Chapter 90

At a loss for words, Erabelle merely opened and closed her mouth. Dezeb arched a brow and came right up to her. With his long legs, it took him no time at all. Erabelle trembled and froze like a frog, staring up at him from inches away. His shadowed face sent a chill down her spine.

"What am I?"

"Your... your lover?"

Feeling as though she were biting her own tongue, she analyzed the vast body of superficial remarks Dezeb had made over the years and produced an answer. He broke into a radiant smile.

"Well, look at that. You got it right."

"I-I did?"

Why was that?

"As expected of someone who graduated at the top of the Academy."

"Thank you...."

"Make sure you keep remembering it. I'm your lover. Never forget that."

Smiling, he gently brushed back the hair clinging to Erabelle's forehead with cold sweat.

"But why do you keep taking part-time jobs when you have the lover card? Are you short on money?"

"It's become a habit. I'm sorry."

"You should break bad habits quickly."

"Yes. I'm sorry."

Dezeb's gaze flicked toward Virgo for a moment. Under his gaze, Virgo shuddered again, his scales rattling together.

"We should get going."

"Count Vermilion must be tired of waiting," he said quietly, placing a hand at the small of Erabelle's back. Behind them came the sound of something crying and the rapid click of camera shutters.

Wondering what the noise was, she turned without thinking. Dozens of tentacled heads had forced their way out through the severed surface of Virgo's neck and were crying, while his team members aimed cameras at him, immortalizing their Chief's moment of disgrace. Was this kind of insubordination really all right...?

"Erabelle, why do you keep looking at another man?"

"I'm sorry. It was such a fascinating sight that I couldn't help myself."

"If you find it that fascinating, should I cry too?"

"Dezeb, that would be less fascinating and more terrifying...."

"Enough. Be quiet."

"Yes. I'm sorry."

Their exchange hovered somewhere between a joke and not a joke. Leaving the cleanup to the Dogs, they boarded the small shuttle Erabelle had brought the day before and returned to the House Avganis vessel.

"I hope I'm not inconveniencing someone so busy."

Count Vermilion was waiting when they returned.

"Not at all. I've wanted to meet you at least once."

"Thank you for saying so, at least. My child has always been rather unusual, and speaking over a communicator simply wasn't enough to put my mind at ease, so I decided to come in person."

"I'm glad you did. I also wanted to meet you personally...."

The atmosphere was warm and cordial.

"...."

Erabelle quietly turned her head and stared out the window instead. She no longer knew what to make of any of this.

The vessel was approaching the Avganis marquisate.

Its sheer scale was overwhelming even at a glance.

Two stars, 132 planets, and 1,240 moons. The Avganis marquisate existed on an entirely different scale from the Vermilion domain, which possessed a mere three planets and one moon. They could hardly even be considered members of the same noble class.

A shadow fell over Count Vermilion's face as they entered the marquisate. Erabelle wanted to reassure him that, having already met Dezeb, no greater ordeal could possibly await him. But even if she said it, he would have no idea what she meant.

The vessel proceeded directly toward the homeworld.

There was no special authentication process. Ordinarily, merely entering the planetary system would have taken several days. Instead, they proceeded toward the homeworld without so much as an identity check, escorted ceremonially by dozens of warships.

As soon as they landed, they disembarked and walked a short distance through a long corridor.

No matter where one traveled on the homeworld, one was routed through the front entrance first. Most noble estates had several layers of this sort of spatial spell overlaid upon them.

"...."

The moment Erabelle stepped into the foyer, she stopped unconsciously before the enormous family portrait hanging in the center.

It was a warm, intimate portrait.

The Marquis, the Marchioness, and their young son, who appeared to be around twelve, stood side by side. Affection practically dripped from the mother's fingertips where her hand rested protectively around the boy.

Erabelle found it difficult to look away.

Because the child bore an astonishing resemblance to Dezeb.

His light-devouring black hair and eyes, even the shape and arrangement of his features—they were practically identical.

"Did you perhaps have surgery...?"

"I'm a natural beauty. What could I possibly have needed altered?"

He had a point.

Still, the resemblance was uncanny. They looked almost like twins—or doppelgängers....

"I'll show you to your rooms."

The household staff escorted each of them to their respective rooms. They were scheduled to meet the Marquis at dinner. Until then, they would rest briefly, change their clothes, and descend to the banquet hall at the appointed time.

A semi-formal dress had even been prepared for her. It was midnight blue and came with matching shoes and an ornament woven from layer upon layer of clear diamonds.

