* * *
Lowell was grateful that Felix couldn’t see his face, turned away as it was, and didn’t catch the wavering expression he struggled to suppress.
“Of course, you must.”
“You need to carefully select trustworthy knights and make sure no word gets out that I’m not in the Grand Duke’s castle. And if word does get out, we need to make it seem like I’m away for some other reason.”
That would mean they wouldn’t be able to spend the entire day together in the study like they had been.
Lowell found it amusing that he felt even the slightest regret about that.
He remained silent, letting Felix continue as he gently kneaded Lowell’s waist with his hand.
“That brat won’t make any reckless moves until he reaches the capital and reports what he knows. Still, I’ll make preparations just in case, so you don’t have to worry.”
Felix’s voice was as gentle as ever, as if he wanted to reassure Lowell.
“I’m not letting my guard down, but I believe nothing dangerous will happen in this castle. You’ve made thorough preparations before leaving, after all.”
“Yeah.”
Felix turned Lowell around to check his face.
Lowell, who hadn’t been able to completely erase the sadness from his expression, gave an awkward smile, looking a little flustered.
“There’s a magic orb we can use to communicate. We’ll talk every day through that.”
Felix instinctively picked up on Lowell’s anxiety, and without even realizing why, he kept coming up with countermeasures to soothe his partner.
“I’ve never used one before. What do people usually talk about with magic orbs?”
Feeling guilty for becoming nothing more than a burden rather than a source of support, Lowell tried to act more cheerful.
He had never used a magic orb, but he had made countless phone calls in his life.
There was no real need to ask, but he wanted to say something—anything—so he asked anyway.
“I’ve only ever used it for official business, so I wouldn’t know.”
“Then why don’t we decide now?”
“Is it different from talking like this?”
Though he had suggested it first, Felix hadn’t actually thought about what they would talk about, so he frowned slightly.
Noticing the crease forming on Felix’s forehead, Lowell lightly tapped it with his fingertip.
“You look much better when you smile than when you frown.”
Felix finally realized why Lowell had touched his forehead and relaxed his expression.
He hadn’t even noticed it—it was a habit of his, one he did unconsciously whenever things weren’t going as planned or when he was lost in thought.
He hadn’t realized Lowell was paying attention to it.
“Hmm… To answer your question from earlier, I suppose it would be a little different from talking like this. When you see someone every day, you naturally know what they’ve been up to and how they’re feeling. But when you’re apart, that’s impossible.”
“True. It would be different.”
Felix had never been far away from someone important to him before, so he had never even considered such things.
The only person he had ever thought about in depth was Lowell.
Imagining a life without Lowell, Felix absentmindedly placed a hand over his chest.
“That’s why we should talk about things that stood out during the day, or how we felt that day. That way, we’ll feel less uneasy.”
“But all I do is work. That’d be boring.”
Lowell actually wanted to hear about Felix’s work, but he also knew that speaking through a magic orb came with risks.
They wouldn’t know exactly when the other would contact them, and there was always a chance that the conversations could be overheard by the castle staff.
So, in the end, it was better to talk in person.
‘I don’t know if magic orbs can be hacked or anything, but it’s always best to be careful.’
With that conclusion, Lowell decided to suggest something more concrete to Felix, who wasn’t used to talking about himself.
“Then you can just tell me about your everyday life.”
Felix’s face remained completely blank, making Lowell sigh inwardly.
Felix was incredibly skilled in combat, magic, and his work, yet he was hopelessly inept at basic communication.
Thinking about how he had spent his childhood moving from one battlefield to another, Lowell couldn’t help but feel bitter.
“For example, I might see a flower while out on a walk. That would remind me of the time we visited the greenhouse together, and that memory would make me happy. So I’d tell you about that through the orb. Just little things like that—small moments that bring happiness.”
“If it’s something like that, it won’t be difficult.”
Felix understood quicker than Lowell had expected.
He had been about to give more examples, but seeing Felix grasp the idea so easily, he decided there was no need.
“Then before things get too busy, should we take it easy today?”
“Alright.”
That day, the two of them spent time reading the same book and visiting the greenhouse as it was being tidied up.
After sunset, they returned to the tower and talked late into the night.
It was mostly Lowell speaking while Felix responded briefly.
Despite having talked more than usual, Lowell still didn’t want to sleep.
But in the end, he couldn’t fight off drowsiness.
‘It’s only natural—I’m sleeping more because I’m pregnant.’
Felix gazed at Lowell, who had finally drifted off.
His words had become slurred a while ago, yet he stubbornly fought against sleep.
But as soon as Felix gently shut his eyes for him, Lowell succumbed to exhaustion.
“I hope you have sweet dreams.”
Any stimulus, when repeated enough, becomes familiar.
That was why the intensity of torture was gradually increased or altered.
No matter how unbearable the pain was at first, if it remained the same, the body would eventually grow accustomed to it.
Pain—the most intense of all sensations—was proof of that.
So there was no need to question if other stimuli followed the same rule.
‘Only Lowell is an exception.’
Felix had thought he knew how things worked, but Lowell overturned everything.
When he looked into those deep, ocean-like eyes with golden waves rippling within, his heart still stirred.
No, rather than getting used to it, his reaction was only growing stronger.
The same went for Lowell’s voice.
People often said that beautiful voices were like birds singing, but Felix thought there was no comparison between the sounds animals made and Lowell’s voice.
Every time he heard it, it made his ears tingle.
But more than anything, the words Lowell spoke were what Felix could never get used to.
Lowell always said things Felix could never anticipate, shaking his very core.
Just like today, when he spoke as if he was looking forward to their conversations.
‘He said remembering the greenhouse visit would make him happy.’
The realization that Lowell felt the same way he did sent a shiver down Felix’s fingertips.
Sometimes, the intensity of Lowell’s emotions was indistinguishable from pain.
But Felix was ready to accept even that pain with joy.
“Lowell.”
Like a confession, he whispered Lowell’s name.
Again and again, he murmured it under the moonlight—until its glow returned to its rightful owner.
With a sincerity akin to a prayer.
* * *
Tan hermosos.