Chapter 50
“It’s Not Like a Bone Is Broken, Right?”
“If it were, I wouldn’t even be able to tend a fire like this.”
Bartholomew continued speaking calmly.
“It’s just that the muscles were startled. I’ll be fine.”
He poked at the campfire with a branch, feeding the flames. As the light grew brighter, Lucy noticed a scrape on Bartholomew’s cheek. When she looked at his hands, they were covered in small wounds. By contrast, the only marks Lucy had were the ones left from gripping the reins too tightly.
“Thank you again, Bartholomew. Thanks to you, I survived.”
“I’m simply relieved that Your Highness is unharmed.”
Bartholomew took out a waterskin that had been hanging at his waist. It was originally meant for the horse and had been used to fetch water from the stream near the cave. He had tied the horse by the stream so it could rest before returning.
“Please, have a drink.”
“Thank you.”
Lucy didn’t refuse and drank from the waterskin. Then she handed it back to him, meaning for him to drink as well. Bartholomew took it and drank.
After sharing the water, silence settled between them.
Bartholomew was fully focused on keeping the fire going. Lucy watched him for a moment, then moved to sit beside him. Only then did Bartholomew look away from the fire and notice her.
“I thought it’d be warmer if we stayed close.”
As she spoke, she shared the coat Bartholomew had laid on the ground and covered them both with it. Lucy took the waterskin again, pulled a handkerchief from her clothes, and dampened it with water.
“Excuse me for a moment.”
With that, Lucy gently wiped Bartholomew’s cheek with the handkerchief, where the scrape was. Bartholomew flinched and tensed his shoulder, then stayed still.
He began to be acutely aware of how close Lucy was. It was the first time since they had danced together as partners. He felt awkward, but tried not to show it.
Then—
“Didn’t you call me ‘Lucy’ earlier?”
Bartholomew’s eyes widened slightly.
“Didn’t you shout, ‘Grab my hand!’?”
“……”
“And ‘I’ll hold on no matter what! Even if we fall, we’ll fall together!’ you said that too, didn’t you?”
“Stop.”
Bartholomew said it as the tips of his ears turned red.
“I shortened my speech because there was no time.”
Seeing him embarrassed, Lucy grinned.
“You remember that I called you Bartholomew instead of ‘Sir Bartholomew,’ right?”
“……I remember.”
“Why don’t we just speak casually to each other from now on?”
Bartholomew looked at Lucy. Her face was closer than he expected, and he panicked.
“I can’t do that with Your Highness—”
“We survived life and death together. At this point, doesn’t it make sense for us to be comfortable with each other?”
Lucy cut him off as she spoke.
Bartholomew’s body stiffened completely. When Lucy started questioning him like this, she had a habit of moving even closer. Trying to avoid her, Bartholomew leaned to the side—nearly tipping over.
“…All right.”
He said it as if he were conceding defeat.
“But only when we’re alone. In front of others, I’ll still speak formally.”
“Deal.”
Lucy immediately switched to casual speech, as if she’d been waiting.
“The fire’s strong enough now, so you should rest.”
“……”
“Bartholomew.”
She deliberately called his name.
“…Okay.”
He answered awkwardly.
Lucy looked at him as if to say there’s something missing. Under the pressure of her gaze, Bartholomew reluctantly opened his mouth.
“Lucy.”
When he finally said her name naturally, Lucy smiled. By then, the redness had spread from Bartholomew’s ears to his entire face.
Just then—
Ding!
[You have witnessed an embarrassed handsome man.]
[A rare sight ignites the Aestheticism Skill.]
[Aestheticism Skill +2.]
[Cringe Power: 80]
The system window, which never appeared when she desperately needed help, showed up again just to raise her Cringe Power.
Lucy began to fear what might happen once that number reached 100.
Clicking her tongue internally, she looked away from the system window and back at Bartholomew.
“Bartholomew. You’re my lifesaver, you know. How should I repay you?”
“There’s no need. I didn’t save you expecting anything in return.”
Lucy’s eyes curved mischievously as she decided to tease him.
“Right. You saved me without wanting anything back. Your body moved before your head did. You couldn’t bear to lose your precious friend—me. Isn’t that right?”
Bartholomew bit his lip.
He knew Lucy was openly being sly. If he denied it, she would definitely insist on repaying him anyway.
“Then are you saying you’ll grant me a wish?”
“As long as it’s something I can do.”
“….”
“Who knows? Just say it. You’ve got nothing to lose.”
Lucy coaxed him from beside him.
Bartholomew fell into thought.
A wish he could ask Lucy for.
A wish only Lucy could grant.
Did such a thing even exist? And even if it did—was it something he could dare to ask for?
Lucy said she owed him, but in truth, Bartholomew was the one in debt. Even if he had saved her today, it didn’t erase everything he owed her.
If anything, it was he who should be granting her wishes.
“…If it’s possible.”
For the first time, Bartholomew wanted to be greedy.
“I want you to spend my birthday with me.”
Lucy’s eyes widened.
“Your birthday? Is it soon?”
Bartholomew nodded. The redness on his face had faded, but his ears were still flushed.
“Of course I’ll spend it with you! I’d be hurt if you didn’t tell me it was your birthday.”
Lucy agreed readily, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Bartholomew looked at her quietly for a moment, then spoke again.
“I mean… just the two of us.”
“….”
“Without anyone else. Just you and me.”
Lucy flinched.
Naturally, she’d been thinking she should celebrate his birthday properly. Of course, “properly” only meant a dinner prepared by the servants at her annex—but to make it feel like a party, you needed people.
She had already been thinking of inviting Cecil, Logan, Patrick, Lena, and others.
It was as if Bartholomew had read her mind when he said just the two of us.
“Wouldn’t it be boring if it’s only me?”
She asked with genuine concern.
Bartholomew’s lips curved slightly.
Boring? Of course not.
What had been boring were all his previous birthdays.
The ducal household never celebrated his birthday. There were no friends to congratulate him. He grew up believing birthdays weren’t worth making a fuss over, that parties were unnecessary.
But perhaps that was only what his head thought—not his heart.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have mentioned his birthday at all when she offered to grant him a wish.
In the end, he was just an ordinary person who wanted to spend his birthday in a special way.
And this birthday would be his last.
That was why he wanted to spend it with Lucy. Just the two of them, without interruptions, as a memory he could keep forever.
A memory Bartholomew would carry with him.
“What kind of present do you want?”
Lucy looked even more excited about his birthday than he did. She was clearly planning something elaborate.
“I don’t need one.”
“Really? You’ll regret it.”
Bartholomew chuckled softly.
“I mean it. I only need you.”
“….”
“….”
Silence fell between them.
Bartholomew was startled by his own words. He worried how they might sound to Lucy.
But Lucy, contrary to his fears, didn’t make much of it. Bartholomew often said strange things without realizing it.
Instead, she found herself wondering if this was how he felt when she suddenly said embarrassing things. She reflected quietly on herself.
“We should sleep now. It’s been a long day.”
Bartholomew said, clearing his throat.
Lucy nodded. She was exhausted enough to pass out.
The moment she closed her eyes, sleep overtook her. She never felt the gentle motion as Bartholomew carefully let her head rest against his shoulder.
