Chapter 140 – Should I Sleep More? (1)

For his birthday, Simon always received tailored clothes from his father. The clothes were commissioned in the fall and were completed around the beginning of winter, and so Simon would wear them to New Year's events.

Simon also received birthday gifts from other n.o.bles as well, but Duke Hillard always returned them to the sender along with a courteous refusal letter. Writing all those letters was no small task, but the Duke did them without a single complaint.

And so, the Hillard residence usually didn't see much activity around Simon's birthday. He was a quiet boy, yet precocious, and always dreamed about having a normal birthday party with people giving him congratulations and gifts.

One day, he entered his father's office with a pounding heart.

 “Can I go to the Sweeney greenhouse?”

His voice trembled as he sought for permission. What if his father said no?

“Don't come home too late.”

The Duke stared at his son, then finally gave his gruff permission. To Simon, however, it sounded sweeter than any form of congratulations.

“Be careful not to trouble Mr. Sweeney.”

“Yes.”

The Duke summoned the butler to prepare a present for the host. The butler usually sent food, as it was Mrs. Sweeney's favorite, and everyone knew that when Mrs. Sweeney was happy, Mr. Sweeney was happy as well.

Simon prepared himself and finally boarded the carriage, his face was flushed in antic.i.p.ation. The butler handed Simon some sweets as well as a bottle of brandy.

“Go and receive many birthday congratulations.”

“…Yes.”

His neck was flushed as he nodded vigorously. The carriage set off, and the butler didn't return to the Duke's office until the sound of the horse's hooves disappeared.

 “The young lord has left.”

The Duke only continued to write letters without any reaction, and the butler continued.

“I thought you were against him going to the greenhouse.”

Last time Simon went to the greenhouse, he came back soaked. He almost caught a cold.

 “I couldn't help it.”

The Duke set down his pen.

“The former queen sent Simon's birthday cake to the Sweeney mansion.”

The Duke frowned, as he could not refuse a former queen and elder. Perhaps Simon would think Mrs. Sweeney prepared the cake?

“I hope the young lord doesn't come back soaked today.”

Fortunately for the butler, Simon came back without spot of moisture on him. Unfortunately, however, he was covered in dirt and leaves. The Duke didn't scold his dirt-layered son, instead reacting to him with a short, blunt question.

 “How was the cake?”

“It was great.”

Simon's eyes sparkled. The cake was delicious and he enjoyed himself at the Sweeney's house.

The Duke nodded and went back to quietly writing the letters.

Simon's birthday was only one day away. Louise was excited, as it was the morning of the weekend when she Louise had permission to leave campus. As soon as she got out of bed, she ran to Ian's room, taking in the cool morning air. She knocked on the door but there was no answer, so she pushed it open and caught a glimpse of a lazy young man who was still not out of bed.

“Haven't you done anything about your morning weakness?”

There was more reply. Maybe he was still sleeping.

“Today we're going to prepare for Simon's birthday.”

Louise shook Ian's shoulder to wake him up, and he weakly blinked open his eyes. He had once described this state as “the struggle of instinct and reason.” His instincts told him to sleep, while his reason told him to get up. Of course, his reason knew that he would give in to instinct. His heavy eyelids drooped again.

It was a shame when one couldn't sleep in on a weekend morning, and he didn't want Louise to suffer the same misfortune. He pulled the hand that was on his shoulder, and a comforting weight collapsed right into his arms. He thought he heard embarra.s.sed protests of “President? President?!” but when he patted her back, she seemed to calm down. He snuggled against her warmth and soon drowsed off again.

Louise managed to raise her head and squint at Ian's face.

” ….Why are you trying to make me go back to sleep?”

She grumbled at him, but there was no other reaction other than the sensation of his breathing on her forehead. The cool morning air warmed around her.

…What should she do?

She knew sleep was contagious, but she didn't expect it to be this strong. She was starting to feel drowsy as well. Louise shook her head to keep herself awake, but Ian's arms felt so cozy. His breath on her face tickled, and the touch of his hands on her back was gentle. She couldn't fall asleep like this…

Of course, Louise also had strong reason and knew she was succ.u.mbing to her instincts.

It was Ian who awoke first. He slowly blinked away the blurriness in his vision and took in the sight before him. There was long golden hair fanned out on the bed. Was he half-awake? That seemed to be the most plausible answer. When he was weak in the morning, he occasionally saw Louise, a fantasy between the border between sleep and reality. Today's fantasy seemed exceptionally detailed, perhaps it was a side effect or working all the time. However, no matter how much he blinked, the illusion was still in front of him. He decided to observe the fantasy Louise a little more.

Her sleeping pale face was tucked on his arms, and her soft lips and nose moved subtly with each breath. Ian s.h.i.+fted a little. This was an exceptionally cute fantasy. He ended up hugging the illusion before him, though it usually disappeared in this bittersweet moment.

The fantasy Louise fit in his arms perfectly. He could feel her soft, solid body beneath the thin fabric of her clothes.

'…Feel?'

The fog in his head cleared up at once. Fantasies were supposed to be part of the imagination. Physical properties were not allowed. What on earth was the feeling of weight on his arms and the texture touching his skin?

“Later…”

The breath between her lips was not a product of a fantasy.

That meant.

…It was reality.