ANR Ch 10

The room was filled with all sorts of embarrassing tools. Only then did Yves realize why Madame had asked if he had a new lover. This was a room for male escorts.

The floor was covered with two or three layers of carpets, and large pillows and blankets served as a bed, since there was much rolling around on the floor. There was hardly any furniture visible.

Claude was pacing in front of a nightstand that had been treated with olive oil. On it were arranged various sizes of artificial genitals, oils, and ointments. He picked up a red ointment tin and began examining it from all angles. Its surface was smooth, indicating it hadn’t been used yet.

“Madame likes to collect unusual items.”

“Do you know what this is used for?”

He handed the red ointment tin to Yves. Yves dabbed a bit on his finger and rubbed it. The substance quickly became thick.

“It doesn’t seem like a lubricant… The texture is odd.”

Yves looked up at Claude, seeming not to understand.

“They say it’s an ointment designed for those who are too large down there. It’s supposed to help only halfway go in.”

Yves scoffed, finding it ridiculous.

“What a useless thing. Who would refuse a big one?”

“Is that so? That’s a relief.”

Claude gave a faint smile as if he were imagining something. Yves wiped his ointment-covered finger with a handkerchief and asked how he knew about it.

“My subordinates met smugglers during their perimeter duties. They told me that items for brothels are becoming increasingly popular these days.”

“Living up to Paris’s reputation.”

Claude nodded and put the red ointment tin back in place. With the living proof standing right in front of him, there was no room for contradiction.

Yves would come here weekly, spend about an hour, then either go straight home or head to a gambling den. Despite repeatedly stating that he didn’t need assistance, Claude never listened. As if he were keeping watch, he only returned to the barracks after seeing Yves leave the establishment.

Come to think of it, that was exactly what he was doing. Watching. Even now, he was scanning Yves’s attire as if to confirm something. Knowing Claude was quite perceptive, Yves thought it best to conclude this meeting.

“Anyway, I apologize for my friend’s mischievous prank. You should ignore whatever he says in the future. Let’s go back. I’m heading home today, so you should go back to the barracks as well.”

“That’s too bad.”

His gaze was on Yves’s perfectly buttoned uniform and his neat cuffs.

“I’ve been curious for a while, do you embrace a different man every time? Or do you enjoy the company of the same person?”

It was a pointed question, but Yves answered nonchalantly.

“Haven’t I said before? I prefer to enjoy it with three people.”

“Considering that, your clothes are remarkably untousled.”

His words hit the mark, irritating Yves for no reason.

“Would you believe me if I said I like doing it with my clothes on? It’s absurd that I have to explain this to my subordinate.”

“I apologize. But there’s one more thing I’d like to ask.”

“Keep your mouth shut. If you overstep one more time…”

“Have you ever paid for a man here?”

Yves swallowed the words he was about to say and looked at him with a hardened expression. Claude quickly added:

“I believe you remember, but you promised to tell me only the truth.”

This man was truly crossing the line.

Yves clenched his jaw and glared at Claude.

Yes, he had indeed made that promise to tell only the truth. But it was an empty promise to him, devoid of duty or reason. All he had to do was casually say “yes,” and that would be the end of it. Then, there would be no more bothersome or troublesome issues.

“As expected, you can’t answer. I’m glad. I was afraid you might say yes.”

While Yves hesitated, Claude drew his own conclusion. He looked slightly relieved, as if he had just set down a heavy burden. He began to walk around the room on the soft carpet, showing no intention of leaving, as if he was about to share something truly important.

“What’s your game? Do you think this is some kind of leverage over me?”

“No, quite the opposite. I don’t care who you meet here or what you’re involved in. I can even pretend I didn’t see anything.”

He was blatantly making a shameless threat. It seemed he had already figured out that Yves didn’t engage in prostitution. Then what was he really after? As expected, trouble had arisen.

“Cut the nonsense and get to the point. What do you want?”

“What I want… There’s nothing. Well, there is, but I won’t be greedy. I just wanted to say there’s no need to act around me. I’m blind and deaf to these things, so feel free to use me however you see fit. Use me in any way that’s convenient for you.”

“You’re talking nonsense. Even if I were planning to ruin France, you wouldn’t care?”

At that, Claude stepped closer to Yves.

“I wouldn’t care. My criteria for right and wrong are clear. Where you stand is my truth.”

“Aren’t you patriotic?”

Claude laughed at that.

“Of course, I am. But you already know, don’t you?”

“What…”

His amber eyes gleamed.

“That I like you.”

For a moment, Yves’s face flushed, and he was at a loss for words. He hadn’t expected such a direct approach. He knew Claude harbored feelings for him, but he thought he would be ashamed of his desire for another man and keep it hidden. That’s why he had kept his distance, waiting. But this man was foolish. By being so open, wouldn’t it become difficult to maintain their previous relationship?

