties of water hadn’t yet borne fruit). Perhaps you preferred sweeter beverages. He tried to recall the pantry back home. Do we have enough sugar cubes or milk?

“Monsieur Neuvillette?” his musings were interrupted by Sigewinne’s voice. She was gazing up at him in confusion, her face tilted slightly.

Neuvillette shook his head, clearing it. “Pardon me, I was lost in my thoughts.” he said, then followed her to the couch, where they engaged in their usual conversation, which inevitably ended in her listening to his water commentary.

“Oh, by the way, Monsieur Neuvillette I really am looking forward to the sunflower viewing party in a few weeks. I can’t wait to finally meet Madame!” Sigewinne said after he finished talking about the properties of water from Mondstadt’s Cider Lake. “She sounds wonderful from what you’ve said of her. Did she come and watch your trials today? Has she already gone home? I don’t see her with you...”

“No...no, actually, she is currently attending her sister’s birthday party back home.”

“Oh, I see...” Sigewinne peered at his face, then glanced out the window. The rain seemed to have stopped completely, but there was no sign of the sun either. She suddenly turned back to peer into his face. “You must miss her.”

“Miss her? No, of course not. She will only be away until tomorrow,” Neuvillette said, almost automatically. But it was the truth. Besides, it was not as though he saw you every second of every day. In fact, it was rather common for him to only see you in the morning and at night. It should not be any different for this time, except for the fact that you would not be at home to greet him when he returned, or bid him good night or good morning...

Before I knew it, I’ve come to expect these things...

“Oh dear,” Sigewinne remarked as thunder rumbled. “Monsieur Neuvillette, how about we take a stroll through the streets? I’ve been wanting to check out the new beauty products on sale anyways.”

“Yes, let us do so,” Neuvillette agreed, then stood up. Guilt welled up within him. He didn’t feel himself lately, and he was letting it affect his emotional state far too much. He was even making Sigewinne worried about him.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his mind. “While we’re out, allow me to introduce you to a new drink called an ice cream soda. Madame introduced it to me yesterday. The flavor is quite intriguing. I do think you’ll like it.”

“Ooh, if you’re saying that, then I have to try it!” Sigewinne clapped her hands together excitedly.

A short time later, the two of them walked out of the ice cream shop with their drinks in hand, leaving behind astonished employees and gawking patrons. They sat down at a table in the back. Thankfully, the surrounding tables were empty due to the bad weather.

“This is good,” Sigewinne commented after she took a sip. “I especially love the fizzy soda bubbles. I’m going to tell the others about this later. ...Monsieur Neuvillette, what’s wrong? Your brow is furrowed. Do you not like yours?”

“No, that’s not it...” Neuvillette murmured, staring at his soda. How peculiar. He was sure he had ordered the same flavor you had bought for him. It tasted the same as well. He could tell that objectively, nothing had changed. But what was this sense of wrongness. Is it the soda, perhaps? Did the shop change the variety they used today? Should I inquire about it?

Neuvillette glanced at the shop entrance, which now had a line of people stretching out of it, and decided against it. The staff should not waste their precious time on his trivial question.

He turned back to Sigewinne, who was watching him closely. “There is nothing wrong with my drink, exactly. It is just that it doesn’t quite taste the same as it had yesterday, even though it is the same drink.”

“That is strange...” Sigewinne tilted her small head to the side, as if in thought. “It’s unlikely they would change the recipe in just a day, right? Maybe Madame asked them to add a little something extra. You should ask her.”

“Perhaps I shall,” Neuvillette nodded, then took another sip of his soda. It wasn’t just his imagination--it really did taste different. It had been so hot yesterday. Perhaps that affected things.

All he knew was that the sweetness of the ice cream soda you bought him lingered in his mouth for the whole day.

“What I mean is, Monsieur Neuvillette, you should go and ask Madame now.”

Neuvillette blinked. “Now?” he repeated.

Sigewinne nodded vigorously. “Uh-huh. We both know that you can reach the other side of Fontaine in just a few minutes, and Sedene told me before that you don’t have anything important scheduled for the rest of the day.”

“That’s true, but...I cannot simply show up at her family’s home unexpectedly for such a trivial reason. It will only draw unnecessary attention, and it is already so terribly late in the day...”

He found himself making excuses one after the other. They sounded empty to his ears, even though there was sound reason behind them.

He was no stranger to the clash between emotion and logic--it was something he struggled with all too often. This was no exception. He didn’t understand why that brief look of disappointment had flashed across your face when you asked him if he would like to accompany you to the birthday party. Surely you knew that it was better for you two to not be seen together too much. He did not understand why you had asked him in the first place, nor why the first thing on the tip of his tongue was to say “Yes,” nor why your subsequent justification for his sake had stung him.

If he went to you right now, would he find the answers to those questions?

“Monsieur Neuvillette...” Sigewinne crossed her arms. “It seems to me like you’re making excuses for yourself. If I invited you to my party, I would be happy that you showed up no matter how late. But if you’re worried about it, then...” she rummaged through her bag and took out a small vial. “Here! Give this to Madame’s sister.”

Neuvillette took the vial and examined the label. “A skin serum?”

“I made it myself! Skincare is all the rage among young ladies of the Court these days. Tell her that it’s from me. Everyone loves receiving gifts on their birthday, after all, so maybe this will help soften the blow of your lateness.”

“I’m still not sure if I should take leave for such an inconsequential matter,” Neuvillette hesitated, even as his mind was calculating the time it would take to go from the Court to your hometown near the mountains in the northeast. I do think I’ll be able to get there before dark. “What if an emergency comes up?”

“The Gardes can handle anything,” Sigewinne assured him. “And I don’t think it’s inconsequential at all! You were invited as a guest. I’m sure your presence there will make everyone very happy, including Madame.”

“If you say so, Sigewinne, then I suppose I could stop by for a little bit and give your present,” Neuvillette was already standing up. “I do apologize that I can’t spend more time with you today.”

“Don’t worry! We’ll see each other again at the sunflower viewing party at your house,” Sigewinne smiled at him. “I can’t wait to meet Madame.”

“I feel the same way. She would be delighted to meet you as well,” he said, and meant every word of it.

After saying his goodbyes, he quickly strode away, back to the Palais. I have to write a note of absence for Furina first, and then collect some things. What sort of water would be appropriate for a birthday party, I wonder...

“Monsieur Neuvillette is already very cute, but he’s gotten even more adorable lately,” Sigewinne murmured to herself as she observed the sun breaking through the dense clouds at last.

It was well into the evening now, and the ball was in full swing.

For an event planned on such short notice, you had to admit it turned out quite well. The large assembly-hall, with its floor-to-ceiling windows and glittering chandelier, was festooned with colorful flowers and garlands. There was even a small orchestra playing music, which relieved you of piano duty. The bulk of it was thanks to Dominic’s generosity, though you suspected that it was much out of a desire to throw a ball as it was due to his affection for your sister.

The guests dressed in accordance to the instructions on their invitations--everywhere you looked, you saw flowers in buttonholes, pinned to chests, and tucked under hair ribbons.

You, as well, was wearing a Pluie Lotus in your hair, which was tied up in a bun. You were wearing the old ballgown you had worn previous months ago, as the dress you had brought with you originally was more suited for a tea party than a ball. Justine had been quite incensed. “The next time I see him, I’m definitely going to tell him to buy you a closet full of gowns,” she declared.

The birthday girl was, of course, the center of attention. Right now, she was dancing with Dominic, her blithe laughter reaching the veranda where you were resting. The bottom of her skirts occasionally lifted off the floor, showing off her new shoes. You had given her your present before heading out to the assembly-hall, and she had wrapped you in a tight embrace and showered you with a profusion of thank-yous.

She and Dominic appeared to have grown even closer in the months since you last saw them together. He seemed to hold a genuine affection for her. It wouldn’t shock you if they ended up engaged to each other by the end of the year. That was certainly what your mother was hoping for. Though, from what you gathered from her conversations with her friends, there was some opposition from Dominic’s relatives, who looked down on your family’s small fortune and lack of connections.

Hmm, come to think of it, did she mean for me to overhear that part?

You were mostly busy with helping your mother coordinate the servants and helping with the guests (despite the fact that this was supposed to be a celebration for you as well), but you had already danced your fair share with two of Dominic’s friends, who quickly became popular with the young ladies in attendance. It wasn’t hard to see why--they were handsome and amiable. Even you thought that if you had met them a few years ago, you probably would have fallen in love with them by the end of the night.

You weren’t wild for dancing like Justine and her friends, but it was nice to enjoy it for once without having the ever-present burden of searching for potential husbands on your mind.

Surprisingly, you were enjoying yourself. The refreshments were tasty, the atmosphere was relaxing, and the company, which consisted mainly of your few relatives, family friends, and your sister’s many friends and their families, was similarly pleasant. Most people here were under the impression that you moved to the city in order to take part in the social season. Now, if only your best friend Anne were here, it would all be just perfect...

You leaned against the banister and tilted your head back, gazing up at the bright moon. You were enjoying yourself, yes, but being around family friends and neighbors always had an odd way of tiring you out faster than climbing the hills near the town or trekking all the way to the ruins.

I wonder what’s he doing right now...

The thought was accompanied by a twinge of guilt. In Fontaine, dancing was considered a social activity much like going to the theater. There was nothing inherently romantic about it, and this was a ball, after all--it was to be expected. Besides, it was the perfect chance for networking. In your future line of work, forming connections was everything. And...why does it feel like I’m justifying cheating?

You shook your head to clear it. Really, the only incriminating thing here was that you were at a ball without Neuvillette’s knowledge, and even that was debatable. And I am planning on telling him about all of this after I come home.

As a part of her harebrained scheme to “make Monsieur Neuvillette jealous,” Justine took pictures of you when you danced. You told her that there was no way that a mature and levelheaded man like him would get jealous over the horrible transgression of you dancing at a ball held by your own family, but she dismissed your objections. “My romance intuition is saying otherwise,” she said, and that was that. She, like your mother, was also a voracious reader of romance novels. “Once I get them developed, I’ll send them to him.”

Honestly, you had no idea what went on in that girl’s mind sometimes. You made a mental note to apologize to Neuvillette in advance once you returned.

“Aah...” you let out a yawn, feeling strangely tired. It felt like centuries since you participated in a function with so many people. Having to talk to so many people and smile and remember what you talked about with them last time...it felt uncanny and surreal to do those things. It was like putting on an old sweater after a long period of time but finding that it didn’t fit quite right. At least they lost interest after you mostly gave them vague, noncommittal answers.

It’s like one of those old tales where the protagonist returns home after spending half the year in fairyland and finds herself unable to cope with her mundane life.

As soon as that thought flitted across your mind, you laughed at yourself. What a ridiculous comparison!You had simply grown too accustomed to living in Neuvillette’s quiet house and only going out when you felt like it.

To everyone here, you were still the plain and taciturn baron’s daughter, and you had no desire to change that impression. There was comfort in being who everyone thought you were and not straying from it. But there was a small part of you that wondered just what would happen if you told everyone that you were the Iudex’s wife. You were almost tempted, just to see their reactions. The keyword was “almost.”

You had never carried a secret like this before. It was nerve-wracking, thrilling, and also lonely. It felt like there was yet another bubble separating you from everyone else--protective, yes, but also tempting to exult in the excitement of popping it before having to deal with the consequences.

One of your favorite novel series as a child had been about an unassuming young lady who moonlighted as a brilliant detective. You had often wondered why she let herself almost get caught in nearly every installment--well now, you felt that you understood a little.

Maybe this is why masquerade balls are so popular these days? Maybe I could suggest to Justine about holding one for her next birthday. Hmm, I wonder if she’d be married by then...

You glanced over at the ballroom, where Justine and Dominic were laughing together. He seemed like a good-hearted young man who clearly had a lot of affection for your sister. As a choice of husband, he was quite adequate. Judging from the conversations you overheard, most of the guests agreed with you on that.

“My dear niece, here you are!” a harried-looking woman rushed towards you with three young children in tow. It was your aunt Cecile and her triplets. She was your mother’s younger sister. “I must go to the ladies’ room for a bit. Please watch over the children for me!”

“Sure,” you nodded, and she immediately left. You had a feeling she was going to be in the ladies’ room for a while.

You looked at the six-year-old triplets, who looked back at you with big, rounded eyes. They were two boys and one girl, and could be quite a handful. Their father was currently abroad on a business trip, so you pitied your aunt all the more.

“Cousin, when’s supper?” the oldest boy, Albert, asked you, tugging on the hem of his vest.

“Very soon,” you assured him. Honestly, you were wondering the same thing.

