The wheat fields by the road swayed in the evening breeze, rustling like a green sea.
By all accounts, this was only Ophelia's third day here.
Yet Klein felt as though they had known each other for a very, very long time. It had been long enough for him to grow accustomed to her walking quietly beside him, to the occasional inquisitive looks she cast his way, and to speaking words before her that he wouldn't easily reveal to anyone else.
He suddenly stopped and stepped toward the edge of the field, casually snapping off a stalk of wheat that was still a shade of green.
Ophelia stood a short distance away, watching him silently, wondering what he intended to do.
Klein placed the wheat ear in his palm, closed his hands together, and rubbed them back and forth with vigor.
The coarse awns were quickly rubbed away with a faint rustling sound, revealing the individual grains nestled inside.
He brought his palms to his mouth and blew gently; the fine chaff scattered into the wind, leaving only a few tender green grains lying quietly in his hand. Under the light of the setting sun, those grains possessed a faint, almost translucent luster.
In the next second, he tilted his head back, tossed the grains into his mouth, and chewed them casually.
"My mother taught me this when I was a child," Klein said, as if talking to himself or perhaps explaining it to her, his voice softened by nostalgia. "She said that if I got tired from playing in the fields, I could eat these as a snack."
"So for a long time back then, I wished the wheat would stay green forever and never ripen."
"If my father had known I thought that, he surely would have lectured me," he paused and gave a self-deprecating smile. "After all, to a lord, unripened wheat means a smaller harvest, and taxes would decrease along with it."
As he spoke, a sense of nostalgia flickered in his eyes, accompanied by a nearly imperceptible trace of loneliness.
Those childhood days were gone, never to return.
He snapped off another ear of wheat.
He repeated the previous actions: rubbing it open and blowing away the chaff. His movements were more practiced than before and gentler, as if he were performing some kind of ritual.
This time, he did not eat them himself. Instead, he held out his palm, offering them to Ophelia like a precious treasure.
"Want to try some?"
His voice carried a hint of anticipation, and his eyes were bright, like a child waiting for a compliment.
Ophelia looked at the tiny green grains in his palm, then looked up at him.
Her golden eyes appeared exceptionally bright in the sunset's afterglow, resembling two pieces of lit amber.
She remained silent for a moment.
Then, she reached out her hand.
As her fingertips took the grains from his palm, they created an extremely faint scratching sensation. The touch was fleeting, yet it felt like a feather brushing along the lines of his palm all the way to Klein's heart.
It was ticklish.
And a bit... hot.
His palm reflexively curled inward, his fingertips tightening slightly as if wanting to catch something, yet finding nothing to hold.
Ophelia mimicked his actions, putting the grains into her mouth and chewing them slowly.
Her movements were serious, as if she were analyzing some new, unknown subject; every chew was deliberate and cautious.
At first, there was only the raw, grassy flavor and a bit of coarse fiber.
But soon, a very faint, refreshing sweetness spread across her tongue, carrying the primal fragrance of grain along with the scent of sunlight and soil.
The flavor was subtle, but unexpectedly... clean.
Klein kept his eyes fixed on her face, his anticipation evident. His gaze was focused and intense, hardly blinking for fear of missing even the slightest change in her expression.
"How is it?"
His voice was a bit tense, and his tone rose slightly with excitement.
Ophelia did not answer immediately.
The raw flavor spread through her mouth, accompanied by that faint, characteristic sweetness of the grain.
It wasn't exactly delicious.
Compared to actual food, it was quite bland and even had a bit of rough texture.
But when she looked up and saw Klein's face, that thought vanished instantly.
He was looking at her intently, his eyes sparkling and the corners of his mouth curving upward in an unmasked expectation that nearly overflowed from his face. It was as if her evaluation were more important than the result of any magical experiment.
Ophelia felt she should say something.
She thought for a moment, searching through the culinary compliments she had heard before.
"Mm."
She nodded gently, the lingering sweetness still on her tongue.
"It is very delicious."
