ITMFYWCLBU 22

“So—you’re really quitting your post as lady’s maid, just as planned.”

After returning from the summer villa to the capital, Clarisse went to Félicité at once and told her she would be resigning.

Félicité said she would miss her, then smiled warmly.

“But it’s for the best. Not only for your family, but for you as well. There won’t be anyone who treasures you more than Alexis does.”

“Yes.”

Even if things ended the same way in the future, Félicité was right: there likely wasn’t a man who would love Clarisse more than the Alexis of now.

When Clarisse nodded, Félicité laughed softly. “Oh my. What a sweet confession,” she teased, then drew a stack of documents from her desk.

“I’m sorry to trouble you, but could you deliver these to Gracian?”

For a moment, Clarisse remembered the time Joanne had tried to seize documents from her in the corridor—but this time she was headed straight for Gracian’s rooms. Joanne wouldn’t be able to use her old excuse of ‘I’ll just pass them along for you’ and snatch them. Even if they met, it should be fine.

“Certainly.”

At this hour, Gracian would be in his office. Even in the summer villa, the problem there hadn’t been fully resolved, and now that they were back in the capital he seemed busier than ever.

(We still don’t know who did it…)

As she walked the corridor, Clarisse couldn’t help replaying the events at the villa.

After the night an intruder had entered Mathilda’s room, no one else’s chambers were breached before they returned to the capital. Security had been restructured and tightened; there simply hadn’t been any openings.

But they still hadn’t found even a thread of a clue.

No one knew who the intruder was—the one Alexis and the others had chased, only to lose.

The dagger Alexis had recovered was ordinary, the sort sold anywhere. It hadn’t helped identify the culprit at all.

(Still… Lord Alexis and His Highness talk like they have some idea.)

They never said it outright, but Gracian seemed convinced Mathilda might be targeted again—like he had some reason to believe she was in danger. Clarisse, a mere maid, couldn’t stick her nose into such matters and demand answers. Yet the thought of Alexis being put at risk again left her unsettled.

(After we marry, Alexis will step down as His Highness’s aide and leave knighthood… but that’s still more than half a year away.)

Clarisse would resign her post at the start of next month. Alexis would remain at Gracian’s side until the very last moment before the wedding, but after marriage he would take up the succession of the Brantome household, assisting Clarisse’s father and learning the details.

(Before that, we’ll go on a honeymoon for about a month.)

Their honeymoon would be to an island floating in the southern inland sea.

The memory made Clarisse’s cheeks threaten to soften into a smile.

Alexis had been sweet even before they married—but after the wedding, he became almost unbearably affectionate. She didn’t know whether things would unfold exactly as she remembered or shift into something slightly different, but either way… she couldn’t deny she was looking forward to it.

The wedding would be in spring, so the sea would be too cold to swim, but she remembered walking hand-in-hand along the shore, stealing kisses at dusk where no one could see—every moment, as far as her memory reached, had been achingly happy.

(Focus. I’m working.)

Since deciding not to break off the engagement and to marry, it felt as though her mind would turn pink if she let her guard down for even a second.

Just imagining herself marrying the man she loved again, and going on that cloyingly lovey-dovey honeymoon, made her face muscles want to melt into a grin she might not be able to stop.

Perhaps it was because she had, in her heart, accepted the possibility that she might still die the same way—because once she accepted that, her feelings had shifted into then I want to be as happy as I can until then.

And so she wanted to see Alexis constantly, to cling to him shamelessly.

(Working. Working. If I’m grinning like an idiot, people will think I’ve lost my mind.)

She lightly patted her cheek with one hand to tighten her expression and hurried along the corridor.

When she knocked on Gracian’s door, it was Alexis—inside with him—who popped his head out.

“Clarisse? What’s wrong?”

“Her Majesty asked me to bring documents to His Highness.”

She tried to deliver the words with a crisp, professional face—but Alexis smiled at her so brightly it nearly made her crumble into a grin.

(Ever since I said I’ll marry him, Lord Alexis is just… relentlessly sweet.)

After the night she steeled herself, she had told Alexis she intended to marry him.

And she had apologized as well—for her earlier selfish insistence on breaking things off.

Alexis had been so happy that, despite his injured arm—despite how much it must have hurt—he had lifted her and spun her around in circles—

(Stop it. Working!)

With a firm mental slap, Clarisse forced herself not to smile and followed Alexis into Gracian’s office.

“I was just about to take a break,” Gracian said, after accepting the papers and skimming through them. “Stay and keep me company, Clarisse.”

He had a maid set out three tea services.

“I’ll prepare documents to return to Mother later. When you leave, take them back with you.”

“Understood.”

Clarisse sat across from Gracian beside Alexis. Before long, tea and sweets were brought in.

“So? How are wedding preparations going?” Gracian asked.

“We’re about to start in earnest. And you, Your Highness—are you finished with yours?”