Albert frowned, and his siblings let out grumbles. To prevent something truly disastrous from happening, you took out three chocolate bonbons from your pocket. “Here you go,” you dropped the candies into their palms. Their eyes lit up, and they quickly stuffed the sweets into their mouths. You had been saving them for yourself, but this was a worthy sacrifice.

“I like your socks, Adrien,” you nodded at the ankles of the second-oldest boy. His blue socks clashed horribly with his suit, which meant that he probably threw a tantrum to keep them all. “Are those blue wavy things snakes?”

“Nope, this is the Hydro Dragon!” he wiggled his feet. “Auntie knitted them for me.”

“I see,” you said. He was referring to your mother, whose skill in needlework was renowned in town. Knitting was her specialty, and it was something you could never quite the hang of, despite many attempts. “You’re still interested in the Hydro Dragon?”

“Uh-huh. Could you show us your drawings again later? I really like the one with the giant fangs and horns.”

“Alright, but only if you promise not to rip them out of my sketchbook this time.”

“The Hydro Dragon’s a boring old crybaby. I’d much rather meet an Oceanid. They’re so much prettier, and they don’t make it rain every time they cry. It’s raining every day now and I hardly have the chance to play outside,” the youngest girl, Aimee, declared.

“It has been raining a lot lately,” you agreed, but thought of Neuvillette again. He evidently had power over rain, even if he wouldn’t admit it to you—why wouldn’t he stop it? “But don’t you think calling it a ‘boring old crybaby’ will hurt its feelings and make it cry even more?”

Aimee gasped upon hearing that and quickly looked up at the sky. There were clouds drifting across the moon. Would it rain tonight? One could never be quite sure these days.

Just as you ushered the children back in, the bell for supper rang. Finally!

The banquet hall was set up self-served buffet-style. The menu consisted of roast chicken, lamb ribs, salad, and Justine’s favorite desserts—ice jellies and cupcakes. The triple-layered cake was, of course, the centerpiece. You had to restrain the triplets from running over to it.

Best of all, there was champagne. You sorely needed a drink.

Aunt Cecile eventually returned, and as it turned out, you were sharing a table with her, the triplets, and one of Dominic’s friends whose name you didn’t know, for you hadn’t been introduced to him yet. He gave one look at the triplets and heaved an annoyed sigh and plopped down in his chair. Well, they can’t all be winners, you thought.

For the next hour of supper, you busied yourself with helping Aunt Cecile feed the triplets, pouring tea, and going around the tables asking after everyone. The supper was delicious, and the cake, as expected, was very popular and quickly finished. Luckily, you had saved two slices beforehand for Neuvillette and Marie.

Dominic’s friend didn’t say a word to any of you as he ate his food. You had heard him quietly scoff at the old but well-polished cutlery and china. His sour mood was so palpable that even the triplets, who had no shyness when it came to talking to strangers, visibly shrunk away from him. Honestly, why was he even here?

In any case, after supper, there was more dancing. Slower dances this time, which means that it was time for you to head for the bench. I wish I brought a book...well, Mother will kill me if she saw me with one, though.

You stretched your arms and fingers, feeling sleepy. Truthfully, you really wanted to crawl into bed now, but there were still a few more hours to go until the ball ended.

As you were doing so, a conversation between Dominic and your disagreeable tablemate caught your ear.

“Gabriel, you should dance more. This is a ball, after all. I’m sure your mood will be much lifted if you danced with someone here. Everyone here is so cheerful and agreeable. Haven’t your parents been nagging you to find someone lately?” Dominic was talking to his friend, whose name was apparently Gabriel. Considering their vastly different personalities, you wondered just how their friendship started.

“I highly doubt I would be able to find a suitable match among this crowd. I think it would be better for me to take my leave. Inform the hosts for me.”

“Come on, just one more dance. You've only danced with Miss Justine so far, so...” Uh oh, you thought as Dominic looked around, inching backwards toward the piano. Unfortunately, you were too slow—his eyes alighted upon you, and he broke into a smile. “Ah, Miss [Name], just the person I wanted to see. Let me introduce you to a good friend of mine.”

You reluctantly went over to them. Dominic’s friend’s frown deepened as he recognized you. “Miss [Name], this sullen man next to me is my cousin and friend Gabriel. Gabriel, this is Miss Justine’s sister,” Dominic said.

“A pleasure,” you said, curtsying and trying your best to sound genuine. You had to keep up appearances for your sister’s sake.

“Mine as well,” Gabriel said, bowing. He scrutinized you. “You don’t resemble your sister very much,” he commented with a barely concealed sneer.

“So I’ve heard,” you said, keeping the smile on your face and looking straight into his eyes. Such insinuations had long stopped bothering you, and if some uppity snob thought that he could hurt your feelings so easily, then he had another thing coming.

“Now then, I think it would be delightful if the two of you got to know each other through dancing. I’d wager that you get along quite well. After all, both of you love reading thick, lengthy books. What do you say, Miss [Name]?” You didn’t know if Dominic was too good-natured to hear the insult in his friend’s words, or if he was trying to breeze past it.

Gabriel stared at you. You could tell what he was thinking. He wanted you to decline. So he’s enough of a gentleman in that aspect, huh, you mused.

“I’d be delighted to dance. It does make for some good exercise after that wonderful meal,” you smiled at Dominic. Gabriel made a sound in his throat, but his feelings hardly mattered to you.

He led you to the dance floor, holding your hand between his fingers like he was holding a dirty rag. You would be more offended if you didn’t find it so amusing. Maybe you were a little lightheaded from the champagne. No wonder he’s having trouble finding a wife, if he can’t even perform the most basic of courtesies, you thought, holding back a smile.

Of course, considering how you were in a similar situation not too long ago (and technically, still in), perhaps you shouldn’t be quick to mock him. Still, I would like to think that my etiquette is far better than his.

The dance began. Much to your annoyance, he was quite a good dancer, though lacking passion. Neither of you said a word as you spun around to the music. It was supposed to be his responsibility to start the conversation anyway.

“...So, you like books?” he said after five minutes of complete silence.

“Yes,” you said simply. As far as you were concerned, he could do all the work here.

“What’s your favorite book? Let me guess, for a lady like you, it’d be some lowbrow romance like The Lochknight’s Passion, right?”

He wasn’t even pretending to be gentlemanly anymore. Once again, you wondered how someone as warm-hearted and friendly as Dominic became friends with someone like him, even if they were cousins. Honestly, you didn’t even like The Lochknight’s Passion all that much, but you suddenly felt a fervent need to defend it.

“I beg your pardon, but I don’t see what’s so lowbrow about The Lochknight’s Passion. It may not be the most profound piece of literature in the world, but its prose is beautiful, and the author has clearly done extensive research into the era.”

Gabriel snorted. “You don’t read a lot, do you? It might have some decent, crowd-pleasing lines here and there for a romance, but it is still nothing but saccharine nonsense.”

Your partner, taking your silence for abashment, continued. “Romance novels are a waste of paper and ink. They are nothing more than formulaic drivel penned to satisfy the masses’ base desires and lower the collective intellect. True literature challenges, reveals, and exposes. Romance novels do nothing but coddle. It appears that Fontaine is far behind Sumeru in this aspect.”

For someone who professed to despise romance novels so much, he sure did have a lot to say about them. You, of course, didn’t voice that thought.

“Sumeru?” you repeated.

“Indeed. As a Dastur of Haravatat--the school of semiotics and linguistics, if you don’t know--I have the good fortune of being exposed to so many truly sublime works of literature and being a part of an institution that actively promotes them to the populace. I pity Fontainians in that aspect.”

“So, what kind of books do you like?”

“Philosophical treatises, poetry collections, historical texts. I am rather fond of The Fall of the Faded Castle, I suppose.”

You frowned. The Fall of the Faded Castle was one of your favorite works as well, and you also enjoyed reading history books. But the last thing you wanted to do right now was to agree with him.

You and Gabriel eventually neared the doors. He was still talking. Well, more like monologuing. All you did was nod and say “uh-huh.” Archons, this dance felt like it was going on forever. If only Anne were here. She loves ridiculous things...

Peals of laughter caught your ear. It came in the direction of your sister, who was sitting on a couch and surrounded by her friends. She had her legs stretched in front of her as she admired her shoes again.

Gabriel had turned his head towards her as well. His eyes narrowed in disapproval. “Who gave those shoes to her? I know it wasn’t Dominic. Surely they aren’t from another gentleman caller?”

“They’re from a family friend,” you lied smoothly. It was technically the truth, anyways.

Gabriel gave you a probing look. You calmly looked back at him.

“If you say so. But, I would suggest that your sister make it clear in the future if she is entertaining more than one gentleman caller. It would be terrible if a misunderstanding were to occur. It’s so easy for frivolous, flighty girls like her to ruin their reputations.”

He didn’t sound as though he thought it would be terrible at all. Was he one of the relatives who opposed the potential engagement?

But more than that, he had insulted your sister. Okay, I don’t care about being polite anymore. He’s going down!

Just then, the doors opened slightly, and the doorman slipped through with a look of barely concealed alarm on his face. He briskly strode towards your parents, whispering something urgently to them. Identical expressions of shock appeared on their faces.

A few moments later, your parents headed your way with the doorman. “My sincerest apologies, Mr. Gabriel,” your father said. “But I’m afraid that I must ask you to relinquish my daughter for a few moments.”

Gabriel sniffed contemptuously, but obliged. You hastily curtsied to him, feeling a sense of foreboding in your chest.

As you went to the door with your father and the doorman, your mother joined up with you, Justine in tow. She also looked confused.

Once you were in the lobby, the doorman led your family to a small sitting room. “He’s waiting in here,” he informed you, then quickly took his leave.

Oh no, oh no, oh no...

You should have known the moment you saw the doorman’s face.

“Neuvillette!” you blurted out without thinking. “What are you doing here?”

“Sweetheart, mind your tone,” your mother scolded, but it was automatic and half-hearted. She was also gaping at the tall figure standing by the mantelpiece, like the rest of your family.

He turned to face you. He was holding a package in his arms. When his gaze landed on you, his eyes seemed to widen slightly. Maybe it was just a trick of the light.

“Good evening, everyone,” he inclined his head. Your family, having gotten over their shock, hastily bowed and curtsied. “I do apologize for my unannounced late visit. I went to your residence first, but your housekeeper informed me of the change of plans, and it took me some time to find the assembly-hall. I am here to deliver a birthday present on behalf of a friend of mine to Miss Justine.”

He proceeded to take out a small vial with a bow tied around it and presented it to your sister. Justine didn’t look at it--she was still staring at his face, her expression a mixture of disbelief and elation. She was trembling slightly. You had almost forgotten about her huge, unbridled admiration for him. Where has that bravado from earlier gone?

“This is a handmade skin serum from my friend, Sigewinne,” he informed her when she didn’t say anything for a few moments. “She also wishes you a most joyous and wonderful birthday.”

Justine still didn’t react. Fearing that she was having an internal freakout, you nudged her gently. That seemed to shake her out of it. She held out her trembling hands and accepted the vial, which she clasped to her chest.

“Oh...oh, oh, thank you so very much, Monsieur Neuvillette! And to Miss Sigewinne as well! What a wonderful, thoughtful gift. I love skincare items,” she babbled quickly. “I will treasure this gift for the rest of my life. A-And, I do apologize for the abrupt change in plans. Had I known that you were coming, I would have never held this ball in the first place.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. It is all due to my own capriciousness for coming here despite stating otherwise.”

“It’s no matter. We can adapt. First, we’ll announce your visit to everyone. They would all be delighted by your presence,” your mother clapped her hands cheerfully. No doubt, she was thinking of all the ways she could lord this over her friends for the next few years.

“I’m afraid that I will not be staying for long. I only meant to give Miss Justine the present and take my leave after.”

“You’re leaving already? But you just got here,” Justine exclaimed. “We would love to have you stay.”

“Neuvillette has had a busy day already, and I’m sure he’ll be very busy tomorrow. Besides, you know he doesn’t attend social functions like this very often,” you reminded her, even as your mind reeled. You couldn’t quite believe that Neuvillette travelled all the way here just to drop off a present.

There had to be something else going on. It was better to get it over with now rather than later. Waiting in dread was the worst feeling in the world.

Neuvillette, sensing your gaze, turned to you. You observed him carefully. You could sense something like reservation, an unspoken thought, dwelling in the depths of his eyes.

It was in that moment that you knew. He was here for you.

The thought gave rise to a strange, ticklish feeling in your chest.

You turned to your family. “Could you all please give us some privacy?”

Justine pouted, but your father was already leading her to the door. “Come now, dear, leave your sister and her husband alone.”

She begrudgingly followed him, but then ran back to you. “Ask him to stay! He’ll listen if you ask him to,” she whispered into your ear before getting dragged off by your parents.

