Chapter 32 : First Date (5)
The voice that drifted softly into the air was calm. So was the side profile that looked down at the river.
But the words spoken by those sculpted lips were anything but peaceful.
“Because I was the one who first discovered my deceased mother when I was seven years old. Everyone assumed that the shock had driven me insane.”
There was far more to the story than the brief explanation he offered, but he had no intention of detailing everything.
Damian only brought up his unwilling past in this vague manner because he knew how frustrating it must be for Aracila to remain in the dark.
“Of course, I wasn’t actually insane. It was just a situation crafted by those who wanted me to be.”
A son who had lost his mother and gone mad from the trauma. There was no better excuse to push someone into ruin.
“I was confined to an annex and subjected to abuse under the guise of treatment. If I resisted, they would forcefully restrain me—either by locking me in a closet or tying my hands and feet with cloth.”
The ones who orchestrated it were none other than the current Duchess and her maids.
Until Damian grew strong enough to overcome their power, he was subjected to repeated violence as a child. The sensation of those rough hands gripping his small body was still vividly imprinted in his memory.
“The aversion to other people’s touch that I developed back then still lingers with me.”
Damian knew. He knew that now, no one could treat him the way they had when he was young. He had become strong enough that not even the countless assassins sent after him could so much as lay a finger on him.
The fear had disappeared—but the aversion had not.
“That’s probably why I started rejecting even the touch of people who approached me with goodwill, even those who claimed to care for me.”
Even harmless gestures made his stomach churn with disgust.
At the same time, there were plenty of people—men and women alike—who would try to touch him freely, simply because they found him attractive.
Rather than overcoming his trauma, such experiences only made him more sensitive to even the smallest physical contact.
Eventually, he even started to dislike handshakes. Too many people deliberately grasped his hand and refused to let go.
“That’s why I avoid physical contact. It may seem trivial and disappointing to you, but…”
“I don’t think it’s trivial at all.”
Aracila’s voice gently interrupted him.
Turning his head on instinct, Damian found himself staring into her unwavering gaze. He paused.
“I’m sorry, Damian. I had no idea you had such a past. I thought you had something like obsessive cleanliness. I was too thoughtless.”
Straightening her posture, Aracila placed a hand over her chest and bowed her head respectfully.
At moments like this, it was evident that she was a noblewoman raised in a prestigious household.
Damian briefly recalled the warm and harmonious atmosphere of Marquis Hugo’s estate and shrugged lightly.
Someone raised in such a home could never have imagined the weight of his story.
“If you had known about this in advance, it would’ve been a bigger problem. That would mean rumors had spread.”
“So even the Duke’s household doesn’t know?”
Damian gave a short nod. Naturally, he considered it both a weakness and a source of shame. He also had no desire to see the Duchess gloating over the scars she had inflicted.
Aracila’s expression grew serious. She asked again, her tone more solemn than before.
“Is it really okay for you to tell me something like this?”
“Haven’t you always asked me to open up?”
“Still, a secret like this should only be shared with someone you trust.”
Aracila studied him silently before asking,
“…Does this mean you trust me now?”
“No.”
“What?”
Then why tell me?
Her thoughts were plain as day, both in her muttered words and her blatantly incredulous expression.
Damian chuckled and said,
“You said you trusted me, didn’t you? I simply wanted to return that trust.”
“…What?”
Aracila’s face grew even more serious.
“What do we do? I don’t actually trust knights. I was only talking about my husband.”
“That’s fine. I wasn’t speaking as a knight, but as a husband.”
“Oh.”
A trace of guilt had been tugging at Aracila for potentially tricking him, but now her expression eased.
She had felt somewhat uneasy about the way she had coaxed that confession out of him, but it seemed she had nothing to worry about.
As she let out a small sigh of relief, Damian straightened his posture.
“But as you said, I can’t live like this forever. Even if it takes practice, I’ll work on it. It might take a long time, but… please be patient.”
This time, he squared his shoulders and bowed politely as he spoke.
After all, as she had said, they were in the same boat now.
A minimum level of trust and effort.
That was what they needed. Only then could the loosely tied thread between them begin to strengthen.
Aracila lowered her gaze in thought before speaking up again.
“I think non-forced physical contact might be okay.”
It wasn’t as if she had never touched Damian before.
She recalled the time she had slipped on the stairs—he had instinctively reached out to catch her without hesitation.
It had been an unconscious act, devoid of any pressure or force.
“If it’s you, and if it’s not something forced, but something done naturally when you want to… Maybe you could start practicing with that?”
“That sounds reasonable.”
As Damian responded without hesitation, Aracila beamed in satisfaction. She playfully tapped his collarbone.
“I’m ready anytime, so you can practice whenever you feel comfortable.”
At her words, Damian froze.
He had said he would practice, but he hadn’t yet considered who his practice partner would be.
“…Do I have to practice with you?”
“Are you seriously asking that? Of course, these things should be practiced between spouses.”