After speaking, she paused and added another sentence: "Better than military rations."
Klein was stunned for a moment, then couldn't help but burst into laughter.
"Well, that is a low bar to clear," he said, shaking his head with a smile, though the light in his eyes grew even brighter. "Still... to be better than military rations is an honor."
The echo of that "very delicious" seemed to carry that raw sweetness, lingering between them.
The evening breeze chose that moment to blow more urgently.
The wind caught Ophelia's long golden hair, letting the strands fly freely in the air like a trail of liquid gold.
The last rays of the sunset happened to pierce through those fluttering strands, outlining her profile in a warm, fuzzy halo. Her eyelashes cast delicate shadows across her fair cheeks in the shifting light.
That radiance caused Klein to squint reflexively.
His breath hitched for a moment.
His heartbeat suddenly became very clear, thumping against his chest one beat after another.
He looked away almost frantically, his Adam's apple bobbing as he let out a muffled response:
"...That's good then."
He heard his own voice; it was a bit raspy.
Damn it.
He cursed silently to himself.
It was just an ordinary sunset, an ordinary breeze, and an ordinary her.
So why...
Why did he feel that, in this moment, she was so beautiful it was almost unfair?
Ophelia did not seem to notice his odd behavior.
She simply stood there quietly, letting the evening breeze toy with her long hair, her golden eyes reflecting the distant wheat fields and the sunset clouds.
Klein took a deep breath, forcing himself to look away from her and back toward the distant fields.
"Let's go."
His voice was even raspier than before.
...
What had just happened seemed like nothing more than a minor interlude.
Klein felt like he had regained the rhythm of his speech.
The awkward atmosphere was swept away by the wind. He cleared his throat and began searching for things to talk about again.
"Speaking of which, we didn't finish talking about using magic to ripen crops last time."
Ophelia glanced at him.
She remembered; that had been the first night she arrived here.
They had climbed over the wall together afterward.
When the topic turned to something he was passionate about, Klein's talkativeness fully returned. "Moonlight stone powder can indeed gently nourish crops, but its energy conversion efficiency is too low and the cost is too high; large-scale application isn't realistic. Even for small-scale trials, the material costs alone would consume half the manor's annual income."
It was as if he were back in his laboratory. He walked while unconsciously gesturing with his hands, his fingers tracing invisible magic circuits in the air.
"It's like using gold to make wires; it works, but it's foolish. True magic should be about leveraging a small force to achieve a grand result, not using brute strength."
"So I was thinking, maybe we can change our approach. Instead of directly 'feeding' energy to the crops, we could 'awaken' their own life force. Use a specific magical resonance to harmonize with their internal growth cycles..."
He spoke with rising excitement, going on about elemental resonance, life alchemy, magic circuits, and natural laws. The terms became more obscure and the theories more complex.
Ophelia listened quietly throughout, her golden eyes showing no impatience, only pure attention.
She didn't really understand these things.
She only knew how to swing a sword.
She knew how to carve a path through thousands of soldiers, how to sever an enemy's throat with minimal movement, and how to make the right decision in a split second between life and death.
But Klein loved these things just as she loved the sword.
She could hear the passion in his voice—a near-pure desire for knowledge and truth.
It was the same feeling she got when she gripped a hilt.
It was a feeling of... being alive.
So she was willing to listen.
Even if she didn't understand, she was willing to listen.
Before they knew it, the silhouette of the manor appeared in the distance.
A few warm lights flickered in the deepening twilight, as if guiding them home.
They were back.
Klein's pace unconsciously slowed.
How was it so fast?
He still had a stomach full of ideas about magical improvements he wanted to discuss with this competent listener.
For instance, what if he carved alchemical arrays onto scarecrows to turn them into mobile energy nodes?
Or used wind elements to construct a circulation system so magic could flow through the fields like blood?
And...
The road had suddenly become too short.
So short he hadn't had enough time to enjoy this rare time alone with her, so short he hadn't been able to look at her a few more times, so short...