As soon as the door closed, you quickly led Neuvillette to the corner furthest away from it. You knew your sister well enough to expect that she would be attempting to eavesdrop.

“So, what is it? Did something happen?” you peered up at him, trying to read his expression.

“What do you mean?” his brow furrowed.

“You came here personally to tell me something, didn’t you? It must be serious if it couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

“It is nothing of the sort. I genuinely did want to give your sister Sigewinne’s present.”

“You could have simply sent it by mail. Justine wouldn’t have cared if it was late. She’d treasure anything you give her.”

“I could not do that,” Neuvillette said in protest. “A birthday present should be given in person, especially if it is for someone as important as your sister.”

It was just like him to say something like that.

“But that isn’t the only reason why you came here, right? You want to tell me something, don’t you?” you looked him in the eye. “Come on, tell me. Or it will torment me all night until I return to the city tomorrow.”

“...I can never hide anything from you, can I?” he murmured after a pause, then cleared his throat. “I had a rather trivial question that I wished to ask you, but seeing as how there had been an abrupt change of plans this evening, I deemed that it would be more suitable to ask it at a later time.”

Neuvillette took another pause after saying that. He seemed to be trying to find the right words. You waited patiently.

When he spoke again, his question caught you completely off guard. “Were you...disappointed when I initially declined the invitation to your sister’s birthday celebration?”

“I beg your pardon?” You couldn’t quite understand his words at first.

He repeated the question, then added, “I apologize for involving you in my own personal quandaries. It has been bothering me for some time. I understand if you do not wish to answer my question.”

Quandary? This is a quandary for him? Just when you thought you understood Neuvillette a little, he did or say something that made you realize you didn’t really know him at all.

Still, he seemed as serious about this as he was about everything else. You had meet him on that level, at least.

You strained your mind, recalling that day in your bedroom. It felt like an eternity had passed since then, even though it was only a few days (you still weren’t sure if you should tell your family about the meeting with Furina. In all honesty, it wasn’t something you wanted to revisit).

“I suppose I was a little. I don’t really know why I even asked in the first place, and I should have checked your schedule beforehand. I’m sorry if I gave you mixed signals. Well, considering that the private tea party was changed last minute to a ball, I think it was for the best.”

The furrow between Neuvillette’s brows deepened. It appeared that he wasn’t quite satisfied with your answer. His violet eyes bore into yours, searching their depths. You suddenly had the feeling that you were on trial, being compelled to tell the truth.

“I...I also thought it would be nice to show you around my hometown,” you admitted in a smaller voice. “Since you showed me your favorite places, I thought I might show you mine.”

Neuvillette was silent for a few moments. A rush of embarrassment flooded your chest, and you looked down awkwardly at the carpet.

“I see, so that’s why.” Something in how he said those words made you look up. His head was turned away slightly, and his hand was lifted to his mouth. Without knowing why, your heart beat a little faster. He turned to look at you again. “Then it is truly a shame that I came too late. Perhaps another time, then?”

“Sure,” you nodded quickly, even as you wondered when--or if--that time would ever come. “Um, is that all?”

“No, there is something else I wish to ask you,” Neuvillette clasped his hands together, a grave look on his face. You braced yourself for yet another quandary.

“Do you enjoy tea?”

“What?”

“I am asking this because I was recently given two boxes of black tea from a friend of mine, but I do not know if it is the sort you like, or if you like tea at all.”

He’s just full of surprises, isn’t he?

“I like tea well enough,” you answered. It was a staple at your household, like most Fontainian families. You preferred drinking chocolate or Fonta far more, though you didn’t say that out loud. “I especially prefer it with sugar cubes and biscuits.”

“Sugar cubes and biscuits...” Neuvillette repeated, as though making a mental note to himself. “I shall ask Marie to buy those items at once.”

“I’m looking forward to trying the tea, then,” you said. “So, um, does that mean you’ll be returning now?”

“Yes, I suppose I am,” he nodded.

“But it’s such a late hour to be making that journey all the way home...”

“I can manage. Do not worry about me, Madame, and focus on enjoying your evening.”

Neuvillette probably commanded his own personal vessel, but it had rained recently and the winds over the sea could get cold. The round trip between here and the city took hours. If he had rushed here right after the trials were over, then did he even have the time to eat dinner?

All those thoughts flooded through your mind at that moment.

And besides...imagining him going home alone in the dark...seems so terribly lonely.

Ask him to stay, Justine’s whisper returned to you. You tried in vain to push it aside.

Neuvillette’s face was impassive. He was watching you expectantly, as though he was waiting for you to say something. Or as though he wanted you to say something. Maybe you were just projecting your own desires onto him.

But did that mean you wanted him to stay?

You weren’t sure. There were a hundred reasons why that would be a bad idea. A hundred different scenarios where things could go wrong. And yet, and yet...

A bag on the table caught your eye. You opened it and found that it contained two bottles of pure, refreshing water.

“Oh, did you bring that for us?” The bottles had no labels on them, but months of listening to his water lectures had familiarized you with his collection. “This is pure water distilled from mountain snow melt, right?”

“Yes, it is. I know it is not the most suitable beverage for a ball,” he said quickly. He seemed almost embarrassed. “I only chose it on the assumption that I will be attending a tea party. If I had known earlier, I would have chosen heated water from Natlan, or the rich waters of Fontaine’s waterfalls.”

“Pfft!” you smothered a laugh. He seemed so genuinely apologetic that it was clear that he had been fretting over this quite a bit. I really don’t understand what goes on in his mind at all, you thought, a rush of warmth flooding your chest. You suddenly had the urge to pat his head.

“Madame?” Neuvillette’s eyes widened. I know I don’t smile very often, but does he really have to react like that?

“It’s nothing,” you said, trying to keep a straight face, and cleared your throat. “Actually, Neuvillette, your water would be a great boon to us, even if it is unsuitable for a ball. The only beverages available are champagne and this homemade punch made by my mother’s friend that tastes like grass. There wasn’t even any Fonta.”

“How dreadful,” he remarked. You couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or not.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. “Neuvillette, do you have any plans for the rest of the night? Do you need to go to work early tomorrow?”

“I do not,” Neuvillette shook his head. He still seemed to be waiting. Or maybe he genuinely was oblivious as to what you were about to ask.

“I see, then...” you took in a breath, feeling strangely nervous even though this should be the most natural, obvious thing in the world. “Then you should attend the ball. My sister...no, everyone, including me, would love to have you there.”

Neuvillette was silent. Did he need more convincing? Should you be doing more convincing? He was probably confused by you asking this in the first place, knowing how secret your relationship must remain. There was nothing logical about this. It was the complete opposite of that.

But you once made a promise to be honest to yourself and live your life accordingly. You weren’t sure you were fulfilling that promise correctly, but you had a strange feeling that this was part of it.

The logical, rational, proper thing to do would be to agree with him and send him back to your house to rest for the night.

But I’m a little sick of always being logical, rational, and proper. And I think...Neuvillette might just feel the same way.

After all, he could have taken his leave right after you answered his questions.

“Neuvillette, first, I want you to know that you’re free to leave at any time. We’ll just say you have important Iudex business to attend to. Who can question that? You can go to my house, where our housekeeper, Mrs. Bernard, will take good care of you. We have a detached guesthouse as well, so there’s no need to worry about privacy. No, wait, you should wait here so that you can ride our carriage home after the ball ends. But you are staying the night. There is no question about that. If you’re worried about people talking to the media about your presence here, then I wholeheartedly support you making everyone sign confidentiality agreements. But I do think you should dance at least once with my sister. She...admires you greatly, and it would make her whole year, maybe even decade, if she had the opportunity to dance with you. And, um, if you want, you can tell everyone about the water you brought. No one here has ever drank mountain snow melt water before. We get all our water from the wells. ” You were aware that you were rambling. That seemed to happen with an irregularly common frequency with Neuvillette. “Umm...oh, and it would be good for you to mingle with your people and all that. Lady Furina would approve, I’m sure. And--”

“Yes, I shall attend the ball,” Neuvillette uncharacteristically interrupted you. You could hear the mirth in his voice. “You’ve made some very convincing arguments, Madame, but you need only have said that you wanted me here. I am merely thankful that you don’t find my presence here distressing.”

“That would never happen,” you said, aghast, and found that you did mean it. Perhaps if it were anyone else, you would have been highly annoyed. But it was simply too difficult to be angry at Neuvillette. “Actually, I should thank you for showing up. I was in a foul mood not too long ago because of my dance partner. ...Oh, I’ll tell you about him later. And, um, I should apologize for...um, dancing with other men behind your back.”

“Why should you apologize for dancing at a ball? It is not your fault that the ball was already planned without your knowledge.”

“Yes, but still, I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings. I removed my ring as well, after all,” you said, staring awkwardly at the painting frame behind him, even as you thought, See, Justine, this is how a mature man behaves!

“Then I shall do the same,” he said. You watched as he took off his right glove, revealing long, slender fingers, the silver ring glinting on his ring finger. For some reason, you felt you had to look away.

“I am worried that I’m not dressed appropriately for the occasion,” Neuvillette mused after he tucked his ring in his breast pocket and put his glove back on, looking down at his robes. More like he’s overdressed. But that reminded of you something.

Spying a vase of fresh flowers in the room, you headed toward it and took out a Rainbow Rose.

“Neuvillette, let me help you put this in your lapel’s buttonhole,” you gestured for him to bend down, which he did, and carefully threaded the flower’s stem through the buttonhole.

“Ah, yes, the dress code on the invitation. I had forgotten about that,” he murmured. His breath brushed against your ear, and you suppressed a shiver.

He straightened, and then his eyes flicked to your hair. “A Pluie Lotus,” he said. Lifting his arm, he reached out to brush his fingers against it. “You look beautiful tonight. I should apologize for not telling you that earlier.”

“I, I...” Archons, what were you supposed to say during times like this? “Thank you. You...you look beautiful too.”

“Thank you,” Neuvillette smiled softly, gazing down at you. His hand lingered on the back of your head. For a few moments, neither of you spoke as you stared at each other. The fireplace’s light cast dancing shadows on the planes of Neuvillette’s face. His lavender eyes and horns almost seemed to glow.

Perhaps you would have stayed like that for longer, if not for the rapid knocking on the door. The two of you blinked at the same time, his hand pulling away as though it was scalded. The spell--or whatever that was--broken.

“Now, let’s get back to my family, before my sister breaks down the door.”

When you and Neuvillette emerged from the sitting room, you found your family staring at you. Justine’s cheeks were puffing out, as though she was hiding a smile.

“What?” you frowned. Did they overhear everything?

Your family looked at each other. “Nothing,” they chorused.

In the end, it seemed that there was no need for anyone to sign confidentiality agreements or anything of the sort. For it appeared that most of the attendees had become terribly inebriated from a cask of wine that one of the guests brought with him in the time your family was absent from the ballroom. You doubted they would even remember whose ball they attended next morning.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), it seemed that Neuvillette’s surprising appearance had broken through the fog of alcohol somewhat. They stared at him as though a rare animal had trotted into the ballroom before peppering your parents with questions.

Neuvillette’s appearance at this humble countryside ball was given a simple explanation: your parents had sent him an invitation, and he accepted. That was all. It wasn’t as if there was any way to argue against it, because that was exactly what happened. They say that the best lies have the truth mixed in with them, after all.

The ball, which had been slowly winding down after supper, was reinvigorated. All the men were eager to introduce themselves to the Iudex, and all the women were desirous of having their own fairytale moment with him. The stampede to freshen up in the ladies’ room was a sight to behold.

The water that Neuvillette brought with him was very much appreciated, though you suspected that it was more because it was excellent for quenching thirst rather than its flavor profile. You also suspected everyone was simply too drunk to register his impromptu water commentary or too awed by his presence here in the first place to engage with it. But you couldn’t say anything when you saw Neuvillette look so elated at everyone coming up to him with cups and thanking him for his contribution.

There were a few guests who made snide comments, but a few “accidental” steps on the feet managed to silence them well enough.

Soon enough, everyone was clamoring for the dancing to resume. Of course, the first dance had to be with the belle of the ball.

Justine had foisted the role of photographer onto you. You stood at the edge of the room with the Kamera.

After spending an inordinate amount of time in the ladies’ room with her makeup bag and hairbrush, Justine looked more radiant than ever. She and Neuvillette standing across from each other under the chandelier was a sight that captured the eyes of everyone in the room.

