Because he was two heads taller than me, I couldn't reach the top of his head. If you want to clean and dry his hair, you have to let him sit down.
“Sit here and watch.”
He obediently followed and sat down on the chair. I used a towel to dab his wet hair, which was already curly, but now because of the weight of the water, it became even more tangled.
His hair was wet so his thick hair hung down, hanging so low that it covered his eyes.
"Don't your hair get in your eyes? It must be very uncomfortable."
“Um.”
"Next time you have to trim your hair too. Right?"
Just taking a shower is hard enough, but thinking about trimming my hair makes me even more worried. Scissors or knives will hover right in front of him. Can he stand it? I even think it might be harder than taking a shower.
“Anyone who wants to trim their hair can do it.”
That requires meticulousness, so some people even have to hire their own workers.
I've never cut anyone's hair myself, so it's probably better to let someone I know do it. Although right now, there is no one like that.
“More…”
In the bathroom, there are a few basic cleaning tools available: razor, hair clippers, nail clippers and even files.
“Hmm.”
A thought suddenly flashed.
“Nails… maybe I can cut them, right?”
“Huh?”
That's right, those nails are as sharp as a knife blade. Because of it, I have shed blood countless times. I picked up the nail clippers.
"Cut it a little. It's dangerous to keep it sharp forever."
“Uh…”
Of course he reacted violently. This was also the first time I held his left hand.
Contrary to my imagination that his hands would be rough, the feeling was warmer and smoother than I thought. I gently stroked along his nails, long and sharp like small knife blades.
"Here we go?"
The nail clippers are shaped like a clip, with a round head and a blade, and two leather-covered needle bars behind them that look very sturdy.
I placed the blade of the scissors on his fingertip and said. He nodded slightly, his expression slightly tense.
But then the problem appeared.
“This… man.”
His nails were so hard that I couldn't press them down. Even if I use all my strength, it won't budge.
“I thought I would feel soft after taking a shower.”
“Uh… hate.”
Do you hate it? Me too.
But I really can't do it. I had to give the scissors back to him.
"Your strength is stronger than mine. Try it."
Now I'm starting to persist. I pressed and pulled his right hand. He just looked at me with bewildered eyes.
“Hold this and press hard.”
"YES."
He pressed down. A dry clicking sound rang out.
The piece of nail bounced off his finger and flew into the air. He was also shocked.
I glanced at his face. A bit mentally depressed but okay.
“Let's continue.”
I'm still glued to the nails. The nails are as long as two knuckles, far from finished. He looked at me with insecurity. What's wrong? Let's continue?
“Uh…”
His eyebrows drooped, his eyes filled with confusion. I quickly patted his head.
“So good.”
"…YES."
It was a bit strange to say that to a big guy like him, but I still diligently stroked his soft hair.
A bit awkward, but he seems to be easily coaxed. Another click rang out.
“Really good.”
I stroked his hair, then gently tickled his cheek. He tilted his head left, then right, looking for my eyes.
In the end, I had to praise him a hundred times to get the results I wanted.
Although the nail shape is a bit rough, the scary sharp feeling has disappeared.
"See? It's okay. Why didn't you do it sooner?"
I exclaimed, then used a file to smooth the surface. He kept shivering from discomfort.
But as long as I say "good job" and "will reward you when finished", he just keeps his mouth shut and endures.
So in the bathroom there was only the sound of filing nails and my bustling compliments.
“Um, it's beautiful.”
I stroked his fingertips. Just cutting nails takes so much time.
“Let's go home now?”
"YES."
That evening, the meal consisted of a dry partridge, thin soup with celery and lentils, a few pieces of dry bread and watered wine, simple to the point of frugality.
My body is small so that's enough. Since the days of wandering on the streets, I have become accustomed to eating little. I can endure a few days without eating anything, what can I say about a meal like that?
Even when I entered the palace of the Duke of Flores, I kept that habit. Except for Sunday meals when the whole family gathered, I only ate the servants' black cakes and thin, bland porridge.
To me, that's luxury. Just not starving to death is a blessing.
But Caesar is different. Last time he even ate a whole wild chicken.
“Do you want to eat more of this?”
I pushed my partridge to him. Without thinking, he picked it up with his hand and smiled. Then he took a big bite, revealing his sharp fangs.
Hearing the sound of him chewing loudly, even the bones were crushed, I could only open my mouth and watch.
“I told you not to eat bones.”
"YES."
He just let go of the bone. For some reason, I feel like I'm also full.
“It also looks cute when it tastes good.”
Thinking that, I realized that sooner or later I would have to teach him how to eat properly. The queen said that the next banquet will include food.
“You can't eat like that there.”
There are still many things to teach. Dinner ended in peace.
Mercedes has not returned since leaving. Her face just now made me sad.
“It's okay…”
That night I tossed and turned.
And the next morning, I realized something was wrong.
Is this… true?
“What is this…”
I was clearly sleeping alone, but at some point he climbed into bed, shared the blanket with me, and wrapped his arms around my waist. But that's still not what worries me the most.
It's... his fingernails.
“Why… like this?”
I held his hand and asked.
“Huh?”
The nails that I had cut neatly and smoothed last night, but now, after just one night, they were long and sharp again.
“Your nails… grow that fast?”
Before he could finish being surprised, there was a knock on the door. Mercedes.
“Your Highnesses, are you awake yet?”
“Ah, yes.”
I thought it would be awkward to see her again after last night, but she was still accommodating and even brought her facial cleanser.
"Good morning."
I also happily responded.
If only Cesar's nails were still neat, I would have shown them to her right away. Who knows, maybe she'll be happy about that change.
To lighten the mood, I chose something that she also cared about.
And so, I told Cesar how I cut his nails.
“What… do you… say?”
"Yesterday. Cesar can bathe himself, I even cut his nails."
“…”
"But you know what? It grew back overnight!"
I was so engrossed in telling that strange story that I didn't notice that Mercedes' face turned pale and her body kept shaking.
"I don't know what kind of structure it is. It's strange, isn't it?"
That cheerful voice was like a curtain I used to cover the invisible rift between us.
I should have seen that face as soon as it changed color.
Her face was as bright as a field of spring flowers. But amidst that flower color, there was a hidden crack that I could not predict.
Mercedes was suffocatingly silent. The crack is small, easy to miss at a glance. Anyone else could walk by without paying attention.
But I am different.
Born at the bottom of society, I clearly understand that even a small crack is enough to make people stumble. And I feel like I accidentally landed on it.
“Mercedes…?”
I called softly, as if to test the depth of that crack.