"...."

Erabelle stared at it in distress.

She had not worn a dress since the New Year Festival, and that had already been several years ago.

Apparently amused by the way she dragged her feet because she did not want to put it on, Dezeb laughed as he fastened the necklace around her throat.

"You look beautiful."

Properly dressed, he was dazzling. His waistcoat emphasized his lean waist, while his suit subtly accentuated his long legs and the line of his hips. Afraid she might start drooling if she was not careful, Erabelle kept her mouth firmly shut.

The banquet hall she entered with him was every bit as lavish.

The interior was decorated with cosmic crystals that emitted a soft prism of their own, while the meal consisted of meat from inside the ribs of a specially cultivated ancient rare species.

The nobles' activities outside their domains were heavily regulated in various ways for the sake of their long lifespans and the balance of society. Within their own territories, however, they indulged in all manner of extreme luxury.

Dining rooms were generally prepared to suit the menu. Put simply, the environment itself became part of the meal, like one enormous plate. The surroundings were adjusted according to what was being served.

Hot food was accompanied by a cold environment, while chilled food came with a warm one.

This was not achieved through holograms, but genuine spatial translocation technology. Even so, not every noble could afford such extravagance.

Erabelle worried about how the Vermilions, whose domain lay in a provincial backwater, would react. Surprisingly, however, they remained composed despite their surroundings.

"Welcome."

Because the Marquis was present.

The seat beside him was empty, but the Marchioness's poor health was already widely known.

....

Erabelle carefully took the seat indicated to her and spent a moment wondering how she was supposed to process the reality before her.

The current head of House Avganis, one of the Empire's oldest families, bore a peculiar resemblance to Dezeb. A truly peculiar resemblance.

Seeing him in person made it far more obvious than it had been in the portrait.

In the original story, they had definitely conducted a paternity test—and it had definitely come back negative....

Lost in troubled thought, Erabelle flinched when her eyes met the Marquis's and her body stiffened. He looked at her as though he were distinctly wary of her... but then, as if she had imagined the whole thing, he resumed his friendly conversation with Count Vermilion.

Count Vermilion had been cautious at first, but the instant the Marquis presented him with the prenuptial agreement, all his reservations vanished.

....

Erabelle could not entirely blame him.

"I've prepared an initial draft based on what we discussed previously. If you find any part of it unsatisfactory, I will amend it immediately."

The head of House Avganis, one of the nine ruling houses, was behaving with a baffling degree of deference.

As a result, everything proceeded at breathtaking speed. With Dezeb beside him lending support, it moved even faster.

Erabelle had never seen Dezeb act this way before. He was subtly currying favor with Count Vermilion while urging him toward the prenuptial agreement, and Erabelle spent some time staring at him with a strange look in her eyes.

Count Vermilion was busy. Sanche was equally occupied at his side, trying to understand the situation.

Erabelle quietly returned alone to the room she had been shown earlier.

If an enormous, freestanding structure could even be called a room.... In any case, the place had been named the Sapphire Room and was decorated to match its theme with blue, nonmetallic minerals.

If I pried some off and sold them... they'd arrest me, wouldn't they?

Abandoning ambitions beyond her reach, she simply leaned against the railing of the balcony adjoining the bedroom and looked outside.

...I wonder if he's truly all right.

Only yesterday, his entire body had been mangled beyond recognition. It was already the second time she had seen him like that. Yesterday had been even worse than at that abandoned laboratory.... Not that she would presume to worry about him. Still, he had gone there because of the Vermilions.

Leaning against the railing, lost in thought, Erabelle suddenly flinched.

"What are you doing over there? That's dangerous."

With an instant hot dog in her mouth, she slowly turned toward Dezeb.

"...."

"...."

Their eyes met, and Dezeb sighed.

"You even undid every button down the back of your dress, so I wondered what you were up to. And here you are, actually eating a hot dog. No wonder you mentioned smoked sausages this morning. You were simply craving one yourself, weren't you?"

"Would you like one...?"

"Forget it. Come here."

Gathering herself, Erabelle turned around and carefully stored the half-eaten hot dog inside Miro.

"Why are you putting that away? So you can take it back out and finish it later?"

"Yes...."

"Just get your pajamas out."

Sighing again, Dezeb picked up the telephone provided in the room.

"Bring some food up to the room."

As Erabelle pulled a T-shirt over her head, she stole a glance at him.

"No matter how you look at me, I'm not doing it for you."