PDCOO Chapter 18

"The adults are right, too. Most young men who joined the war dreaming of becoming heroes either died or became disabled. Girls who dreamed of romantic meetings sometimes got kidnapped when they went to the city. My mom told me there was someone her age who was toyed with by a nobleman—she said never to trust noble men who talk about love."

"So that's why she showed hostility toward nobility when she first saw me."

Bertram recalled that day when he'd introduced himself as a beggar bastard in front of the fierce Karlah.

Anna laughed with a sigh mixed in.

"Yes. Which means, no matter what the villagers say, some people still left to chase their dreams. Though I'll probably just end up marrying a bland local person like Dieter."

At Dieter's name, an image rose to mind like seaweed boiled three times—all soft and mushy. A man without any particular features. And he seemed to like Anna.

For some reason, Bertram's brow grew stiff.

"...Do you like Dieter?"

"As a friend, I've grown fond of him in that annoying way. As a man, not at all."

"But you'll still marry him?"

"That's how it'll turn out. Besides, unmarried women have trouble gaining respect in the village. They think you might leave at any time."

Anna's face darkened, then suddenly she stood up and clapped her hands. She forced a smile.

"Okay! Enough gloomy talk! Your turn, Bertram. Tell me about it. How did your parents who loved each other actually live together? I'm so curious. Did they really give each other flowers and everything? Things you can't even eat?"

"Every Sunday dawn, Father would buy flowers and arrange them at Mother's bedside while she slept in. But the day Mother declared she wouldn't accept any more flowers because she felt bad watching them wilt, Father cultivated a small garden himself. Twelve different plants were planted there, blooming flowers every season."

"Did they bear fruit every season too?"

"About two were fruit trees."

"Why would he plant such useless... Oh, no. He must have loved your mother that much!"

As Anna tried to recover, Bertram stroked his chin.

"Rather, it seems you're the one who doesn't understand emotions."

"That's because we don't have people like that..."

"There's no need to be embarrassed. I too learned by watching behavior, but I don't understand the emotions themselves. Is there anything else you're curious about?"

"Yes! So—"

The thought that had been forming almost burst out.

'Do they kiss? Do they want to? Is it good?'

Something she'd seen in novels but never once in reality.

Even Anna's parents had only made little smack sounds on each other's cheeks.

What's so good about lips bumping together? If someone opened their mouth wrong, saliva would mix. Does that red flesh everyone has feel especially thrilling compared to other flesh? Why do male protagonists in novels covet female protagonists' lips?

...But Anna knew she shouldn't ask this.

'This really won't do. Hold back. Who knows what even more embarrassing topics might come up!'

"Done! I've asked everything I was curious about!"

"You only asked one thing."

If anything, he seemed more disappointed. His face was expressionless, yet Anna somehow felt that way.

Confirming there was still time left, Bertram asked his question.

"Now I'll ask. A few days ago, you called me 'cute.'"

"You still remember that? Well, I suppose it was the first time you'd ever heard that word."

"You know me well. I'm curious about what circumstances led to that statement."

"Huh? It's not complicated! When someone's behavior doesn't match their appearance, it moves your heart. A bear-like person covered with a flowered apron is cute!"

"Would it have been cute if the village chief did the same thing?"

"...No."

"If Karlah had done it?"

"I'd wonder if Mom was sick."

"If Dieter had done it?"

"I'd kill— ahem, ahem! I'd stomp on him asking where he gets off putting his feet on someone else's apron."

"So in the end, I was cute."

...This wasn't it.

A man as large as a mountain was searching for justification of his cuteness with his own mouth. Really, if it had been anyone but Bertram, she would have hit him.

Fortunately, Bertram noticed Anna's difficulty.

"I understand. I am not cute."

"Well, that's... no. How should I explain this..."

"There's nothing more to say. I made you uncomfortable because I thought it might be a clue to recovering my emotions."

"...You said before that you didn't lose your emotions from a head injury. Is there some other problem? Like emotional wounds from the war?"

"Similar. I don't know if you'll believe me, but..."