Disappointment showed on Yves’s face.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

He unfastened the top button of his uniform, feeling suffocated, and moved towards the center of the room, passing Claude.

“You seem to want to keep pretending not to know. Then do so. I’m not asking for anything in return, so you don’t need to feel pressured.”

“Don’t be presumptuous. Your behavior now is a violation of military law. Do you know you could be summarily dealt with?”

“Indeed, sodomy is against military law.”

Which meant, Yves wouldn’t be safe either. Yves frowned and picked up a brandy glass from the table. After the cheap wine, the brandy tasted sweet.

“Don’t think we’re in the same boat just because I’m a commoner like you.”

“I understand. Rumors about you have spread even to the slums of Saint-Marceau, but curiously, nothing has happened. Are you going to relieve me of my duties? If so, please tell me quickly. If I’m going to get sacked, I’d like to kiss you thoroughly before I go.”

Yves looked at him, momentarily speechless. He had tried to intimidate him by bringing up that he joined the army for a living, but instead, he received an ardent confession.

“Ha, you’re getting ahead of yourself. I thought you were level-headed, but if I knew you were someone who talked such nonsense, I wouldn’t have appointed you as my aide.”

“It’s too late for regrets.”

Yves couldn’t help but give a bitter smile at Claude’s words. There was no counterargument. Looking back, it was something he had brought upon himself. He had jokingly told Louis he wanted to seduce him, but it had turned out to be true.

What should I do?

He had received countless unwanted affections, but this time, for some reason, he felt uneasy.

Why? Did I still have a conscience?

Yves slowly tilted the brandy glass. As the liquor flowed down his throat, it felt like his insides were burning. He wiped his wet lips with a handkerchief from the table and threw it on the floor. Claude’s gaze, watching him all the while, felt burdensome.

“So, what do you want from me? Do you want me to be your bed partner for a night?”

“Can you really sleep with someone you don’t care for?”

“Aren’t you? Don’t be so naive. If you want, we can end it here and now.”

Yves’s gaze drifted to the bedding scattered on the carpet. There were large pillows and thick, soft blankets that one might find in an Arab hedonist’s home across the desert. They were meant to protect the knees of the one underneath. A brief silence fell.

“Why, now that you’re faced with being with a man, does it not appeal to you?”

“Does it seem that way?”

Claude gave a bitter smile, his crotch already noticeably swollen. The thick fabric of his uniform was stretched tight, as if concealing something at his waist.

Of course, given his size, one could expect it to be somewhat impressive…

Yves frowned, recalling the red ointment tin from earlier.

“Actually, regardless of physical desire, my heart isn’t in it. I want something more precious than what you so easily give to anyone.”

“There is no such thing.”

“Then just let me stay by your side. I’ve felt pushed away, and it bothers me. Since there’s nothing to hide, wouldn’t it be more convenient for you to keep me around?”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.”

If he had asked for something material, it would have been simpler. Yves would have given him jewels far more valuable than Madame Paria’s ruby necklace. However, Claude’s earnest, simple devotion was unbearably uncomfortable for Yves. He was also annoyed at himself for taking it too seriously and pondering over it.

“You are truly a bothersome existence in many ways.”

“If you allow it, I won’t bother you anymore.”

“Allow what? Are you asking me to pretend I don’t know you like me? Or to tolerate you following me around?”

“Both.”

“Ha…”

Yves turned his head away as if to ignore him. He had said he wasn’t interested in men, yet here he was, being quite aggressive. Since it had come to this, Yves thought about accepting this devotion filled with personal affection. He didn’t feel like dismissing him abruptly now. Yves frowned and set down his glass.

“Fine, I understand. I understand, so let’s go back. If we stay here any longer, worse rumors will spread.”

Only then did Claude slightly shift to make way for him.

“Where shall I take you?”

He shone his eyes with satisfaction towards his master. Yves gave a resigned, hollow laugh at the sight. The sight of him wagging his tail with enthusiasm wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“I’m going home.”

At those words, Claude opened the door that had been closed, reconnecting the disconnected worlds. The noise from the parlor and the moans from the adjacent room flooded in. Claude followed Yves as he walked ahead.

On a late Friday morning, rain fell, signaling the start of summer. Raindrops splashed inside through the open window, running down the frame. In the study adorned with luxurious decorations, there stood a grand, lonely piano. Yves was playing a sonata in D major, and his audience was his younger brother, Charles.

Charles sat on the carpeted floor, looking up at his brother playing the piano. Clear drool dripped from his half-open mouth. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, then opened it again to listen to Yves’s performance.

