Water splashed noisily into the brass washbasin.
Klein cupped a handful of cold water and splashed it onto his face. The icy touch instantly dispelled the mental exhaustion brought on by several hours of alchemical experiments.
He reached out to pull a dry towel from the rack and vigorously wiped the water droplets from his face.
The complex scent of herbs mixed with metal that had clung to him was now replaced by the faint, fresh fragrance of soap.
He hung the towel back in its place and turned to push open the washroom door.
The hallway was empty. The magic lamps on the walls cast a warm yellow glow, stretching his shadow long against the floor.
Ophelia wasn't there.
Klein's gaze turned toward the second-floor corridor—the door that should have been tightly closed was currently slightly ajar. A faint sliver of light, no wider than two fingers, spilled through the gap, casting a long, intriguing beam across the floor.
Klein froze for a moment, then lifted his feet and stepped onto the thick, soft carpet, walking toward the door. His boots made no sound, but his heart couldn't help but skip a beat.
He stood before the door, placed his hand on the cool copper handle, and gently pushed it open.
The door hinges turned with a faint sound of friction.
The magic lamps weren't lit in the room. Silvery moonlight cascaded through the open window like a waterfall, spreading a layer of soft silver frost across the floor. A late summer night breeze blew in from outside, carrying the sweet scent of roses from the garden and gently fluttering the curtains.
Ophelia sat at the edge of the bed with her back to the window.
She was wearing a pure white silk nightgown. The thin fabric clung to her body, and her slender waist was clearly visible beneath the drape of the material. A gust of night wind blew, ruffling her golden hair and sending a few stray strands playfully across her cheeks.
Ophelia's cheeks were flushed with a clear crimson, a blush that even spread down to her long, fair neck. Under the silvery moonlight, this flush appeared exceptionally distinct and moving.
She sat with her back straight, her hands folded neatly on her knees.
Klein stopped at the door, not approaching immediately.
He was no stranger to this bedroom; after all, he had personally arranged it at the beginning. However, out of respect for her privacy, he had never come in to take a close look since then. Counting it up, the two of them had shared a bed two or three times—the most recent being just last night—but those had mostly been due to some accident or a tacit understanding.
But tonight was different.
This was the first time Ophelia had proactively opened her door, inviting him to step into her most private personal space.
Klein's fingertips felt slightly numb.
He closed the door behind him.
Click.
The lock clicked into place. This extremely faint sound was magnified infinitely in the quiet room where only the sound of their breathing could be heard.
Ophelia's shoulders shook imperceptibly, and she suddenly stood up from the edge of the bed.
She opened her mouth, her chest rising and falling sharply. The composed opening lines she had rehearsed countless times in her mind were all stuck in her throat, becoming a tangled mess.
She eventually could only close her mouth and stand there stiffly, her golden eyes staring frantically at the floor like a child who had done something wrong.
Klein looked at the usually awe-inspiring Imperial Knight in her current state of helplessness, and most of the tension in his heart instantly vanished.
He walked over and stopped half a step away from her.
“Aren't you resting yet?” His words were calm and gentle.
Ophelia turned her head slightly, not daring to look him in the eye.
She raised her right hand and pressed the back of it against her burning cheek, letting out a light cough to hide her fluster.
“I was waiting for you.”
As soon as those four words left her mouth, she immediately closed it, vexed as she bit her lower lip.
The adult composure she had intended to display crumbled completely; she felt she must look absolutely foolish right now.
She quickly turned around and sat back down on the edge of the bed, attempting to use the movement to hide the turmoil in her heart.
Klein didn't expose her facade. He followed suit and walked to her side, sitting down about a fist's width away.
The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and Ophelia's body unconsciously leaned toward him a fraction. The distance between them was instantly closed, their body heat transferring through the thin air.
Neither of them spoke.
The night wind blew the curtains, making a rustling sound. An awkward atmosphere of romantic ambiguity filled the air.
We need to find a topic, Klein thought, he couldn't let his Knightess continue to suffer like this.
“Tonight, just a moment ago, Raymond brought a message from Lillian,” Klein began, his speaking pace a bit slower than usual.
Hearing business, Ophelia's tense shoulders finally relaxed, and she turned her head. “What did she say?”
“The basic design for the wedding dress is finished.” Klein reached out his right hand and gestured the dimensions in the air, a smile on his face. “She wants us to go over in a couple of days to try it on.”
Ophelia looked down at her hands and said softly, “Okay.”
Once the wedding dress topic was out, the invisible stickiness in the room quietly faded, replaced by an anticipation for the future.
“The wedding's progress is much faster than expected.” Klein sat with his hands folded on his knees, turning his head to look at the girl beside him. “Speaking of which, what kind of wedding do you want?”
Ophelia's movement stiffened.
She opened her mouth but didn't utter a word, finally shaking her head slowly.
This question truly stumped her. In the past twenty-some years of her life, longswords, sea monsters, and bloodshed had filled all her time.
As for the red tape and grand evening banquets of high society, she had always been a cold bystander, never thinking she would one day be the protagonist.
If she really had to scour her memory for a wedding she had personally participated in...
Actually, only the maid Daisy's...
Replicating a wedding like that in this Baron's manor?
She looked down at her hands resting on her skirt, her brow furrowing slightly.
“I don't understand these things,” Ophelia confessed truthfully, her tone for once laced with a hint of hesitation and lack of confidence. “The only wedding I've attended was Daisy and Big Tom's. If we did it to that standard... the fief would need to prepare several more roast pigs. Also, would we have to personally carry wooden mugs and run around the venue to compete in drinking with everyone?”
Klein was stunned for a second, then let out a clear laugh.
The clear laughter echoed in the quiet bedroom, completely dispelling the remaining awkwardness in the air.
He really couldn't connect the dignified, tall, and cool Imperial Knight before him with a reckless maid carrying low-quality wooden mugs around looking for people to drink with. That image was too vivid; he almost couldn't bear to look.
Klein laughed enough, then reined in some of his teasing and turned his head to look at his fiancée. He reached out and very naturally covered her folded hands with his.
Ophelia's body stiffened slightly, but she didn't pull her hand back. Instead, she relaxed her grip and let him hold it.
“Then just leave it all to me.” Klein's tone was gentle, his eyes full of indulgence as he took on the troublesome task. “I will give you the most suitable wedding. You only need to wear the wedding dress Lillian made and appear beautifully.”
Ophelia listened to his words and felt the warmth from the back of her hand. Her original awkwardness completely vanished, her heart feeling as if it were stuffed with a bundle of warm cotton.
The room fell quiet. The chirping of insects outside and the rustling of the night wind against the curtains mixed together, making the scene feel exceptionally peaceful.
They sat side by side on the edge of the bed, the distance between them having disappeared at some point. Neither spoke again, but the air lacked the usual flustered embarrassment. The moonlight cast two long shadows on the carpet, their edges having long since intimately merged.
This silence wasn't difficult to endure at all. They both knew very well what this silent understanding represented—it was two hearts slowly drawing closer.
After a while, Klein spoke to break the silence. He turned sideways, looking at her golden hair illuminated by the moonlight and those beautiful golden eyes that one couldn't look away from.
“When you left the imperial capital, did you ever think you would be like this?”
Ophelia heard this and turned to meet his gaze.
“Who knows?”
She tilted her head slightly, her golden eyes reflecting the gentle moonlight outside, her tone possessing a rare touch of playful charm.
Rate on N.U.