The music began. The two spun around the dance floor, as smoothly as water. They seemed to flow with the notes of the violins and piano. Neuvillette was an excellent dancer, as one would expect. His elegant bearing and footwork, the way his coattails whipped around him as he turned (miraculously, he hadn’t stepped on them once), the chandelier light gilded his long hair, and the raptness of his expression, as though his partner was the only person in the room, were all complemented by the youthful, blushing beauty of your sister, made it difficult to look away from them. The room itself took on a mystical, hushed quality, as though this was a scene in a fairytale.

You told yourself to stop thinking and focus on finding the best angles and lighting.

There was a loud round of applause after the dance was over. The two bowed gracefully towards the audience. Justine looked as though she was about to faint on the spot.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Monsieur Neuvillette actually came here because he was attracted by Miss Justine’s beauty,” you heard one of your neighbors, Mrs. Girard, say to her friend nearby.

“Oh yes. Miss Justine is so lovely that I dare say she can capture the hearts of any man, even someone like Monsieur Neuvillette. Why shouldn’t she aim higher? Perhaps the baron will see one of his daughters married by the end of the year after all,” her friend commented. Luckily, Dominic wasn’t anywhere near them.

When they noticed you there, they didn’t apologize or even look embarrassed. Instead, they sidled closer.

“Miss [Name], what do you think? Miss Justine and Monsieur Neuvillette make a beautiful couple, don’t you think?” the woman in the pink dress said.

One thing about living in a small town where everyone knew each other was that most people had no reservations about talking about you right in front of your face.

“Oh...I don’t know...” you replied vaguely. “She’s still young... and they’re so different...”

“Certainly, I’m not saying that they should get married right away. But in a few years, who knows? I think a lively young lady like Miss Justine would be a good match for someone as serious and solemn as him. They do say opposites attract, after all.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” you said simply, wanting this conversation to be over.

“And it could be good for you as well, Miss [Name]! You would stand to benefit from the match and also find a suitable husband.”

“Mm,” you managed. I...did not expect this to happen.

“Wait, is he...coming over here!?” Mrs. Girard’s friend exclaimed, her hands flying up to her mouth.

You turned. Neuvillette was indeed walking in this direction. He was looking directly at you.

Panic inexplicably welled up within you. Maybe this is a mistake after all.

Neuvillette stopped a short distance before you. He extended his elbow. “Miss [Name], may I have this dance?”

You stared at him, your breath caught in your throat. Your first instinct was to decline. We can’t do this in front of everyone!

But that was ridiculous. Like Neuvillette said, this was a ball and dancing was to be expected. All the more so in this situation, since you were the sister of the lady he just danced with.

But dancing with him in public...it feels like we’re bringing everything out in the open.

Your old teacher’s words came back to you once more, brushing against your ears like a breeze. Be honest with yourself.

You looked at Neuvillette’s outstretched elbow, then raised your head to look into his eyes. The rest of his face was as composed as ever--but his eyes seemed to shine brightly, full of anticipation and--dare you believe it?--hope.

Before you knew it, you had slipped your arm through his elbow. “Yes,” you breathed.

“Sister, let me hold the Kamera,” Justine came out of nowhere and took the device from you.

He led you to the center of the room. The two of you turned to face each other, so close that you could almost feel the warmth of his chest. Wow, he’s really tall, you thought dumbly, as though you didn’t live with him and saw him everyday.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Justine chatting with the musicians. What was that girl up to?

“Madame, you seem stiff. Are you nervous?” Neuvillette murmured in a low voice that only you could hear.

“A little bit,” you admitted. Your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest. “I don’t know why, though. I’ve danced with other men tonight and I never felt this way with them.”

“That is odd,” he tilted his head to the side, his silver locks swaying as he did so. “I do not know if this advice will help, but you should try your best to block out the crowd and focus only on me.”

The music began. You startled at the familiar first notes. This piece was commonly played at weddings for the bride and groom’s first dance!

You thought about going to the musicians to get them to change the music, but the thought flew away from your mind when you felt Neuvillette wrap his arm around your waist, drawing you closer until your chests were a millimeter’s length from touching. You could rest your head on his shoulder, if you so wished. His other hand took yours, holding it as though it was made of glass. Reflexively, you put your free hand on his shoulder.

“I’m not familiar with the steps for this dance. I-I might step on your feet,” you blurted.

Neuvillette’s eyes softened. “Do not worry, Madame. Simply follow my lead.”

Dancing had never been something you were interested in. You worked hard to learn the steps not out of any passion or even liking for dancing, but only because it was expected of you. You had never understood what it meant to be “carried along by the music.”

But dancing with Neuvillette was very different. You were suddenly aware of everything--the press of his arm around your waist, the warmth of his body, the way his hair shone in the light, his intent gaze upon your face. Following his lead felt like the most natural thing in the world, as though the two of you were one.

How could you care about the crowd when he was right in front of you?

Time seemed to stop. The background noise melted away. Until it felt like it was only the two of you in the room.

You found yourself wishing that this moment would continue for just a second longer.

But your hopes were inevitably betrayed. The music came to an end. There was some applause. You didn’t hear anyone comment that the two of you would make a good match or that you looked perfect together or anything of the sort.

You snuck a peek at Neuvillette, wanting to see his reaction. If that dance inspired any emotions in him, it didn’t show on his face.

But that doesn’t matter. Because that moment only belongs to me, no matter how brief it was.

The rest of your time at the ball was comparatively uneventful. For some reason, everyone wanted you to introduce them to Neuvillette. Much to your annoyance, you witnessed many too-flirtatious smiles, lingering handshakes, and thrusting of bosoms, but they didn’t seem to have any effect on Neuvillette. He was probably used to it. Still, they should remember who they’re dealing with here!

You also found yourself with the task of taking pictures as they danced. At some point, you considered charging.

“Sister, you should really stop glaring at all the woman he dances with,” Justine whispered to you at one point. “It’s getting obvious.”

“I’m not glaring. I’m just watching, like everyone else,” you protested.

“If you say so,” she grinned and flounced away.

Neuvillette didn’t have it as easy. When he wasn’t dancing, he was engaged in conversation. To his credit, he never turned anyone away and treated everyone with his customary politeness. You worried that he was exhausting himself, but he assured you that he was fine when you quietly asked him about it (under the guise of asking after guests, of course).

“At least have some cake. I saved a slice for you,” you urged him. Left to his own devices, he would most likely have nothing but water for his meals. With Marie away today, you doubted he ate anything that could be called dinner.

He stared dubiously at the slice of cake offered to him. Then, he picked at it with his fork and brought a bite to his mouth. “This is delicious,” he said, eyes brightening.

“Mrs. Bernard is a wizard when it comes to baking,” you said proudly.

“The moistness of the cake is just right,” he said after taking another bite. You stifled a laugh.

As he ate, three small figures slowly approached him. It was the triplets. When Neuvillette turned to them, Aimee and Adrien yelped and hid behind Albert.

To a child, someone as tall as Neuvillette would be scary, you thought as you watched him go very still.

“Hey, come on, introduce yourselves to Monsieur Neuvillette,” you encouraged them to come closer. They remained where they were, staring up at him with wide eyes. You had to step in.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, these are my cousins, Albert, Aimee, and Adrien.”

“Um...greetings, children, I am the Iudex. It is a great pleasure to meet you,” Neuvillette lifted his hand and left it hanging in the air. Belatedly, he bent down to match their heights. He doesn’t interact with actual human children much, does he? You’d think that with the Melusines, he’d have more experience.

“Can I have your cake?” Adrien said.

“You’ve already had three during supper. You know you’re not supposed to have too much sweets before bedtime,” you reminded him. “What would the Hydro Dragon think? You’ll make him cry again, and he’s done enough of that already, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, you’re right...” the little boy said dejectedly.

Next to you, Neuvillette let out a small cough.

“Children, don’t bother Monsieur Neuvillette!” your aunt ran up to them and hurried them away amidst a chorus of protests.

“Remember to show us your Hydro Dragon sketches!” Adrien reminded you over his shoulder.

“Sorry about that,” you said to him after they left.

“It’s to be expected of children,” he replied. Then, after a beat, he asked, “Hydro Dragon sketches?”

“Oh, they’re talking about my old sketch books. I used to be really interested in dragons when I was little,” In fact, it was your amateurish sketches that led to your old teacher taking you on as a student.

“But not anymore?”

“No, I suppose I became more interested in drawing ancient ruins and knights at some point.”

“I see...” Neuvillette looked thoughtful. He turned to you. “May I--”

Before he could finish his sentence, more people came up to him. You sidled away to give him some space.

He gave you a look you couldn’t quite decipher before turning his attention to the newcomers.

I wonder what he was going to say, you thought.

The ball came to an end at around eleven. The guests left in very good spirits. Their consensus was that Neuvillette was a most welcome addition to the celebration, if somewhat overly formal and distant. Some of the young ladies worried that they had offended him in some way because of his lack of conversation when they were dancing, but you assured him that it was no fault on their part and that Neuvillette was simply that kind of person (of course, you said this out of earshot from him).

After seeing the guests off and overseeing cleanup, it was finally time for your family to return home.

Since the carriage couldn’t fit everyone, it was decided that your aunt and her sleepy children would be sent on ahead, while the rest of you would walk. It was a short distance from the assembly-hall and your house.

Neuvillette had insisted on walking with the rest of your family, and so your odd little party leisurely strolled along the moonlit country paths, passing by vast meadows and shadowed houses.

As you half-listened to your family chatting about the ball, you found yourself turning your head to the side to gaze at the mountains in the distance. The moonlight lent their silhouettes a mysterious allure that wasn’t present during the daytime. In the darkness, the meadow looked like a silent and motionless sea. The scent of the air after a fresh scent made you want to lie down in the grass and close your eyes.

Even though you saw this view a thousand times in your lifetime, you felt strangely excited right now despite your general tiredness. It feels like something is about to happen.

“Madame, you’ve stopped walking,” you were interrupted from your reverie by Neuvillette, who joined you when you remained behind. “I would suggest that you stay in the group. It’s not safe to be walk alone in the dark.”

“I know,” you said, reminded of the incident. “I’m just admiring the view.”

Neuvillette followed your gaze. His eyes seemed to glow faintly even in the dark. “Ah, yes. It truly is a magnificent view,” he murmured, his voice sounding as though it was coming from far off in the distance.

“The mountains look even more spectacular during the day,” you told him as the two of you resumed walking. “If you decide to take another day off, you should consider spending it here.”

“I certainly will,” Neuvillette said. Then, there was a pause, before he added, “I do not mean to pry or ruin your good mood, but I couldn’t help but notice from talking to your parents that you haven’t told them about the assault you suffered previously.”

“Yes...I haven’t found the right time to break it to them yet,” you admitted, looking down at your feet.

“Why not now?”

“Now?” You looked ahead, where your family was in lively conversation with each other. “I don’t know... maybe tomorrow will be better?”

“I do not see what difference it will make when you tell them. In my experience, it causes greater distress when you delay such things. Do not worry, Madame. I shall help you with the explanation, should you wish for it.”

“Yeah...you’re right. I should do it now.” You smiled at him. He stared at you for a moment, then turned his head forward. You felt something warm brush against the back of your hand and felt braver.

You sped up a little to catch up with your family. “Um, excuse me, everyone. But I have something important to tell you.”

Justine immediately turned around with a gasp, a wide smile on her face. “Wait, don’t tell me!” she exclaimed.

You gave her an odd look before recounting what happened to you on that night. Neuvillette occasionally supplemented your account, mainly on the judicial side of things, and assured your family that the culprit shall be on trial in the coming months or so.

By the time you finished talking, your family had stopped walking and were staring at you in stunned silence. It was to be expected, considering what they just heard.

Justine was the first to speak. “I thought you were going to say you were pregnant!” she cried.

“What!?” you shouted. You could feel Neuvillette stiffen next to you.

For the next ten minutes or so, you endured a terrible scolding from your parents and your sister’s wails and persistent questions about the details (she had been getting into crime novels recently). Neuvillette, bless his heart, tried to come to your rescue, but apparently even the Iudex of Fontaine was no match for your mother when she was furious.

After it finally ended, your parents thanked him profusely. “Oh, thank you, Monsieur Neuvillette, for saving our foolish daughter who I thought knew better than to stay out on the streets after dark!” your mother clung to his hand. “I must apologize for her again.”

“The only one who needs to apologize is the culprit,” Neuvillette told her as he gently loosened her grip. “I promise to do everything in my power to ensure he faces justice for his deeds.”

“That Moreau is lucky that I can’t get my hands on him right now!” your father waved his spindly arm.

“You will tell us the trial date, right?” Justine asked Neuvillette.

“You will be the first to know,” he told her.

Knowing that the incident was resolved for the time being and that all the crucial matters were in the best hands, your family breathed a sigh of relief.

The lights of your house appeared in the distance. You were almost home when your father suddenly stopped in front of the gate and turned to look at Neuvillette with a serious air about him.

