Two days after Lia's failed escape attempt.
The steam locomotive made a brief stop at Bellü Station. Through the window, rolling green fields and clusters of wildflowers caught Lia's eye. She stepped off the train, eager to see somewhere new, and was immediately charmed by the modest, unhurried beauty of the place. It was nothing like the grand manor houses of the glittering capital—just a quiet, peaceful little world all its own. She picked up a souvenir postcard painted with the village scenery from a nearby general store, then turned to Ed with bright, sparkling eyes.
"I want to stay here tonight!"
"Are you certain that's all right?"
"Of course it is! It's not like I paid a fortune for a first class express ticket for nothing! As long as we board the right locomotive, we can stop wherever we like within the travel window!"
Lia looked enormously pleased with herself. Ed chose not to say *what a waste of money* and simply nodded.
"Very well. I'll collect the luggage."
As he gathered their bags, he checked the schedule for the next departure.
*Tomorrow morning, then.*
Quite early. He was already developing a headache over the question of how to rouse Lia, who slept like the dead, in time to catch it.
"What are you doing? Come on, let's find an inn!"
Lia had no idea what was going on behind his furrowed brow. She gave his shoulder a cheerful pat and tugged him along.
"The village isn't going anywhere, my lady. Besides, if your luggage is damaged, the losses would be considerable—"
He was thinking of her rather expensive belongings, but she waved him off without a second thought.
"Then I'll just buy new things."
"My lady's grasp of money is, as ever, truly something..."
"Oh, hush!"
Lia grabbed the end of his sleeve and pulled. Ed followed, making a show of reluctance.
As they entered the village, Ed was caught off guard by how lively it was—he'd expected something sleepy and quiet. A passing local explained that a festival was underway in the neighboring village of Beluru, and the crowds had spilled over into Bellü. A cold premonition swept through him from head to toe. He managed to hold Lia back from dashing straight to the festival and insisted they secure lodging first.
But every inn in the village greeted his inquiry with the same uncomfortable expression.
"...There are no rooms?"
Why was it that bad feelings were never wrong?
Even the last innkeeper, flustered and apologetic in the presence of a noblewoman, had to deliver the same news: no vacancies. Ed's mind went dark.
The locomotive had already pulled away, leaving nothing behind but a cloud of steam. The next one wasn't until tomorrow morning. And to make matters worse, every inn in every nearby village was fully booked for the Beluru festival season—not a single room to be had anywhere.
A cool night breeze was beginning to stir, and the two of them could not have reacted more differently.
"Now *this* is a real adventure!"
Lia sat on a hard wooden bench in the station waiting room, eyes shining. Ed had suggested they knock on a villager's door and ask to rent a room for the night, but Lia had shot the idea down flat—she refused to be the kind of noble who pushed common people around. It was a genuinely admirable stance. The trouble was, Lia had grown up as a treasured young noblewoman who had never once spent a night anywhere other than a proper home. To her, even this situation felt like a scene straight out of a romantic novel.
Her imagination was already running wild. She grabbed Ed's lapel and announced with great enthusiasm:
"Ed, look up there! You can see the stars so much better without a ceiling. We're actually *roughing it* tonight, aren't we? This is incredible!"
Then, completely missing the stony set of his expression, she made a cheerful offer.
"This hard bread I got from the station kiosk tastes almost... rugged, don't you think? Want a bite?"
"...I appreciate the offer, but I find I have no appetite."
Ed's mind, meanwhile, was churning like a strategist staring down the fall of the Empire. The phrase *greatest crisis of my career as a butler* kept drifting through his thoughts. The very fact that he was about to let his lady sleep on a cold floor felt like a dereliction of duty—a humiliation he could barely stand.
He shrugged off his coat and draped it over Lia's shoulders.
"Hm? What's this for?"
Lia tilted her head, and her thick red curls swayed with the motion. The thought of this rose of a young lady spending the night outdoors made everything go dark at the edges of his vision—even if those blue eyes of hers were currently full of stars.
"My lady, if you catch a cold, the Count will not merely dismiss me. He will have me thrown in a dungeon. Please, I am begging you—stop enjoying this."
"Father is not that dramatic."
"One can never be certain. Please wait just a moment."
