"Could you please step aside?"
Shia, who had been standing there dumbfounded, entranced by Warren's appearance and scent, widened her eyes.
"Huh? Ah, yes."
As Shia quickly stepped aside, he adjusted both of his gloves once each, then began organizing the bookshelf behind her.
"It was bothering me throughout our conversation."
"Ah, I'll do it!"
"Never mind. I'm faster and more thorough."
The culprit who had been rifling through the books before Warren entered the meeting room—Shia—shifted awkwardly, her feet feeling numb.
But no matter what she said, Warren didn't even glance at her and silently continued arranging the books.
He was checking the titles and numbers on the spines, making sure they were placed in proper order.
'Definite OCD. Obsessive-compulsive disorder.'
Watching his perfectly synchronized back, she could almost hear Professor Shin's diagnostic voice as an auditory hallucination.
'I know, Professor. We have a long way to go.'
Just when she thought he'd be done, apparently some books with odd heights bothered him, and he pulled them out and put them back repeatedly, making quite a fuss.
She'd guessed as much from seeing the ducal residence, which was as clean as an operating room, but his germophobia seemed quite severe.
"Don't you think it's about time you cleared the room?"
When Shia finally spoke up, he turned his head as if he'd just realized she was still there.
He'd probably entered a state of absorption, focused on organizing.
"......Indeed. Let's go."
"Let's......"
Having somehow ended up moving with him, Shia struggled not to sigh. She should have just left him to organize and gone out on her own.
'But he's adjusting the minute hand on the clock next to the bookshelf, and the destruction probability went up by 0.1% again.'
She wasn't sure of the exact mechanism, but it seemed that not only the duke's mood but also actions affecting his germophobia were reflected in the probability calculation.
After all, the more a germophobe focuses on cleanliness and order the way they want, the more severe their symptoms become.
Thankfully, the dark corridor was empty. From far away, she could hear lively laughter and music from the banquet hall.
"Are you already leaving, Duke?"
"Yes, I'm not particularly fond of dancing."
Taking his words as a snipe at her, Shia's lips twitched into a convulsive smile.
"You'll never have to worry about me asking you to dance again, so take your time and enjoy yourself."
"How fortunate. I'll be able to attend future balls with a much lighter heart."
"Right? Even if I cling to you crying and begging, I'll never dance with you!"
"When you say 'cling to me,' isn't that what they call excessive self-awareness—"
"I'd rather dance the Cossack dance alone than dance with you. Well, I'll see you soon!"
Having made her bold declaration, Shia tossed out a hasty farewell and quickly distanced herself. She intended to get the last word and run away without giving him a chance to retort.
'In any fight, the one who lands the final blow wins.'
Whatever he said behind her back, she'd just deflect it like a rainbow reflection.
Shia hurriedly escaped the corridor, nearly out of breath. Because of this, she failed to notice that Warren stood at the door for a moment, watching her retreating figure.
Even if she had noticed, she would have assumed he was muttering curses or sending ill wishes her way.
"Let's go, Thompson."
The butler, who had been observing Warren's complexion as he boarded the carriage, cautiously asked after a long pause.
"Did your conversation with the Princess go well?"
Warren, who usually just showed his face at social gatherings and hurried back, had suddenly said he was going to meet someone—which had been surprising.
And that the other party was the Princess who had visited the ducal residence recently—as a butler, he couldn't help but be concerned.
"So-so."
With a shrug and tight-lipped silence, Thompson was burning with curiosity.
"What did you talk about?"
"The obvious. That treatment talk from last time."
"I see...... Hm, if she's proposing with that much enthusiasm, perhaps it might be worth considering—"
"I've decided to accept it."
"Pardon?!"
Thompson leaned back, clearly shocked.
"Why are you so surprised? Did I do something out of character?"
"Ah, no. It's just...... you didn't seem to like the Princess very much."
Warren averted his gaze out the window.
"I still don't particularly like her. Still, trying anything is better than nothing."
The wounded area touching the inner lining of his glove was sore and uncomfortable, but he didn't have the courage to take the gloves off.
"That's true."
Thompson sensed the darkening mood and fell silent.
Though he didn't say it out loud, Thompson, who attended to him closely, was also aware that Warren's germophobia was progressively worsening.
So he had subtly suggested a few times that Warren might consider listening to what the Princess had to say. Each time, he'd received only a cold rebuff.