“Monsieur Neuvillette. I want to apologize as well. To be quite honest, me and my wife were quite suspicious of you for a long time ever since you visited us all those months ago. Did you know that we thought at first that you were playing some sort of cruel joke on our daughter?”

He chuckled after saying that, even though you didn’t think it was something to laugh about.

“Oh, yes, that’s true,” your mother joined in. “You probably already know this, sir, but there are all sorts of horrors that a young lady without fortune or connections can encounter in this world. We know, of course, that you’re a righteous and principled man, but we don’t actually know you. I hope you understand what I mean.”

“And yet you still gave me away?” you pointed out.

“Well, it is Monsieur Neuvillette, after all. And you were going to be a governess! Can you believe that? A governess of all things? Being a spinster is far more preferable to such a miserable profession,” your mother directed that last part to Neuvillette. He did not look at you, thankfully. “She lost heart after some earlier disappointments, but that doesn’t mean--”

“Mother!” you snapped. “There’s no need to recount ancient history.”

Your mother looked like she wanted to argue, but your father patted her on the shoulder.

“To put it briefly, we didn’t know what to make of things until you sent us that wonderful letter. And then our daughter asked for our family sunflower seeds, and that put us at ease somewhat. Now that we saw for ourselves how much you treasure our daughter, we can finally be truly relieved. Thank you, sir. We are truly fortunate to have someone like you as a member of our family now.”

Letter? What letter? Neuvillette never told you about this.

“There is no need to thank me. I am only performing my duty as her husband. I’m also fortunate that I was able to meet all of you through her,” he said. “I do hope we can continue this acquaintance for a long time.”

“Of course!” They said in unison. Now it was your parents’ turn to look flustered. Oh no, they’re completely under his spell...

“My sister might seem cold and blunt on the outside, but she really does have a delicate heart,” Justine stepped forward, looking uncharacteristically serious. “If you hurt her in any way, I’ll never forgive you.”

Neuvillette looked around at your family, then his eyes landed on you. You half-expected him to start walking away. You certainly wanted to.

I’ve been living in a fantasy all this time...

Neuvillette bent down so that he was looking at Justine at eye level. “As I have promised before, I shall spare no effort to make your sister happy and to care for her.”

“And you must never cheat on her or take any mistresses,” Justine reminded him.

“Justine!” you shouted, feeling your cheeks warm.

“But of course. I have no interest in any other women except for her.” Neuvillette promised her solemnly.

He probably said something so extreme because of the pressure, you rationalized quickly.

Justine let out an embarrassed little giggle when he said that. Your parents laughed as well.

“Invite us to tea some time soon, okay?” they said to you. You forced a smile and nodded. Your chest felt heavy. I just want to fall into bed and sleep...

“Ahem, anyways, let’s get the sleeping arrangements sorted out,” you said a little too loudly, before marching up the steps to your house. You suddenly didn’t want to look at Neuvillette. At least he would be staying in the guesthouse and leaving early in the morning. A little time apart was what you needed right now.

However, you soon found your hopes dashed. Three things happened at once:

Your aunt and cousins were already staying in your room. “The guesthouse is, of course, the only suitable place for someone of Monsieur Neuvillette’s stature to stay,” Mrs. Bernard said.

Your sister was inviting some of her friends over for a sleepover, so you couldn’t stay in her room either. “Sorry about that, it was a bit of a last minute decision,” Justine gave you a wink.

Therefore, it was decided (against your fervent protests) that you would be sharing the same bed as Monsieur Neuvillette for the night. “It’s only one night, dear,” your mother told you. “Sharing the same bed as your husband is not exactly the worst predicament in the world.”

Oh, it is. It most certainly is.

And that was how you ended in the small guesthouse with Neuvillette.

“Madame...Madame!” Neuvillette’s voice came to you from far away. You snapped your head up and found yourself on the receiving end of Neuvillette’s worried gaze. It was then that you realized that you were breathing heavily through your nostrils.

“Pardon me. I didn’t hear what you said. Could you repeat it?” you gritted through your teeth, trying to fight the rising urge to run out of the guesthouse and scream into the darkness. You honestly needed to have a talk with your parents for indulging Justine far too much sometimes, and talk to Justine for her propensity of toying with people just for her own amusement.

Neuvillette stared at you for a long moment. He looked disturbed, like he was witnessing something terrifying But right now, you were too angry and frustrated to smooth your face into its usual composed expression.

“My apologies, Madame. It seems I made the wrong choice. I shall thank your parents for their kindness, and then take my leave.”

“No!” you exclaimed with more force than you intended and tugged on his cuff. “This isn’t your fault. It’s my family’s. This is just something we’ll have to put up with. We’re mature, responsible adults. Nothing except sleeping will happen in this room tonight.”

“I didn’t expect anything else,” Neuvillette raised an eyebrow.

“Neither did I. After all, we are mature, responsible adults who would never even think of doing anything inappropriate.”

“...Yes, of course,” There was a pause before he spoke. Something in his eyes flickered. It was almost like guilt. That’s weird, you thought, but moved on.

“If we make a big fuss over this, we would only be providing amusement for my family. Therefore, we will act like normal.”

“We will,” he nodded.

“Good. I am saying all of this out loud so that we are both on the same page.” It felt a little ridiculous telling Neuvillette of all people how to behave, but really, this was more for the sake of calming your nerves than anything else.

The bed was neatly made and the pillows were fluffed. Two changes of clothes for you and Neuvillette laid upon it. You recognized the lace of your nightgown, and the other one must be your grandfather’s old clothes--they were the only ones that would fit a man of Neuvillette’s stature. The linen closet held towels and bathrobes. The toiletries were neatly lined up on the bathroom sink.

“So...I’ll let you use the bathroom first,” you said.

“No, Madame, I insist that you shall bathe first.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. You had a feeling this back-and-forth would go on for a long time if you let it.

You grabbed a towel and bathrobe, then turned around to get your nightgown when you froze.

Neuvillette was sitting on the chair next to the bed, unbuttoning his spats. He had already taken off his gloves and placed them on the bedside table. His long, pale fingers nimbly undid each of the small buttons, one by one. You watched him for a moment, transfixed.

He looked up from his work. “Is something the matter, Madame?” he asked.

“No, it’s nothing,” you said quickly as you realized you had been staring. “I won’t take long.”

With that, you went to the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind you. You leaned against the door, sighing. You didn’t need to look into the mirror to see how flustered you looked.

You washed the makeup off your face, scrubbing it much harder than necessary, then undid the pins in your hair. You then proceeded to undo the lacing on the back of your dress when you ran into a major problem--it was nearly impossible for you to do it on your own.

You frowned at yourself in the mirror. This dress was one of the new clothes you bought in the Court. Justine had helped you lace it up before the ball, but with your current sleeping arrangements...

You looked at the door, then back at yourself in the mirror. You briefly considered using scissors, but decided against it. It was too drastic an action, and you did like this dress.

There was no other choice.

Taking deep breaths, you slowly opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom.

Neuvillette had taken off his spats and his shoes by now. He had also removed his robe and undid his cravat. You chose not to look at the sharp lines of his clavicle peeking out from behind his collar.

“Um...Neuvillette,” you took a breath before continuing, willing your heart to stop beating so quickly. Better to get it all out at once. “Could you help me undo the laces on my dress?”

“Certainly,” he said. You turned your back to him and tried to think about something else, anything else as he set to work. You could tell that he was being carefully, trying to avoid touching you as much as possible as he pulled the laces through the eyelet holes. But from time to time, the pads of his fingers or his knuckles would brush against your back, sending mini electric currents down your spine. His breaths ruffled the top of your head. Even with your back facing him, you could feel his steady concentration on you. Were there that many laces on your dress? It felt like it was taking an eternity compared to when Justine did them for you.

Or maybe...he’s taking his time on purpose? A small voice whispered, but you swiftly batted it away. Preposterous.

“There, it’s done, Madame,” Neuvillette said. His voice sounded lower than before. You clenched the folds of your skirt and reminded yourself of your own words earlier.

“Thank you,” you said, not daring to look at his face. It was only until you retreated into the bathroom that you realized that your shoulders had been tensed up the whole time.

Alright, I admit it--I’m attracted to Neuvillette. So what? Half of Fontaine is! Your heart annoyingly clenched when your mind flashed back to the amorous looks and flirtatious gazes directed at Neuvillette tonight. So what if I’m affected by his touch more than I should or that hearing his voice next to my ear make my knees go weak sometimes? None of that should change how I behave around him.

Your emotions had been all over the place tonight. It was more than you could bear. If your monthly cycle hadn’t ended merely a week ago, you would have thought this was all brought on by hormones. You had never felt like this before--not even in the deepest throes of puberty. The mass of emotions swirling within you seemed likely to explode out of your body at any minute.

A thought struck you. What if Neuvillette read your emotions? You didn’t know how he did it or what kind of information he could glean from them, but you were sure it would only lead to humiliation on your part. That is exactly why I need to get a handle on them, so that I won’t make him uncomfortable.

You ran the bath, then filled it to the brim with bubbles, and got in. The bubbles soaking into your skin managed to calm you down somewhat, enough that you could attempt to look at the situation rationally the way your old teacher taught you, laying out the facts like how you’d lay out your painting tools.

You were to sleep in the same bed with him. There was no getting around that fact. There were no other beds in the guesthouse, and you most certainly couldn’t ask Neuvillette to sleep on the floor. You yourself weren’t too enthused about sleeping on the floor either. So, the bed was where you would both sleep for the night.

Now, what was the problem there?

The bed was a queen size. It was roomy enough for two people to sleep comfortably without ever touching each other as long as they remained where they were. That was easy enough for you--you usually slept like a log. You couldn’t imagine Neuvillette being the type to toss and turn either. If he needed space, then you should be fine sleeping at the very edge of the bed.

Then, there was the elephant in the room: sharing a bed with Neuvillette. Like all young noble ladies, you were taught that you should never let a man into your bed if he didn’t intend to marry you right after. Of course, you doubt any etiquette manual in the world could tell you what to do if you were forced to spend the night in the same bed with your in-name-only husband. But really, when you think about it, wasn’t this pretty much the same as having a sleepover with a friend? You’ve slept over at Anne’s house plenty of times as a child, and vice-versa. Wasn’t this the same? Except for the fact that he was a man and the Chief Justice and someone you were probably a little attracted to...but those were irrelevant details.

Besides, there’s nothing between us. I admit, I enjoy looking at him, but that’s really as far as it goes. And I know for a fact that he has no such interest in me either. So, really, it’s just two friends sharing the same bed, just like me and Anne back in the day.

There was nothing inherently awkward about sleeping in the same bed together. If you thought of it as sleeping with a stuffed animal or something like that, then you could bear with it. It’s just one night.

Your teacher had always told you that perspective was everything. Reality is simply what we make of it. ...Though I don’t think this is quite what she had in mind.

You wondered what she’d think of this mess you had gotten yourself into. She’d probably find it funny.

Feeling sufficiently clear-headed and cheered, you finished with your bath and spent a few minutes cleaning everything up, then changed into your nightgown and bathrobe. After mentally bracing yourself in the mirror, you flung the door open. Maybe with a bit too much force, because Neuvillette’s head shot up from where he was sitting in the armchair.

“Neuvillette, the bath’s all yours. If you need any help with working it, just let me know,” you informed him airily. When he didn’t respond right away, you prompted him. “Neuvillette?”

“...Hmm? Ah, thank you, Madame, I shall not be long,” Neuvillette shook his head, as though clearing it, and quickly strode into the bathroom with his change of clothes. You noticed that he didn’t look at you as he passed by. What a gentleman.

Right after he closed the door, you slipped into bed. As you thought, there was plenty of room for both you and him to sleep comfortably while maintaining a respectful distance from each other. Now all you had to do was work on falling asleep. You considered going to the kitchen and getting a warm glass of milk, but decided against it. Maybe I’ll just count sheep.

However, your efforts were continuously waylaid by the music from the ball looping around in your head. It remained stuck in your head even when you changed tactics to count the number of spots in the ceiling. Come on, concentrate, I want to fall asleep before Neuv--

The bathroom door opened just then, and all hopes of falling asleep flew out of your mind.

Your grandfather’s old clothes fit Neuvillette remarkably well. Yet, for some strange inexplicable reason, he had opted to unbutton the top few buttons, exposing a sliver of pale chest. Don’t look don’t look don’t look! You chanted inside your head, yet your eyes had other ideas.

You had never noticed it before, but the layers he usually wore concealed his lithe, willowy build. He seemed almost delicate and ethereal, like a breeze could blow him away. You now understood why he put up with such an impractical outfit most of the time.

