Chapter 12
The cream stew wasn't as bad as he'd expected.
Thinking once again that milk and butter were incredible, he ladled the leftover stew into a pot and gave it to Enya.
Enya took the pot home, changed into her usual long skirt, and came back.
She offered to take care of the cleanup, but Tarmin refused and decided to do it himself.
He washed and rinsed the pot and pan he'd used for cooking, then watched the water drain away through the sewer pipe before leaving the kitchen.
Enya had taken a seat at one end of the table and was watching him.
When he returned to his seat and leaned back, Enya, who'd been sitting across from him, promptly moved over beside him.
“What is it?”
“Just a moment.”
Enya moved to sit on Tarmin's left, then stared at him without saying anything for a little while.
“What are you doing? Trying to pick a fight?”
He was full, and after cleaning up properly, a pleasant drowsiness was spreading through him, so he didn't bother stopping her.
It was a rare moment of rest in a hunter's cabin on the outskirts of a peaceful, prosperous city, with the festival in full swing and no music even reaching them.
Enya watched Tarmin for a long while, then suddenly moved and brought her face close to the nape of his neck.
Had she washed up while she was changing? A clean scent of soap wafted over him.
His drowsiness vanished, and the peaceful afternoon came to an abrupt end.
“Enya?”
The scent of soap and her golden hair tickled Tarmin's nose.
Startled by her unexpected move, he flinched.
He leaned away just as much as Enya leaned toward him.
He looked at Enya, eyes wide with bewilderment.
“What's wrong with you? Have you gone crazy?”
“Just stay still.”
“Stay still...?”
Now she was even reaching out with her hand. He couldn't move any farther without tipping over the chair.
If she'd been playing some clumsy prank, he'd have rapped her on the head, but for some reason, he couldn't resist in this strange, suggestive atmosphere.
Feeling awkward about letting her touch him like this, he took hold of her left hand as it reached toward him.
Her hand, small and delicate-looking, was astonishingly soft.
“That hurts.”
He loosened his grip a little, feeling wronged.
“Ah, sorry—no, wait. What are you doing right now? Have you lost it?”
“Why are you squeezing so hard?”
He was dumbfounded to find himself the one getting scolded.
“So this is my fault?”
“Taal. There's something I want to ask.”
Enya pulled her hand free, wearing a serious expression.
Tarmin swallowed at the look in her eyes.
Though her appearance had changed, that familiar gleam was something he hadn't seen in a long time, and Tarmin's body tensed instinctively.
It was rare for Enya to make that face, but it had always been a great source of support during their journey, too.
She watched Tarmin straighten up, then asked,
“How many years have you known Sigona?”
Sigona?
He pictured Sigona, probably still in the hideout with her ears perked up.
“Why are you bringing up Sigona all of a sudden?”
“Answer me.”
“Hmm... By calendar years, about eight? If I exclude the time I spent traveling with you, it'd be two years less.”
“Then how far have you gotten?”
“Gotten where?”
Enya began looking at Tarmin with pity.
From the look of it, Enya hadn't been serious—she seemed to have made some grand misunderstanding.
He suppressed his rising irritation and decided to hear her out first.
“Taal. Do you remember the day we went to the royal palace ball?”
“I remember.”
Just before leaving after overcoming the trial, they'd been invited because a hero had come to their kingdom.
He remembered standing dazed in a banquet hall where dazzling music played without pause, wearing clothes he couldn't even identify, like a foal that had lost its mother.
“I always felt sorry that the girls at the balls and in the big cities never noticed what was good about you.”
“What are you talking about? It wasn't that the ladies ignored me so much as...”
He felt awkward saying outright, It was because you were too amazing, Enya, so he let the words trail off.
It was a common mistake, but Tarmin, too, considered himself better-looking than average.
The reason he hadn't attracted the girls' attention at the ball wasn't that he was overconfident.
It was because the hero and the prince in their party were too handsome.
There was no need to mention how Enya's bewitching gaze and smile drew people of all ages and genders to her, while the dark-skinned prince from a foreign land possessed a distinctive charm.
The prince's traditional clothes, layered with silks, might have been a novelty on the streets, but in the ballroom they made him another star of the evening.
