Chapter Four: The Smallest Things
The bathwater had long gone still, the surface barely rippling with their movements. Noir rose first, the warmth of the enchanted marble and lingering steam wrapping around her pale form like a shawl. She moved with quiet grace, stepping onto the waiting towels as a group of maids entered in practiced synchronization. They bowed low, hands full of warm cloths and scented oils.
"Welcome, my lady," one whispered reverently.
Noir merely nodded, holding herself with the poise of someone born into authority. Without needing instruction, the maids stepped forward to gently dry her skin, their movements precise, professional, respectful. Another set began carefully combing through her long silver hair, fingers deft and steady as they worked in silence.
Klein stepped from the bath behind her, water cascading down his toned frame. His silver-white hair clung to his skin, droplets sliding over powerful shoulders and defined arms. A pair of servants, eyes respectfully lowered, approached him with fresh towels and combs, ready to assist.
He froze.
It wasn't fear—not exactly. But the moment they drew closer, something in his gut twisted. A reflex, a warning born of a life where no touch came without strings. The idea of strangers placing their hands on him—even for something as mundane as drying his body—felt wrong.
Foreign.
He stepped back slightly, expression soft but firm. "No need. I can handle it myself."
The maids blinked, startled into stillness. One glanced toward Noir, uncertain, as if awaiting correction.
None came.
Klein took a towel from one of their hands and began drying his own body with brisk, utilitarian motions. He worked from instinct—survival-trained discipline guiding his every movement. He wiped down his legs, arms, torso, and hair with quiet efficiency, not bothering with elegance or delay.
The servants, still frozen, looked between one another. Their expressions were caught somewhere between confusion and mild horror. A duke drying his own body? Combing his own hair? What kind of noble did that?
None.
Noir observed him quietly as the last touches of perfume were applied to her wrists and neck. One maid leaned closer to whisper in her ear, likely asking whether to insist or intervene. But Noir shook her head.
"Leave him be," she said calmly. "Go tend to the next task."
The maids bowed, though their eyes flickered back to Klein several times before they exited. The sound of their steps faded beyond the chamber's heavy door.
Klein stood in front of a mirror, bare-chested, tying a robe around his waist with clean, confident motions. It was a deep gray-blue, embroidered with muted silver—the house colors of Moonlight. He met her gaze briefly in the glass.
"…That was strange, wasn't it?" he said with a small smile, still toweling off his damp hair.
"To them?" Noir answered as she fastened the last clasp of her high-collared gown. "Extremely."
She said it without mockery, without judgment. Just simple truth.
He let out a short breath through his nose, neither laughter nor a sigh. "Guess I'll be surprising them a lot."
Noir tilted her head slightly, the barest flicker of curiosity passing through her eyes. "Yes… I think you will."
They didn't speak further as they exited the chamber together. The corridors of the Moonlight estate were wide and quiet at this hour, their steps echoing softly off polished stone. As they walked through archways framed by blooming ivy and gilded sconces, sunlight slowly filtered in through enchanted skylights. Klein took it all in—like a man still unsure whether he belonged to this world of beauty and peace.
Eventually, they arrived at the sunroom.
It was aptly named: a radiant space enclosed in glass and enchanted latticework. Even in the coldest winters, it remained warm and bright, thanks to hidden magical cores embedded in the structure. Gentle light poured through crystal-clear panes, scattering rainbows across the marble floor. Ferns and soft-petaled flowers grew in well-trimmed beds along the edges. The scent of orange blossom and honey hung subtly in the air.
At the center of the room sat a long, elegant table of dark wood. Breakfast had already been prepared—a spread of seasonal fruits, soft pastries, buttered bread, cheese, and silver pots of spiced tea and milk. Klein's seat, naturally, was at the head of the table. Noir's was placed to his right—close, but not presumptive.
They sat in silence at first, the only sounds those of clinking cutlery and the occasional chirp of a songbird beyond the windowed wall.
Klein's appetite wasn't grand, but he ate with quiet focus. The food was unlike anything from his past life. Flaky, fresh, and warm. Not stolen. Not rotting.
He glanced sideways, watching Noir lift her teacup to her lips with practiced grace. She hadn't spoken yet, hadn't commented on his behavior, hadn't questioned the shift in him—but her eyes were always watching.
Carefully.
He set his fork down and cleared his throat softly. "So… what are your plans for today?"
Noir paused. Not because she didn't have an answer—but because the question itself was unexpected.
Klein had never asked her that before. The old Klein.
Her fingers rested lightly on her cup's rim. "Today? I'll review the estate's expense ledgers. The east wing's repairs were completed last week. I need to check the final report. Then I'll hear from the steward about the winter rations for the lower district. After that, I'll meet with the head chef to finalize the seasonal menu."
Klein nodded slowly, genuinely interested. "You handle all that yourself?"
She turned slightly toward him. "I'm the Duchess of Moonlight. It's my duty. The house's daily operations, finances, staff—those fall under my care."
He smiled faintly. "That's a lot of responsibility."
She tilted her head, curious. "You never mentioned it before."
"I didn't know," he said honestly. "But I do now. And I was wondering… if you'd let me help."
Noir blinked.
Help?
No duke helped with house affairs. The governing of estates and domestic logistics was always a duchess's duty—delegated, yes, but also hers to control and maintain. It was her realm, her battlefield. Husbands, especially martial heroes like Klein, rarely involved themselves beyond the occasional approval of major expenditures or guest lists.
"Help… how?" she asked, not suspicious—but surprised.
"I'd like to understand," he said. "How this place runs. What you do. What it takes to keep it together. I don't want to just… exist in these halls. I want to be here. Really be here."
Something about his tone gave her pause.
Noir looked at him—really looked—and saw no trace of mockery or performance in his expression. Just a strange and soft sincerity. Like this request mattered to him.
And for a woman who had spent a year with cold glances and stilted silence, that sincerity felt stranger than any spell.
"…Very well," she said at last. "But I expect you to keep up."
Klein grinned. "You'd be surprised what I can keep up with."
She stood, elegant and composed, and he followed. As they left the sunroom together, side by side, the servants watching from the hallway whispered behind raised hands.
It was the smallest thing—a question, a shared breakfast, a passing offer.
But sometimes, in the cold halls of nobility and power, it's the smallest things that change everything.