He looked different with his hair unbound as well. The long silver waves streamed down his back like a waterfall, lending him a wild, untamed impression. He looked less like a Chief Justice and more like a cover model for one of those cheesy paperback romances, except for the fact he wasn’t shirtless. It was incredible what a simple change in hairstyle could do.

I can’t do this. I can’t do this. You lamented inside your head. You were very tempted to run back inside your house and squeeze into Justine’s bed. You’d even put up with the triplets kicking you in the face during the night. But you knew you couldn’t do that. I am a mature, sensible woman with principles, you told yourself firmly. I will simply...not look at him for the rest of the night.

You turned your back towards him as he walked to the other side of the bed, trying to calm your breathing. However, when you didn’t sense him getting into bed, you dared to slowly turn around to see what was going on.

He was sitting in the armchair. his hands clasped in his lap. When he saw you looking at him, he quickly turned his gaze to the floor. That’s a little excessive, isn’t it? This isn’t the first time he saw me lying in bed.

“Neuvillette, why aren’t you getting in bed? Did you wash your hair?”

“I have not.” His answer was curt.

“Then you should come to bed. Look, there’s plenty of room for you,” you lifted the corner of the comforter and patted the bedspread next to you. He eyed it warily, as though you had laid a trap there.

“I think...it would be more appropriate if I were to join you after you fall asleep, Madame. It would be more comfortable for you as well, I’m sure. Do feel free to turn off the lights.” Neuvillette sounded strange. You didn’t think you had ever heard him like this before.

“But, doesn’t that mean you’ll be watching me sleep?” you pointed out. From the look on his face, you could tell that he hadn’t thought of that. “And you have to leave early tomorrow, right? You should get plenty of rest.”

“I am used to staying awake at late hours.”

Now that made you frown. “I won’t be able to sleep well if you don’t sleep,” you told him. “I’m also used to staying up late, so I don’t mind. I can just sleep on the boat ride back tomorrow.”

There was a long silence before he slowly got up and approached the bed. He gingerly laid down and turned his back to you. Even from here, you could see his tensed shoulder muscles. Which were quite broad.

Lady Furina said he never had relationships before...does that also include strictly physical ones?

Now that was something you should not think while sleeping in the same bed as him. But still, you felt a little less nervous now that you suspected that both of you were in the same boat.

You studied his horns. Was it uncomfortable for him to sleep on his back? Did he have a special pillow in his room? When you touched his horns before, they were solid but flexible, not like the horns of a goat or a bull. Did it hurt if he put too much pressure on them? He did say they were sensitive.

“Neuvillette, I’m going to turn off the lights now,” you whispered without knowing why.

You heard a “Mmm” and turned off the lights, plunging the room into darkness. The only light now came from the moon shining through the window above the bed.

The darkness did nothing to make you sleepy. You sensed that the same went for Neuvillette. You heard the shifting of the comforter next to you. He must be sleeping on his back now; with your eyes now adjusted to the dark, you could see the contours of his nose.

For a while, both of you remained that way, staring up the darkened ceiling. The image of fish in a can of sardines popped into your mind, and you let out a stifled laugh. It sounded too loud in the silent room.

“Madame?” you heard him whisper.

“It’s nothing.” Then after some thought, you asked, “Is everything comfortable? Do you need anything, like another pillow?”

“No, I’m perfectly fine.”

“How about the clothes? Are they fitting all right?”

“Yes.”

“Um...are you hungry? I can fetch something from the kitchen for you.”

“No, I’ve already ate. Your housekeeper, Mrs. Bernard, was kind enough to serve me a light meal when I called upon your house.”

“I see... I’m glad to hear that.” Something about that bugged you, but you let it slide for now.

“So, did you enjoy the ball? I know you don’t care for them, but I hope you had a good time at this one, at least.”

“I have. Out of all the balls I’ve attended recently, I believe I enjoyed myself the most at this one.”

“How many balls have you attended recently?”

“Three, including this one.”

“Wait, you attended two other balls this year? Why didn’t you--” your voice trailed off.

“I’ve attended one last year, and the other in the year before that.”

“Oh...I see.” You didn’t know why you felt so relieved. “I think...it’s good to attend a ball at least once a year. It’s nice to mingle with people in that sort of atmosphere.”

“Mm, I agree.”

“And it’s fun to dance sometimes. You did a lot of it today, though.”

“Yes. But some fatigue is worth it if it is to please others.”

“Haha, you’re such a kind person...” you laughed weakly. “So, was there anyone who you especially enjoyed dancing with?”

For a moment, there was no response. Then, you saw him turn his head to look at you. “What do you mean?”

What did you mean? You didn’t know why you were talking about this at all. But the darkness was a comforting shield that surrounded your heart. “I mean, if there was anyone who, you know, caught your eye. Balls are the most common places for people to fall in love, after all. I know you said all of those things to my family to put them at ease, but if you do develop an interest in someone, then--”

You stopped talking when he moved himself closer. The moonlight illuminated the strands of hair near his face. His eyes glinted faintly. His face was inches away from yours.

“If you doubt my faithfulness to you, Madame, then I shall assure you, no matter how many times you need to hear it from me, that I will never take any lovers or mistresses as long as we are married.”

“I wasn’t going to say that...” you briefly turned your head to look at him, then immediately faced the ceiling again. Nope, still can’t do it. “I was going to say that if you were to fall in love, then you should tell me so that I can move out of your house as soon as possible. I have no intention of being a part of any drama of that sort.”

For a moment, there was silence. “I shall be sure to do so,” he said. Was that a smile in his voice? You couldn’t tell, as the thought of looking at him right now made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

What about you? What will you do if I fell in love with someone else and wanted to be with them? The question lingered on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t summon the courage to voice it. Why had you brought this up in the first place?

“Speaking of my parents,” you quickly changed the subject. Dwelling on this topic made your skin itch. “What was that about a letter you sent them?”

“Ah, that. A few weeks after we wedded, I received a letter expressing their concerns about my intentions with you and wrote them a reply to reassure them. I’ve also invited them to my office, where we had a long and fruitful talk. I think it set much of their worries at ease.”

“I didn’t know about that. Why didn’t you ask me to join? I think that would have helped as well.”

“That was because...you were not talking to me during that time. Also, your parents asked me not to tell you about the meeting.”

“But you still should have told me regardless. It’s important.”

“I’m aware. I apologize. I have made many such mistakes in the course of our relationship.” He sounded genuinely disheartened.

“At least you’ve told me now,” you said consolingly. “I hope there aren’t any other secrets you’ve been keeping from me.”

You meant it teasingly, but the sharp intake of breath told you otherwise. “Neuvillette?”

“I…I must confess a most appalling deed I’ve committed against you,” You could not see his expression in the dark, but you imagined that furrow between his brows was quite deep right now.

“W-What is it?” His tone put you on edge. You began to wonder if you should escape from the room for a different reason.

“I…” he faltered, before rallying once more. “When I carried you back to your room that night—when you fell asleep in my study—I kissed your forehead while you slept.”

You thought you misheard at first. Neuvillette kissed your forehead? While you slept? You searched through your memories, trying to remember that night. You vaguely recalled being carried back to your room, but nothing after that.

“You did nothing else?” you felt strangely calm despite the revelation.

“No,” he said almost immediately. “I swear to you, upon my role as the Iudex, that I shall never overstep your personal boundaries.”

“But you kissed me on the forehead while I was sleeping,” you pointed out.

“Yes, I did,” he murmured. “I understand if you wish to cast me out of your house.”

You were silent for a moment, mostly because you wanted to make him nervous. He was watching you closely.

You turned to face the ceiling again. “I won’t do that. It will only bring scandal if I made the Chief Justice sleep outside in the damp grass. But what I do want to know is…why?”

“Why?” Neuvillette repeated.

“Why did you do it? Was there something about my forehead that made you want to kiss it?”

He didn’t respond right away; he truly seemed to be thinking about your question. “I do not know why I did it,” he said at last. “My apologies. I do not have a satisfactory answer for you. Not that there can be a suitable explanation for my actions.”

“Hmm,” you turned to look at him again. “You know, my mother used to kiss me and my sister on the forehead when she tucked us into bed as children. Maybe…it’s something like that?”

It was nonsense and both of you knew it. Even you weren’t sure why you said it. To lend him a lifeline? To provide an easy-to-accept explanation for this…act before you could think too deeply about it?

“…Perhaps,” Neuvillette said. You couldn’t tell if he truly believed it or not.

Honestly, I could see him kissing the Melusines’ foreheads to tuck them into bed if he lived with them.

The logical, rational part of you knew that you should be angrier at the violation of your boundaries. You should be scared. You should be not be wanting to remember the press of his lips against your forehead. You shouldn’t be thinking about his lips at all.

Neuvillette, why is it that my emotions always seem to not function properly when I’m with you? Can you teach me how to be as composed and in control of myself as you?

“Neuvillette, this doesn’t mean I forgive you,” you informed him in an attempt to gain back a smidgen of rationality, leaning closer. You had to admit, after being so flustered by him for most of the night, it was kind of fun having the upper hand. “You agree that, as the victim in this case, that I get to decide your punishment?”

Neuvillette nodded, a lock of hair falling across his face. His eyes remained on you, as if transfixed. He was hanging onto your every word.

In later days, you would blame the enveloping darkness, the gentle whisper of the rain that started before you knew it, and the champagne-caused headiness for what you were about to say.

“I’ll do the same thing to you. At some point, during the night—I won’t tell you when—I’ll go to your room and kiss you on your forehead.”

As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you wanted to swallow them. Oh no, what if he takes this as flirting? Is this flirting? Does it count as flirting if there was no intent of flirtation? I better clear this up.

“I, I mean it in a strictly platonic way,” you hurriedly added. Good job on maintaining that stern aura, me.

Neuvillette’s gaze rove over your face before it briefly landed on your lips, lingering on your lips for a heartbeat, or maybe two. Then, he raised his eyes to meet yours. Something he saw there made him narrow his eyes.

He leaned closer until all you could see were his pupils.

“I shall await your visit, then, Madame.”

Early next morning, a certain letter from a certain Hydro Archon informed Neuvillette that she had kindly taken the initiative of clearing his schedule for the day to “give all the time that my dear Iudex needs to spend with his wife. No need to thank me!”

As for what happened after that, that would be a story for another time.

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sluttysanemi · 1 year ago

Text

𓆩. ⛧ .𓆪 — BAR BLISS. xoxo ’

Sanemi Shinazugawa x AFAB!Reader

c/w: out of character sanemi, fluff, pussy whipped sanemi (lol), sexual tension, ass slapping, flirting, smut, sort of fast paced dont bite my head off, oral (f!receiving), spit as lube, unprotected sex, responsible drinking

a/n: repost cuz its jst... not getting posted lol?? 5.2k words, smut at end!

A soft, dimly lit tavern- a warm glow casting a sense of intimacy. The acquainted aroma of ale, and exotic gin stenches the hostelry, followed with a captivating ambience. The inviting atmosphere charmed with lively music rendered the establishment to grow fairly populous.

Perched at the high tables, closely to the bartender, you gazed upon the assortment of drinks displayed within the umber coloured shelves. A pleasant evening it had held; you decide to indulge yourself to a sweetening cocktail. Expressing your polite solicit to the employee, you await patiently; once more engaging in the scenery amongst. You sat with only yourself, pondering idly. Along the valley of tidily arranged stools, none that sat upon particularly captured your interest. Ignoring the mild loneliness that echoed, you rather dwelled on loosening yourself.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

With a short passing of time, your drink was presented. You mumbled a soft gratitude, and took a brief sip. The vibrant, tropical flavor lingering mildly, accompanying a pleasant after-taste. Whilst firming the spherical glass upon the table, a new presence accompanied. His peculiar fragrance of sandalwood, amber, and a savoury trace of tobacco swiftly caught your attention and coated the air with opulent pleasure. As if hearing your trailing thoughts of intrigue, he sat beside, upon the neighbouring stool.

You peered from the corner of your eye. His diverting scent drew a captivating allure.

Upon the abutting seat, a tall man of a lean, muscular build sat. With jagged, ivory hair, resting closely with the purple shade of his eyes. His figure was cluttered with ragged scars, the firm muscles of his body displayed proudly. A kanji meaning "kill", menacing and bold, emblazoned on the back of his long-sleeved haori followed with white buckles and the nature-coloured katana, painted with uneven dashes of white, resembling closely to his personal scars. This was certainly a sight you did not catch often…

He held a solemn expression, his gaze focused in front, though once he caught vision of whom he’d sat beside, it was as if his eyes expressed what his mouth did not. Tranced by your features; What a pretty face, such a gorgeous woman…

He passed a charming smile to you, as though he were silently indicating his interest, and ordered himself a whiskey.

