Chapter 2.9

Aristide was signing documents from a mountain of paperwork stacked high.  

When a servant entered to pour tea, he dragged his quill across the paper and sang a parody of a folk song, “Bored, bored, so bored.”  

“It’s fortunate I just have to sign what Enzo tells me to. I don’t have to use my brain!”  

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Aristide asked Enzo,  

“What was that sound?”  

“Don’t try to distract me, Your Majesty.”  

“Tch. But I really heard something.”  

Still, Aristide obediently turned his eyes back to the documents.  

Thud. Thud. Thud.

“See! You heard it too!”  

Enzo pursed his lips.  

“Did it come from the window?”  

“…It seems so.” 

Liberated from the tedious duty of signing papers, Aristide threw open the window. He stuck his head out, but aside from the wind tousling his bangs, there was nothing.  

Until something struck his nose with a thud.  

“Ah!”  

The culprit was a wooden ball, no bigger than a bee. After attacking Aristide, the ball didn’t immediately fall to the ground; instead, it floated gently downward.  

Before the ball could drop out of reach, Aristide snatched it.  

Thin wings attached to the ball quivered as the breeze brushed them, expressing a desire to fly again.  

Upon closer inspection, the ball had a bird painted on it.  

It was a wooden bird.  

***

In the harem’s living room, Valeria stood with a broom, locked in a standoff with a spider no larger than a fingernail.  

No matter how much she coaxed, promising not to harm it, the spider slowly crawled toward a crack in the wall.  

‘What should I do? Celeste hates spiders so much.’  

Valeria and the spider stared at each other. Whenever Valeria extended the broom slightly, the spider moved a step closer to the crack. It was on the verge of disappearing into the wall.  

Bang!  

“Is everyone busy?”  

‘His Majesty? What’s going on?’  

Valeria turned toward the door, but then quickly checked the crack where the spider had been.  

The spider hadn’t missed its chance and had already darted into the crevice.  

Valeria sighed and walked to the door.  

Aristide asked,  

“Is Miss Bianchi home?”  

“Lucia? She packed her equipment and went to the yellow oak earlier.”  

The “yellow oak” was a large oak tree standing alone in the garden. Though not sick, it had a faint yellow tint, earning it the name.  

“I see! Then I’ll head there.”  

Aristide was about to leave.  

“What’s that, Your Majesty?”  

Valeria pointed to the wooden ball Aristide was cradling in his palms as though scooping water.  

Aristide responded with a bright smile and left only a wink as his answer.  

Julietta, emerging from the kitchen, caught sight of Aristide’s retreating figure just as the main door closed.  

“Oh? His Majesty was here?”  

Valeria replied,  

“He came and left immediately.”  

“He’s been visiting quite often lately. He never used to come outside of scheduled visits.”  

“True. Ever since Lucia arrived at the Moonlight Palace, His Majesty’s visits have increased dramatically.”  

Leaning on her broom, Valeria smirked. Julietta frowned.  

“Ugh, Sister. It’s that expression again.”  

“What expression?”  

“You said you’ve given up on matchmaking.”  

“I did, I did. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything.”  

‘I don’t need to intervene; things are about to get interesting on their own.’  

***

Aristide pushed through knee-high wildflowers as he made his way to the yellow oak.  

The delicate flowers, playfully clinging to his pant legs, quietly released their hold.  

Excited to show Lucia the wooden ball he had found, Aristide quickened his pace.  

Though the effort of catching the ball was nothing compared to the effort of creating it, he still wanted to boast about this curious item to her.  

The wildflowers disappeared, revealing a vast field where the oak tree stood. Aristide called out,  

“Miss Bianchi!”  

“What brings you here, Your Majesty?”  

Why could I only hear her voice?  

“I found your ball!”  

Not knowing where she was, Aristide raised the ball higher for her to see.  

“Number 47, right?” 

She asked.  

Her question prompted him to inspect the ball. He noticed the number 47 written on its underside.  

“That was the only one missing. So it ended up at the Imperial Palace. Thank you for the crucial information.”  

Around the oak tree, balls similar to the one Aristide held were scattered about. Some were larger than his, others smaller. Some had slender bodies, while others were flat. The sizes of the wings varied as well.  

Yet, she was nowhere to be seen.  

“Miss Bianchi! Have you invented something that turns you into a ghost?”  

Considering her skills, it wouldn’t be all that surprising.  

“Look up.”  

Up?  

Aristide tilted his head back.  

