A while later.
The room was finally tidied up.
Klein closed the window halfway, leaving a small crack for ventilation, and glanced back. The bed was remade, the pillows were straightened, and the bed curtain sashes were tied back in place.
He was fairly satisfied with his cleanup skills.
After all that tossing and turning, it was indeed getting late.
Rather, it was already afternoon by the time the two of them had woken up.
And Klein now faced a very practical problem.
He was hungry.
Not just normally hungry, but a hollow sensation rising from the bottom of his stomach that made him feel a bit light on his feet as he walked.
Certain activities from last night until this morning had consumed far more physical energy than he had anticipated.
For a moment in the middle of it all, he had even seriously considered temporarily converting his stored mana into physical stamina to keep himself going—a trick he had used before when performing alchemy for three days and nights straight, and it had worked well.
In the end, he didn't use it.
Mostly because he felt it would be too losing face.
As for Ophelia—
Klein glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
The strongest Knightess he had ever met was currently standing before the full-length mirror, re-tying her ponytail. Her movements were crisp and efficient; with a flick and a twist of her wrists, her hair was gathered neatly. The golden strands slipped through her fingers and were bound into a bundle at the back of her head, the ends curling slightly and swaying gently as she turned her head.
Her expression had returned to its usual cold and composed state. Her back was straight and her stride was steady, showing no signs of physical exhaustion.
It was as if nothing had happened last night.
Klein silently marveled at the difference between a knight's constitution and a mage's constitution.
Wait, it wasn't that there were no signs at all.
Her stride was slightly shorter than usual—not noticeably so, but Klein could tell.
Klein said nothing and withdrew his gaze. Some things were better just observed rather than pointed out.
“Let's go,” Ophelia said, turning around after finishing her hair.
Her gaze lingered on Klein's face for a split second—so brief that if he hadn't been watching her, he wouldn't have noticed. In that instant, her eyes weren't as calm as still water; instead, they held something subtle and indescribable.
But it was only for a moment.
By the time Klein reacted, she had already turned and headed for the door.
“Let's go.”
The two of them left the main building, one after the other.
Klein originally wanted to check the kitchen to see if he could grab a snack; there was still some time before the formal dinner, and his stomach couldn't wait that long. Ophelia walked half a step ahead of him, her back ramrod straight. The sunlight hit her from the side, making her golden hair glow, the ends swaying rhythmically with each step.
Her walking pace was steady, her boot heels clicking against the flagstone path.
Following behind, Klein suddenly found the scene quite amusing—the person who had been muffled in his arms last night, refusing to make a sound, and this brisk Knightess before him didn't seem like the same person at all.
He couldn't help but let out a soft laugh.
Ophelia’s footsteps faltered slightly in front of him.
She didn't look back, but the tips of her ears visibly deepened by a shade.
“...What are you laughing at?”
“Nothing,” Klein said, his tone sincere. “Just thinking about what to have for dinner.”
Ophelia didn't respond. She resumed walking, her pace slightly faster than before.
Klein followed, the curve of his lips remaining.
Just as he was thinking, they turned a corner of the cloister and both stopped simultaneously.
Everyone was in the courtyard.
It wasn't a case of everyone being busy with their own tasks and just happening to be together. They were truly gathered, surrounding the stone table beneath the old tree in the center of the yard.
Raymond stood on the outermost edge, hands behind his back, posture formal, his face entirely expressionless. Margaret sat on a stone stool, holding a cup of tea. Martha was sitting cross-legged on the grass, happily chatting with Daisy nearby.
Klein and Ophelia exchanged a glance.
The same emotion appeared in both their eyes.
Something was wrong.
The people in the courtyard clearly hadn't gathered by chance. Their positions, the direction they were looking—everything was aimed right at the door of the main building. They were waiting. Waiting for the two of them.
Klein suddenly felt as if he were being ambushed.
Beside him, Ophelia’s back instinctively straightened even further.
Fine then.
Seeing the two finally appear, the group had various reactions.
Martha was the first to jump up, her mouth already open as she took a breath to shout something, but Margaret was quick, grabbing her arm and pulling her back half a step.
“Ow—what are you doing!” Martha hissed.
Margaret didn't let go, a polite smile fixed on her face as she lowered her voice: “Shut up.”
Two words, clean and crisp. Martha did indeed shut her mouth, but her eyes darted back and forth between Klein and Ophelia, her expression screaming 'I have so much to say but someone is covering my mouth.'
Klein could guess what she wanted to say. It would be nothing more than those kinds of comments. He chose to pretend he hadn't seen her.
Daisy, who had been chatting excitedly with Martha on the grass, looked up and happened to meet Ophelia’s gaze.
Both of them froze for a moment.
Speaking of which, when Ophelia had first married into the family, the first major event she encountered was the wedding of Daisy and Big Tom. Back then, she had been an outsider and had even caused a minor awkward moment while offering her blessings.
Now, the roles were reversed.
Daisy gave her a smile, one filled with the knowing understanding of someone who had been through it.
Ophelia understood, her eyes dropping slightly as she pursed her lips in a silent response.
Klein didn't linger with the women, turning his steps toward Raymond standing on the periphery.
The steward’s posture was as flawless as ever, hands behind his back and spine straight. Seeing Klein approach, he bowed slightly, his face devoid of any unnecessary expression.
However, Klein noticed something extra in Raymond’s gaze. It was hard to describe—the kind of look an elder gives when watching their child finally grow up.
Klein felt a moment of discomfort under that gaze.
“Raymond, arrange for dinner immediately,” Klein said, getting straight to the point. “Also, find Lyra and Karen for me. I need to speak with them after dinner.”
Raymond nodded and was about to turn to make the arrangements, but he paused. He leaned in, his voice very soft, audible only to the two of them: “Master, burying yourself in alchemical affairs on the second day of your marriage... is that really appropriate?”
The words were subtle, but the meaning was clear—you should at least spend more time with your wife.
Klein looked at Raymond but didn't rush to answer.
He glanced over at Ophelia. She was standing by the stone table, and Martha had leaned in to whisper something. The tips of her ears were turning pink again, though her facial expression remained impeccably controlled.
Then he looked back and gave Raymond a small smile.
It was a faint smile, but having served him for so many years, Raymond read the underlying meaning instantly.
“It’s actually the same thing,” Klein said.
Raymond’s eyebrows twitched.
He looked in the direction Klein had just been glancing, appearing thoughtful.
He didn't press further. After years by Klein's side, he knew very well when to ask questions and when not to. This young master might seem easygoing, but there was always a lot going on in his head.
“I shall arrange it at once.” Raymond bowed and turned to leave.
Rate on N.U.
