Chapter 4
Second Class and Private Compartment
It was a voice Nigel clearly recognized.
As he slowly turned his head, he saw the strange guy from earlier who had addressed him as “Lady.” Their eyes met, and the man lowered his gaze as he approached.
For some reason, whenever Nigel looked at him, he felt a familiar yet unsettling discomfort.
Around them, a few onlookers seemed to recognize the man, whispering quietly to one another.
“…He doesn’t look like it on the outside.”
“…I guess he’s ambitious.”
Negative words slipped easily into Nigel’s ears.
At that moment, Allen, panting, peeked out from the train.
“Uh…? That person is…!”
Seeing that Allen immediately recognized him too, Nigel assumed this man had a notorious reputation nearby. It was probably best not to get involved.
“…Allen, is it urgent right now?!”
Nigel suddenly looked up at Allen.
“Yeah! Sebastian’s calling! It’s urgent, so come quickly!!”
Allen responded naturally, without showing any sign of panic.
Nigel frowned, giving him a look that said he was in trouble, and then quickly boarded the train.
Thunk.
Nigel patted Allen on the shoulder.
“Thanks for playing along with that.”
“Eh, we’re friends, of course!”
Allen smiled brightly.
“By the way, do you know that guy? You ran off just like that?”
“No. I just… didn’t like the feeling.”
“Well… feelings are important.”
Allen nodded, rubbing his chin.
“I liked your vibe, so I wanted to get closer to you!”
“…Really?”
“Yeah! I have a great sense for these things!”
Although Nigel felt reluctant about Allen constantly sticking to him, he didn’t feel particularly bad. Perhaps it was because his gentle, soft facial features reminded him of the kids from the orphanage.
“Alright. Then let’s go to my seat. Oh, you said you’d carry my luggage, right?”
“….”
Allen’s expression stiffened as he picked up the suitcase he had just set down.
“Hah… haah… F-finally, we’ve arrived, arrived…!”
Allen set down the suitcase inside the compartment.
‘Not bad.’
Nigel glanced around the second-class compartment. Unlike the third-class compartment, which held four people per room, the second-class compartment was shared by only two.
Meals were of decent quality, and the spacious chairs along the walls turned into beds at night.
“…Yeah, I guess second class is going to be tough.”
…This guy.
Once again, Nigel’s train ticket crumpled in his pocket.
“If it’s uncomfortable, go to your own seat, okay?”
Nigel crossed his arms and leaned against the compartment door.
“Yeah, of course I will!”
At the same time, a bright, cheerful reply came.
Allen’s voice instantly dissolved Nigel’s complaint.
“Come on, let’s go to my seat, Nigel!”
Smiling, Allen firmly pushed Nigel from behind as they walked.
“…Here it is!”
Chattering all the way forward, Allen finally stopped.
How important could this seat be to make him make such a fuss?
Nigel squinted, giving the door a displeased glance.
‘…It really is different.’
He had to admit it.
The wooden door gleamed with a polish and grain unlike any door he had seen before. Money had clearly paid for this shine and texture.
“Come on in to my compartment!”
The door slid open smoothly, without a creak.
“…!”
Nigel’s eyes widened at the interior beyond Allen.
The first thing that caught his eye was the lavish crystal chandelier and the cream-colored curtains beneath it, intricately patterned with golden thread.
Warm-toned leather sofas that seemed soft to the touch, a finely crafted wooden table, a display of unknown wines and glasses, a mahogany cabinet full of rare books—everything dazzled, making it hard to know where to look first.
In short, this compartment was overflowing with money.
“Nigel? What are you doing at the door? Come in already.”
Allen guided the hesitant Nigel inside and plopped down onto the leather sofa.
“You sit down too.”
As Nigel settled onto the sofa, it embraced him warmly. He felt his eyes grow heavy, and sleep beckoned.
‘…So this is what money feels like.’
Now he understood why Allen had made such ridiculous claims. For someone accustomed to such sofas, a second-class mattress would feel worse than a hard stone floor.
