“Hey—”
Helos’ eyes widened, her silver hair swaying slightly with the movement. “What, you’re still hanging around here instead of leaving?”
She gave Julius a suspicious once-over, her pale purple eyes full of confusion.
Isn’t this guy one of the guests my sister invited?
The birthday party ended ages ago, so why is he still lurking around my house?
Julius clearly froze, his fingers instinctively brushing over the silver button on his clothes that marked his status.
“Well… weren’t you also there when Lady Eleanor was being anointed?”
He was certain he had glimpsed a silver figure on the second floor at that time.
And he was convinced he couldn’t have mistaken it—after all, people with such pure silver hair were rare.
“Oh~ you mean that cult gathering?”
Helos smirked, idly playing with the strands of hair hanging in front of her chest, her expression tinged with disdain. “I just happened to pass by and took a look.
“What’s so interesting about a bunch of old men chanting prayers to my sister?”
“C-cult gathering?”
Julius’ expression stiffened noticeably.
Having grown up in the Church orphanage, he instinctively clutched the Saint Emblem hanging around his neck.
Although he wouldn’t call himself a devout believer, the priests who took him in had given him a place to belong.
“Miss Helos,” his voice involuntarily deepened, “the Church holds a pivotal role across the entire continent. Especially in the Empire, which is founded on magic, people’s faith in the gods…”
“Enough, enough!”
Helos covered her ears, impatience written all over her face. “Who wants to hear your preaching!”
She was about to blurt out that she was a staunch atheist, but the words caught in her throat—after all, the bastard who threw her into this world did claim to be a [god].
***
The girl irritably scratched her head. “Anyway, I’m not interested in all that godly nonsense!”
Helos grabbed the remaining bread and bit into it fiercely in frustration, her cheeks puffing up as she chewed.
“Besides… those guys… aren’t that reliable anyway…”
Mumbling indistinctly, she squeezed past Julius like a cat with its fur on end.
The silver tips of her hair brushed past the boy’s nose, carrying a faint scent of smoke and dust.
Without looking back, Helos headed toward the kitchen door, waving her hand impatiently.
“I’m going back to the workshop! You can go wherever you want!”
Though part of her was still curious about this strange knight who was immune to her curse and why he was still at the Duke’s Mansion, her hungry stomach and her experiments clearly demanded more attention right now.
She sneakily glanced at the boy frozen in place behind her.
Besides, this kind of earnest guy was probably sticking around for some boring “knight’s duty” reason.
Anyway… it’s none of my business.
Helos’ hand had just touched the kitchen door handle when she suddenly froze.
Through the crack in the door, she saw a hunched figure leaning on a cane, slowly turning the corner of the hallway— that unmistakable gray-white beard and greasy apron, who else could it be if not Head Chef Ron?
“Oh no…”
She sucked in a sharp breath and quietly pushed the door shut again.
Uncle Ron hated it when people sneaked into his kitchen to steal food. The last time a little maid was caught, she had to scrub baking trays for a whole month.
She had been caught several times herself!
Though Uncle Ron only scolded her lightly because of her identity, she really didn’t want to hear his nagging!
Helos pressed her back firmly against the door, her heart pounding audibly.
The tapping of Ron’s cane on the floor grew louder, the smell of smoke and burning drifting in through the crack.
She spun around to find a place to hide, but unexpectedly bumped into a solid chest—Julius had silently appeared behind her.
Just as Helos was about to speak, Julius suddenly raised his finger to his lips.
His fingertip, cool to the touch, gently pressed against her lips, making her hold her breath involuntarily.
His other hand rested lightly on her shoulder, the pressure just right as he guided her a step toward the storage room.
Helos could feel the warmth of his palm through her thin clothing, a comforting heat.
They huddled together in the darkest corner of the kitchen, Julius’s figure almost enveloping her completely in shadow.
Helos unconsciously clenched the bread in her hand, clearly hearing Uncle Ron’s footsteps growing nearer outside, along with Julius’s steady, strong heartbeat.
“Squeak—”
The kitchen door creaked harshly as Uncle Ron’s hunched figure slowly moved inside.
His calloused palm wiped his apron, his cloudy eyes scanning the stove.
“The stew should be about done… hmm?”
The old man suddenly squinted, frowning at the extinguished fire. “Why did the fire go out on its own?”
Helos tensed up inside the storage room’s shadow.
Crap… she forgot about that damn curse!
Just as Ron was about to use magic to relight the fire, a young maid’s urgent voice called from outside.
“Old Ron! Lady Eleanor said she wants some snacks!”
“Coming, coming!” the old man responded loudly, planting his cane heavily on the ground.
He staggered toward the counter, reaching for the plate of delicately arranged cookies.
Suddenly, he stopped.
“Strange…”
Ron squinted, staring at the noticeably sparse cookie arrangement.
He clearly remembered arranging them tightly, but now he could see the bottom of the porcelain plate reflecting light.
“Could it be the damned mice?”
Inside the storage room, Helos tightly covered her mouth, afraid of making a sound.
First of all, she had to clarify that she wasn’t a priest, nor a Nihonjin.
So she neither wanted the little boy inside her life, nor wanted to enter his.
She considered herself at least half a “real man”!
Therefore, when she felt Julius’s chest pressed against her back and the warm breath brushing her ear, she was somewhat at a loss.
To be honest, since coming to this world, this was almost the first time she had been this close to someone—let alone a little boy.
Fortunately, Ron didn’t dig any deeper.
“There shouldn’t be any mice here. Whatever, the young lady can’t possibly eat that much anyway…”
Ron muttered as he picked up the tray, the sound of his cane fading away.
Only when the kitchen door clicked shut did Helos let out a long breath, her entire body going limp like a deflated balloon.
Only then did she realize Julius’s arm was still firmly wrapped around her waist.
The boy’s body heat radiated through the thin fabric, making her ears burn red.
She awkwardly shifted, the silver strands brushing against Julius’s chin. “You’re Julius, right?”
Her voice seemed softer than before. “Can you… let go of me?”
Julius yanked his hand away as if burned, stumbling backward and accidentally knocking over a bag of flour behind him.
White powder fluttered down, dusting his black uniform like a layer of frost.
“Uh, sorry, Miss Helos.”
He frantically brushed flour off his clothes, his ears burning red as if about to bleed. “I… I didn’t mean to…”
Helos looked at the flustered boy in front of her and suddenly chuckled.
She reached out to brush a patch of flour from his shoulder, her fingertip unconsciously grazing his earlobe.
“It’s okay.”
“And, by the way… thank you.”