Charles shook his head from side to side, immersed in his own appreciation, even humming the familiar melody quietly. Yves smiled subtly without looking back, envisioning the vivid scene.

This piece was a piano sonata commissioned by the late Countess Perrier from an unknown composer in Vienna. She waited a month to celebrate her son’s birth, paying the appropriate price for the score.

‘Yves Jules de Perrier, my angel.’

The handwriting on the first page of the score was filled with joy and happiness. After he became somewhat adept at handling the keys, Yves practiced this piece constantly. Unfortunately, his mother died before she could hear him play it to completion.

“Charles, come here.”

Charles, with his blond hair, wiped his mouth and approached his brother at the call. Yves seated him on the small piano stool and demonstrated the main melody he had just played.

“Here, follow my fingers.”

Yves’s long right hand guided Charles’s fingers, teaching him the melody once more. Charles mimicked him perfectly, having heard it dozens of times before.

“Genius.”

“Uh uh…”

Charles seemed pleased, smiling at Yves. Leaving his right hand to play the same melody, Yves’s left hand filled in the remaining chords. Charles clapped in delight at the sounds, shouting out. After playing it like a loop a couple of times, Charles shouted again. Yves patted his brother’s head and gave him a light kiss on the crown.

At that moment, someone entered the study.

“It’s hard to see your face.”

It was the Count de Perrier. He was dressed formally, likely having just come from outside, with a full silver wig on his head and an oak cane in his hand.

“Uh…”

Seeing the Count, Charles flinched and grabbed Yves’s hand, clearly afraid of his father. His gaze, not meeting his father’s directly, landed somewhere on the piano keys.

“Charles, go to Madame Evermonde and ask for your favorite honey.”

At Yves’s gentle urging, Charles stood up without hesitation and left the room, circling around to avoid the Count.

The Count watched his son do this but didn’t comment. He seemed to accept that his son feared him as an inevitable fact. He didn’t appear to make any special effort to mend or improve their relationship.

The Count approached the sofa by the bookcase and sat down, picking up a book someone had left on the table. It was Cicero’s “Rhetoric.”

“You’re studying well.”

Yves immediately denied it.

“That’s not mine.”

“Is there anyone else in this mansion who can read Latin?”

“Well, just because someone slaughters chickens in the kitchen doesn’t mean they can’t read books. Come to think of it, isn’t this study quite lonely? No one visits it. There are no guests in the house. Since you don’t bring in even a single letter-writer or sponsored artist, I was wondering if you were planning to rent it out for storage.”

“It’s not good for outsiders to stay long in the house.”

“Or rather, you just don’t want to show certain people.”

The Count seemed displeased with Yves’s sharp tone, tapping the table with his cane.

“Enough with the sarcasm; it’s unbecoming. Anyway, when I die, you’ll inherit everything, so whether you parade Charles down the Champs-Élysées or sponsor artists, live as you please.”

“I will. Isn’t that what we agreed upon?”

Yves reminded the Count of something.

“What I want to ask is, you haven’t been keeping your promise. Stop frequenting brothels like some commoner. I know you’re trying to provoke me, but recent rumors have gone too far.”

“You must have been upset. Why not tell the truth? My son cannot bed women. Or shall I bring in a few male prostitutes for the house? There are plenty of empty rooms.”

As always, Yves spoke in a way to irritate the Count. Yet, despite the vulgar words and low humor, the Count’s expression remained unchanged.

“For one who reads rhetoric, your eloquence is still terrible. You won’t get what you want by constantly opposing me. Control your emotions before you provoke me. If you don’t clean up your reputation, you’ll have trouble maintaining your current position.”

“I was getting tired of it anyway. I’ll live quietly for a while as you wish, so rest assured. I’ve also sent a letter to Miss Marianna on four sheets, asking for a proper meeting this time.”

“That’s well done. When the time is right, meet with the Duke of Verdier to propose.”

“Well, Miss Marianna might reject me before that.”

Yves smiled meaningfully as he stood up.

Yves walked to the window and closed it against the pelting raindrops. His cuffs got wet from the evenly spread rain, chilling his wrists. As he silently looked outside, he saw the stable hand leading a familiar brown horse through the rain at the mansion’s entrance.

A faint smile appeared on Yves’s lips. He knew who had arrived. Come to think of it, he hadn’t informed anyone that he had canceled all his plans for the day. Good. This would be perfect for clearing his heavy emotions.

Yves immediately turned and excused himself.

“If you have no more to say, I’ll be going. I have a prior engagement.”

He passed by the Count de Perrier indifferently.

