Chapter 54
Isaac, who had been waiting in the trading company's kitchen, pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. It was already late at night, nearly time for the date to change.
(I wonder if the discussion is running long.)
He was just about to rise from his chair to check on them when he heard footsteps in the hallway. The heavy thudding footsteps did not belong to Monica. They probably belonged to the older of the two black-haired brothers.
Just as expected, the intimidating, burly man who poked his head into the kitchen was Antony.
"Have you finished your discussion?"
When Isaac asked politely, Antony shook his thick neck.
"No. It seems the ladies have decided to work together to choose the embroidery patterns."
"I see."
If that was the case, it would probably take quite some time.
There seemed to be a decent amount of food in the kitchen, so perhaps he could have some set aside and prepare a simple late-night meal for Monica and the others. It might also be a good idea to find blankets for them to sleep with. And what else...? As Isaac considered what he ought to do as Monica's apprentice, Antony spoke with a sharp expression.
"In that case, we men shall have a drinking party until the ladies finish their work!"
Wasn't he packing a little too much into the words "in that case"?
As Isaac struggled to think of a response, Antony looked around the kitchen and spoke as though making a perfectly reasonable request.
"You are a servant, are you not? I apologize, but could you prepare something to go with our drinks?"
The Second Prince of this country froze for several seconds with a beautiful smile on his face, then bowed gracefully.
"Yes, of course."
Isaac had plenty of thoughts on the matter, but the most important thing was that no one had realized his identity. Repeating that to himself, he began preparing the late-night meal.
Needless to say, his beloved master's meal took priority. The drinkers' snacks could be an afterthought.
＊ ＊ ＊
Just as the winter morning sun began to shine through the gap in the curtains, Lana's cry of "It's done!" rang through the room.
Monica had gripped her pen all night. Now she pulled the quill from her fingers, stiffened into a pen-gripping shape, and returned it to the pen stand. Both her hands were black with ink.
Lana hugged the completed design to her chest and spun around on the spot as though dancing.
"Monica! Cliff! Hands! Raise your hands!"
When Monica and Cliff raised both hands as instructed, Lana slapped her palms against theirs one after another. The pleasant sound of two sharp smacks echoed through the clear morning air.
"The children in town used to do this with their friends!"
Lana gave a muffled giggle as she said she'd always wanted to try it. Her cheerfulness showed no sign of exhaustion from staying up all night.
At the sound of Lana's excited voice, Pollock, who had been sprawled on the sofa snoring, let out a grunt and woke up. Antony and Theodore, who had been sleeping against him, also sat up with yawns.
The three of them had spent the entire night drinking while eating the snacks Isaac had prepared. Lana, however, did not seem offended in the slightest. With buoyant steps that looked as though she might start skipping, she thrust the completed design at them.
"It's finished, Pollock-san! Now, please embroider it!"
Pollock scratched his head vigorously as he examined the design.
Monica secretly wondered if he would be all right after drinking until nearly dawn, but the sharp eyes fixed on the design belonged to a craftsman.
Pollock lifted the corner of his mouth in a sly grin and looked at Lana.
"You can do it when you put your mind to it, young lady."
At those words, Lana snorted with satisfaction and puffed out her chest.
Watching Lana, Clifford muttered under his breath.
"...I have a bad feeling about this."
"Huh?"
When Monica looked up at Clifford, he pointed at the elated Lana.
"Whenever Lana gets carried away, she's usually overlooking something."
"Um... But I calculated the amount of magic to imbue, and I should have a way to get the embroidery thread, too..."
While Monica and Clifford exchanged those words in hushed voices, Lana continued spinning around in delight. She was utterly excited.
"Then I'll get started on the embroidery right away, but before that... Did you have the robe put on a model and check its length? I'm embroidering the hem as well, so once it's done, the size can't be altered."
"...Ah."
Lana's spinning came to an abrupt stop.
As Clifford watched her face turn deathly pale, he said expressionlessly, "There, you messed up." He was a merciless secretary.
While Monica struggled to think of a response, Lana hurried over to her with a look of panic.
"Monica! Monica, that man! Is Bartholomew-san in Sazandoll right now!?"
"Huh?"
"I want to ask him to be the model! Look, this robe! Don't you think Bartholomew-san would look so, so amazing wearing it? I got a flash of inspiration when I saw him! I just knew he could pull off this robe!!"
Lana's bleary, post-all-nighter face and shining eyes were not quite those of a lovestruck maiden.
(So that's why Lana wanted to meet Nero...)
The realization relieved Monica somewhat, but she could not afford to relax completely.
After all, Nero would remain in hibernation for another month. There was no way he could serve as a model.
"Ah, um, Lana. N—Bartholomew-san is... um... away right now..."
"When will he be back!?"
Monica's face was covered in cold sweat as her eyes darted about and she fidgeted with her fingers at twice their usual speed.
"A-about a month from now, I think..."
"Noooooooo..."
Monica's behavior was suspicious in the extreme, but Lana was apparently too distraught even to notice.
Lana sank to her knees and clutched her head.
Apparently, Lana had already decided that Nero would be the model.
(W-what am I going to do...!?)
As a somber atmosphere settled over the room, one man rose to his feet.
──Antony, a man who was rather poor at reading the room.
"I heard everything! In that case, my lady, I shall serve as the substitute model!"
Lana slowly raised her face, looked Antony over from head to toe, then clutched her head again and slumped over.
"Noooo... It doesn't fit the image at all... The model for this robe should have black hair and be tall..."
"In other words, me!"
Antony confidently puffed out his chest, raised his upper arm, and flexed his biceps. Lana vigorously shook her head.
"I want a model with reasonably handsome features and a powerful gaze!"
"Leave it to me, my lady! I have complete confidence in the power of my gaze! In my homeland, they say that criminals tremble whenever I glare at them, and..."
"Brother, brother, wouldn't it be bad if the model scared the audience?"
Theodore was absolutely right.
Antony muttered, "I see, that's no good," looking disappointed, but immediately seemed to think of something and slapped his younger brother on the shoulder.
"Then, Theodore! You be the model! Show them what a man you are!"
"...I'm not very tall, so wouldn't that make me unsuitable?"
When Theodore said that and looked at Lana, she nodded weakly.
Antony was too muscular, and his gaze was far too fierce.
Theodore was too short, and besides, he had no intensity in his eyes.
As the atmosphere in the room became utterly hopeless, Clifford opened his mouth.
"Lana is an idiot."
As though to add insult to Lana's despair, those words made her slowly raise her head and glare at Clifford.
"What's that supposed to mean!? You don't have to keep calling me stupid! I know I should have acted sooner, and I'm already sorry about that..."
"Lana really is an idiot."
"You said it twice!?"
As Lana raised her eyebrows, Clifford stared intently at her and then—removed his glasses.
Once the thick lenses that had hidden half his face were gone, revealing his features, Pollock raised one eyebrow in admiration and let out an impressed "Oh." Antony and Theodore's eyes went wide.
Clifford paid no attention to the reactions around him. He looked straight at Lana and said:
"You should have relied on me from the start."