4. I Ended Up Snagging a Handsome Man
Nearly two months passed.
By now, Rina had settled into her role as a proper gravekeeper. She’d sold her watch to rent a room, taken an advance on her wages to buy the basics, and with a space of her own, she was gradually adapting to life here.
“Alright—time to start today’s rounds.”
She did feel a bit lonely with no one to spend time with, though it never occurred to her that this might have anything to do with being a gravekeeper.
She had no idea that to others she looked like a ghost herself—that rumors spoke of a pink-haired spirit roaming the graves each night with a lamp in hand.
“Grrr…”
A dangerous sound came from somewhere just after she’d swapped shifts with Mark. Rina, who’d been sitting alone in the guard post, sprang to her feet.
“What was that?”
On instinct she grabbed her spade and ran. She knew wild animals sometimes wandered into the cemetery; she was always on guard. Still, nothing had ever actually happened—until now.
“…!”
A boar that had burst out of the woods came tearing across the mounds, ripping them up as it charged—huge. Rina wanted to turn and flee.
No—this is my job!
She steadied herself. If she managed to smack its head with the spade, maybe it would bolt. If not, she’d retreat to the post.
In truth, her feet felt glued to the ground. She tried to clear her head, but the charging boar seemed unreal, like a scene playing in slow motion.
Rina drew a deep breath to keep fear at bay—then noticed the boar was being chased. Through the dust, a tall black-haired man was sprinting after it, sword in hand.
“Don’t move! I’ll handle it!”
The black-haired youth wore hunting clothes—a white shirt and a brown leather vest—and from his expression, he was a bit rattled himself.
“D-don’t move?”
Stand still with a boar charging her? That was as good as telling her to let it trample her.
Without thinking, Rina squeezed her eyes shut and swung the spade wildly. Mana pooled in her hands all on its own, though she didn’t notice.
“Get back! Go awaaay!”
Crack—! A nearby sign splintered; thud! Something heavy crashed down.
“D-did I hit it?”
She cracked an eye open. The boar lay groaning with a sword buried in its back.
But—what? The running man was sprawled right at Rina’s feet as well!
“Urgh…”
The black-haired man rubbed his head and glared up at her. His odd eyes—one gold, one deep sea blue—didn’t look so much pained as offended, as if he couldn’t believe he’d been struck.
“How dare you lay a hand on me!”
Rina, about to apologize, jumped at the sharp tone. Her bloodless face flushed, and her own temper snapped; her voice rose to match his.
“And what right do you have to shout?”
“What?”
“Do you not see what you’ve done here?”
She pointed at the torn mounds and smashed signs the boar had left behind.
“Who’s going to fix this? Are you paying for it? I only just finished paying off the debt from renting my room!”
The thought of going into debt again set her off. Her cheeks heated; the meek side she kept hidden slipped out with her nerves. Unlike usual—when she let Mark’s snide remarks slide—her words came out crisp and firm. She didn’t even register how handsome the black-haired man was.
“Not even a thank-you, and you turn it back on me—”
“Grrr!”
The boar, thought dead, heaved itself up again.
“Watch out!”
“Rrra!”
The enraged boar lunged straight for Rina. There was no time to jump clear.
“Eeek!”
She swung the spade blindly. Drawn along by the latent power in her, the spade moved to shield her—striking with surprising force.
Only, instead of the boar, it cracked the man square on the head.
Taaang—!
A ridiculous metallic twang rang out from the spade. His head snapped to the side with a dull thunk.
At the same moment, the boar smacked its brow into the man’s sheathed sword, let out a strangled squeal, and collapsed.
“Gah!”
The brief cry might have been his or hers—or both at once. Embarrassment, shock, and pain all tangled together.
A thin ribbon of blood trickled down from his temple. His face flushed scarlet, livid. Whether from outrage or humiliation, he couldn’t seem to bring himself to straighten his head.
“Ho…w dare…!”