“Yves, in the end, you’ll conform too. Young people these days are infatuated with the romance of a revolution they’ve never experienced, talking about equality and freedom. If you want to become a fool who can’t keep what he has because you’re intoxicated with such opium-like ideas, you might as well go back to war. I’d rather cry over your corpse in Père Lachaise than see you in a carmagnole.”

At this, Yves turned back to the Count with a smile.

“I don’t understand what you mean. I am one of the most staunch royalists.”

“I know. You are very much like me.”

“It’s not exactly a comforting comparison. Then, I’ll be going.”

Yves’s footsteps echoed loudly in the corridor as he left the study.

Upon reaching the mansion’s entrance, Yves found Claude, who was just taking off his rain-soaked cloak. Claude, who was drying himself with a cloth handed by a servant, also spotted Yves and saluted. His gaze was fixed on Yves’s casual attire. He then realized something.

“Ah, you’re not wearing your uniform.”

“I forgot to send someone to inform you. I was going to cancel today’s schedule.”

At those words, Claude looked slightly disappointed but didn’t complain. He just picked up the cloak he had set aside after a moment’s thought.

“It’s alright. I’ll return to the barracks.”

Ah, that wasn’t what he meant. He must have taken Yves’s words as an order to leave.

“Since you’re already here, take a little rest before you go.”

Yves spoke to the servant standing beside him.

“Bring tea and cake to the drawing room in my room.”

“To the second floor, sir?”

“Yes.”

The servant nodded slowly, surprised. It was the first time he had seen the Captain invite a visitor to his room since he started working at the mansion. Yves was known for being picky and keeping people at a distance, so he usually met guests on the first floor.

However, from Yves’s perspective, this was not a special occasion. He and Claude had already shared wine in the second-floor drawing room before, and Claude had even entered his bedroom. So, naturally, he thought they should talk in his room today as well.

“Let’s go up.”

As Yves led Claude towards the stairs, the servants dispersed back to their posts. At that moment, the Count de Perrier appeared with his hands behind his back, but no one noticed him. He watched the two ascend to the second floor for a long while.

Shortly after, a servant entered Yves’s well-maintained drawing room. He carried aromatic black tea, coffee, hot chocolate, a cake made with sugared apples, and almond macarons. Yves and Claude were seated opposite each other with a low table between them, and the servant set down the pastries and tea cups.

The two didn’t engage in much conversation. The servant, thinking it was because of his presence, quickly left the room with the silver tray against his chest. Once the door was closed, Yves offered Claude his choice by gesturing towards the drinks. He poured tea into his own cup.

“I don’t like coffee.”

“We share similar tastes.”

Claude also chose tea, following Yves. The clear, crimson tea sloshed in the cup.

“I thought you would send me away. Is this a reward for me today?”

At Claude’s question, Yves laughed incredulously.

“Is having tea with me a reward for you? If so, I shouldn’t do it too often.”

“It’s a reward I’d choose even if it meant a year of hard labor in return.”

“Enough of that. Your flattery is making me feel embarrassed.”

Yves frowned at Claude’s words but didn’t scold him further. The sound of the rain gently seeped into the drawing room.

“On my way here, I saw they were pulling a body out of the Vaugirard sewer.”

“It’s a common occurrence on rainy days.”

Yves knew who that body probably was. He had shown mercy to Simon, but murder was never a pleasant act. Sometimes, he questioned why he had to go this far.

Did he, as his father said, harbor a romance for an era he had never lived through? His father, who had vaguely noticed his actions, did nothing, almost as if to say there was no need to intervene, just ignoring and observing.

‘You are very much like me.’

The tone in which he spoke, as if knowing Yves would eventually choose this side, was distasteful. He always felt irritated when facing his father. His attitude of holding everything in his hands and shaking it was the most infuriating, and knowing that his words weren’t entirely wrong made it even more damaging to his pride.

“You’re lost in thought again.”

Yves looked at Claude, who had been watching him. He didn’t seem upset for not being engaged. Perhaps he was concerned about the frown on Yves’s face. The loyal dog, always attentive to every nuance of his tone and gesture, looked at him with eyes full of ardent pursuit today as well.

Should he accept this man’s pure affection?

No, it wouldn’t last long anyway. Once he knew Yves’s true nature, he would surely regret his feelings. Yves wanted to puncture his inflated, naive heart.

“You asked me once which side I’m on. I’m going to answer that today. I support the royalists and defend the old regime.”

Claude’s eyes flickered at Yves’s sudden statement. There was some aversion to the content, but he was also trying to discern why Yves was telling him this.

“I somewhat expected this, but why bring it up now?”

“Because I think my lieutenant has some holy misconceptions about me. I’m as debauched as I appear. There’s no special circumstance to it. I’m no different from the average noble. You, who don’t want to wear culottes, why do you admire someone like me?”

“I still haven’t fully understood that myself. There are just a few guesses.”