Quickly poured, the amber liquor- settled within a low glass- is placed in front. Clear cubes of ice float highly. He reaches within his green tinted hakama pants, whilst you stared elsewhere.

“Want one, sweet thing?”, he spoke abruptly.

Pointing your sight to him once more, you watched as his sturdy hand held towards you an open packet of cigarettes. You grinned, rather amused by his braze attitude.

“Thank you.”, you replied kindly, plucking the narrow cylinder from the package. He excused himself to one and sealed the box, resuming its place with a lighter.

“Get close.”, he voiced with firm authority. Following, you leaned, noting closely his obscure musk scent. The leading edges of your shared cigarettes met as he held the ochre flame beneath. You stared as the vibrant glow followed towards the tab, silver emissions effused, and the newly invited fragrance of burnt tobacco evades.

Sighing glumly, he inhales deeply of the throat-clogging nicotine. He focuses on you, watching you with a linger of fascination.

“Like ‘yer eyes. They’re a real pretty colour.”, he remarked affably.

You smiled softly towards his admiration. “I like the scars. They complement nicely to your body.”, you replied simply, slowly intaking the flow of tobacco bodying the cigarette.

He sneers, evidently pleased. “Ye like them do ya, sweet thing? My body too?”, taunting you with your own words. You nod.

“You always such a pleasant show off?”, you asked, cocking an observant eyebrow. He swiftly drinks the bitter intoxicant, replying shortly. “For a lovely sight like you, might as well be.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

An invited silence stretches, whilst he shifts subtly- growing closer. “What’s your name then, sweet thing?”, he asks. You answered his query, gaining a soft grunt in his response. “Sanemi.”, he followed.

“Sanemi.”, you repeated, letting his name marinate within the moment. He purrs in response; a groan of approval. “Like the way ‘ye say it, pretty face.”

“You from here?”, you inquired, studying his expression. He watched you subtly, yet closely. You certainly had his interest. He shakes his head. “Not ‘round here. Was only ‘ere for my job. I’ll be gone by the morning.”, Sanemi inhaled from his cigarette once more, an excrement of smoke escaping the shine of his lips. You hummed in reply. “Thought you stood out. Is your job the premise for the katana, then?” He nods.

“Gotta fight really screwed shit with it. It sort of fucks you over. ‘ye’re not the same after.”, his voice somewhat reminiscent.

You watched at his expression momentarily, a comfortable silence whilst pursing your lips along the nicotine-coated cylinder, drawing in another drag.

“Good money?”, you questioned. He snickers, almost in disbelief.

“Real good money, baby. You like a man with cash?”, Sanemi pursued, his voice a sultry tone. You chuckle in his flirtations. “Perhaps. It makes for good compensation.”

He smiled, his grin tempting, as if he wished to glamor you. “Compensation, aye?”, he snickered. “You with a man then?” He inquired, abruptly shifting the subject. Like he was deeply curious to know…

His forward, careless confidence was alluring. You wished to tease him..“Why? Are you interested?”, she purred, purposely avoiding his advances. You were luring him, and tormentingly so… Sanemi rolled his eyes, unamused by the ingenous act. “You’re torturing me… your taunting could drive this man to murder.”, he whined lowly. He leans over and covers the back of your hand with his calloused palm. Sanemi’s skin was firm, almost abrasive. You could feel it softly skimming, caressing. “Do tell, sweet thing… i think ‘ye pretty face is really grownin’ on me.”

“Just my pretty face?”

“‘Ye voice too. Wanna hear it whine my name all night long.”

You purr a soft chuckle at his bold innuendo, though intrigued. “I suppose I’m available.” You spoke vaguely, though your reply struck a pleased grin. His fingers trailed thin circles along your wrists.

Your hand moved to the cocktail promptly forgotten upon the table. As you raise the glass to your lips once more, you observe Sanemi savouring, indulging in your beauty the same manner you had with your drink.

“Never seen a man stare at me so intently.”, you comment observantly.

“There’ll never be a man as worthy as me to do so.”

You laid a hand on his again, your fingers subtly intertwining. He felt warm; his touch delicate. Sanemi takes your dainty hand, and presses it gently to his lips. He presses swift, continuous kisses to the very tip of your middle finger. Your ethereal beauty left him aghast. He’d known there wouldn’t be another woman so entirely heavenly.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Time was clear to be surreal. He delved into the vastness of your thoughts and emotions. He was apparent to want to truly know you, to connect on more intimate levels than shallow conversation.

His clear need for closure was overly evident. His touch vividly intimate.

It had only been so long until he asked.

“Can I take you home tonight, sweet thing?”

His voice oozed with erotic ecstasy.

“Don’t you want me? I wished ‘ye knew how bad I craved you, pretty…”

His thumb would trace over your bottom lip, eyeing you greedily. It seemed as though he was tormenting himself. Awaiting a possibility to delicately press his lips against yours, feel the soft warmth of your skin, and be submerged in your gentle light. An untamed bliss.

It felt unreal as he guided you attentively through the darkened streets, explicitly keeping you close.

It felt of an overwhelming wave of intrigue as he held the door of a swiftly seized cab, observing your body’s sensual movement.

It felt of ecstasy as he sat close to you, tenderly tracing his fingertips across your thigh.

His fingers slid with precision, caressing until the very apex before manoeuvring down. Twisting inward and tracing sensual patterns on your flesh, his touch sent feverish sensations through your spine. The electric experience left you yearning more, as he began to explore every inch of your body with tantalizing detail, skimming into the interstitial crescents within.

Reciprocating his toy, you place the flat of your hand to the side of his face, drawing him into your gaze. You lean into the crook of his neck and begin trailing provocative kisses, leaving lipstick prints to remain. Lust thickens the atmosphere as desire suffocates; need floods your bodies.

Groaning in exhilaration to your temptations, he tightens his grasp around your thigh. Heavy waves of his breath fall from his chest. “Don’t do that, pretty girl…”, he warned, feeling buried in the terror of your beauty. Sanemi had lost himself more in your sight than he ever had in alcohol.

“I think you like it…”, you retort boldly, your tone flows with arrogance.

He rests his palm on the side of your face, lightly gripping. He peered at you closely, undressing you with his eyes. A faint sigh escaped his lips.

“More than you’ll ever know…”, Sanemi answered passionately. His opposing hand runs higher along your leg, drawing you up to his lap. It skims under your clothing to the fat on your rear. He squeezes hungrily before delivering the flesh a soft slap, humming softly at the delicate echo that followed. Your lips in tantalizing close distance, glaring at the other ardently.

The city lights reflected within the car, providing an idyllic setting. All the more incentive to pursue undisclosed desires.

Sanemi’s thumb would trail over your cheek, drawing in the moment. His breath, a stutter. “Fuck, sweet girl… look at’cha baby… your pretty eyes are gettin’ me needy.”, he spoke in slow detail. Your foreheads were held together close, your shared scents harmonizing.He gently cradled your face in his hands, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of your jaw. Their eyes locked, communicating a depth of emotions that words struggled to convey. As he leaned in, a gentle breeze stirred, carrying the scent of blooming flowers.

Time seemed to slow as their lips finally met, a tender connection that sent ripples through their beings. His taste almost stung, strong with liquor, though resolutely appealing. Sanemi’s touch was feather-light, an exploration of the softness and warmth that made your heart flutter. Your eyes closed, savouring the delicate dance of their breaths becoming one.The kiss unfolded like a carefully composed melody, each moment an exquisite note in their symphony of shared emotions. His lips moved with a soft reverence, as if every caress held an unspoken promise. You responded, your own touch mirroring the tenderness you both craved.

The moon bore witness to their silent exchange, a celestial witness to a kiss that spoke volumes of love, longing, and the beauty of connection.Passion bloomed, becoming sinful, and greed infested the tender scenery. He grew relentless, gripping you needily, animalistically, blinded by his cravings. He was straining to remain composed and not strip you in the confines of the vehicle. He parts from your kiss momentarily.

“Tell me ‘ye need me, sweet girl. Drive me wild with that honey voice ‘ye got.”, he voiced, almost pleading.He moves to your neck, following your previous pursuit with firm kisses. He continuously caresses your thigh as well as firmly grasping at the soft skin of your ass.

“Need you, sanemi. Need you so bad.”, you whisper delicately; the words you spoke carry a sense of intimacy and vulnerability, resulting in Sanemi’s heart to ripple violently. He hums a breath of relief.

“Fuck…yes you do, sweet thing.”, his tone is low, caressing the intersections of your body. His lips travel to your cleavage, nipping the skin delicately. Soft prints flushing the skin remained. He glanced up at you briefly, craving. He longed to catch your essence and indulge as much of your elegance as he could. You followed, capturing in his glare. You looked at the gentle glimmer on his lips, the flush on his cheeks, and the sole euphoria expressed in his eyes. You grew enveloped in his luring expression…

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Struggling to leave whole from the confinements of the car, you quickly travel to the hotel, passed to Sanemi’s momentary stay. It held rather lavishly, giving an almost luxurious appearance. He pressed feverishly onto the elevator's control, as if it were a panacea to a speedier arrival. His hand was almost entirely bound to your hip, and he was bitter to move it elsewhere. He was wildly near to seeing your nude grace. If only it would arrive faster… Sanemi grew partially frustrated.

The elevators eventually emerged, much to Sanemi's relief, thus he reacted quickly. He draws you against the room's iron walls, pressing his lips to yours again. The intense atmosphere has heightened. He placed his hand on your cheek, running down your neck. His available hand moves to your thigh and sets it firmly on his hip.

Your fingers are tangled in his silvery curls. Feeling the softness of his hair against your skin; the scent of his shampoo, a subtle mint, fills your senses, enhancing the intoxicating experience. Sanemi’s fingers trail to the inwards, intimate, spaces curved within your thighs. His calloused digits trail to the thin fabric layered over your clit, rubbing attentively; feeling the familiar warmth of arousal pool. He grins.

“Dirty girl…”, his words escape with a purr. His body presses against you more fiercely, the prominent bulge restrained in his trousers, growing in excitement, taunting you. Sanemi grinds his hips subtly, as if attempting to find relief in his heat. He groans aloud in alleviation, yet buries his head against the crook of your neck, trying to conceal his escaping pants of pleasure.

“Sweet girl… gonna fuck your pretty pussy so hard, baby.”

The lift rises and approaches the near top. The door glides open, exhibiting the sexual scenery to the empty corridor. He guides you by your hip to his room, attempting to pry his jumbled keys out of his pockets. With quivering, eager fingers, he eventually fits the key into the narrow gap, clicking it in place and pushing the door widely.

He's leading you into the room, flimsily locking, and conclusively inviting you into his bedroom. Beneath his sheets. He kisses you anew, gently guiding you to the outermost edge of his bed. Now he had time.

And he will make every effort to pursue it efficiently.

He's fervently pressing his pursed lips against your neck and gradually lowering to your thighs. He sits on his knees, taking your leg, and placing it over the firm of his shoulder. The salacious position provides Sanemi easier access into elation. His hands lift the hems of your dress upward, exposing you to him further. Feeling a silent obligation, you part your legs a further distance, eliciting an approving groan from the silver-haired man. “What a sweet mess…”, he coos.

He plants gentle pecks within the flesh of your inner thigh, his palm caressing the outskirts. You grasp the sheets with utmost thrill, watching Sanemi delve into the depths of your body. Your chest languidly rises and falls, attempting to compose. His hold discreetly attempts to press your body closer; his face gently pressing against the supple silk of your undergarments. He kisses the soft slit over the cloth, followed by tender suckling. Maneuvering to the supple inner skin of your legs once more, he continuously developed tension.

"Sanemi...," you pleaded, grasping his white hair again. He was belittling you, and it was harrowing... He peers above at you once again, an illicit smile plastered proudly on his face. “Don’t worry, sweet girl… I'll give you whatever you want."

His thumb links under the linen's corner strings and begins to tug in a slow, tantalizing movement. He peels the enticing attire to the floor and discards it. He delves into the supple flesh gently, trailing his tongue along the sensitive lips carefully. Your grip tightens, as a sudden surge of bliss arises. The pink muscle strays flat, as it caresses constantly over your clit. Maneuvering in a sensual, attentive rhythm. Vulgar murmurs pour as he gathers your arousal.

Sanemi's tongue glides delicately, occasionally delving within. He moves his head, ensuring to act attentively to your needs. Licking sensuous stripes over your slit, exploring various paces. Your carnal nectar developed into a gratifying addiction, which he merely drank wildly.

A slew of his name eludes from your lips, your urgent entail for him eliciting a groan. His voice sent pulses of thrill through you, and your muscles tensed.

