The Dress He Wouldn’t Let Me Wear

Seeing it beautifully wrapped, he couldn’t deny it was a gift.
Perhaps it had been sent to Kazen by mistake and ended up with him.

With suspicious eyes, Eren glared at the box as he approached the table.
A small, ornately decorated card was tucked into the luxurious silk ribbon.

Hoping against hope, he flipped it over slightly.
On the stiff back of the card, the recipient’s name was written in elegant script.

[To Mr. Eren Lloyd.]

“It really is for me?”

Who on earth sent it, and for what reason?
The only way to find an answer was to open it.

With a hand full of suspicion, Eren carefully untied the ribbon.
Not knowing what was inside, he lifted the lid with a tense hand and saw neatly folded garments inside.

From the ornate design, he could tell it was formal attire meant for public appearances.
And there was only one person who would gift such attire to him.

‘His Highness Harold…?’

Just then, he spotted a small note tucked into the outer jacket’s pocket.
Again, Eren carefully took out the note and unfolded it.

[I apologize for the presumptuous gift, but I hope you like the outfit. I look forward to seeing you at the party.

• Harold Wilhelm Blazer]

Tuk. An invitation slipped from between the folded note and fell onto the table.
It seemed he had sent it anticipating Eren wouldn’t have formal wear himself.
Eren wasn’t sure if he should be grateful for his consideration or embarrassed.

Since things had come to this, Eren decided to think as positively as possible.
It wasn’t every day you got such an expensive outfit for free.

“And what is that?”

But a low voice suddenly came from behind him.
Startled, Eren dropped the note he was holding onto the table with a thump and turned around to see Kazen standing there with a blank face.

He thought Kazen would have washed up and gone back to bed.
He hadn’t expected the man who said he’d rest all day to appear in the drawing room, fully dressed in his house clothes.

“Well, His Highness Harold sent a gift.”

“A gift? For me?”

“Ah, no. It was sent to me.”

“He sent a gift to you? Step aside.”

Kazen also frowned, seemingly surprised, and came closer to inspect the box.
Peering at the formal wear inside, he seemed to grasp the situation at once, letting out a short, scoffing laugh.

“He must have been worried you wouldn’t have anything decent to wear.”

The tone was sarcastic, but it was also the truth, so Eren pursed his lips tightly.

“Do you even know how to wear formal attire?”

It seemed Kazen had forgotten who always dressed him.
Even though he didn’t handle such minor tasks since becoming his aide, it was Eren who had always attended to his dressing when he was his valet.

But he couldn’t retort, so Eren just bowed his head deeply.

“I’ll help you.”

The offer was so unexpected that for a moment, Eren didn’t understand what he was saying.

“…You’ll help me get dressed, Your Grace?”

“Yes.
We need to check if the size fits anyway.
If it doesn’t, we can ask the tailor to adjust it tomorrow when he comes.”

The tailor who handled Kazen’s clothes was not idle enough to see to Eren’s attire.
Nor could Eren afford such costs.

“I can have the alterations done separately…”

“Are you worried about the money?
Don’t be.
I’ll cover it.”

He had scolded him just the other day for wanting to attend a party, so why was he being so kind all of a sudden?
He thought he’d adapted to Kazen’s capricious nature, but times like these left him inevitably confused.

“You don’t want to go to the party in ill-fitting clothes, do you?
I’ll check it for you, so go ahead and try it on.”

With Kazen insisting like this, Eren couldn’t refuse any longer.
So, he reluctantly gave a small nod.

“Understood, Your Grace.
Then I’ll go try it on in my room…”

“Just do it here.
I’ll make sure no one comes in.”

“Huh?”

Forced to change in the drawing room, Eren was only bewildered by the situation.
But Kazen went ahead and locked the drawing room door.
Going to the window and even drawing the curtains, he then stood with his arms crossed, watching Eren.

“Are you going to stand there all day?”

“A-ah, no.”

He couldn’t disobey Kazen’s orders anyway.
Hesitating, Eren slowly began to take off his vest.
As he did, he glanced furtively at Kazen, who was standing silently in front of the large window as if checking it.

Kazen stood leaning slightly, watching Eren intently as if observing a spectacle.
Since it was the first time undressing in front of him, Eren felt nervous.

