Intruding the Dreams of a Knight - Chapter 7 - You resemble him

About a month since Irene met the self-proclaimed fortune-teller and started intruding on Camille’s dreams, Irene noticed something.

 

(“Lord Gresler’s dreams are very pure and innocent.”)

 

In the dreams, “Irene” would use sweet words to tempt Camille, but Camille kept their interactions limited to holding hands, snuggling, and forehead kisses. Even when that ample chest—still as large as it was, was brought close to him, he never touched it.

 

(“Gentleman… astonishingly so…”)

 

Irene wondered if someday, Camille’s true nature would be laid bare. Even that upright and amiable young man might do outrageous things in his dreams… Irene occasionally worried. However, in his dreams, he remained gentle and maintained a pure relationship.

 

(…Even in dreams, he’s a good person… This is frustrating…)

 

As Irene observed the real-world Camille, she began to see many of his qualities.

 

His enthusiasm for work, willingness to take on any dirty job with vigor, and his caring nature shown through his attention to new knights and helping those in trouble.

 

Furthermore, he was exceptional in administrative tasks like submitting documents to the office. Unfortunately, he wasn’t particularly skilled in handwriting, but he met deadlines, submitted things early, and thoroughly confirmed if there were any uncertainties. His colleagues in the office even joked that they’d like to brew and drink the knights’ nail clippings who carelessly claimed they spilled or tore something.

 

Passing in the corridor, he greets Irene with a smile, “Greetings, Miss Lancel.” Irene can’t ignore it and replies, “Greetings.”

 

Though she had always thought of him as a charming man who’s always with women, Camille maintains an appropriate distance from the young ladies, not giving them false hopes. This keeps their relationship pleasant, and the young ladies seem to genuinely like being around Mr. Gresler and say it’s fun.

 

“I’m a detestable woman.”

 

Irene murmurs this now in the corridor.

 

Today, there’s a ball held at the royal palace. Irene, being a baroness’s daughter, wasn’t invited, but as a temporary servant in the knight’s office, she was given temporary duties. Doris took on the role of hospitality, and Irene was in charge of guiding guests.

 

When Irene passed near the venue earlier, she encountered some young ladies who seemed to be fans of Camille. They were whispering dreamily, “I want to dance with Mr. Gresler today,” and “If only I could have a conversation.”

 

None of the young ladies were fixated on winning over Camille; it was solely because he treats them equally. Talking to him, seeing his face, or dancing with him is enough.

 

(Maybe because Mr. Gresler is so pure, his fans are also genuine…)

 

…Thinking this, Irene finds her arbitrary behavior towards him rather regrettable. He’s not at fault at all; he’s an outstanding young man. Yet she had been avoiding and concealing herself as if he was. That’s not just rude.

 

But, yes. She’s somewhat uncomfortable with him—

 

“Hey, you there, maid.”

 

While walking down the corridor lost in thought, Irene is addressed from behind. Initially, not thinking it’s about her, since there are no other maids around, she turns back, wondering if it’s about her.

 

There stands a middle-aged man with unsteady steps. His face is slightly red, possibly from having drunk too many at the event.

 

“I am Viscount Gibell. Show me to my room.”

 

“Understood. Allow me to summon one of the room guides…”

 

“You, show me the way!”

 

As she tries to call for a castle servant, the man’s hand reaches out and grabs Irene’s left wrist. His grip is unexpectedly strong, causing Irene to let out a small scream.

 

(Strong… and he smells of alcohol!)

 

Realizing that the middle-aged man is drunk and not in a sound state of mind, Irene puts on a stiff smile.

 

“I apologize, but I am a temporary servant. Guiding guests to rooms are assigned to others…”

 

“Quit your yapping! Just take me to any available room!”

 

Irene, irritated by his yelling, raises an eyebrow.

 

(Any available room? …Oh, I see!?)

 

In other words, this Viscount Gibell wants to catch a tipsy maid like herself and take her to a room, not for his rest, but for…

 

A chill runs down Irene’s spine, and she jerks her left arm away.

 

“Please desist. I cannot comply with such a request.”

 

“A mere maid defying me!?”

 

The man shouts angrily and pushes his free hand into the cap Irene is wearing, grabbing her hair tied in a ponytail. He not only tugs her hair but also pushes her into an uncomfortable position, causing pain and blurring her vision.

 

“Ah…!?”

 

“What, a tearful expression makes you more charming. You might have a flat chest and an ugly face, but it’s fine. Now, quickly to the room—”

 

The man who had been holding Irene’s wrist with one hand, however, makes a rather peculiar sound, “crack,” and at the same time, the strength in the hand grabbing her hair loosens. Irene steps back, startled.

 

On the floor lies the man who had been holding Irene earlier. He covered his face with both hands and let out a grating like a dying frog.

 

“Who, who are you!? Behaving this way towards a viscount…!?”

 

“I thought someone, a brute who dares to target innocent women in the royal palace, was intruding.”

 

A sharp, cold sound of shoes echoes. Leaning against the wall, Irene’s eyes widen as she sees the person approaching from the end of the corridor.

 

Soft golden hair and eyes like hazel. His attire is a military-style dress uniform with white and gold accents.

 

(Mr. Gresler…?)