Unless a man had a special charm like the prince, that's what happened to the men in a hero's party.
Plenty of people had approached him asking him to put in a good word with the hero, though.
“I thought it was because your adventures didn't leave you many chances to meet women, but what just happened confirmed it.”
“Enya, you...”
Just as he was at a loss to say, You're under some kind of strange misunderstanding...
Enya's bright red eyes sparkled.
“The fact that you get all nervous around women.”
"…."
Tarmin squeezed his eyes shut, then rubbed both eyelids with his hands.
It was a different kind of dizziness from the headache caused by the risotto's pungent aroma.
She was obviously referring to that moment when she moved close as if to nestle into his arms, startling him into backing away.
“Good grief. I wondered what you were going to say.”
“I can imagine how frustrated Sigona must be. I have to ask, just in case—have you ever held hands?”
“Why would I hold her hand? No, that's not what I meant.”
Enya seemed shocked that the situation was more serious than she'd thought.
Regardless of whether Sigona was actually frustrated, he needed to set the record straight.
“Enya, Sigona and I aren't like that, okay?”
“Taal, do you maybe like men?”
“No! What are you even talking about?”
“Then can you tell me what kind of relationship you have?”
For a moment, he had no answer for Enya's confident question.
Could he tell her that Sigona was actually a werewolf and suffered from physical changes during every festival?
As it happened, Tarmin planned to introduce the two of them after the festival, but he couldn't let them meet yet.
He'd tried asking Sigona indirectly, but still hadn't gotten a definite answer.
Watching Tarmin fall silent, Enya nodded smugly as if she understood everything.
“It's okay. I won't laugh at you.”
Tarmin asked, resigning himself to it.
“…What are you trying to say?”
Enya's eyes sparkled as she confidently placed a hand on her chest.
“This time, I'll help you.”
**
First, he slowly shifted his chair away from Enya, hoping she wouldn't notice.
Whether she noticed Tarmin cautiously inching farther away or not, Enya continued.
“Well, at least on the outside, I'm a woman, right?”
“So?”
“Since getting nervous around women is the problem, use this chance to practice.”
Tarmin clutched his face.
A chance?
Did Enya even realize what she was saying?
Whether or not Tarmin's mind was about to explode, Enya remained confident.
“I checked one more time just now, and if you get all flustered just because I—not some other woman, but me—got a little close, how are you going to manage?”
“What do you mean, how...”
“So I'm telling you to think of me as Sigona and practice however you like.”
Tarmin paused and struggled to sort out his thoughts.
In other words, Enya seemed worried about her friend, who wasn't used to women.
Enya's shy friend got nervous just from getting close to someone who wasn't even a woman to begin with.
It was obvious what he'd be like in front of an actual woman.
So she was going to help him.
But there was something Enya hadn't realized.
When Enya had come right up close to him, he hadn't gotten nervous because he wasn't used to women.
“Practice however I like?”
“That's right.”
Enya declared proudly.
“I'll judge how you propose.”
“…Enya.”
He pressed a hand to his forehead and spoke, doing his best to regain his composure.
“Do you realize how embarrassing what you're saying is?”
“Huh? I don't.”
“You're not nervous?”
“Not really? I'm not nervous.”
“What if I do something to you?”
Enya gave a little laugh.
He was getting riled up by her derisive laugh when she delivered the final blow.
“Heh... Want to touch my breasts?”
She was absolutely certain she had the upper hand.
Even though just a few days ago, she'd been begging him in tears to spare her.
He was already struggling to figure out where he stood with her, and now she was teasing him about it?
Tarmin stood up with a stern expression and approached Enya.
“Then I won't hold back.”
Sensing something off in his reply, Enya flinched and trembled.
Enya had just washed up, and a gentle scent of soap clung to her.
Her moist skin was even paler and cleaner than it had been at the ball, when she'd been made up and dressed for the occasion.
As Tarmin came closer, a hint of unease crept into her large, confident red eyes.
Enya wanted to retreat, just as he had a moment earlier.
She backed away little by little, but couldn't move any farther without tipping over the chair with its armrests.
“Don't regret it.”
“A-are you angry?”
Tarmin didn't answer.