NOMAMWTM Chapter 8

"Uh..."

She'd only asked them to bring water, yet the maids burst through the door and fled.

Left alone in an instant, Charlotte stared vacantly at where the maids had just been.

"...No, even if it's scary, still."

She stood there dazed, then muttered in disbelief.

Of course, she didn't not understand.

The masses had been swarming rather excessively at the window that had been open until just now.

But even so, surely they'd worked here a long time, hadn't they?

Slamming the door as if to break it—that she could accept—but to run away right in front of her.

"Can't they adapt? Right, rabbit?"

Charlotte let out a deep sigh and looked down at the rabbit.

The rabbit that had briefly awakened when the maids were present had closed its eyes again.

This time it seemed to be sleeping.

Seeing no signs of discomfort when it had woken, it appeared to be fine.

Charlotte carefully placed the rabbit on the bed and approached the window.

"What crime did you commit to be born like this and trouble your master?"

She let out a deep sigh and waved her arms.

Whoosh.

The masses were gently pushed away. They're such docile creatures, she couldn't understand why people feared them just based on appearance.

Michael really was pitiful.

Thud.

Just then, the door opened without a knock.

Charlotte lifted her head, thinking the maids had returned.

"Ah, Michael."

It was Michael who entered the room.

Seeing that their paths hadn't crossed, it seemed that amid everything, the maids had at least informed him that she had returned to her room.

"You're back?"

"Charlotte."

Though she was displeased, Charlotte couldn't show it to him, especially since he had just returned from visiting his mother—with whom relations were presumed to be poor—so she paused, forcing a smile as she greeted him.

Michael's face and voice were both unusually rigid.

...Though she didn't know what had happened, she guessed the time he'd spent with his mother had been anything but pleasant.

She swept her gaze around, gauging his mood.

"Charlotte."

"Yes... Ah."

Michael strode over and grasped her hand.

He looked down at her without a word. His once-calm blue eyes were churning roughly.

She saw emotions that seemed angry, sad, or perhaps exhausted.

"Did something happen?"

Though her tightly gripped hand hurt, Charlotte asked without showing it.

Issues with parents are difficult.

How much more so for this man who received fearful looks from everyone despite being innocent?

...Actually, it would be easier if he gave up like she had.

Squeeze. The hand tightened painfully once more before loosening.

Michael opened his mouth after a long while.

"...It's nothing."

It absolutely didn't seem like nothing, but Charlotte silently nodded.

She hoped that being with her could provide even a little strength to this pitiful man.

Before she knew it, the sun had set, dyeing the room crimson with its light.

Their shadows stretched long.

"...It's too late to go out again. The marital bedroom is ready. Let's go there."

Charlotte's eyes widened at the suggestion.

She'd completely forgotten about the marital bedroom.

"It's ready?"

Michael nodded slowly.

"Yes, I apologize for the delay."

There was no need at all. Charlotte shook her head.

"The maids will move your luggage. Let's go now."

"Alright."

As they conversed, he seemed to gradually calm down, and Michael's rigid expression slowly relaxed.

Charlotte thought this was fortunate and cradled the rabbit she'd laid on the bed with one arm.

"...That rabbit."

As they were about to leave the room, Michael, waiting at the entrance, asked.

"Where did you bring it from?"

Ah, right. She needed permission to keep animals.

There had been a time when a cat entered through the room window, and Maria, who'd been with her, coughed so terribly they'd had to send it back out.

That's when she learned some people were sensitive to animal fur.

"I found it in the garden. Would it be alright to keep it?"

Charlotte asked, hoping Michael was different from Maria.

It would be heartbreaking to send a tiny rabbit outside after it had just fainted, especially such a tiny one.

When she glanced back at Michael, she saw the man staring at the rabbit cradled in her arms with a hardened face.

Unable to tell if that expression was because of the mother-in-law he'd just met or because he disliked the rabbit, she looked down at the rabbit in her arms instead of pressing him. The rabbit was still sleeping peacefully.

"...I see."

Small animals were all like that, but being a baby made it even cuter—she was gazing at the rabbit as if entranced when her head suddenly jerked up at his voice.

"It's fine. Everything's fine, so do as you wish."

Ah, he really was such a good person.

"Thank you."

Charlotte smiled brightly and hooked her arm through Michael's with practiced ease. She felt his body tremble for a moment.