Spotting another opportunity to tease him, Aracila grinned mischievously.
Her smile shone so brightly that it seemed to drive away the night’s lingering darkness.
“Or were you planning to practice with someone else? The butler, perhaps?”
“…I’ll do it with you.”
“Why? Who were you thinking of? Were you planning to try physical contact with the knights one by one?”
Since there were plenty of knights in the order, that might actually be an effective approach.
As Aracila muttered to herself and nodded as if seriously considering the idea, Damian let out a deep sigh and replied,
“I wasn’t thinking of anyone. It wasn’t a carefully thought-out statement.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. And even if I had considered it later…”
His golden eyes—gleaming with the most vivid hue among the evening lights—locked onto hers.
“It still would have been you.”
“….”
“Because, as you said… we are husband and wife.”
For the first time, both of them felt the weight of that word—husband and wife.
A single term that bound together two people from completely different worlds.
That was what it meant to be married.
They left the bridge and began walking along the riverbank.
Since their date at the social club had ended in failure, they decided to finish it with a quiet stroll by the water.
Even in the evening, the Nelly River was filled with people. Commoners and nobles, men and women, adults and children—it made no difference.
Walking side by side among them, the two spoke in hushed tones.
“I think we should have at least one meal together every day from now on.”
“Is there a reason for that?”
“That way, we’ll naturally learn more about each other, and situations like the one with Rosaline won’t happen again.”
Being too absorbed in their own work after marriage had led to an excessive level of detachment, which had become the spark for household discord.
It seemed wise to follow Aracila’s suggestion, if only to quell the internal rumors questioning their relationship.
As Damian gazed up at the already star-filled sky, he suddenly spoke, as if something had just occurred to him.
“Isaac was right after all.”
“…?”
Not knowing what conversation had taken place between superior and subordinate, Aracila looked at him in confusion.
“What did Sir Wind say?”
“That when a woman tells you to get lost, you should never actually leave.”
“Hmm.”
She responded somewhat ambiguously before shaking her head.
“Damian, you’re wrong.”
As she lifted her gaze, her rabbit-like features sharpened, taking on a feline quality.
“When I tell you to get lost, you really need to leave.”
“…”
“Then, after some time has passed, you can come back. Otherwise, I might lose control of my temper and use magic.”
Aracila flashed a bright smile.
Given her feats during the Southern Monster Subjugation, her magical attack power was top-tier.
Though Damian’s prowess as a Sword Master was just as formidable, he figured it was best to avoid unnecessary conflict if they wanted to prevent disaster.
In that sense, his timing at the social club earlier had been quite appropriate. He had arrived just when Aracila’s anger had shifted to a third party.
“But you did well to apologize before the night was over. If you had waited too long, we would have inevitably found new reasons to be upset with each other.”
Damian didn’t disagree.
Things were going well now, but by tomorrow, that could change in an instant.
So it was best to do things right while he had the chance.
“Oh, it’s flower rain.”
As the night breeze shook the branches, petals fell like raindrops.
Aracila stretched out her hand, trying to catch one.
At the same time that a soft pink petal landed in her palm, a warm sensation intertwined with her other hand.
She froze for a moment before her rabbit-like eyes widened as she looked up at Damian.
“Your hand…”
“Didn’t you say you were always ready?”
Without warning, he had grabbed her hand firmly, a teasing smile playing on his lips.
It had been a long time since he had held someone’s hand like this, yet it wasn’t as unpleasant or revolting as he had expected.
Yes, this was the right moment.
“Why do you look so surprised?”
“…”
“Were you lying, my lady?”
As she watched her husband’s leisurely grin, Aracila let out a quiet sigh, half in disbelief.
For a split second, she considered tightening her grip and turning the tables on him.
But if she scared him off now, he might give up on physical contact altogether.
“Of course not. From now on, feel free to hold my hand whenever you’d like.”
“Understood. Now that I’ve tried it once, I don’t mind it. I’ll make sure to hold your hand whenever you desire.”
“…Do words like humility or modesty mean nothing to you? How can you be so full of yourself so quickly?”
“You don’t know those words either, do you?”
With that, Damian easily shut down her argument.
It was an irritatingly smug yet undeniably handsome smile, one that suited the spring night’s scenery all too well.
“It’s fine if I do it, but not if you do.”
“Why not?”
“Because that way, you’ll be the only one who’s frustrated.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
Their playful banter lingered in the air around the Nelly River for a long while.
It was an entirely ordinary weekend evening—yet, in its own way, not a bad way to end their first date.
The next morning, on Monday, the early edition of the newspaper featured a detailed article about the romantic date of the Vandermir couple.
It described how the two, having finished their busy schedules, had taken a leisurely stroll along the Nelly River, holding hands tightly as they admired the evening scenery.
For a while, it was a sweet enough story to dispel any doubts about their relationship.
But that peace didn’t last long—thanks to an unwelcome guest who stormed into the Vandermir estate.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *. ꕥ .* :✧ﾟ. ───