“Tell me, I want to hear them.”

Yves leaned his chin on the armrest of the sofa, looking like a child eager to hear an interesting story. Claude set down his cup and looked out the window briefly.

“As you know, our first meeting was quite intense. Do you remember what you said to me that day?”

Yves nodded leisurely.

“It kept coming to mind even after I got home. I found it both amusing and infuriating, but a few days later, when you took command of the battalion, I understood clearly. Maybe I wanted to meet you again. After that, serving by your side, I grew curious about you. Of course, your appearance played a significant role. Are all men who prefer men’s company this beautiful? I even thought that.”

“Beautiful, huh… That’s unpleasant to hear. Don’t forget I’m a man with the same reproductive organs as you.”

Yves raised his eyebrows, giving a small reprimand.

“My standards of beauty are somewhat different from others’. I apologize for bringing this up abruptly, but the last time in your bedroom, I unintentionally saw the scar from a sword wound.”

“Ah, that was from the Spanish campaign. A scar of both shame and honor.”

“I found it beautiful. Your thickened wrists from years of wielding a sword, and fingers calloused from gunpowder and hard work. It might be an awe from one soldier to another.”

“You certainly have a way with words. It sounds like you were just moved by seeing my naked body.”

“I won’t deny it. Certainly, from that night, I couldn’t sleep well.”

Claude admitted with a defeated laugh at Yves’s straightforward rebuke. As Yves had said, it was true that his desire had sparked from that night, but it was merely a catalyst; this feeling was bound to start sooner or later.

He admired him, revered him, and worshipped him. He desired and yearned for him so much that it was hard to believe they were spending time together like this. He had cultivated patience to stay close to him longer. Since nobles sometimes keep dogs as pets, wouldn’t it be acceptable to crave this level of affection? As long as he wasn’t pushed away, he could endure.

The rain was gradually stopping. The damp air inside the room was slowly drying out. Neither of them touched the food on the table. The tea, which they had taken only a sip of before setting down, had gone lukewarm, and all their attention was solely on each other.

“Honesty is good. Is that all?”

“Of course, there were times I misunderstood. I thought you were different from other nobles, that there was some reason behind your current lifestyle. Your words are always sharp, but you made sure to distribute the Easter allowance and helped resolve Auguste’s situation. So, I might have thought you were some kind of moderate liberal.”

“And now that you know the truth, are you disappointed?”

“No, it doesn’t matter. I don’t think I can take back the heart I’ve given to you.”

At the renewed, heartfelt pursuit, Yves couldn’t help but laugh. Unlike before, he didn’t rebuke him harshly, perhaps because he didn’t feel that bad about it. His persistent advances had now become natural.

Since Claude didn’t beg for affection in a servile way, Yves didn’t feel superior. Instead, he felt an urge to possess it more. How charming it is to have someone’s feelings that he cannot control. He wanted to take every drop of Claude’s devotion that seemed within his grasp but never fully attainable.

A week later, Yves appeared at the opera house with Miss Marianne from the Verdier ducal family. The twenty-one-year-old daughter of this prestigious family had fallen for Yves at first sight at Madame Piaf’s ball.

After her debutante ball, she hadn’t found anyone suitable for courtship, so through her mother, the Duchess of Verdier, she had made inquiries to the Perrier family, which led to an exchange of letters with Yves, with the approval of their parents.

However, disappointingly, Yves’s replies were always slow and sparse, rarely exceeding one or two pages. Most were filled with quoted poetry, and he never once promised to visit.

Moreover, recent unpleasant rumors surrounding him had troubled Marianne. Compared to other men who showed her affection, Yves was a poor suitor.

Yet, once a person’s heart swells like bread baked in an oven, it doesn’t cool down easily. Marianne was beautiful and intelligent, but also possessive. With her affection mixed with determination, she wanted to make this young, proud officer hers.

Then, miraculously, a week ago, she received a letter from him. Unlike before, it suggested going out for an evening. Marianne, after consulting with her mother, hastily acquired a new dress, hat, and shoes. She wanted to appear on his arm in front of all of Paris’s nobility.

A luxurious four-wheeled carriage stopped at the opera house’s entrance. Although the opera had already started, Marianne and Yves took their time entering the theater.

Nobles, unbound by time, made their grand entrances through a small door to watch the opera from their exclusive seats. To be precise, they used watching the opera as an excuse to spend time with their lovers and enjoy gossip.

They entered the farthest room on the right among several on the second floor. Baron Maurice and his wife, already there, greeted them warmly. Yves, out of his uniform for once, was in formal attire. After tipping his hat in greeting, he took his seat.

The Baroness, pleased with Marianne’s dress, struck up a conversation with her. They soon became companions in laughter, while Yves naturally conversed with Maurice.

