MTO C26

Chapter 26

Michel parted his lips and let a sip of the wine roll across his tongue. A sweet fragrance burst upward, followed by a deep, honey‑like flavor spreading warmth through his mouth.

“Wow… this is delicious.”

His quiet exclamation brought a faint smile tugging at Kaidan’s lips.

“It’s brewed from the season’s winter fruits. A rare vintage—only available this time of year.”

“It really is wonderful. I might’ve regretted refusing.”

Michel took another gulp. There was none of the usual bitter aftertaste he had always associated with alcohol, only a tangy sweetness that sat comfortably with his palate. If anything, it tasted more like fruit juice than liquor.

When Michel’s cup lowered half‑empty, Kaidan refilled it without hesitation. Michel didn’t refuse. Coupled with the splendid quality of the food spread before them, the fragrant wine made for a deeply satisfying dining experience.

With Kaidan refilling without end, Michel’s cup was never empty for long.

“…It seems you don’t get drunk easily.”

“Maybe? I just think this wine must be low in alcohol content.”

Michel’s remark was casual, but Kaidan gave a dry scoff through his nose, as though amused by some private irony. Michel blinked.

Guess Kaidan just can’t hold his liquor.

He decided Kaidan must already be tipsy and, just in case, drew the wine bottle subtly closer to himself to prevent further pouring.

“So—how was it, returning to the orphanage at last?”

Kaidan leaned on one elbow, eyes a little heavy, stroking his chin as he asked. Michel paused mid‑bite, laying aside the turkey leg.

“It was good. I got to see the children. And, you know—it snowed yesterday. We all went out into the yard for a snowball fight.”

“A… snowball fight?”

“Yes. David and I split into teams. Of course in the end, it turned into everyone hurling snowballs at everyone. But before that, we also made sleds, and snowmen, and—…”

Michel’s words faltered. The ruined snowman flashed through his memory—the thugs smashing it apart. The terrified faces of the children returned to him, driving away all appetite.

Should I tell him, now?

He risked a look upward. Kaidan’s smile was faint, relaxed, almost friendly.

If he confessed he wanted to resign from the orphanage, Kaidan might be surprised, but surely he would grant it. After all, Kaidan had once said: a Saint is free to go wherever he wished.

And Kaidan today seemed in uncharacteristically good spirits—perhaps mellowed by drink. This was as good an opportunity to ask as he might ever have.

“…Why are you looking at me like that?”

Michel flinched. “N‑nothing. …The relief festival is tomorrow?”

Instead of pleading to replace the headmaster, Michel veered the topic aside. He disliked the idea of making such a request before he had done anything tangible for the people yet. Better to wait until after the festival.

Kaidan studied him silently a moment, then turned away, his expression cooling.

“No. The festival is in two days.”

“What? Then what am I meant to do until then?”

Why summon me so early?

Michel shot him a look half reproachful, but Kaidan merely pulled a scroll, flung it across the table. Michel caught it clumsily. The wax seal stamped with the sigil of Eglence blazed first into view.

“Though the festival is two days hence, word of your sainthood will spread across the northern realm beginning tomorrow. Until then you will prepare a prayer. The festival will open with your words.”

The scroll announced publicly that the first Saint of Valois had appeared, and detailed the relief festival. And there, in shimmering gold ink, was Michel’s name.

“…What do I do after the prayer?”

“Soldiers will distribute supplies to the people. You will stand by, offering blessing to any who approach.”

“…And, uh, what exactly counts as blessing? Do I just say, ‘May you be happy!’?”

Halfway to raising his glass again, Kaidan froze and stared at him, smile vanishing into the air. Those familiar eyes, sharp and disdainful, returned. Michel shrank under the weight of it.

“…That’s not how, is it? Then how, exactly?”

He pressed, and would not relent until Kaidan sighed heavily and rose from his chair.

Then, without warning, Kaidan reached toward him.

Michel, startled, instinctively grabbed his hand before it reached. Kaidan arched his brows, incredulous.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

“You tell me! You lunged first—I just blocked reflexively!”

Kaidan’s expression twisted in exasperation.

“Let go, before I break every finger.”

It wasn’t intimidation that made Michel obey—he simply sensed Kaidan’s lack of actual malice. He released him.

“I’ll show you only once. Pay attention.”

This time Kaidan placed his palm firmly over Michel’s face. Michel deliberately pinned his hands beneath his thighs to prevent reflexive blocking.

“May the blessing of God be with you.”

Kaidan murmured, brushing his thumb across Michel’s forehead, then along each cheek. The touch tickled as though prompting a sneeze.

And then—he stopped, withdrawing with no more flourish than that. With deliberate disgust he scrubbed his hands raw on a cloth, as though wiping off filth.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Michel felt some relief—it wasn’t difficult. But unease crept in. He pressed the place on his forehead Kaidan’s thumb had touched. Nothing felt different. Was that because Kaidan himself was no saint?

“…Does the blessing actually do anything? Like, grant wishes or something?”

“People believe so.”

Ah. So it was basically just a formalized good wish.

Michel’s anxiety eased. Giving out a hundred such platitudes in one afternoon would be nothing.

Meanwhile Kaidan tossed the used cloth disdainfully aside.

“Have your prayer written before the festival. I’ll review it tomorrow.”

“…We’re done eating already?”

“Yes.”

Kaidan moved as though to depart immediately. Michel jumped to his feet too, darting round to block the doorway. Kaidan’s eyes narrowed dangerously, wordless demand for explanation. Michel shrugged innocently.

“I need to practice—review, really.”

“…What?”

Rather than explain, Michel reached suddenly toward Kaidan’s face. The Duke turned just in time to dodge.

“I’m trying to bless you—stand still!”

“No need.”

“What if I make a mistake on the day? I need to confirm I’m doing it right.”

“Then I will summon a servant—”

“You don’t need to. Is my hand too dirty for you? I washed earlier. Look—fine, I’ll only pretend to touch.”

Michel lunged again. Kaidan narrowly dodged each attempt until finally he seized Michel’s arm, veins ridging his forehead.

“Enough.”

“Just once. Please?”

Still unfazed, Michel lifted his free index finger as if to argue “just one.” Kaidan groaned through his teeth. Yet, after a long exhale, he released Michel, jaw tight, and even lowered his head, eyes squeezed shut, unable to watch whatever foolery would come.

Face so close—too close—Michel started in awe.

“Wow, Brother Kaidan, your nose is really high. We’re the same human race, right? Why is mine so small?”

“…Spare me your rambling. Get it over with.”

“Yes, yes.”

Forgetful of his promise not to touch, Michel pressed his thumb firmly on Kaidan’s forehead. Between his brows twitched sharply.

“May God’s blessing… um, what was it again?”

“…May God’s blessing be with you.”

“May God’s blessing be with you, Brother Kaidan.”

His thumb swept over Kaidan’s cheek as he finished. Kaidan’s eyes flew open. Their gazes clashed close in air charged with strange intensity.

Michel beamed brightly into it.

“Did I do well?”

Kaidan only stared back, seemingly dumbfounded. Then, without answering, his face smoothed hard, and he turned on his heel, striding out without a word.

…What did I do wrong this time?

Michel smacked his lips, bemused. He wandered back to the table, picked up the turkey leg he’d left, and tore a hearty bite. Juices flooded his mouth with savory bliss.