A thick vein throbbed beside that beautiful brow. Fury flared across his features—and just as he seemed ready to erupt, dizziness took him and he went limp.
“Hey—! Hey! Wake up! Are you alright?”
He didn’t answer; he’d fainted. Rina ran to the shed for linen. Her heart hammered like it might burst.
“What do I do, what do I do! If he dies—!”
Her hands trembled. She held a fingertip under his nose: a faint breath brushed her skin.
“Phew…”
Only then did she exhale. Even so, her racing heart wouldn’t calm.
“Thank goodness.”
She raised the lamp to examine the wound, and his black hair gleamed with a cool, bluish sheen—almost unearthly.
Tearing the linen into bandage strips, she finally looked at his face. Only then did his unreal good looks sink in.
“….”
He didn’t seem of this world. Pale skin and a chiseled jaw like fine sculpture; even slack in a faint, his firmly set mouth was sensuous, his straight nose striking.
Rina wrapped his brow with the linen, then wiped the blood beside his closed eyes. The lamp’s shadow made his lashes look even longer. What color were his eyes, she wondered—
“Mm…”
The handsome man groaned and opened them. Gold and deep sea met hers head-on—stunning. The sort of man who could seduce anyone with little effort.
They say a beautiful face weakens your opponent. Rina’s voice wobbled and cracked; she even coughed to steady it.
“Are you okay?”
“…”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose.”
He didn’t know what to make of any of this. He had to breathe—slowly, repeatedly—to keep his temper from boiling over.
Under his breath he muttered something about crimes of lèse-majesté or the like—Rina, flustered, couldn’t quite catch it.
In the end, unable to find better words, he spoke curtly.
“Twice makes it no accident.”
Cool, a touch cold. The anger had ebbed; he was more dumbfounded than furious now.
Then he noticed Rina’s eyes, brimming with tears—and hesitated.
“…”
Mortified, she ducked her head—and noticed the atrocious, mummy-like wrappings she’d made of his bandage.
“S-sorry—pfft.”
Rina bowed deeply—then burst out laughing. She’d turned a gorgeous face into a gag character. After so long on edge, the laughter was irresistible, a dam breaking inside her.
How long had it been since she’d laughed like this? It felt… freeing. She’d tried so hard to stay stoic, but two months alone in a strange place had knotted her with tension and worry.
“How dare… you laugh in front of me?”
He was appalled—but he had seen those tear-brimmed eyes.
“What kind of woman does this? You make me look like this and you laugh?”
“I—I’m sorry, it’s just too funny… Here, look.”
He peered into the mirror she held out—and was speechless. The vein in his brow begged to pop.
“Urgh…”
He pressed the back of his neck. He could feel the blood surging from the base of his skull to his crown. Lips clamped, he tried deep breathing again.
To take a face hailed as the empire’s finest and make it look like a roadside vagrant—this had to be a kind of talent.
“You—what… is this supposed to be treatment? You made a mummy!”
“S-sorry—pfft…”
She tried to hold it in, but her mouth kept twitching sideways.
“Come here! I’ll make you match!”
“Ah—!”
Petty prank met petty payback. Face burning, he snatched the linen and started wrapping her head round and round.
“I said I was sorry! It wasn’t on purpose!”
“Stand still!”
Rina dodged; he chased, the bandage streaming behind him.
“What’s going on, Rina?”
Mark came running from behind the post—he’d turned back at the racket on his way home. Two bandaged figures popped into view.
“G-ghaa! A ghost!”
Mistaking the pair for spirits bearing down on him, Mark collapsed in a dead faint. When they drew closer, they even noticed a damp patch darkening the front of his trousers.
The two stared, at a loss—then met each other’s eyes and snorted into laughter.
“Hah… hah…”
As he laughed, the man finally snapped back to himself.
“…!”
No one noticed, but he had to scrub his face with both hands, unable to bear the mortification.
“What in the world am I even doing…”