“Do you often come to the opera?”

“I come enough to not disappoint the singers I sponsor. I heard the Captain doesn’t like it.”

“I prefer ballet.”

Recently, the attention of Paris’s male nobility had shifted towards dancers, as they were more suited for physical activities. Maurice smiled as if he understood.

“Your honesty is refreshing.”

“By the way, I was surprised by Madame Chalrette’s role. I thought she’d prefer a more beautiful costume.”

“She’s confident in her voice. She has a wonderful soprano, so you can look forward to it.”

Yves nodded slightly to show he understood. The aria, which had been going on for a while, ended, and the scene changed.

Susanna, the maid, was about to marry the barber, Figaro. In the play, Madame Chalrette appeared dressed as a boy who loves Susanna, performing a soprano aria. Yves soon felt bored and turned his gaze to the audience.

He looked down at the bourgeois in the first-floor stalls. The content mocking and denigrating the nobility seemed to be to their taste. Given the high price of their seats, many were focused, not wanting to miss a single scene.

His gaze then moved to the center of the second floor. Using his opera glasses, Yves checked who was occupying the loge today. The main figures were an unnamed middle-aged gentleman and a young woman.

The woman, dressed in lace that revealed much of her chest and adorned with flowers in her hair, didn’t look like a lady by any standard. The middle-aged man next to her, in formal attire with a beard, was likely some unknown local noble visiting Paris with his lover.

Yves’s opera glasses then turned to the opposite side of the second floor. In the small, protruding boxes, groups of two to three nobles were chatting away. In the furthest right box, a man was drawing something. The seat closest to the stage was traditionally a Perrier family box, but today it was occupied by a stranger.

He occasionally looked up from his drawing to check someone through his opera glasses. Yves, reassured, turned his attention back to the opera stage. He only hoped Louis had found a competent artist.

A few hours later, the carriage was heading back to the Verdier ducal residence. Marianne, leaning against the plush backrest, had been watching Yves, who hadn’t taken his eyes off the window as they neared her home.

“I didn’t expect we’d just watch the opera and part ways. I chose this special dress for today, you know.”

At her downhearted words, Yves slowly turned his head. His blue eyes met hers, making her heart flutter slightly. His lips, which had been closed, moved slowly.

“Everyone must have seen. They must have asked our friends, ‘Who is that beautiful lady in the peach-colored dress?’ I don’t think it’s my imagination that our box drew a lot of attention.”

“It must have been because they were looking at you.”

“That’s not entirely wrong. Being next to Miss Marianne certainly drew envious looks from the men.”

“You’re good with words. But I won’t be fooled.”

She responded with a pout, indicating she wouldn’t be swayed. Yves then smiled, trying to soothe her.

“I have no intention of deceiving anyone. Trust me. We need to get to know each other slowly. And that takes time.”

“I know. But at this rate, I’ll only understand your heart just before I die of old age.”

At her slightly softened tone, Yves leaned forward, offering her a gentle look.

“I promised your mother to have you back before evening prayers. Though I regret it, today is not the only day. Let’s look forward to next time.”

“You clearly want something from me, right? Just so you know, I’m not that foolish.”

“Of course. So, we’ll soon be able to exchange what we both need.”

Yves took Marianne’s gloved hand and kissed it briefly. Her eyes wavered with the jolting of the carriage.

Ah, this man is truly inscrutable. He seems to lie so naturally, yet I can’t help but believe him. His intentions to use this relationship are clear, yet when we’re alone, he’s so caring. What should I do?

Marianne couldn’t suppress her spreading doubts and once again held onto her feelings for Yves. She turned her gaze out the window to hide her complex emotions.

A soldier was following behind the carriage, neither too fast nor too slow. Come to think of it, he was with him when they came to pick her up. She knew who he was, but it was surprising to see him accompanying on such a personal outing. He didn’t speak during the escort, and Yves didn’t give him any particular attention.

“Is he always following you around like this?”

At Marianne’s question, Yves, understanding who she meant, answered without even turning his head.

“Yes.”

His answer was succinct. Expecting further explanation, Marianne asked again, slightly flustered.

“Why?”

“It’s nothing much. Suppose there was a riot in Paris today. A carriage this large is always a target for rioters, and I’m currently unarmed. So, there are limits to protecting Miss Marianne. Also, we could be robbed on the street, so there’s no harm in being cautious.”

“But the carriage always has guns, doesn’t it? I can shoot, too. My aim is pretty good. If anything happens, I won’t be a burden.”

“That’s quite charming. I like that.”

At Yves’s smile, Marianne swallowed. His smooth cheeks puffed up slightly, and his eyes narrowed. The once cold and haughty impression vanished, leaving only a gentle demeanor.