Perhaps he was a bit cold since she'd left the window open. Since staying close would make him less cold, she stood even closer to Michael.

"This way."

After that, he didn't tremble anymore, and when she glanced over a little later, his rigid face had completely relaxed and returned to his usual indifferent expression.

That was fortunate. Charlotte let her heart settle and pattered along.

"Wow."

Arriving at the marital bedroom, she quietly exclaimed in admiration.

Though she'd thought the room she'd been using was quite luxurious, the marital bedroom was truly spacious.

A large bed stood in the center, and uniformly high-quality furniture was harmoniously arranged around it.

Of course, no matter how nice it was, the masses rolling around everywhere remained consistently present, but anyway, it was visibly a room for two people.

...For two people.

Charlotte placed the rabbit on the table and unnecessarily waved her arms to shoo away the masses rolling on the bed.

Actually, it should have been this way from the start, so it wasn't particularly new, but thinking they'd be sleeping together from now on made her a bit embarrassed.

And also, um... according to Maria, couples who share a bedroom...

"Do you like it?"

At the question that flew in while she was having embarrassing thoughts, Charlotte flinched.

Somehow she felt her thoughts had been exposed. Her heart pounded.

"Yes..."

She deliberately trailed off and glanced up at him. Their eyes met immediately.

When the hand beneath her dress hem twitched, Michael approached her side.

He grasped her hand as naturally as water flows.

Uh, um...?

Charlotte blinked.

Michael said with an indifferent expression.

"From now on, I'll attend to you personally."

She felt like she'd heard wrong.

"You'll attend to what?"

"Your needs. Personal service."

She asked again, but he kindly even provided a definition.

Service?

Charlotte's face burned. She barely squeezed out her voice through her embarrassment and asked.

"What about the maid?"

"There's no need to bring a maid into our space. We're married."

What returned was an utterly calm answer.

Michael slowly brought her hand close to his lips without withdrawing his gaze from her.

The sensation of lips pressed against the back of her hand was vivid.

'Our' space. Married.

The word choice that seemed to bind them as one, the sensation of another person's lips felt for the first time in her life, and the gaze of this man looking at her, handsome enough to believe he was some prince.

Charlotte tried to calm her heart that had started pounding.

Certainly, bringing in servants who feared them would only be uncomfortable.

Since Michael didn't seem to have personal servants either, perhaps he was used to it.

Charlotte's mind grew busy—she'd thought she would soon be assigned a personal maid, that one simply hadn't come yet because they were busy or something.

Her husband would attend to her personally—was this normal?

She knew nothing about married life beyond what Maria had told her.

If this was normal, Maria, you should have told me...

"...Aren't you busy?"

"I'm not busy."

Having her last small rebellion cleanly blocked, she nodded.

From that moment, Michael truly faithfully kept his word.

That night, she struggled to dissuade Michael from attending her bath.

Michael, in his robe, personally put slippers on Charlotte and hand-dried her wet hair.

He even made tea for her. To think the duke could make tea.

Charlotte sat on the bed and blankly admired Michael.

So, a marital bedroom was, well, better than she'd imagined.

Her husband's face was truly sculpted like a statue, leaving no time for boredom, and the glimpses of white skin occasionally visible through his robe were captivating.

Would she be strange if even his gestures waving to brush away the swarming masses seemed charming?

Being in such comfortable attire—that is, in robes—was also nice.

On this night, with candles softly lit, Charlotte, lying in bed with Michael, couldn't sleep—her heart was pounding.

She turned to look at him.

She thought he might feel the same way, but he was such an expressionless man that she couldn't read him at all.

"...Michael."

She called him softly. Michael turned to her.

"Yes?"

A languid question resonated in the air.

The beautiful man's eyes half-lowered, holding her image.

The soft candlelight created red shadows covering them.

Charlotte gazed blankly at that beautiful sight, then gathered her courage and stroked his cheek with her hand.

His long golden eyelashes trembled faintly.

It was a moment when one second felt like an eternity.

Then at some point, Michael grabbed her hand resting on his cheek and pulled it sharply downward. Very suddenly.

"Sleep well."

His words suddenly quickened too.

By the time Charlotte blinked, he'd even blown out the candle. Puff.

...Ah. He's embarrassed too.

She smiled broadly in the darkness.

She felt like she understood why the male and female protagonists in novels lived happily ever after getting married.