Too Close for Comfort

The moment Shana realized she could feel a hard ridge pressing through Lucian’s trousers, her head started to spin.

It was dizzying enough that she almost forgot how to breathe.

This was completely unexpected.

Slipping on spilled medicine was bad enough, but of all ways to land—why like this?

Even though it lasted only an instant, she could feel not just the outline, but the size and shape as well.

Even the heat radiating through the thin fabric was vivid.

If it had been smaller, she might not have noticed at all. But it was too big. That was the problem.

For some reason, the bread Erilot had bought that morning flashed through her mind.

A baguette.

Shana immediately blamed her imagination, but the sensation was disturbingly similar.

At this point, it was downright resentful.

‘What the hell is Lucian carrying around on his body?!’

I need to get up.
That was what Shana thought as she planted her foot on the floor—only to slip again.

“Ah…”

She struggled to stand, but the slick floor made her toes skid uselessly.

The more she flailed, the more her body—perched on his thigh—ended up pressing and rubbing against him in ways she very much did not intend.

Along with the sensation transmitted through the thin cloth, she heard Lucian suck in a breath right by her ear.

She didn’t need him to say it out loud to know: the more she squirmed, the more stimulation it caused him.

‘This is insane…!’

As Shana waved her arms and legs helplessly in an attempt to escape the mortifying situation, Lucian finally caught her hand.

The moment his firm, hot hand closed around her wrist, her movements froze.

“Shasha. Wait—don’t try to get up yet. There’s still medicine spilled all over the floor.”

“I—I know that!”

She was doing her absolute best to ignore the sensation at her lower body.

What do you expect me to do, then?!

The words were right on the tip of her tongue.

Lucian took a light breath and snapped his fingers.

[Clean.]

With a single, simple spell, the medicine coating the floor vanished as if it had never been there.

Ah. Cleaning magic.

There had been such an easy solution.

Shana looked at Lucian with an awkward expression.

“Thanks.”

When she set her foot down again, the floor was completely dry and solid.

‘Now I just need to stand up.’

Just as she thought that, Lucian released her wrist—and then slid his hands under her waist and legs.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he tightened his thigh and lifted her effortlessly.

“Huh?”

Lucian walked forward as if he were carrying nothing at all.

Seeing herself suspended in the air, Shana panicked and asked him,

“Wh—why?”

It wasn’t like she couldn’t walk just because she slipped once.

But Lucian answered calmly.

“You twisted your ankle.”

He gestured toward her ankle. Rather than twisted, it was really just a little red.

“This is nothing! Put me down!”

“It is something. Where’s the medicine?”

Lucian started scanning the apothecary.

No matter how much she moved, his solid arms supported her steadily.

‘What is he doing, seriously?’

“I’ll put you down after I apply it.”

In the end, Shana stopped flailing and pointed at the cabinet beside them.

When Lucian glanced at the many bottles piled there, silently asking which one, she answered, “That one. The purple bottle!”

“The short one.”

There were several purple bottles, but Lucian somehow understood exactly what she meant.

He flicked his finger—and the bottle flew neatly into his hand.

While Shana stared in a daze, Lucian asked,

“There’s a room inside, right?”

“Y-yeah.”

Behind the shop was the space where Shana usually lived.

Lucian naturally opened the door, walked in, and set her down on the bed.

Thump.

Shana landed on the mattress and looked up just in time to see Lucian opening the bottle.

The click of the cap sounded strangely loud.

Lucian lifted one of her legs with his hand.

The oddly intimate position made Shana swallow.

Without hesitation, he began applying the medicine to her ankle.

Holding her leg, carefully inspecting it with his eyes, he spread the salve gently, not missing a single reddened spot.

Shana shuddered.

The coolness of the medicine mattered less than the sensation of his fingers brushing her skin.

‘Was this always this embarrassing?’

It suddenly felt strange that she’d applied scar ointment to him so casually earlier.

Maybe it was because she was sitting on the bed while he looked down at her.

Or maybe because he was massaging it in slow circles with his thumb.

“Good thing it’s not badly swollen.”

As he said that, Lucian took hold of her foot.

He pressed into the soft, peach-like sole, then rotated it lightly.

“This way, and this way—does it hurt?”

“It’s just a little sore, that’s all.”

Did he really think she’d sprained it badly?

At his excessive concern, Shana lowered her head.

“…You’re being way too dramatic.”

Lucian grinned at her words.