“Nigel, who shares this compartment with you?”
For the first time that day, a soft voice escaped Nigel’s mouth—a voice that usually came out only when bargaining at stores in Tilin.
“Oh, just me. This is our family’s private compartment. Oh! I forgot to offer you tea when you arrived.”
Allen jumped up, fetched a tea set from the display, and said:
“It’s still cold outside, right? Wait a moment. This tea smells amazing.”
Despite it being February, the compartment felt warm, and the only sign of winter outside was the sound of strong wind. Steam rose from the kettle.
“….”
Even the simple tea kettle was imbued with expensive heating magic. Nigel realized he must be dealing with someone extremely wealthy.
“Here’s the tea. It’s brewed perfectly. Add milk or sugar to taste, friend!”
Though reluctant, Nigel sipped the tea, following the northern custom of never refusing a host’s offering.
“…Not bad at all.”
Though he didn’t usually enjoy tea, the fragrant aroma made him drink faster than usual.
Allen happily refilled his cup and brought a plate piled high with desserts.
‘Just tea, that’s all. Only tea.’
By the third cup, Nigel had fully relaxed onto the sofa, stretching his legs onto a stool and reading comfortably.
A thick, soft wool blanket that Allen had draped over him kept him warm.
The desserts Allen offered had vanished without a trace, leaving only crumbs.
‘…Which comes first, environment or personal disposition? Well, obviously personal disposition… wait.’
Nigel blinked mid-sentence, looking out through the curtains. The gray morning sky had given way to bright sunlight, signaling lunchtime.
He reluctantly pulled the cozy blanket away.
“Ah, if you don’t like that book, I can give you mine.”
Allen offered a famous detective novel he had been reading.
“No, I’m heading back to my own seat now.”
“What?? You’re leaving already?”
Allen jumped up from the sofa.
“We haven’t even finished our chess game or had a proper chat yet. Already?”
“Yes, two hours is already a long time. I need to get back, unpack, and eat.”
“Then we can just eat here! What’s the problem?”
Allen’s confident voice made Nigel pause.
“Nigel, what do you want to eat? Just say it. I can make anything, of course, with the chef, not me!”
…Ding.
The words “anything” and “chef” struck Nigel’s heart.
He slipped his protruding train ticket into the deepest corner of his pocket.
…He’d stay here until lunchtime, just for now. Really.
Having finished all the desserts, Nigel placed the knife and fork on the plate and glanced back.
‘…Who is that, and why are they staring at us?’
Though Allen sat beside him, he could feel a strong gaze from behind the compartment door throughout the meal.
“…Sebastian? What are you doing there?”
Allen noticed the person beyond the door.
The door slid open, revealing a dignified man in his sixties.
This was the same man who had served food during Nigel and Allen’s lunch.
“Oh, I was just quietly observing, curious about the young lady friend of the master. I suppose I got caught. My name is Sebastian, Allen’s personal attendant.”
He smiled gently and placed a hand on his chest in a formal greeting.
Even if it felt awkward, Nigel knew to show gratitude to someone who had served her so well.
“Thank you, Mr. Sebastian. The meal was delicious thanks to you.”
Sebastian’s mouth opened slightly in admiration, then he clasped Nigel’s hand.
“I am honored that you enjoyed my cooking so much, Miss Nigel. Please, just call me Sebastian!”
Unlike Allen, who spent more time talking than eating, Sebastian’s voice carried a subtle warmth.
‘Meeting such an excellent chef and yet Allen…’
A twinge of regret welled from deep within Nigel.
“Start by calling me Nigel, please.”
“That’s easy enough.”
A rapport formed naturally, and they both smiled at each other.
“…Am I seeing things, or does Nigel seem closer to Sebastian than to me?”
Allen’s protruding lips pouted as he muttered.
“Nigel!”
“I’ve been curious—why are you so obsessed with getting close to me?”
