Chapter 42

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: A Private Fitting
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My eyes widened, and Diello smiled.

“I'm not sure how my ceremonial attire disappeared, but as you know, my original suit was tailored to match Croire's dress.”

That was true.

He had said his suit was made to complement the dress I had chosen.

“It won't match a suit that was hastily made.”

Diello's gaze shifted to the tailor's design sketch.

For something drawn up in a hurry, the sketch was practically glowing. It seemed a man who had made his living at this for forty-seven years was truly in a different league.

“I agree. It's a beautiful suit, but we can't have you wearing something that doesn't match.”

At my words, the tailor with forty-seven years of experience looked relieved.

I turned my gaze to the Argenta informant who had rushed in.

“Time is short. Will it be possible?”

In response to my question, a voice came from behind the Argenta.

“It's possible!”

“Aaaah!”

But the declaration of possibility was accompanied by a scream.

The voice that had declared it possible even sounded familiar.

Peeking through the doorway, I saw someone with a cheerful expression carrying a person.

It was Rick!

The poor man in pajamas, dangling from his arms, was clearly the estate's tailor.

“I-It's possible.”

Perhaps he hadn't been able to answer earlier because he was screaming, but the tailor replied the moment Rick set him down.

Rick was watching him with a bright, innocent face.

According to the original novel, that cheerful lunatic smiled more brightly the more satisfied he was with handling things ‘his way.’

Just what kind of crazy stunt did he pull to look that happy?

The answer seemed obvious from the tailor's state. He looked dazed, as if he'd been teleported straight out of his bed.

“G-Greetings to you both.”

Thanks to that, even his greeting was late.

“I prepared a few design drafts on the way.”

It was quite a spectacle, hearing him say that while out of breath.

He prepared drafts in the middle of all that?

“…Then let's choose the one that best matches this design.”

I pointed to the sketch held by the tailor with forty-seven years of experience.

Then, I subtly stepped back from Diello.

Or rather, I was about to.

“Wait.”

His arm wrapped around my waist.

“?”

I was pulled right into his arms.

“To make Croire's dress, we need to take her measurements, don't we?”

“Ah.”

But if you hold me this close… won't it be impossible to measure?

When I looked up, Diello was gazing at me with the sweetest eyes.

His blue eyes glittered in the light.

“Are you going to borrow the hands of another, instead of mine?”

Even if this weren't an act, how many people could possibly say yes to that?

I shook my head.

“Of course not.”

Diello was being strangely proactive.

It seemed he intended to put on a proper show, especially with spies from other families present.

Alright, then. As his acting coach (?), wasn't it only right for me to play along?

“Please.”

I handed the measuring tape to Diello.

“Then.”

As if to ask for my permission, he kissed the back of my hand and took the tape.

His every movement was that of a well-mannered gentleman.

“I will be waiting outside.”

As the estate's tailor excused himself, Diello's hand rested on my shoulder.

“Croire's dress has an ornate design, so we'll have to be extra meticulous, won't we?”

Perhaps because he'd watched me take measurements once, Diello moved with practiced ease.

His hand slid from my shoulder down my arm, all the way to my wrist.

“!”

I flinched as his warmth touched the tender skin of my inner wrist.

He seemed even warmer than before.

Not just his hand, but his entire being.

It made me feel all the more conscious of him.

Was it because he was standing behind me?

When I turned my head slightly, I saw his unwavering blue eyes, focused.

“…!”

Next, his strong hand touched the nape of my neck.

The brush of his masculine hand, with its large, prominent knuckles, sent a strange sensation coursing through my entire body.

I was beginning to wonder if the heat was coming from his hand or from me.

“Ah.”

A sound like a short sigh escaped me involuntarily.

Perhaps it was because a peculiar sensation swept through me every time he made contact.

“…!”

With his every move, a tidal wave of sensation crashed over me a beat later, ringing in my head.

It left me completely dazed.

So, just as I was thinking I couldn't tell where the hand spreading that strange heat across my back was touching and where it was leaving…

“Relax, Croire.”