Lucia was perched on a high branch of the oak tree. She lowered her head in greeting.  

Seeing her like this, even the formidable Lucia Bianchi seemed innocent and carefree.  

Aristide smiled.  

“Miss Bianchi! I want to fly a bird too!”  

With her permission, Aristide skillfully climbed the tree.  

It had been over twenty years since he last climbed a tree, but his body still remembered how.  

Naturally, his hands reached for sturdy branches, and he quickly ascended.  

Soon, he reached the spot where Lucia was sitting.  

The branch, twisted like a frozen wave, felt like a comfortable bench, and the panoramic view resembled a patchy green watercolor painting.  

Lucia pulled out a wooden ball, attached wings to it, and handed it to Aristide.  

“Oh, a bird!”  

Aristide flipped the winged ball around in his hands.  

“Miss Bianchi, I felt this when I saw the markings on your invention, but you seem to lack aesthetic sense. How can you call this a bird?”  

“…Give it back. Flying the bird is off the table now.”  

“Haha, I was joking!”  

Fearing she might snatch it away, he quickly tossed the ball into the air.  

The ball’s wings quivered like those of a hummingbird. The wooden bird spun around and caught a faint breeze, flying far away.  

Aristide smiled as he watched the ball soar.  

“You’ve finally created something that flies, Miss Bianchi!”  

“It’s still far from flying. It’s merely falling slowly; it can’t stay airborne on its own.”  

“You’re too harsh in evaluating yourself, Miss Bianchi!”  

The wind brushed through the tree’s lush leaves, creating a gentle melody, and playfully tangled Lucia’s curly hair before moving on.  

“Why are you staring at me like that?”  

“Ah.”  

Why had he been staring?  

Aristide couldn’t find an answer and simply opened and closed his mouth.  

Eventually, he replied,  

“You’re… not smiling.”  

Of all the lies he could have told, he chose the worst one.  

Lucia’s neutral expression turned into a frown.  

“So you’re saying I’m unpleasant to look at?”  

“No! It’s just… I was wondering if you’re unhappy.”  

This wasn’t a lie. Aristide had often pondered why he had never seen Lucia smile.  

Was it because of her personality, or had her life truly lacked moments of joy?  

Well, considering she had lived with a family that had tried to kill her, she might not have had many reasons to smile.  

Meanwhile, Lucia’s annoyed expression shifted to one of curiosity at the exaggerated word “unhappy.”  

After some thought, she said,  

“There haven’t been many reasons for me to smile in my life.”  

“…That’s true.”  

“But I also avoid smiling on purpose.”  

“Why?”  

“Because I hate hearing things like ‘You’re pretty,’ ‘You’re frivolous,’ ‘You’re interested in me,’ or ‘You’re flirting with that person.’ I’m tired of being trapped by people’s assumptions about my small physical reactions. So I gave up the freedom to express my emotions.”  

Aristide fell silent.  

Finally, he said,  

“I won’t misunderstand. Feel free to express yourself in front of me.”  

Lucia stared at him.  

Her eyes resembled warm soil soaked in a gentle rain.  

She replied,  

“I’ll think about it.”  

At least she hadn’t dismissed his words outright, so it didn’t seem like she was offended.  

She launched another wooden bird.  

While she watched the ball, her busy hands paused for a moment.  

Her hand lightly touched Aristide’s.  

All of Aristide’s attention focused on his fingers.  

Her hand was more delicate than he had expected.  

‘It would be strange to move my hand now, wouldn’t it?’  

He forced himself to focus on the bird instead of her hand.  

The bird became a small dot in the distance, and this time, Aristide selected a body and wings from the basket.  

As soon as he released his bird, it plummeted straight down.  

“Your Majesty, your knack for precision is always impressive.”  

“Tch.”  

At such a small jest, Aristide glanced at her briefly. However, she maintained her usual neutral expression.  

The two continued dropping birds from the tree for quite some time. Lucia crafted a well-designed bird and handed it to Aristide.  

“I have to leave now. Try flying this one as your last.”  

“…Already?”  

“It’s been an hour since we climbed up here.”  

“Ah… has it really been that long?”  

He accepted the bird with both hands and tossed it into the sky.  

The final wooden bird rode the wind and descended slowly.  

***

Aristide climbed down first. Lucia remained seated on the branch for a moment, alone.  

She fiddled with her fingers.  

It had only been a brief touch, yet the sensation lingered strangely.  

His hand had been warmer than she expected.