“Will you keep watching?”

“Well, I need to see if you’re dressing properly.”

Was that really necessary?
It wasn’t as if Eren didn’t know how to dress.
Though he had many questions, he dared not contradict Kazen.

Eren neatly placed the vest he’d removed on the table and then took off his shirt.
However, when it came to taking off his trousers, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Watching Eren hesitantly holding his waistband, Kazen strode over.
Thinking he was being urged to hurry, Eren quickly undid his trouser buttons.

But Kazen walked past Eren towards the table.
He then took the shirt from the box, held it out behind Eren, and opened it up.

“Right arm first.”

It was the first time Kazen had helped Eren dress.
No, it was likely the first time he had ever helped anyone dress.
Eren was so unfamiliar with his behavior he didn’t know what to do.

“You really don’t have to do this…”

“Quickly.
Are you trying to make my arms sore?”

Hesitating, Eren had no choice but to extend his right arm first.
As he slipped his hand into the armhole, Kazen moved the shirt to allow him to put it on smoothly.

“The other side.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

For now, he obediently put both arms through as instructed.
Kazen grabbed Eren’s shoulders and turned him around, then even did up the buttons for him.
At Kazen’s unfamiliar kindness, Eren was at a loss, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air.

While anticipating and preparing for Kazen’s every wish was Eren’s duty, for some reason, he couldn’t even guess what Kazen was thinking now.

“You always dress me.
Is this the first time someone has dressed you?”

At Kazen’s sudden question, Eren cautiously lifted his deeply bowed head.
His own reflection was visible in Kazen’s transparently blue eyes.

Though he assisted Kazen daily from his side, making eye contact like this wasn’t familiar.
Kazen always looked at him as one would an object, indifferently.
But for the first time, he sensed a clear emotion in his gaze.

“Why are you staring so intently?”

Belatedly realizing it was rude to stare at Kazen like that, Eren bowed his head deeply again.

“My apologies.
I did not mean to offend.”

“Look up.”

Kazen’s indifferent voice dropped onto the crown of Eren’s head.
When Eren looked up, this time he fixed his gaze on Kazen’s lips to avoid meeting his eyes.
Then, Kazen let out a short sigh.

“When I said look up, I meant look me in the eye.”

“Ah, my apologies.”

With difficulty, he raised his eyes and met Kazen’s gaze once more, staring down at him intently.

“This outfit doesn’t suit you.”

Eren had no idea what he was talking about and opened his eyes wide.
But asking what he meant felt like it would invite criticism, so he chose to stay still.

And right at that moment, Kazen grabbed the collar of Eren’s shirt and tore it apart with both hands.

Thud-thud-thud.
Under his violent force, the buttons were ripped off instantly, scattering onto the carpet.

“Y-Your Grace?”

Shocked as the shirt he was wearing was suddenly torn, Eren jolted in surprise.
Unfazed, Kazen shamelessly tossed the torn shirt onto the floor with a flick and gestured.

“Throw it away.”

In his dazed state, Eren, as if bewitched, picked up the shirt from the floor.
Then, as if waiting for that, Kazen snatched the shirt from his hand and hurled it into the fireplace.

“Ah!”

The words ‘Why that precious thing…!’ rose to his throat, but he barely managed not to spit them out.

The shirt, which surely cost more than several months of Eren’s salary, was instantly consumed by flames and turned to ash.
Eren could only stand there, dumbfounded, staring blankly at the sight.

“Change back into your original clothes.”

As if his business was concluded, Kazen crossed his arms and quietly watched Eren change back into his shabby original attire.

As he fumbled to put on his shirt, Eren’s mind felt so tangled it might burst.
Why had Kazen made him change?
Why had he torn the shirt?
The whole sequence of events was utterly incomprehensible.

Did he really dislike the outfit that much?
Even so, was tearing it necessary?
Or was this retaliation for daring to plan to attend the Royal Party?

But then, why choose tearing clothes as retaliation?
No reason he could think of justified tearing the shirt.

As Eren lifted his collar and began to tie his tie, Kazen approached him again.
He then tapped Eren’s hands, which were holding the tie, and began tying it for him himself.

“I’ll buy you new formal attire.
Throw away the one you got from Harold.”