“Can’t help it. When someone twisted their ankle during marches, I always looked after them.”

“Oh. Like this…?”

That reminded her again that he’d been a soldier.

But when he said he’d “looked after them,” did that mean carrying them princess-style like this?

“You must’ve been a very kind superior.”

Hard to believe he was the same man who’d ignored her letters for years.

“Well, I didn’t carry them. And I didn’t apply the medicine myself either.”

Shana nodded, then said, “…Then you didn’t really look after them.”

“I carried the injured ones to the quartermaster for treatment.”

Lucian laughed softly as he said it. His eyes curved gently.

“Can’t be helped. You’re different from them, Shasha.”

‘Is he saying I look weak?’

Well, her body couldn’t compare to soldiers hardened by brutal military life.

Shana glanced down at her mana-less body and remembered Lucian’s half-joking worries from the past.

‘Shasha, your body’s like milk pudding. So white and soft—if someone grabbed you too hard, it’d leave marks or bruises right away.’

She’d thought it was nonsense at first.

But remembering how Lucian had clicked his tongue when she limped for a whole week after stubbing her toe on an ordinary doorstep, she could see why he might think that.

‘So I just look weak and squishy to him.’

Letting out a small sigh, Shana met Lucian’s eyes. They were alone in the bedroom now. The air felt heavier, denser than before.

Lucian didn’t speak for an oddly long moment.

As Shana swallowed under the strange tension—

“Shasha.”

“Hm?”

“When do you think you can finish the reagent?”

“Oh. The reagent…”

He meant the first-stage treatment.

Shana ran the numbers in her head.

She couldn’t just make anything—she’d need at least a week to review records and dig through ingredients.

“For now… one week.”

“One week? That’s fast.”

‘Well, money’s involved.’

But she didn’t bother saying that out loud in front of someone who claimed to work for the Empire.

“Then… could you also make more ointment by then?”

Only then did she remember how all this had started.

“Ah. The ointment…”

The broken bottles and spilled medicine had all been cleaned away by Lucian—ointment included.

She felt like she might cry.

‘If I had the ingredients, I could…’

“Making ointment at the same time as the reagent might be hard… time-wise.”

Shana said dejectedly. Lucian reassured her casually.

“I’ll make do with what I have.”

With that, he stood up. He looked unhurried, relaxed.

“L-Lucian, wait a second.”

“Yeah, Shasha.”

Shana got up and hurried to the desk, scribbling something quickly on paper.

“What’s that?”

“The scar-ointment recipe. I wrote down the ingredients too. If you tell the imperial pharmacists, they can make it.”

Of course the palace had medicine, but Shana believed hers worked best.

When Lucian took the paper, his expression turned subtle.

“You… thought about me this much?”

“Y-yeah.”

Shana nodded.

‘I was planning to sell the recipe, actually.’

His moved reaction made things awkward.

Clearing her throat, Shana spoke again.

“Um, Lucian.

You said you’d make do with the ointment you got—does that mean you’ll… pay for it?”

Back when she’d decided to sell it, she’d already been calculating what she could do with the money.

‘I know it’s shameless, but!’

With that money alone, how many ingredients she could buy. How much bread she could eat.

She couldn’t hold it in.

Looking at the paper she’d handed him, Lucian let out another “ah” and said,

“Oh. The recipe fee? Or the ointment itself?”

“Both!”

“Well, you did apply scar ointment to me. And you even gave me the recipe.”

“Right!”

“But I also treated your ankle today, cleaned up, carried you, and applied medicine for you.”

“Uh… yeah?”

She didn’t know why he was listing everything, but she nodded.

“Do you know how much it costs to make a mage cast a cleaning spell?”

“How much?”

She’d never hired a mage before. She had no frame of reference.

“About a hundred gold.”

“A—a hundred gold?!”

That was an amount her humble ointment couldn’t even compare to.

‘Magic really costs that much?’

“So how much is your recipe worth, Shana?”

“Well… how much?”

Definitely less than a hundred gold.

“Not a hundred, right? Then let’s just call it even.”

“…I guess…?”

Lucian burst into laughter, then lightly patted her arm.

“See you tomorrow, Shasha. We’ll need to prepare ingredients.”

“Ah… yeah.”

Shana waved from the desk. As Lucian left, he added, “Oh, and Shasha. I prefer medicine made with care over a single page of recipes.”

“Huh?”

“If you’re going to take my money, I want you to spend time properly thinking about me.”

Lucian smiled slyly.