 

He had always been cheerful, but upon seeing Irene against the wall, his expression softens in relief.

 

“I heard your scream and rushed over, Are you alright?”

 

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Gresler…”

 

“G- Gresler!?”

 

The viscount on the floor manages to raise himself, looking stiff and pale as he stares at Camille before him. Upon closer inspection, his left cheek is swollen oddly.

 

“You… No, you are Earl Gresler’s—”

 

“Good day, Viscount… or I would like to say that. I’m sorry, but I don’t know a viscount with a face like yours. State your name.”

 

“…”

 

“Um, that person earlier claimed to be Viscount Gibell…”

 

While the man remains silent, Irene hesitantly speaks. Camille looks at her and smiles, saying, “Thank you, Miss,” and then directs a cold gaze toward the man.

 

“Strange. I remember Viscount Gibell being slightly slimmer. …Could it be, you’ve been using the name of Viscount Gibell falsely?”

 

“I-I am a member of the viscount’s family! It’s true!”

 

“…Being a member of the viscount’s family’ and being from the viscount’s family is quite different. To deceive under your relative’s name to intimidate a delicate woman, you should feel ashamed.”

 

Camille speaks coldly and then picks up something that had fallen near the man who had deceived the title of viscount. Upon closer inspection, it’s a shallow shoe. It’s only now that Irene realizes the man’s left foot is bare except for his sock.

 

Gracefully putting on the shoe, Camille takes Irene’s hand and stands in front of the man, as if shielding her.

 

“Furthermore, this lady is not a maid. She’s a genuine baron’s daughter and a talented worker in the knight’s office.”

 

“What!?”

 

“Um, Mr. Gresler…?”

 

“It’s unforgivable for someone of the stature of a mere member of the viscount’s family’ to attempt violence against a noblewoman. …Ah, they’re here. Everyone, apprehend this man.”

 

Just as castle guards arrive, Camille calmly instructs them. Among the guards surrounding the man, some whisper, “Miss Lancel…”

 

(…I’m safe.)

 

Letting out a breath of relief, Irene feels a bit lightheaded. Camille, who seemed to notice it, quickly takes Irene’s shoulder and supports her to prevent her from collapsing, then looks at the guards.

 

“Miss Baroness Lancel is injured. I will take her to the infirmary. Please handle this fellow.”

 

“Understood, Mr. Gresler.”

 

Nodding toward the young knights bowing to him, Camille looks back at Irene. There’s a deep sadness in his hazel eyes.

 

“…You were grabbed and your hair was pulled. Did anything else happen?”

 

“I’m fine. Because you came, Mr. Gresler. Thank you…”

 

“I see. Can you walk?”

 

“Yes, I can.”

 

Thankfully, she hasn’t sustained any injuries to her legs. Although she feels a bit unsteady, she can stand and walk properly without leaning on Camille.

 

Still, Camille insists, “I’ll accompany you,” but as they walk toward the royal palace’s infirmary, his hand that had been supporting Irene suddenly withdraws.

 

“…I’m sorry. I touched you carelessly.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“You, don’t you dislike me? …If being close to me is making you uncomfortable, I apologize. I’ll keep my distance and watch from here.”

 

“Um, that’s not it!”

 

Almost as soon as he takes a step back to put some distance between them, Irene turns to him and raises her voice.

 

She had felt sorry for her avoidance of him. It’s time to say it aloud.

 

“I… I should apologize. For avoiding you so much and for my one-sided discomfort with you, Mr. Gresler.”

 

“…Have I done something to you? If I have, I must apologize.”

 

Even though he’s the one who’s been avoided, Camille speaks solemnly, almost making Irene want to cry.

 

“You haven’t… You haven’t done anything. Truly.”

 

“I see.”

 

“I’m sorry. I’ve been unfairly bitter towards you.”

 

” I see. I guess you are not comfortable with me.”

 

Saying that, Camille smiles, but his smile appears lonely.

 

He had been dreaming about “Irene” all this time. Since the “Irene” in his dreams had feelings for him, being rejected by the real Irene must be a shock.

 

Without answering his comment, Irene walks with Camille to the infirmary. Inside, there’s only one attending physician. The doctor examines Irene’s left wrist and neck, applies a cooling ointment, and advises her to rest for about thirty minutes before leaving.

 

Lying down on the bed, Irene finds Camille by her side. She looks up at him and manages a wry smile.

 

“I’m fine now.”

 

“But…”

 

“…Thank you for accompanying me. And for helping me… I’m truly grateful.”

 

If Camille hadn’t come to her rescue at that moment, Irene, being vulnerable, might have been unable to resist the man and could have been taken somewhere.

 

…Thinking that, she shivers involuntarily, and Camille quickly peers at her in concern.

 

“Are you okay!?”

 

“Y-Yes… Truly, because you came, Mr. Gresler…”

 

“Miss Lancel…”

 

Her body is still a bit cold. The sensation of her wrist being grabbed, the voice yelling “ugly,” it all comes back, and she unconsciously clenches the pristine white sheets in her hands.

 

“You resemble him.”

 

“Me? May I ask who?”

 

“A boy I used to like in the past.”

 

While clutching the sheets, Irene answered.