He disappeared and returned with a stack of clean newspapers and a bundle of dry straw, which he began layering over the bench into something resembling a cushioned surface. His hands moved quickly while his eyes swept the area for drunks or anything else that might pose a threat. He could hear Lia grumbling beside him—*"It's summer, who gets a cold in summer!"*—but right now, nothing in his mind ranked higher than her safety.
At last, a reasonably comfortable sleeping arrangement was assembled. Lia looked at it, then at Ed, who was left with nothing but a thin layer of newspaper for himself, and her expression softened with guilt.
"When this trip is over, I'll give you a long vacation!"
"I'll spend the entire time worrying about what trouble you're getting into without me, so I'm not sure it would count as a vacation."
"You can't go one day without being sharp, can you?!"
"...If you truly feel sorry, my lady, you could always go knock on a villager's door right now and announce, 'I'll pay handsomely for this house—kindly vacate the premises.' I would be most grateful."
"It's the middle of the night! And I have *dignity*, thank you—I can't just say something like that!"
Ed did not point out that a noblewoman sleeping rough in a train station waiting room was, arguably, the least dignified thing imaginable. His heart was quietly burning, but Lia's eyes were bright with wonder at something entirely new, and she was every inch a rose in full bloom—vivid and alive. He couldn't bring himself to snuff that out.
At last, deep in the night—or rather, the small hours of the morning—everyone else had fallen asleep.
Lia leaned her head lightly against Ed's shoulder. A thought drifted up, and she asked quietly:
"Ed... did you used to sleep in places like this a lot? Back then?"
Ed's body went still for a moment. Lia winced inwardly—*I shouldn't have asked*—but then she felt the tension leave him. It was summer, but he tucked his coat more securely around her just in case, and answered in a low, even voice.
"There were more nights when I couldn't sleep at all. But..."
He reached over and gently tucked a loose strand of her tangled hair behind her ear.
"Perhaps it's because you're here, my lady—but this feels far warmer than any of those nights did. Though when you wake up tomorrow complaining that your back aches, I suspect I'll be wishing I'd never said that."
"I won't complain!"
Lia grumbled and bickered with him for a little while longer, but sleep won in the end. She drifted off with her head resting on his shoulder.
Ed, of course, did not sleep a single moment.
The soft weight of her curls. The clean summer air mingling with the faint, sweet scent of her. The sensation sank deep into his lungs, and he spent the entire night gripping his composure with both hands, staring wide-eyed into the dark.
The next morning.
Lia was not, as a rule, an early riser—but the strangeness of the place and the novelty of the experience had her opening her eyes before the sun was fully up. She even looked refreshed.
"I slept so well! Ed, is my hair a complete disaster?"
She greeted him with a bright smile. Ed, who had not slept at all, had shadows carved under his eyes—but he said nothing of it.
While Lia happily splashed her face with water from a stream near the station, Ed stood ready with a handkerchief he'd warmed with water, anxious about her skin. When she declared she wanted to finish off yesterday's leftover bread for breakfast, he produced a jar of premium handmade jam and a small bottle of fresh milk he'd tracked down somewhere in the village.
Lia was delighted to have missed the train—she'd gotten to watch the blue morning mist roll in for the very first time in her life. Ed, meanwhile, made himself a silent promise.
*Never again. I will never let my lady sleep rough again. At the next city, I'm buying a hotel outright if I have to.*
As they waited for the morning locomotive, Lia sat with her hands clasped in her lap, eyes sparkling, declaring that roughing it hadn't been so bad after all. Her heart was already racing ahead faster than any train. Knowing this, Ed decided there was no point throwing cold water on her mood.
"Ed, what did you think?"
"...My back did ache. But the stars were beautiful."
"Right?! I want to do it again sometime!"
Lia bounced in her seat like a child. Ed smiled faintly to himself—a tired, wry smile—and did his level best to talk her out of the sleeping bag research she had already begun planning in her head.
"We were fortunate this was a safe village. In a more isolated location, I could not guarantee your security—"
"Oh! I've always wanted to try keeping watch through the night!"
"...As this is a first class express journey, my lady, I would suggest saving any outdoor sleeping arrangements for another occasion."
There would, of course, be no other occasion. This was the last time Lia's delicate self would ever fall asleep somewhere hard and cold. Ed had to smooth the smile from the corner of his mouth before his patience ran out entirely.