Chapter 157: Between Tea and Lions
"Lately... it feels like Ami doesn’t come by as often."
After our training, Alice spoke offhandedly, but there was a faint heaviness in her voice.
For someone like her, who rarely showed her emotions, the hint of bitterness was striking. It made sense, though. With her small circle of connections, Amelia must have been one of the few she considered truly special.
"We talked about our engagement," I said.
The conversation had been a strange one, with a demon tangled somewhere in the middle. But at its core, it was about setting boundaries.
"Ah. And how did that turn out?"
"Instead of being tied down as fiancés right away, we agreed it would be better to enjoy our youth while we still can."
"I see..."
Her sigh this time was different — lighter, tinged with relief.
"So you won’t have to stay at the Count’s house after all."
"Yes. Thankfully, Lady Frontal was understanding of my situation."
"That’s good to hear."
Even if Amelia visited less frequently, I could tell where Alice’s relief came from.
▸ Alice’s trust in you has deepened.
[Affection: 45]
▸ Her thoughts: She’s relieved that you remain in the Duke’s household.
Her sincerity came through more clearly than before.
"You’re too valuable to be sent elsewhere," she added quietly.
Hearing that, I couldn’t help but feel a deep satisfaction. My struggles so far... hadn’t been in vain. If I hadn’t known her true feelings, perhaps I would have longed even more for Amelia.
But still, one thought lingered.
Why had her affection risen this time? It wasn’t tied to any direct moment between us — only to Amelia.
"Are you really that glad I’m not leaving?" I asked.
Her expression immediately soured. "You’d be less insufferable if you kept your mouth shut. At least focus on brewing the black tea properly before you open it."
"Then maybe one day," I said with a small grin, "I’ll finally get it right."
Alice raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, but the corner of her lips twitched before she quickly hid it behind her teacup.
"Hmph. Don’t look so pleased with yourself. You’ve only managed to brew something barely drinkable after all this time."
Her words were sharp, but her voice carried less bite than usual.
"That’s still an improvement, isn’t it?" I countered.
She lowered the cup, her gaze lingering on me longer than she probably realized. "...Don’t let it go to your head. One good cup doesn’t mean you’ve mastered anything."
But she didn’t push the cup away. She actually took another sip.
That small gesture was worth more than any praise.
I caught the faintest color rising in her cheeks before she turned her head toward the window.
"...Don’t misunderstand. I only said that because I can’t stand bad tea."
"Of course," I replied, though the satisfaction in my tone gave me away.
The warmth in the room lingered longer than the tea’s steam.
Alice set her cup down, fingers brushing the porcelain rim as if stalling for words. "You’re getting ahead of yourself again. Don’t expect me to keep humoring you forever."
"Then I’ll just have to give you more reasons not to stop."
She scoffed, but it lacked its usual edge. "You sound like some pompous knight swearing loyalty. It’s irritating."
"Better irritating than boring," I said lightly.
Her eyes flicked toward me, narrowed as though she wanted to scold me—but for once, she didn’t. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, the faintest smile ghosting across her lips before vanishing just as quickly.
"...Ami used to say things like that," she muttered.
The mention of Amelia came with an unexpected softness, though quickly followed by her usual restraint.
"She probably still will," I replied. "Just not as often. But that doesn’t mean anything between you two has changed."
Alice was quiet at that. She turned her gaze to the window again, the pale northern light tracing her profile. For someone who so rarely allowed cracks in her armor, that silence spoke volumes.
"...I don’t need anyone else’s company," she finally said. "So long as you don’t make a mess of things."
I blinked. That was as close to an admission as she’d ever given.
"You’re saying I’m irreplaceable, then?"
Her eyes snapped back to mine, sharp as ever. "Don’t push your luck."
Still, the faint flush creeping across her cheeks betrayed her.
Before I could tease her further, something nudged at my feet.
"...Don’t you ever stop eating? Are you a lion, or a pig?"
The tiny creature blinked up at me, tail swishing. The once helpless newborn now padded around on its own, though its legs were still clumsy. It had already learned who fed it most often—and like clockwork, it came running whenever it was hungry.
Verren, the lion cub.
I sighed. "You’re relentless, you know that?"
"It’s still just a pup," Alice’s cool voice cut in, though her furrowed brow gave her away. "Don’t call it names. If you keep speaking like that, who knows how it might grow?"
So protective.
Her tone was strict, but the way she leaned forward, worry creasing her forehead, told me everything. She wasn’t just raising a hunting companion—she was attached.
I lifted my hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I’ll mind my words."
Her expression eased only slightly.
Shrugging, I crouched down and pulled something from my pocket. At once, Verren’s nose twitched, his little paws tapping the floor impatiently.
"Look at that," I chuckled. "You’ve got a good nose, don’t you?"
The jerky in my hand wasn’t ordinary. It came from a guardian beast—one that had given its body even in death. Not exactly something most people would toss to a cub.
The moment I held it out, Verren’s tail wagged furiously, like he might launch himself into the air.
"You always manage to find the rarest things," Alice remarked, her voice quieter this time.
For Verren, this was no treat—it was a tonic. His small body absorbed the strength of the guardian’s flesh with every bite, growing sturdier by the day.
Watching him, an idea flickered through my mind.
’If I can get my hands on that elixir from the northern auction house... Verren’s growth might accelerate even further.’
I hid the thought behind an easy smile, scratching the cub’s ears as he devoured the jerky.
Alice watched closely, her lips pressed into a thin line, though not from disapproval. She was simply watching her lion, her bond with him written plainly across her face.
For someone who often masked her heart, that look said more than words ever could.