“It’s raining hard.”

Annette suddenly spoke and turned her eyes toward the window. Beyond the thick curtains, pitter-patter, raindrops beat against the glass. At the abrupt change of topic, Reingart didn’t respond right away.

“It rained all day yesterday too. Will it stop tomorrow?”

She continued speaking while feigning ignorance and looked at the man’s face. He was watching her with suspicious eyes. 

Was it because she suddenly brought up the weather? Did she make it too obvious that studying was just an excuse? While Annette was guessing his thoughts,

“It’ll keep raining until next week.”

Reingart said.

“It’s the rainy season.”

Rainy season. So there’s such a thing. Annette silently opened her mouth in an “ah” at this newly learned fact.

At the same time, she could tell what he was thinking. He seemed to have freshly realized that she didn’t know about the rainy season, that no one had told her until now. Perhaps that’s why—his gaze seemed to sink a little as he looked at her.

“…It rains a lot in early August. In this area, the rainy season marks the beginning of midsummer.”

“I see.”

“It rains almost every day and there are storms too, but after two weeks it clears up like nothing happened.”

“How strange.”

“I heard that in the village, they cook egg dishes on the day it clears after the rainy season ends. It’s meant to show gratitude for Lord Jusin’s grace, but it’s a peasant tradition so the estate doesn’t follow it.”

Reingart even told her about the commoners’ circumstances without being asked. 

His tone and expression had become somewhat kinder than before. He undoubtedly pitied her isolated situation, and Annette felt both warmth and a prickling sensation in her heart. 

Because this man had so many good qualities. Because he had a heart that sympathized with and tried to comfort the weak.

That must be why she kept feeling sorry. Because the more she knew him, the better a person he was.

“Then I just have to endure for two weeks. That’s a relief.”

Annette smiled prettily, seemingly to repay the man’s compassion. She shook off her guilt with a brightly crafted smile and quickly thought of something to say before this conversation ended. 

She had to dig deeper while his guard was down.

“That’s why the men in the garrison train the same even when it rains. They can’t rest for two whole weeks.”

“Rain doesn’t stop us from doing anything. Except for metal rusting.”

“I saw them using wooden swords at the training grounds. Yesterday and today.”

She spoke cheerfully and grinned. Reingart looked at her dubiously, but Annette continued regardless.

“I watch you train every day. You’re at the garrison from 10 AM until noon. Then from 2 PM you do mounted training in the field outside the castle gates. That’s when I go up to the fourth-floor attic. There’s a room where unused furniture is stored, and the field is most visible from that window.”

“……”

“You look so impressive commanding the training. When I’m watching, I lose track of time. I’m curious what the shouted commands mean, but I can roughly guess.”

“……”

“Mounted training is every other day—what do you do on days without training?”

Annette felt like she’d returned to being a chatterbox for the first time in ages. Words she’d kept hidden under her tongue flowed out smoothly. Come to think of it, this was quite a good opportunity, wasn’t it? 

She could ask about things she was curious about once every five days.

She looked up at the man with a flushed face. Her heart was already pounding.

“I thought you were curious about these things.”

Reingart smiled ambiguously and held up the paper in his hand. Annette didn’t even glance at the letters written with a quill pen.

“I want to ask about what I’m more curious about first.”

“……”

“How did you spill water on the dictionary? I was curious about that too.”

“……”

“There was also graffiti here and there—how old were you when you wrote it? What did you write? Don’t you get scolded for writing in books in Trisen? I got reprimanded if I dirtied or damaged any book. My court tutor was very strict.”

When she poured out words again in a rush, Reingart let out a hollow laugh. He seemed somewhat flustered, but judging by how he turned his head and smiled slightly, he didn’t seem displeased. He appeared to be pondering which of the flood of questions to answer first.

“I didn’t spill the water, but I know it was deliberately done by a child who didn’t want to study.”

Reingart chose the safest question. Though his first answer went against her expectations.

“It wasn’t your dictionary?”

“It was Erich’s. I just borrowed it.”

“Then the graffiti written inside too…”

“Are traces of the owner.”

So it wasn’t written by this man. Annette was a bit disappointed but simultaneously curious.

“What kind of person was Sir Erich?”

What kind of relationship did he have with his deceased milk-brother?

Reingart looked at her silently for a moment. The conversation broke off and eye contact continued. Tap, pitter-patter. In the silence, the sound of shattering raindrops filled the library.

“He was a good kid.”

The answer she obtained after waiting a long time was disappointingly short. Nevertheless, Annette could feel the affection infused in it. Reingart hadn’t followed the lord’s son out of obligation. 

He genuinely cared for him and loved him. A legitimate son and a bastard son who nursed from the same br*ast. What kind of friendship existed between half-brothers of the same age?

Brothers. The moment she recalled that word, Annette’s nape went cold. Like the gods’ curse had already reached her.

“I heard you two were milk-brothers.”

That’s why she hastily spoke. Because of instinctive fear.

“Yes. So Erich always made a big deal about it.”

“How so?”

“He said he had a small appetite, so thanks to him I could get the leftover milk—that he was my life’s benefactor.”

While saying this, Reingart barely smiled. So she didn’t immediately realize it was a joke. 

Laughter came belatedly, but Annette hesitated about whether she should laugh—only after he twitched the corners of his mouth could she smile faintly.

“He must have eaten little.”

“He wasn’t a big eater. I don’t know if he was like that as a baby too.”

“It’s probably true. If both of you had eaten voraciously, one wet nurse would have had trouble managing. Especially you—you must have eaten a lot even as a baby.”

You ate four plates earlier too. She wanted to tease him further, but kept that thought to herself. It would be embarrassing to reveal she’d been secretly watching him every day.

“Erich was a noble.”

“What does that have to do with it?”

“They say noble blood has no gluttony. Because there’s no need to eat desperately to store up.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’ve seen plenty of gluttonous nobles.”

“Not as much as me though.”

“Of course not.”

When she acknowledged it, Reingart gestured with his chin like he’d proven his point. Thanks to that, Annette laughed a bit louder than before. She liked the light jokes they exchanged, and laughter kept flowing between her lips.

“Do all commoners eat as well as you?”

“Of course not. Even the garrison people tease me for being a glutton.”

“I knew it. If everyone ate like that, we’d need so much food.”

“There’d be famine every year.”

He replied jokingly and laughed. Annette smiled broadly, showing her teeth, then suddenly straightened her back. Without realizing it, her upper body had been leaning toward the man.

The longer they stood facing each other, the more her posture had crumbled. Back straight, shoulders square—she’d gradually forgotten the princess’s bearing trained over more than ten years.

She’d been so focused on his voice and gaze, on reading the thoughts in his eyes and lips, that she had no time to mind her posture.

“I think the Countess should eat a bit more.”

Reingart continued speaking with a face tinged with laughter.

“Even a cat would eat more than that.”

He added teasingly and laughed, then subtly averted his gaze. He tucked his lips inward like he was trying to take back the words he’d just spoken. Watching the man turn his head, Annette was speechless for a moment. 

So you were watching me too. Just like I was watching you.

She imagines the man being conscious of her at the dinner table. How he skillfully glances around, avoiding others’ eyes. Eyes flickering toward her plate and hands. Chuckling inwardly, “Even a cat would eat more than that.”

Thinking that far, her face flushed hot and Annette lowered her eyes too. Between the two people standing face to face, there was now neither laughter nor jokes. Only awkward avoidance, belated regret, and suppressed joy flowed quietly.

Pitter-patter, tap. The sound of rain beating the window grew fiercer.