To My Sweet Villain

The annex where Jurgen was staying was curiously located quite far from the main house where the Archduke and his wife lived.

Between the main building and the annex were a long corridor, Jurgen’s study, and a pool. The three spaces had very different atmospheres that seemed alien to each other.

After changing into her wet clothes and leaving the bedroom, Dahlia tilted her head as she scanned the interior, which strangely resembled Blenheim House.

It was strange when you think about it. The bedroom was full of dresses and pajamas for women, and the same incense sticks I used were burning.

The stick was given as a gift to Count Von Klose when he was surveying the Western Continent, and it was so precious that she used it sparingly unless there was a special occasion.

It wasn’t an impossible coincidence, but there was a sense of trepidation. It was suspicious that her transition here was so smooth, as if he knew that she would come here and prepared for it.

“What is your name?”

Dahlia asked for the name of her maid who served her and took care of the bedroom. She was a maid who looked exceptionally youthful. She lowered her head and introduced herself with a shy expression:

“This is Amelie, miss.”

“Amelie… . will you be waiting on me?”

“Yes, I have been instructed to make you comfortable while you are here.”

“By Sir Edelred?”

“Yes, I’ve been in charge of the annex from before, so if you have anything to do, please feel free to call me.”

Amelie’s speech was polite and soft, and she had dark hair and olive-colored eyes with the characteristics of a Southerner. The very people she was surrounded by and grew up with.

A peculiar sense of bizarreness struck Dahlia. It felt like even the tiniest details had been considered. What was going on? Why so far… .

“Where is the Lord?”

Amelie led Dahlia to answer her question. The maid guided her to the north side of the outbuilding, outside the two-arch passageway.

She followed Amelie and found a white table under a vine filled with green grapes. Dahlia couldn’t hide her surprise.

Filled with the sweet and sour fragrance of ripe grapes, it was an exemplary place to have a tea party, or with its peaceful atmosphere, it was the perfect spot for taking a nap.

The pure white sunlight broke through with fragmented beams. The vines made ornate shadows, and the meal placed one by one under the scene smelled delicious.

“Let’s take a seat,”

Jurgen said upon arriving and passing her. He donned a white shirt and comfortable pants. Then, while holding a newspaper in one hand, he pulled out her white chair and beckoned Dahlia with a nod.

She approached and sat down on a chair, looking around at the colorful flowers in full bloom.

“It must be my imagination that you prepared everything, right?”

“Hmm, well.”

“No way, did you plan for this?”

“There is nothing more foolish than living haphazardly without a plan.”

“Ha, then… . the dresses in the bedroom?”

“I told you from the beginning, I am the only one in the Empire who can help you.”

The conversation between the two was briefly interrupted by the main dish. It was simple yet full of her favorite foods, from half-cooked egg dishes in front of two people to freshly baked bread and soup topped with thin truffles.

Dahlia sipped a sour drink made from the juice of two fruits as her eyes looked around stealthily.

“Where is Phone?” 

“Phone?”

Jurgen frowned as he picked up a cup of hot black tea. Dahlia plucked a grape hanging within reach and put it in her mouth.

“Yes, Phone. The bird you sent me.”

“Ah.”

“Why? Is his name strange?”

Phone. His name is Phone*. [t1v: the name could also be Fawn]

He laughed lightly as he muttered the name that lightly bounced in his mouth. He said that he should get a name, and he really did.

Jurgen reached into his pocket, pulled out an object, and set it down on the table.

Seeing her reach out once more for the plump grapes, he stood up and cut off the stems of the grapes with the scissors he received from the waiting attendant.

Jurgen placed it on an empty plate, took one of the grapes to his mouth, and bit it.

She picked up the small flute he had placed in front of her. Dahlia stared at him, at the grapes, then at the lips biting the grapes and at the red tongue licking off the juice. 

The tips of her ears and her cheeks were red.

“What is this?”

“Blow it.”

“Isn’t it a flute… .”

“That’s right. But also, not quite. It’s a flute that only Phone can hear.”

Dahlia wiped her mouth and played the flute with a curious expression. She didn’t really hear anything. But a few seconds later, with fluttering wings, a bird the size of a fist flew in and landed on the back of her hand.

“Phone, did you really hear this sound?”

Chirp- Chirp—

“May I call you Phone?”

As she carefully stroked the fluff beneath his tiny beak, the closed-eyed Phone quivered, responding to her touch.

Dahlia was so cute in that way.

Seeing Dahlia like that, he beamed cheerfully and felt his heart tickle when he saw her flushed cheeks. In the meantime, the fat bird proudly puffed his chest as if he were a king.

Holding back his laughter, he shook his head and lightly tapped the edge of his cutlery with his fork. Only then did Dahlia put Phone down on the seat next to her and spread butter on her halved bread.

It was an unexpectedly perfect breakfast.

***