Bertram hesitated.

Would Anna believe him if he said 'I'm cursed,' and even if she did, what meaning would there be in saying it now?

But the moment he looked at the clock, the conclusion came quickly.

Anna was his last creditor and perhaps a thread that might cause change. He couldn't spend time with such a person in lies and pretense.

Five minutes remained.

Bertram confessed.

"I am cursed."

Lara crouched outside the inn, crunching on a raw carrot.

She'd gotten swept up in the mood and said she'd give them thirty minutes before leaving, but...

"I want to go up and watch..."

A story of impossible love between a former soldier from a distant land and a country restaurant owner. Wasn't it just like a romance novel?

If you talked about romance stories in the village, friends would say, 'You still read that stuff?' But actually, everyone did. They just didn't speak of it aloud.

'Won't something like that happen to me? I want to date someone wonderful before marriage.'

She'd heard ad nauseam that nobles who crawled all the way into the countryside to seduce women were losers who'd failed at romance in the capital.

But a man from a nearby city might be fine.

Guards were uncool, so no thanks. Maybe a merchant? With luck, she might meet someone like a mayor's secretary. Surely handsome too.

While Lara was lost in dreams, a strange breathing sound came from the alley beside the inn.

"Haa... haa..."

The rough breathing of a man past puberty.

Lara's shoulders hunched.

'A thug? A thief? A robber? A traitor?'

Every villain Lara knew flowed through her mind. But moments later, the man who stepped forward from the alley with one hand on the wall...

If one were to guess his profession based on prejudice, perhaps 'librarian'?

He wore glasses and had a gentle expression. His slightly wavy dark brown hair contributed to his soft impression.

Before Lara could unknowingly let slip the word 'cute,' the man who'd fully emerged from the alley had an unexpectedly solid build. Moreover, the sword hanging at his waist indicated he had a fighting profession.

The strange mismatch left Lara's mouth hanging open. The panting man turned his head.

"Ah, Lady."

"L-L-Lady?"

Lara looked around in alarm.

Lady? That's what women with white parasols and dresses heard! The village people said so!

But there was no one else around. The man took a step closer. His kind eyes fixed on Lara.

"I'm not a dangerous person. Haa... I'm looking for someone."

"Are you a guard?"

"I'm nothing like those fellows!"

Franz's subordinate, Erich, raised his voice without meaning to.

Being compared to the lax guards of small cities was unpleasant. Though Erich was technically a regular soldier by rank, not just anyone was chosen as Franz Gerhardt's direct subordinate.

As confidence passed through Erich's eyes, Lara's eyes also sparkled.

"Wow, then... are you a knight?"

"..."

Erich deliberated.

He wasn't a knight. Knights were something only those with a certain level of wealth and title could produce, and only in their children's generation. At best, Erich might become an officer in his forties, or might not.

But the woman before him, who'd been satisfying her hunger with raw carrots in front of a country inn, didn't seem likely to know such details.

If he was going to extract information anyway, looking dignified would be better.

After brief calculation, Erich lied.

"Yes, I'm a knight!"

"I thought so! You look impressive."

It was empty flattery aimed at 'knight' rather than 'Erich,' but the first 'impressive' he'd ever heard in his life stirred a small wind in Erich's chest.

Not a shred of regret for the lie.

Erich straightened his shoulders so broadly his back ached. Even his tone became solemn.

"Why is the Lady spending time in such a place? Are you an inn employee?"

"No. I live in another village, but came out to sell some things. What brings you here, Sir Knight? You were panting terribly—were you fighting ruffians?"

He'd been one-sidedly beaten by ruffians, actually. Specifically, a ruffian superior named Franz Gerhardt who had nothing going for him except face, family, money, and skill.

'Here's a map of this city. Memorize it, then divide into four sections and search for His Highness Bertram.'

'Four sections? Then what will you do, Sir Franz...'

'I'm your brains, not your hands and feet.'

The four soldiers had immediately run out, and among them, the youngest with the least experience, Erich, had been assigned the largest area.