HLM 07

Chapter 7

Deciding this was the perfect opportunity to learn more about what Martin liked, I smoothly steered the conversation.

“You really like fountain pens, don’t you?”

“Y-yeah. It’s my hobby. T-transcribing.”

I let out a soft noise of surprise at his answer and prompted him to continue.

“Why? Is there a specific reason?”

At my question, Martin pressed his palms flat against his thighs and answered shyly.

“I-it’s just… when I’m writing, my m-mind goes completely q-quiet. A-and when I transcribe the q-quotes of great historical f-figures… I feel like I-I could become a g-great person too… That’s why I like it.”

My eyes inadvertently widened at his admission. His words offered a stark glimpse into how he truly viewed himself.

Perhaps sensing my silent, unwavering gaze, Martin offered a bitter, self-deprecating smile.

“I-it’s funny, right? A s-stuttering outcast… w-what does he know a-about being a great person…?”

“Martin, what are you talking about?”

The moment I furrowed my brow in absolute disbelief, the atmosphere inside the carriage froze solid.

Bill, who had been constantly checking on us through the rearview mirror, and Martin, who was now squirming anxiously and casting nervous glances my way… both of them were intensely studying my reaction.

“Martin, I…”

Like an absolute idiot, I realized I had very little experience comforting people, and the words simply died in my throat. My mind was swarming with things I desperately wanted to say, but I couldn’t organize them into coherent sentences.

I swear to you, I have never once thought of you like that.

As the heavy silence stretched on, Martin offered another small, tight smile and turned his head back toward the window.

As if by unspoken agreement, neither of us said another word.

The suffocating quiet lasted until it was time for him to step out of the carriage. The only words we eventually managed to exchange were stiff, hollow goodbyes, promising to see each other tomorrow.

“You idiot. Why couldn’t you just say something…?”

I muffled my frustrated scream into my pillow.

Startled by my sudden outburst, the maid who had been tidying up quietly slipped out of the room, correctly reading the room. I didn’t care right now. The only thing I wanted to focus entirely on was how Martin must be feeling.

“What should I do…?”

I rolled over onto my back and mumbled uselessly at the ceiling.

What did I need to do to make him realize how much I genuinely cared about him?

“I can’t even begin to fathom how deep his scars run… so I’m terrified of saying the wrong thing. If I speak carelessly…”

It feels like I might break him.

I pressed my lips tightly together.

I absolutely didn’t want to drift apart from Martin. He was the very first friend I made after crossing over into this world. His mere existence was the driving force that motivated me to work hard and survive in this unfamiliar place.

I was tossing and turning, clutching my head in agony, when a familiar voice and a polite knock sounded from the door.

“My Lady, it is Lucas. May I enter?”

Lucas announced he had brought dessert and waited patiently for my permission. Unable to hide my gloomy mood, I answered with a sigh.

“…Come in.”

Lucas stepped carefully into the room. Usually, the maids handled these tasks; the fact that he came personally meant he must have heard from the maid who fled earlier that I was feeling down.

“My Lady, you enjoyed the chocolate tart so thoroughly yesterday that I brought it again today. The head chef declared it his masterpiece.”

I forced a weak, exhausted smile at his words. Pretending to yield to his gentle coaxing, I dragged myself over to the central tea table and sat down.

When he lifted the silver cloche cover, a rich, sweet aroma immediately filled the air.

“Please, have a bite, My Lady. It will surely lift your spirits.”

“Do I… look that depressed?”

Lucas’s eyes darted away before he offered an awkward, sheepish smile.

“The maids are terribly worried about you. They were gathered in groups, whispering nothing but their concerns for you, so I had no choice but to check on you myself.”

Listening to his explanation, I scooped up a bite of the chocolate tart.

“…It’s delicious.”

It was good, but honestly, it couldn’t hold a candle to the one Martin had given me. Sorry, Head Chef.

Unaware of my internal critique, a bright, immensely proud smile spread across Lucas’s lips, as if he had baked it himself.

“Is it not? As expected, there isn’t a single chef in this entire district who can rival ours.”