Oh, Captain. Please stop smiling like that.

Marianne bit her lip, trying to steady her heart which seemed to melt away.

She wished the journey would never end, but soon the carriage arrived at the mansion. It was too early to part ways with the sun still high in the sky. If they were commoners, they could have held hands and wandered until sunset. Being born into a noble family with its formalities didn’t always feel like good fortune.

Hearing the carriage, the mansion’s servants came out to greet them. Yves respectfully handed Marianne back to her nanny. After a brief farewell, the carriage left, and the brown horse waiting at the gate quickly followed.

Left alone in the carriage, Yves was deep in thought. He had decided to keep a low profile for a while, which made meeting with Louis Thiers difficult. He considered going to the Academy where Louis often appeared, but there were too many eyes, making it risky. Since there was no need to act until all the portraits were completed, he had to trust that everyone was performing their assigned tasks well.

Yves tilted his head back and exhaled a long breath. He needed some rest. Just like right after returning from the Spanish war, he was tired of meeting and dealing with people. The unintended seclusion back then had surprisingly suited him.

If only he could take walks and read books. It would be even better if there were someone to share tea with. Having a conversation partner wouldn’t be bad. Suddenly, Yves turned his head to look out the window. Outside, Claude was quietly following the carriage on horseback.

He realized anew how large Claude was. His head wasn’t large, so it didn’t show at first glance, but on horseback, he had the stature of someone who could lead a cavalry unit.

The wind was blowing, tousling Claude’s hair. His brown eyes, which had been staring straight ahead, noticed Yves’s gaze and turned towards the carriage. As their eyes met, an absurd idea popped into Yves’s otherwise bored mind.

There was a small lake on the way to the Nanterre mansion, marking the beginning of the Perrier estate. There was always something he wanted to do there, but he had no one to do it with, so it remained just a thought. It was the price for spending his youth without siblings or friends of the same age. But today, for some reason, he felt like doing it.

Yves stopped the carriage at the lake, sending the coachman and carriage back to the mansion. Claude, puzzled, dismounted immediately.

“What’s the matter?”

“Do you like swimming?”

At Yves’s sudden question, Claude nodded hesitantly.

“Let’s have a race. The winner gets to have one wish granted.”

“Here? Now?”

“Yes, tie up your horse and come quickly.”

Yves, leaving Claude still with a questioning look, began to undress as he walked towards the lake. The sun, stretched long to the west, reflected his image. The fresh green foliage cast a light shade under the afternoon sun.

Claude tied his horse under a mature cherry tree. The brown horse, as if it had been waiting, began to graze. Yves, now down to his underwear, jumped into the clear water, ripples spreading beside him, breaking the sunlight.

From this perspective, Yves looked like any other young man in his twenties. Perhaps because he was always seen in uniform, giving commands, it was refreshing to see him as a peer.

“What are you doing? Why aren’t you getting in? Are you not confident?”

Yves urged him on. Claude quickly undid his buttons and shed his uniform, then jumped into the water with an impressive splash.

“If I win, will you really grant my wish?”

Claude lifted his wet head above the water.

“I swear on my family’s honor.”

“I don’t have a family to swear by, so that’s problematic.”

“But you have your honor as a soldier.”

Though Claude had long discarded such honor, he nodded in agreement. Understanding his nod as consent, Yves set the rules of the race.

“We’ll swim to the end of the lake and back. I’ll check at intervals, so don’t try to cheat.”

“It’s quite a distance. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“Who’s worrying about whom? If it’s too risky, you can swim slowly. We’ll start when you count to three.”

Claude smiled faintly at Yves, who was waiting for his signal, facing forward. He was truly capricious and kept pushing him.

To suggest swimming together in the late afternoon, after stripping off their clothes.

Even though he had confessed to seeing him as a sexual object, did that not bother him? Or was he indifferent whether Claude saw him that way or not?

Claude put aside his thoughts and counted. The race began.

He didn’t swim at full speed from the start. He controlled his pace, watching Yves, who was ahead. And while swimming, he thought.

Should I win? If I do and get a wish granted, what would I ask for?

Since the day he saw Yves’s naked body, he had imagined doing more than just sharing a bed for one night. Acts of overwhelming him, tasting him, hearing his moans throughout the night.

However, he couldn’t give up everything for one moment of pleasure. He decided not to cling to what he must give up to stay by Yves’s side for a long time.

Then a brief kiss would be good. If not the lips, even just a touch on the cheek would do. He wanted to bury his nose in his soft skin and smell him. Yes, that would be just right. Suddenly looking up, Claude realized the scenery had changed.