His hold tightens upon your thigh, and he puckers his lips, suckling the soft slit delicately. His tongue consistently glides over, providing surplus ripples of ecstasy. He fulfills your carnal wishes, eager to satisfy you. Your sickly whines filled him with elation, feeling the arousal within him swallow him entirely.

His tongue traced along your amorous lips, creating ripples of a wet, erotic echo to follow. He quickly swallowed what he had gathered, savoring its taste. He demolished the thought of breathing while delving between your legs.

He lowers his face farther into your glistening cunt, his scarred hand massaging your outer thigh whilst. He twists his sensitive tongue and thrusts it repeatedly. You imitated his penetrations, grinding desperately against him. Tipping your head slightly backwards, blinded by euphoria.

“Please, Sanemi… please.”, you begged mindlessly.

“Yeah? You like that, pretty girl?” He purred, his voice immensely sultry.

His tongue thoughtlessly plunges into and out sloppily, culminating in shambles of pure bliss. He revered the way your thighs quiver eagerly, your fingers grasping him sterner, more desperately. He drank your sweet chirps of joy as if your voice alone produced ripplets of dopamine. There was not a honey poured in wine more pleasurable than the one produced by your trance.

His rose-coloured lingua traveled into the inner depths of your core, his nose pressed against the very delicate pearl of your intimacy. It squirmed, and twitched within. He broke momentarily, sighing against your fold. He took a moment to breathe briefly.

“Sweet girl...”, he kissed daintily.

You brush your fingers over his pale locks whilst marveling at him. He watched you, almost lovingly. Your fingertips were of silk. His expression softens, and an unexpected pink tinge faintly washes his face.

He grunts softly into your throbbing core, before immersing himself once more. He was an alcoholic in your lust. His pulsing yearning became overwhelming; he needed you. To immerse himself entirely in you and to feel your sweetening warmth envelope him most intimately. He grew gluttonous; hungry to have you to himself.

Your glance, your elegant eyelashes, fluttering so delicately. It drove him mad. You had looked so delectable, it plunged him deeper into thirst. Thirst to hear your voice whine to his name. Thirst to take you to unending depths of happiness, so you'll never find a man more deserving than him. Could there really be? For a woman as ravishing as you? He craves to hear you further.

He continues to fuck you mercilessly with his tongue. His nails, while blunt, sink into the crescents of your thighs and press against your flesh. They leave a tender bruise painted upon your thigh. He groans with deeper delight, content to have left his imprint on you.

His pink muscle is saturated in slick, and he continues to lap hungrily, avidly, greedy to reach you to that high. You became wanting. Thighs clenching, thoughtlessly rubbing. So close to heavenly’s peak. His echoing stimuli urging you towards your climax. You experienced a sensuous pulse string across your body, contracting irrationally. You tugged on his hair, seeking it further. Your breath struggles to maintain a fluent pace.

“That’s it, sweet thing. So good f’me…”

Your back arches, and an indescribable rush pours from you. It immerses you in a familiar sense of utopia, yet only considerably deeper. Out of this world, as if no troubles existed. A sensual warmth trails from your body, which Sanemi keenly tastes.

You take a moment to absorb within this reality once more, observing Sanemi's tongue gliding over his lips, clearing the remnants of your pleasure. He breathes softly into your throbbing cunt before placing a final, delicate kiss.

"D'you want me, pretty thing?" he asked, his face resting briefly on your thigh.

You nod calmly, your fingers caressing him. Sanemi smiles sweetly, pressing a kiss upon your skin. It was apparent that he thoroughly enjoyed you. When you touched, caressed. Even when you spoke. He was overjoyed to finally have you.

He rises to his full height. He leaned over and observed you lustfully. His palm rests on the side of your face, his thumb tracing your cheek. He moves the tips of his fingers diligently across your body. You can feel his touch pulsating within you.

His fingers crook, under the straps of your attire, slowly peeling it from your shoulders. He sighs deeply, unable to suppress his overt excitement. His touch is, however, delicate. His hands glide along your body, as he undresses you carefully. Squeezing the newly found skin with a certain care. He was admiring.

Leaving your garments across the floor, your body was left bare. The moon shone against, giving you a nearly angelic beauty.

“Oh, sweet thing…”, Sanemi whispers, enthralled. He cups your face and leans in to kiss you. The faint imprint of your prior high stays on his tongue.

Whining softly against each other, he quickly grew inflamed. He moves forward and positions himself on top of you, upon the bed. He softly brings you to the plush cushioning at the back, following as you slowly manoeuvre back. His free hand flows to the white buckles around his waist slowly sliding it off. It clicks quietly before it’s thrown thoughtlessly.

You supported him whilst he undressed, stroking your fingertips along his shoulders and slipping his uniform from his sculpted body. Watching as he offered himself to you without a sense of guilt.

Soon, he'd lay in only briefs, which scarcely concealed his arousal as it rubbed against your glistening folds, throbbing uncontrollably. His bare chest, gleaming in droplets of sweat, is marred in piercing scars. With bulging pectorals carved into a definite contour. His back, firm with strong ridges, as if in invitation to be touched. He was the embodiment of beauty. And he was to lay with you.

His hand supported his imposing physique as he breathed idly above. His fingers reached for the band of his boxers. Giving the fabric a firm tug, his heavy cock sprung from the tight confinements. Veiny, and thick, pulsing with demand. Pearly beads of pre, gathering from his rigid tip. He raised his hand in front and briefly spat twice, before pumping his shaft. He slumps forward with a deep groan, lubricating himself as filthy sounds follow.

After a prolonged tension, his dick glinted in his fluids. He reformed his grip at his base, pressing the flushed tip against your folds.

“Hold me gentle girl, hold me…”, he asked softly, his breath wavering.

Following his plea, you wrap your forearms around his broad neck. It held firmly, as did the rest of his body. In a gradual movement, he pushes his shaft inside you, grunting aloud. He surged frantically, teeming in eagerness. You inhale sharply through your teeth, curling your thighs around his waist.

He raised his hand to your upper thigh, caressing gently. “So soft...” “you’re so warm, sweet angel…”, he praises with leisure. He buries himself further into your warmth in a gentle push. He gradually has himself to the very hilt within you, twitching erratically.

He struggles to breathe at a consistent pace. Your enticing cunt fluttered so invitingly, he had difficulties comprehending simple thought. He lays loving kisses across the side of your neck as you acclimatize to each other.

He spread you out, filling you within. His girthy length massaged your crevices, piercing deep within. It's as if he was meant for you; as if Sanemi was designed especially for your pleasure.

He gradually starts to move. Sanemi begins tenderly, rolling his hips gently, his groin lightly slapping against you. His length rocks with ease, creating the familiar sound of skin crashing. He moved his hand to grasp your waist, while his other continually grasped himself upwards.

You felt of a miracle, he had neglected to breathe again. Deep within you, over and over, he knew of heaven. He was conscious that he was vocal, but he couldn't control it. You were too good for his sanity.

You whined aloud, settling your face into the crook of his neck. Your grasp tightens around him, feeling a gradual sensation of ecstasy arise. You could feel his heartbeat, strumming a gentle symphony against your naked breast. A close connection.

His cock plunged into you tentatively, as if you were facile to shatter. Mindlessly rocking and softly pounding into you. His thighs clenched, entranced by the eternal pleasure you offered. You could feel his silky pants by your ear, seeming that even a little of you drove him wild.

He moved, handled and spoke with absolute tenderness. His unending praises are a celestial chorus. He ensured to treat you with nothing but the finest.

But you craved more. His ferocious, animalistic urge, which he promised you in the lift. You wanted him to batter you mercilessly, laying claim to you. You knew he wanted it too.

Traveling your hands to his back, you caressed gently. “Sanemi… faster- please…”, you chirped gently.

He groaned heavily in response, burying his face firmly into your neck. Your voice drove him over, unleashing his wildest impulses. His upholding hand grasps at the sheets, as if a display of him attempting to hold to the last of his humanity. He responds with a harsh thrust.

"Yes, sweet thing." he uttered.

He was quick to follow your demands. His movements grew more brutal, with delicate rolls swiftly developing into animalistic thrusts. His cock plummeted sloppily, reaching unnoticed rises. He used his developed muscles and stamina, his movement appearing unending, ensuring to fulfil your deepest needs.

His breathing became erratic, with groans and grunts against your ear, endured in a sultry tone. He'd babble soothing praises, promising you that no one could fuck your sweet pussy better than him.

You knew to believe him.

You moaned against him, clutching at him desperately. It felt as if he was mindlessly pleasing you, plunging within your innermost soul. It was as if you had only been within his humanity to satisfy him. Your voice grew incoherent, only whispering his name. He tilted his head, succumbing to your idly murmurs with delicate, sensual kisses.

“So good, sweet angel, such a sweet girl.”, he murmurs.

He slides his hand from your hips to your chest. His palm gently rests on your supple breast, kneading the subtle skin tenderly. You arch in answer, forcing yourself against him further.

Even while he stipulated endless erotic sensations, your body desired more. You wanted him completely, and you became greedy. Rottenly greedy. You wanted to be reminded that nothing else in the world matters except him.

Even if he massaged within the innermost spirit, he had to take you completely. Not a portion of your body must be unclaimed

“Please, Sanemi. More- Need it so bad…”, Your voice is a pale melody, though your words strike deeply within him. He grins, doting in your submission.

He catches your wrist and places it above your head. “Oh, sweet thing? You still want more? Hmm? Even with my cock poundin’ you? Ain’t you a dirty girl…”, he groaned. He grips your thighs and lays them over the rigid of his shoulders, almost folding you in half. You could feel every vein along him, pulsing urgently.

“How could I ever deny my sweet girl of anythin’?”, he hums proudly. And as soon as that, he continues moving anew. This time, he is visibly vengeful. His shaft strikes into you rigorously, reaching his very haft in a deep plunge. Filthy, shameful noises pour from your bodies as he pummels your inner depths ruthlessly. His balls smack into your slit diligently, almost causing bruising.

He gazed from above with an almost sadistic look, relishing as he ruined your body, melding your velvet walls for his cock.

Back and forth with a repetitive, harsh manner. Holding vigorous brutality. Yet, it had been exhilarating. A hell had developed into heaven, and it was him.

“So desperate ain’t you? You want this? You want my claim?” he panted eagerly, his chest fluctuating freely. Your hold deepens on his back as you nod in response, mumbling a gentle "please" against him.

You knew not to act irrationally. How could you deny him? After the bliss he had brought you tonight?

Oh, your sweet voice… fervently begging for him. So desperately. You were such a good girl for him.

His hips falter briefly, before he groans profoundly with pride. “Oh, sweet girl.. You’re so good… so fuckin’ good.”, he moans. He kisses your neck needily, craving.

It was shortly until you felt a familiar coil within you. A soft flowering bloom. Your heart raced as the sensation grew stronger, pulsing through every fibre of your body. The anticipation grew excruciating, fueling a burning desire to embrace the intoxicating bliss that laid.

He too felt his climax build, as his coordinated movement grew urgent and eager. Rutting into you, eager to achieve that wave of fulfilment.

Your fingers layered into his white curls. His head is tilted forward, as he plunged endlessly. You grasp your fingers around his face, having him gaze upon you.

And he watches. His entire focus is on your face. His gaze sweeps over every aspect of you, every beauty. He drinks it all mindlessly, imbibing in every detail.

And it ruins him.

His face flushed pink, and he swiftly pressed his face into your neck, absorbing in your sickly scent. His thrusts became frantic, desperate, as he's reminded who he's plunged so deeply into.

“Sweet girl… so fuckin’ pretty… just f’me…”, He rambles incessantly. His grip on your wrist alters, and he soon entwines his fingers with yours. His hands are twitching, and warm, as it pulses with sinful desires.

As you felt the rhapsodic heavens, a white blinded your vision, and you were washed alas with phenomenal delight. You flutter around his shaft, tightening firmly. His hips dragged frantically, and with a quiver of mumbled curses, he finished deeply, too. His dick pulses and spurts ropes of ecstasy, into the warmth of your womb.

He breathes deeply into the silence of the room, prolonging his pleasure with light rolls. He inhaled shakily, his lower lip quivered faintly. After culminating his high to its very end, he gingerly slides your thighs from his shoulders. He rests, laying beside you.

He lazily places his palm on the side of your face. He observed you, holding the same soft stare he had in the bar. He smiles sluggishly.

“D’you think I could… see you again?” He inquired calmly, his thumb sliding over your cheek. You studied him curiously before beaming sweetly at him.

Your breathing synchronizes with that familiar, serene melody, developing a pleasant silence in the room. The moon illuminated your paired beauty as you gazed at each other tenderly.

You felt his warmth, his scent.

And you felt safe.

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