'I hope the treatment the Princess claims to know actually works.'
Or rather, before that, could the two of them even get along? When they'd briefly crossed paths at the ducal residence last time, their personalities had seemed completely incompatible.
"Er, Duke. The Princess seems like a delicate person, so...... perhaps it might be better to treat her more kindly next time you meet. Since we're the ones receiving help......"
"Delicate?"
He recalled her retreating figure, fleeing like a dandelion seed blown by the wind. Whatever it meant, she had been pointing a small hand mirror at him from behind her back.
"She doesn't seem particularly delicate. Just eccentric, I think."
Isn't 'eccentric' a word that could describe you, sir? Even now, you're wiping the window with a handkerchief because the fingerprints bother you.
Thompson pressed his temple firmly. His chronic headache from years of butler service was returning.
'I'll have to prepare some of those pastries the Princess enjoyed last time for their next meeting.'
Since the Duke of Tenoris didn't care much for sweets, they were high-end pastries ordered in small quantities only for the occasional guest.
Judging by how she'd inhaled—no, eaten—them until her cheeks were stuffed, she seemed to like them quite a bit.
Unaware that his butler was internally pondering what bribes might work on Shia, Warren voiced a question that had suddenly come to mind.
"Thompson, do you know what a Cossack dance is?"
"Pardon?"
"Never mind."
Surely...... he's not planning to do the Cossack dance? To preemptively block young ladies from approaching him at balls?
An image flashed through Thompson's mind: a handsome man in a seated posture as if on an invisible chair, lightly kicking his feet up and down.
'I hope he'll stick to tap dancing at most.'
The head of the ducal household couldn't possibly do that. He didn't dare ask further, instead pressing his throbbing temple firmly.
"Ugh, I'm tired. Janet, brew me a strong cup of black tea."
Next time I attend a social gathering with Phil, I'll have to prepare myself mentally beforehand. Shia massaged her stiff neck and sighed.
'As soon as I returned to the banquet hall, they were all over me, introducing me to this person and that person.'
They'd said they wanted to show her off because they were such wonderful seniors, but seeing that they were all unmarried male nobles... she sensed dubious intentions.
She'd felt bad for being away from her partner Phil for so long, and she'd been exhausted from the private audience with Warren, so she'd gone along with all the introductions and even danced, but...
'Now the rumor that I'm chasing after men will spread.'
Since her reputation couldn't get much worse anyway, she thought, "Who cares?" So she immediately asked Janet, who was placing a teacup in front of her, the information she was curious about.
"Janet, where's a good place to meet someone quietly without being noticed?"
"There are salons with private rooms, or secluded parks—wait, Princess, don't tell me you're meeting the Duke for... that?"
Janet, who had been listing off places maids typically used for secret rendezvous, dropped the tea warmer she was holding.
"Come on, it's nothing like that. We're meeting purely for treatment purposes. He accepted my proposal yesterday, you see."
"Then why are you looking for secluded places like some scheming young couple? Is this a treatment disguised as a date......"
At this point, Shia couldn't be bothered to deny it anymore.
'She just won't believe me when I say it's about germophobia treatment. Besides, I have to take Janet with me whenever I go out anywhere.'
"Yeah, yeah. As you guessed, we're getting to know each other, so keep your mouth shut."
At Shia's resigned reply, Janet clutched her apron and gasped.
"Princess, don't give up on life so early! You're still in the prime of your youth!"
Is my reputation really that bad? Duke of Tenoris, your image is even worse than mine, isn't it?
"Surely you're not thinking of a resigned marriage or anything like that, are you? L-life can bring unexpected happiness!"
Shia, feeling the urge to relay Janet's intense reaction to Warren, lightly scratched her cheek.
"We're both single, just having some light fun, so don't worry too much. At least that man has good looks going for him."
Only then did Janet lower her tensed shoulders.
"Phew, that's a relief. As expected of our Princess—I'm so glad you have such a trashy mindset."
"......Fine, thank you for your support."
Janet picked up the tea warmer from the floor and declared.
"Still, next time you meet the Duke, I'm coming with you."
"Oh? You were scared of making eye contact with him before. What changed?"
"The Princess may be approaching this casually, but we can't assume the Duke feels the same way. It's only natural."
"Wow, that suddenly sounds very loyal. Is it your salary negotiation period with the Head Maid?"
"No, it's not!"
Of course, there was a good reason for Janet to act this way