Only when he said that did I realize I had been holding my breath.

“…Yes.”

As I exhaled sharply, a sense of déjà vu washed over me.

…Isn't that what I said?

“Don't be nervous.”

This, too, sounds like something I said.

Just as I raised an eyebrow.

As if embracing me, he ran the measuring tape from my back and pulled it forward.

“Ah…!”

The moment a husky breath escaped my lips.

Diello's voice resonated, so low that only the two of us could hear.

“—If you can.”

“What?”

His voice was so husky and simmering that I thought I must have misheard, and my gaze shot to him.

As if that fleeting voice had been a dream, his blue eyes radiated a gentle warmth.

“…”

But the heat I felt from his fingertips remained.

Was it because the measuring tape he held was binding me, pulled taut across my chest?

It was hard to breathe.

*Shhhk.*

It was the same even after he released the tape and straightened my clothes.

“Croire?”

Until he called my name, I couldn't tear my eyes away from him.

As if my gaze, not my body, was captive to him.

“…Are you finished?”

My voice came out trembling slightly, against my will.

“Soon.”

With those words, Diello kissed my forehead again.

Is this what it feels like to be real lovers?

I blushed without realizing it.

They say actors sometimes get lost in their roles. I wonder if this is what they mean.

Of course, it wasn't a bad feeling.

I'm not a professional actress, so there's a limit to my performance.

But if he was going to make it so easy (?) for me to get into character, I was grateful.

“Relax your shoulders.”

Diello said. As I tried to relax, my every nerve once again focused on his movements.

True to his word, he seemed to be measuring meticulously, his eyes glittering as he studied me, tape in hand.

“…”

We may not have spent the night together, but we had marked each other.

For the first time, I thought I could sense a sensual, strange scent wafting from him.

The feeling reached its peak when Diello's strong hand brushed against my ankle.

“!”

I flinched involuntarily, and he steadied me.

“Next, we need a detailed measurement of her leg circumference, but…”

the tailor's assistant said with a troubled expression.

I was wearing a dress.

Surely they didn't expect me to take it off here?

Just as I raised an eyebrow.

Diello, who had been looking at me, turned to face them.

For a moment, his profile looked uncharacteristically cold.

“In that case, I'd like you to step outside for a moment.”

At his words, the assistants glanced at each other.

“Come here, Croire.”

Meanwhile, Diello led me to a chair and had me sit down.

He knelt on one knee before my legs and placed a hand on my shoe.

“May I, my bride?”

His eyes met mine.

He was still holding the measuring tape.

No, surely…?

My face flushed an uncontrollable shade of red.

I mean, if it's for the measurements, it can't be helped, but couldn't the assistants do it somehow?

Just as I glanced over at the assistants.

Diello spoke.

“Argenta has no custom of showing the bride's precious body to others.”

His voice was gentle, but it had a sharp edge.

“W-We'll step outside for a moment.”

The first to jump to his feet was the forty-seven-year veteran tailor.

The assistants had no choice but to follow him out.

—*Thud*.

As they closed the door and left, they must have seen it.

The way the lights in this room, maintained by Diello's power, had noticeably dimmed.

“…”

I could guess what they were imagining.

After all, my hand was on his shoulder, and I was looking down at him with a flushed face and ragged breaths.

Diello, kneeling at my feet with the tape measure wrapped around my ankle, only looked up at me after they had left.

His gaze still held a strange heat, and I spoke a beat too late.

“…That was absolutely perfect.”

I whispered, but Diello shook his head slightly.

“A little more.”

“?”

More what? As I blinked, Diello spoke quietly.

“One of them was a Cartiel.”

Well, it didn't seem like they were all from Alloje.

“They are quite good at hearing things through doors.”

Being a clan that manipulates the wind.

My eyes widened at his words.

“Argenta does not forget a promise.”

Diello's thumb slowly caressed my ankle. He looked up at me again.

“So, will you trust me and leave it in my hands?”

It was clear what he intended to do.

My lips parted slightly.