Red Tape

Like flowers that bloom in spring and wither with the summer heat, the season of social gatherings came to an end with the arrival of summer.

The Duke and Viscountess Motier, who usually spent most of their time in the capital’s townhouse except for occasional visits to inspect the estate, returned to Glassdale for the summer.

It was always unpleasant for Erwin to see the Viscountess’ shameless face, who had taken over the room that had once belonged to his mother. But he could not do anything about it until he became the master of the ducal house.

The only consolation was that the Viscountess also found Erwin uncomfortable. Or rather, she saw him as a threat.

Not long ago, she had complained to the Duke that Erwin did not greet her with proper courtesy, claiming that it was an act of disrespect. However, she was met with a cold response.

“Is it truly such an offense for the future Duke to not bow deeply to a mere Viscount’s widow?”

Since there was no real chance of her becoming the Duchess, and because the Duke had been entrusting more of the family’s responsibilities to Erwin, she seemed to sense danger.

Her sharp, watchful gaze remained the same, but her outward behavior had become more restrained.

Today, as always, the Duke and Erwin sit at opposite ends of the long dining table, large enough to seat dozens. The Viscountess sat close to the Duke.

After taking a bite of the lobster salad appetizer, the Duke rinsed his mouth with wine and spoke.

“The 5th Militia Regiment has been stationed in Wickersfield.”

“I heard the same. They’ll be staying there until summer.”

Recently, the threat of war has risen once again. With a change in the throne of Granterre, the neighboring kingdom to the west, its foreign policy had shifted.

As the movement of aggression, both large and small, began to rise, it broke the previous Royal family’s peace policy. In response, the Empire hastily deployed its navy and army while organizing militias.

“Is there really going to be a war? Damon, I’m so scared.”

The Viscountess, wearing an overly dramatic expression like a stage actress, clung to the Duke. He reassured her with a calm voice, “That won’t happen.”

Just then, the doors of the dining room opened. Liam entered, pushing a trolley alongside Mrs. Friedman, the head maid, helping her carry a massive silver-plated dish covered with a dome-shaped cloche.

Erwin’s eyes immediately found Liam. It is amusing and adorable that, despite knowing I am present, Liam kept his gaze lowered, pretending not to see him.

As if his entire focus isn’t already on me.

Liam placed the dish at the center of the table and lifted the cloche, revealing a whole duck, roasted in a thick clay crust.

The moment Liam entered, the stiffness in Erwin’s expression melted, replaced by a strange liveness.

As Liam turned to leave, Erwin deliberately slipped his fork slip from his hand.

‘Clatter’ sound echoed through the dining hall.

“Tsk, how clumsy. Can’t even hold a fork properly.”

The Duke’s usual sharp remark should have stung, but at that moment, Erwin barely heard it.

Liam instinctively bent down to pick up the fork. At the same time, Erwin also leaned forward as if to retrieve it.

Under the table, he gently grasped Liam’s hand for a brief moment before letting go.

When Liam straightened up, his face was flushed red. But no one else in the dining room noticed the fleeting exchange.

***

Ever since returning from Baden Hall, Erwin had been extremely busy.

He was now twenty-four years old, and entering politics did not seem out of place. He spent almost every day with the Duke, learning the ropes of governance.

It is customary for heirs to begin their succession training early since one could never predict when an accident might suddenly force them to inherit the title.

It became more and more common for him to travel to the capital for several days at a time, and even when he stayed in Glassdale, he spent most of his time in the study room. Even catching a glimpse of him once a day was rare.

But Liam accepted this without difficulty.

Because the young master’s priorities are his own.

Erwin is meant for greater things, and Liam understood the immense weight he carried on his shoulders.

If someone asked whether he felt even a trace of loneliness, he wouldn’t be able to deny it.

But Liam never expected Erwin to do anything for his sake. All he wanted is for Erwin to be safe and well.

As always, the young master disappeared into the Duke’s study with a group of secretaries as soon as lunch was over.

Liam, with no particular task at hand, idly sat beneath the camellia tree where Erwin used to rest during his walks.

Tugging absentmindedly at the weeds growing near the tree’s roots, Liam noticed an old wooden cart entering through the estate’s wrought-iron gates.

Come to think of it, today is the weekly food delivery day.

Brushing off his clothes, Liam followed the slow-moving cart, drawn by an old workhorse.

He could not let Mrs. Wellesley, who is already elderly, injures her back again while lifting heavy supplies.

“Liam! Here to help again?”

“Yes.”

“Such a good boy.”

Mrs. Wellesley smiled fondly, patting his back.

The cart driver, an aging tenant farmer who supplied the ducal house with vegetables, removed the waxed cloth covering the cart. Mrs. Wellesley immediately began inspecting the wooden crates, thoroughly checking the produce.

“The harvest is excellent this year. The onions are good, the eggplants are deep in color, and everything looks fresh.”

“The heavens have been kind.”

Due to the long winters, this region had a shorter growing season compared to others. But this year, the temperatures had been warmer, leading to a bountiful harvest.

The farmer, pleased with the praise, scratched his head shyly.

Just then, a smooth, low voice drifted over.

“What’s that?”

Liam’s head snapped up at the familiar sound.

His expression instantly brightened, like a dog spotting its master.

Had he already finished his work in the study?  Erwin, likely on his usual walking route, had wandered over in a light, casual outfit.

Though the summers here never grew unbearably hot, today’s warmth is enough that a single shirt was sufficient.

He wears a thin blouse fastened at the collar with a ribbon. Under the direct summer sunlight, the sheer fabric outlined the contours of his body.

Liam prayed that whoever invented that shirt design would find a pile of gold coins on the street.

The golden sunlight highlighted Erwin’s blonde hair in a dazzling halo.

The farmer, realizing who he is, immediately bowed deeply.

“Y-Young Master…!”

Many of the estate’s tenants had never seen Erwin in person, but everyone knew that the Duke’s heir had hair as golden as the late Princess of Senaine.

“It’s nothing, my lord. We were just checking today’s delivery.”

Seeing the farmer trembling like he had just met the king, Mrs. Wellesley spoke on his behalf. Erwin glanced at the cart full of fresh produce with interest.

“How long does all this last?”

“It looks like a lot, doesn’t it? But it’ll all be gone in a week.”

“I suppose. There are many mouths to feed.”

She picked up an onion the size of a small apple and smiled.

“We were just talking about how good the harvest was this year. Look at these—onions, eggplants, tomatoes. All big, firm, and full of flavor.”*

Erwin lowered his gaze and picked up a glossy, plump eggplant. As Mrs. Wellesley had said, it is large, firm, and impressively thick.

A mischievous glint flickered in his eyes.

Catching Liam’s gaze, Erwin smirked, half-lidding his eyes.

The moment Liam tilted his head in confusion, Erwin ran his fingers along the thick stem of the eggplant, stroking it suggestively.

“You’re right. It’s thick… and firm. I’m really looking forward to this.”

Liam’s face turned redder than the tomatoes in the cart.

Thankfully, no one else had witnessed Erwin’s blatant teasing.

“Right? If you slice it up, add onions and bacon, and bake it with cheese, it makes that gratin you love, my lord.”

Liam clenched his thighs together, grimacing.

Seeing his reaction, Erwin chuckled in amusement.

“Well then, carry on.”

With that, Erwin casually set the eggplant back into the crate and strolled away, leaving Liam standing there, flustered.