“I’m apparently not allowed to have opinions,” Gracian said with a wry smile. “Mathilda and Mother are handling everything.”

“If men start meddling, nothing moves forward,” Félicité had apparently told him. “So shut up,” in so many words. Gracian gave a dry laugh. “It’s my wedding, and yet I’m completely outside the circle.”

“Oh, well… if you’re asked about flowers and decorations, I suppose it is hard to answer,” Alexis said, nodding in sympathy—and then glanced at Clarisse.

“That sort of thing tends to matter more to women. Better to leave it to them. Of course, I’ll help however I can.”

“Don’t,” Gracian said immediately. “If you try, you’ll just be treated like you’re in the way. Isn’t that right, Clarisse?”

“Ah—no, I wouldn’t say that…” Clarisse started, then paused.

Come to think of it, in her memories Alexis hadn’t voiced many opinions about their wedding preparations either. Perhaps Gracian had influenced him into keeping his mouth shut to avoid unnecessary trouble.

“They get angry even if you comment on the color,” Gracian grumbled. “Our job is to nod at whatever the bride says she wants.”

“It wasn’t just the color,” Clarisse pointed out. “You complained about the amount of skin showing, too.”

“I had to! Her dress had the back cut down to her waist! Men will be there—how could I not say something?!”

Ah—so Gracian hated the idea of others seeing Mathilda’s skin.

“But she’ll wear a veil—”

“Clarisse. Veils are lace. They’re sheer,” Gracian snapped.

“Um…”

“I suppose women don’t understand this,” Gracian said, then turned to Alexis. “All right—then answer me this. Imagine Clarisse’s dress had a back cut down this far, and other men were staring at that pale skin. How would you feel?”

“We should eliminate those men.”

“Exactly! Right?!” Gracian thumped the table like he’d found his comrade in arms.

“So I told them I hated it, but they said it’s fashionable—Mathilda and Mother both… And now I’m the villain.”

Clarisse sympathized—yet she still felt he was overreacting. No one attended a wedding to leer at a bride’s back. Who would even dare look at the future crown princess that way?

And yet, Alexis now wore a serious expression as he began interrogating Clarisse about her chosen gown’s neckline and back.

(You said ‘anything is fine,’ didn’t you?)

Men truly were troublesome creatures.

“My dress doesn’t open down to the waist,” Clarisse said quickly. “It’s only open to about the middle of my back.”

But Alexis muttered, “Half her back…?” under his breath, looking distressed.

(I see. If they keep meddling like this, of course preparations don’t move forward.)

No wonder Mathilda and Félicité treated Gracian as a nuisance. The date was set—if he nitpicked every detail, they’d never finish.

Deciding it was better to let the two men rant themselves out, Clarisse sipped her tea, listening with only half an ear—until Gracian’s tone shifted.

“By the way,” he said. “Has anything suspicious happened around you lately, Clarisse?”

Clarisse looked up.

“Suspicious? No… not particularly.”

“If there’s nothing, then good. Just—be careful, to be safe.”

“…I see. Um—did something happen?”

If Gracian asked, there had to be a reason.

Gracian and Alexis exchanged a glance. There was a brief beat of silent understanding between them before Alexis spoke.

“Nothing major. It seems there have been incidents lately—brides-to-be attacked at random.”

“Attacked…?” Clarisse blinked. “Really?”

If such a thing were happening, Clarisse felt she should have heard at least a rumor. Yet she hadn’t.

“Yes,” Alexis said. “So you should be especially attentive to your surroundings. If anything happens, tell me immediately.”

“…All right.”

Something about it didn’t sit right, but if Gracian was concerned and Alexis echoed him, perhaps it was true.

(But why would brides-to-be be attacked at random…? It makes no sense.)

In the future she had already lived, there had been no such disturbing crimes.

She was already used to small differences appearing here and there—too many, by now, to be shocked. But this particular claim felt… off.

“So,” Gracian pressed, “when you go out, don’t ever be alone. Understood?”

“Yes, understood.”

As she nodded, Alexis let out a breath that sounded like relief and glanced back toward Gracian.

(It feels like only the two of them share the real story.)

If brides were truly being attacked, surely they had more details. And yet they gave none—as though they were deliberately keeping Clarisse in the dark.

(…They’re hiding something.)

It was only a feeling. She couldn’t say such a thing aloud. Still, the way their eyes flicked to one another unsettled her.

(Come to think of it… even in the future, Lord Alexis and His Highness used to whisper and act secretive.)

After marrying Clarisse, Alexis should have quit being Gracian’s aide—yet Gracian still summoned him to the castle constantly.

Clarisse had always assumed that was what increased Alexis’s opportunities to meet Wiejeny… and that those meetings led to the affair.

But… was that really the whole truth?

Watching the two men sip their tea with carefully blank expressions, Clarisse found herself thinking so.