Chapter 112: At Ease
The dormitory door closed behind them, shutting out the noise and prying eyes outside.
Ryan casually set the coat still carrying the scent of the forest onto the low cabinet by the door, then turned to look at Cosette, who was still standing stiffly in the entryway.
He raised a hand and let his palm rest naturally on top of her head, rubbing her slightly fluffy chestnut hair.
“All right,” he said, his voice looser than it had been outside, “you stood there the whole morning. Go get so rest for a while.”
Caught off guard by that sudden intimacy, Cosette froze for a mont. Then her light brown eyes curved like they were filled with honey.
She nodded obediently, and her hair brushed against Ryan’s palm with a faint tickle.
Ryan withdrew his hand, pulled out a clean change of clothes from the side pocket of his backpack, and headed straight for the bathroom. The sound of the door closing ca softly, and soon the patter of running water began inside.
Outside the door, Cosette still stood where she was. Her fingers unconsciously touched the top of her head where he had just patted her, and a tiny smile she could not hide curved her lips.
She spun lightly in place, her skirt flaring into a small circle, and only then did she take a deep breath and start working.
She first put Ryan’s dirty clothes aside and placed them into the basket for laundry.
Then she walked to the bathroom door and tilted her head, listening to the steady sound of water inside. She neatly folded the clean towel Ryan had taken out earlier but did not yet need, and placed it on the low stool by the door so he could reach it the mont he ca out.
Only after finishing all that did she turn and head toward the small room in the suite that belonged to her.
The door closed, carving out a small private space. Cosette leaned back against the door panel and let out a light breath.
Lowering her head, she looked at the stubborn traces of dirt still clinging to the hem of her skirt and wrinkled her nose.
Her fingers moved behind her back, fumbling to undo the complicated ties of her maid dress. The black one-piece dress slid from her shoulders and pooled around her feet, revealing the plain white slip beneath. She kicked off her little black leather shoes, and her feet in white socks touched the cool floor.
One by one, she undid the fastenings of the slip as well. When the last piece of clothing fell away, the girl’s still-young body—already quietly beginning to change—was exposed to the still air. She turned and faced the small dressing mirror in the room.
The girl in the mirror had fair skin and slender limbs, but she was no longer as excessively thin as she had been when she had first co to Ryan’s side.
Several months of steady als, especially recently… the rich als sent punctually every day from Princess Cecilia’s side, lavish enough to make her uneasy, had silently nourished her. Her once-flat chest now showed a soft, slight curve. Her waist was still slim, but no longer gaunt. It had begun to take on the gentle lines of a girl coming into her own.
Cosette lifted a hand. Her fingertip lightly touched the mirror, then drew back again. Hesitating, she placed her palm over her chest.
The skin beneath her hand was warm, and she could feel her heartbeat through bone and flesh.
She rembered Princess Cecilia, whom she had t before. Beneath her gown, the princess had shown the graceful figure of a mature woman. Comparing that to the still-youthful outline in the mirror, a quiet sense of inferiority and urgency crept over Cosette.
She had read in the novels Sister Lano brought her to help her learn characters that the male leads in those stories always seed more easily drawn to won with beautiful, mature figures…
Would Master… be like that too?
The mont that thought surfaced, she shook her head hard, her chestnut hair brushing over her shoulders and neck.
“What am I even thinking?” she muttered softly, as though trying to scatter thoughts she should not have. But her cheeks heated honestly all the sa.
She stopped looking at the mirror and turned to take a neatly folded clean slip and a fresh black-and-white maid uniform from the wardrobe. She put on the slip first and tied it properly, then picked up the pair of white knee-high stockings.
Cosette sat on the edge of the bed and stretched out one leg, pointing her foot.
Her feet were small and delicately shaped, her toes round. Because she rarely went barefoot outside, her skin was clean and pale.
Carefully, she rolled the stocking over her toes, adjusted it into place, and then drew it upward little by little. The fine, silky fabric obediently wrapped around her calf, fitted over her knee, and finally tightened high on her thigh.
The top edge pressed a faint indentation into the skin just above the strip of bare flesh, creating a striking contrast against her fair complexion. She repeated the sa motion to put on the other one, then stood and lightly stamped her feet so the stockings settled fully into place.
A lingering soreness still remained in her legs and the soles of her feet from standing so long that morning. Cosette bent down and kneaded her calves with her palms, neither too lightly nor too hard, then flexed the toes that had grown a little stiff.
A faint numb ache rose, drawing a soft hiss from her lips.
After easing it a little, she slipped into the clean black maid dress, carefully fastening every tie at her back and smoothing away every wrinkle. Finally, she put on her polished little leather shoes and shifted her weight on her feet to make sure they felt comfortable.
When she looked up at the dressing mirror again, a perfectly put-together little maid stood inside it, immaculate from head to toe.
Only the faint flush that had not quite faded from her cheeks, and the eyes that looked more luminous than usual, quietly betrayed the emotional stirrings from a mont ago.
She practiced a standard, gentle smile at the mirror, then turned, opened the door, and stepped back into the everyday life of serving her master.
At that exact mont, the sound of water in the bathroom stopped.
A few seconds later, the hinge turned, and Ryan ca out.
He had changed into a white cotton-linen shirt for lounging at ho. The top two buttons were casually undone, revealing a small stretch of collarbone. His hair was still damp, not yet fully dried, and a few dark brown strands clung to his temples while droplets slid down the line of his neck and disappeared into his collar.
The cloth of his shirt had been darkened slightly by lingering moisture, faintly outlining the lean but no longer slight shape of his shoulders and back, and the subtle rise and fall of the muscles across his chest as he breathed.
This was not the first ti Cosette had seen her master like this, but every ti it still felt as though she had been burned. The instant her gaze touched him, she hurriedly lowered it, and the tips of her ears began to heat uncontrollably.
She quickly walked to the small tea table, poured a cup of warm water, and offered it to him with both hands.
Ryan took the cup and tipped his head back, drinking several mouthfuls. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.
He casually set the empty cup back on the tea table, bunched up the damp towel he had used on his hair, and handed it naturally toward Cosette. She hurriedly took it from him and turned to hang it on the drying rack by the bathroom door.
Just then, Ryan’s stomach let out a faint but perfectly audible growl.
His movent paused for a mont, and he raised his eyes toward the clock on the wall. The hands pointed exactly to their usual lunchti.
Ever since Princess Cecilia had taken responsibility for their als, they had not once set foot on the road to the academy dining hall again.
Three als a day, delivered punctually and precisely by the princess’s people straight to the dormitory door, with dishes abundant and… uncannily well matched to both of their tastes.
Apparently, after that first round of overfeeding, Her Highness had done so investigating.
Sure enough, almost the very next second after Ryan looked toward the clock, there ca a soft knock at the dormitory door.
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