He stopped swimming and turned around to see he was already at the far end. He must have inadvertently sprinted because he felt the blood rush to his lower body while trying to control his pace. He could see Yves swimming hard towards him. Claude swam lazily, waiting for him.

“What are you doing? Why are you waiting?”

Yves straightened up and raised his head when he saw Claude.

“I wasn’t waiting. My wound was hurting, so I had to rest.”

“Oh, was swimming too much for you?”

Claude just smiled at his question, pleased that Yves reacted to his excuse so quickly.

“Did it open up? Let’s get out of the water. I’ll look at the wound.”

“It’s not that bad.”

However, Yves frowned, seemingly blaming himself.

“I shouldn’t have done this. You should have told me earlier. I completely forgot about your injury. Let’s go back. Can you swim slowly?”

“No problem.”

Liking that Yves was concerned about him, Claude decided to keep up the pretense. The wound was not an issue for swimming, but he acted a little. He moved slowly, like someone with discomfort. They slowly swam back to the other side, the calm water rippling around them.

Once out of the water, both dried themselves with their shirts and put on their pants. Yves put on his shirt immediately, but Claude hung his wet shirt on a tree and lay down on the grass, seemingly to dry in the sun.

Yves came over to look at the bumpy, healed scar near Claude’s side. Claude closed his eyes, enjoying the touch.

“Does it hurt a lot?”

“Hmm… Not exactly.”

Yves noticed the amusement in Claude’s expression and asked.

“Was it all just an act?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Ha, this is ridiculous.”

As Yves tried to pull his hand away from Claude’s waist, Claude gently grabbed it.

“Didn’t I win the race? You were far behind.”

Claude said casually, having opened his eyes.

“That’s nonsense. The rule was clearly to touch the other side and come back.”

“I would have won even if we went through with it. I’d like to make my wish now.”

Claude pulled Yves’s hand firmly towards himself. If Yves wasn’t careful, he would have fallen onto Claude’s chest.

“The match wasn’t settled. You’re quite shameless, aren’t you?”

“I waited for you at the other side for quite a while. Who would have won if we had continued? You can’t lie to me, so you won’t claim you would have won, right?”

With his hand caught by Claude, Yves twisted his body to change position, but he ended up falling onto the grass. Claude didn’t miss that moment, raising his upper body to get on top of Yves. He pinned Yves’s hands and brought his face close.

“You promised on your family’s honor. You said you’d grant my wish.”

“I told you, you didn’t win, now let go and we’ll talk.”

Claude used his legs to immobilize Yves’s struggling legs. Drops of water from his wet hair dripped onto Yves’s cheeks and forehead. Claude’s pressure to state his wish continued. Yves was taken aback by Claude’s strength, which he hadn’t expected to be this formidable despite knowing he was larger.

“Alright, I’ll grant your wish, so stop it. Don’t you think this position is rather disrespectful? Or have you changed your mind to finally do it?”

Yves looked directly at Claude’s face, feeling his hot gaze aimed at his lips.

No way, here?

Yves was shocked inside. This was a place where anyone from the mansion could easily spot them. He thought Claude was calm, but he was far ahead of him.

Moreover, even if they were going to do it, this position was entirely wrong. Yves, who had never been pinned down like this, struggled in confusion.

However, Claude paid no heed, continuing to scan Yves’s lips, eyes, nose, cheeks, and forehead with his gaze. Yves’s eyes fluttered with each movement of Claude’s eyes. It wasn’t working to subdue him through force when words failed.

Yet, contrary to Yves’s urgency, Claude didn’t move. He just calmly looked down at Yves’s face.

What is he thinking?

At that moment, Claude released Yves’s hands and moved his upper body away.

Ah…

Watching his face leave his sight, Yves felt an inexplicable sense of regret. It seemed he had, unknowingly, expected something during that brief moment.

“I’ll save this wish for a special occasion. I don’t want to use it so easily.”

Then he lay down beside Yves and closed his eyes.

Yves looked down at Claude, who had suddenly become quiet as if sleeping. He saw his smooth chest, drying off, clad only in pants. The scar he had touched earlier came into view, and his gaze traveled down past his waist to where something substantial was hidden at his crotch.

Yves twisted his wet lips slightly. Was this what a child feels when something they’ve been given is taken back? The more he looked, the angrier he got.

He thought that if he had insisted, it could have happened. Rubbing their genitals together would have been simple, and if penetration was necessary, using his mouth would have sufficed. Come to think of it, he hadn’t taken a man since Joseph died. That must have stirred him.

What’s so special about one night together? He’s being too particular.

Yves flopped down beside Claude and closed his eyes. Clouds shaped like animals passed over his face. The sun was slowly dipping below the horizon, and a warm breeze came, drying their wet hair before it vanished.