He even felt a bit of regret; why hadn't he taken the long way back?
Just as Klein was calculating whether to pretend he'd forgotten something to stay outside a bit longer, the silent Ophelia suddenly stopped and looked at him.
"Your face."
"Hmm? What about my face?" Klein touched it reflexively, looking confused.
Ophelia's gaze fell on the hand he had just used to rub the wheat, which was still stained with bits of chaff and grass.
Then, her eyes slowly moved back to his face, lingering for a moment on his left cheek.
"Right here," she said, raising her hand. She didn't touch him yet, only pointed toward his cheek from a distance. "Something is stuck there."
Klein blinked, not yet reacting.
In the next second, Ophelia reached out.
Her movement was natural, as if she had done it a thousand times, without any hesitation.
Her fingertip brushed lightly against his cheek, taking away a small piece of chaff that hadn't been blown away.
The sensation was even clearer than when she had taken the grains from his palm.
Her fingertip was a bit cool, carrying the temperature of the evening breeze, yet the moment it touched his skin, it felt as though something had been ignited.
Klein's mind went blank in that instant.
He even forgot to breathe.
By the time he reacted, he had lightly stepped back, and an unnatural flush quickly rose to his face, spreading from his ears down to his neck.
The warmth of her touch still lingered on his skin like a brand, so hot he almost wanted to cover his face.
"Th-thank you."
He stumbled over his words, his voice clearly panicked.
Ophelia looked at her finger, where a small bit of fine chaff was stuck.
She blew on it gently, and the chaff vanished into the night wind.
"Mm."
She responded calmly, her golden eyes showing no extra emotional fluctuation, as if the movement had been as simple as wiping away a bit of dust.
However...
Her hand hanging by her side saw her fingertips reflexively curl inward.
That sensation seemed to remain on her finger.
Warm and soft.
Carrying a temperature that... left one at a loss.
Klein felt his face getting even hotter.
He forced himself to turn around and walked toward the manor at a pace more than twice as fast as usual.
All those magical topics he had wanted to discuss were now thrown to the back of his mind.
Alchemical arrays on scarecrows, mobile energy nodes, wind element circulation—he couldn't remember a single word of it now.
His head was filled entirely with the sensation of that moment.
And... her golden eyes.
Ophelia followed behind him, her stride remaining steady.
Only occasionally would she lower her eyes to look at her own finger.
Then, she would quickly look away again.
The main building of the manor was brightly lit.
When Klein pushed the door open, the hall was full of people.
The maids were gathered in small groups, whispering; Martha was leaning against the fireplace with her arms crossed; and Raymond stood in the center of the hall holding an account book.
Almost every gaze turned toward them at the same time.
Especially Martha's.
Her gaze first landed on Klein's face—at the flush that still remained—then drifted to Ophelia's face—which was as calm as ever—and finally swept between the two of them several times. The corners of her mouth began to turn upward uncontrollably.
Her eyes grew wider and wider, as if she had discovered some incredible secret.
Being stared at like that made Klein feel entirely uneasy.
He unconsciously touched his face, trying to confirm if the flush was still there.
"Ahem."
He cleared his throat, attempting to regain a bit of his dignity as the master of the manor.
The maids immediately looked away and lowered their heads, but the excitement of gossip on their faces couldn't be hidden. A few younger maids even covered their mouths, their shoulders shaking as they clearly suppressed their laughter.
Martha didn't move.
Her smile grew even more obvious as she nudged a nearby maid with her elbow and whispered something.
The maid held back her laughter until her face turned red, but her eyes kept darting back toward Klein and Ophelia.
Klein felt the flush he had just suppressed about to return.
He took a deep breath, trying his best to look composed.
Raymond remained as steady as ever.
He closed the account book and gave a slight nod. "Master, Madam, you have returned."
After a pause, he continued, "Since the maids have all returned, it is time to make new arrangements."
His tone was calm, as if he were speaking of the most ordinary matter.
"The manor now has a mistress, and many things must change."
Rate on N.U.