I offered him a strained smile and took a sip of the warm milk resting beside the plate. After a moment of hesitation, I finally opened my mouth.

“…Lucas. I made a friend.”

“You mean Young Master Martin, whom Bill escorted home today?”

“That’s right. I see you’ve already heard.”

Having likely heard a brief summary of the tense carriage ride from Bill, Lucas knelt gracefully beside my chair, bringing himself to eye level.

“Did something happen?”

“I’m sure Bill told you, but Martin is… a little different from the other students. Of course, none of that matters to me. I like Martin for who he is, and I’m happy when I’m with him. But Martin…”

When my voice trailed off, Lucas gazed up at me with an expression of pure, unadulterated adoration.

“My Lady possesses a heart truly as kind as an angel’s.”

“It’s not like that. I didn’t become friends with Martin to look like a good person. I genuinely consider him my friend, and I care about him deeply.”

I took another bite of the tart, forcing the sweetness past the lump in my throat, and continued.

“Today, he told me how he actually views himself. And it was… really heartbreaking. He also said that to prevent his reputation from dragging me down, he’s going to actively avoid speaking to me when the other students are around. I literally couldn’t care less about any of that, though…”

“And so?”

“So, I desperately wanted to tell him he was wrong… but when I thought about how much he must have agonized over that decision before finally telling me… the words just wouldn’t come out.”

I leaned back heavily against the sofa, letting out a long, shuddering sigh.

“What should I do? How can I properly convey how I feel?”

Listening quietly to my dilemma, Lucas pondered for a long moment before a small, knowing smile graced his lips.

“Do you… necessarily have to speak it?”

“What do you mean?”

I turned my head slightly to look at him. He was smiling serenely, as if he had already unraveled the entire problem.

“If it is difficult to say the words out loud, you need only write them down. Spoken words scatter and vanish into the air, but written words can be kept and read over and over again. Whenever Young Master Martin feels disheartened, he could read your words and find strength. Why not try writing him a letter?”

Oh?

My eyes widened drastically.

“…You’re absolutely right. I could have just written a letter. Why was I so fixated on saying it in person? With a letter, if I mess up, I can just rewrite it.”

“Exactly. And you can prepare what you want to convey in advance. You could first jot down all your disorganized thoughts on a scrap piece of paper, and then carefully structure them into a proper letter. That way, it will naturally filter out the words that will heal him from the words that might inadvertently hurt him.”

“Lucas, you’re an absolute…!”

Overcome with sheer relief and joy, I threw my arms tightly around Lucas’s neck.

“Lucas, you’re a genius! You’re so incredibly smart!”

“…My Lady, this is highly inappropriate. Technically speaking, a man entering a lady’s bedchamber at this hour is an offense worthy of severe punishment…”

Looking thoroughly flustered, Lucas gently untangled my arms and quickly stood up. Rubbing his brightly burning earlobe, he offered a stiff, formal bow.

“In any case, I am glad I could be of assistance. I must take my leave now; my duties are piling up…”

With that, Lucas practically fled the room. Watching his hasty retreat, a genuine laugh finally escaped me.

“Pfft, haha! He’s so ridiculous. Trying to act all mature and proper.”

I immediately hopped up and practically skipped to my desk. I pulled out a fresh bottle of ink, my fountain pen, high-quality stationery, and an elegant envelope, arranging them neatly before me.

“It feels a bit plain to just give him a letter, so I should buy him that new fountain pen tomorrow and give them together. Oh, wait, a pen by itself is a bit lonely, so maybe I should buy matching ink too? And… to properly cheer him up, I feel like we absolutely need to go eat ice cream together…”

I excitedly scribbled down a to-do list for everything I wanted to do with Martin after the academy ended tomorrow, right alongside the rough draft of my letter. Reading it over, I nodded confidently.

“Perfect. With this, he’ll definitely understand how I feel! If he still doesn’t get it after all this, then Martin is a complete idiot.”

Smoothing out the crisp, pristine letter paper, I set up the brass stand and candle on the right side of my desk to melt the sealing wax.

The flickering, dancing flame looked exactly like my own heart, fluttering wildly and completely out of control with anticipation.