Pen and Paper Translations

“Lord Lev! What are you doing?”

“You’re back?”

Lev, broom still in one hand, sauntered toward Marco then noticed a dry cloth sticking out of the page’s back pocket.

“Huh?!”

“Perfect timing. I was wondering what to do about all the dust on the table. Wait right there a moment.”

Leaving Marco blinking in alarm, Lev wiped the table and chairs. Compared with sweeping, the cloth cleared the dust far more neatly.

He laid the rag on the floor, took the tray from Marco’s frozen hands, and set out the tea and cakes one by one.

“That was supposed to be … my job….”

“What does it matter who does it, as long as it’s clean? All done. Come, sit!”

To soothe Marco whose face now looked close to tears, Lev even poured the tea himself.

“It smells rather good. What kind is it?”

“It’s Mobejeu tea!”

The sparkle in Marco’s eyes said the name was famous, but Lev knew nothing about it.

“Really?”

Thinking Lev interested, Marco launched excitedly into explanation.

“Yes. It grows only in high-mountain regions and is hard to cultivate, so the price varies by grade.”

Which meant, Lev guessed, that it was expensive. Indeed, the fragrance was excellent: fresh and clear. If this was the top grade delivered to the palace, lesser grades sold to the public must still be quite decent.

“Sounds costly.”

“It is. The finest grade is presented to the Imperial family; the next goes to nobles; the rest reaches the market at fairly high prices. Even so, stock always vanishes the moment it appears.”

“So it’s the national tea.”

Lev gazed at the green liquor in his cup. In modern terms, it was like coffee: a popular beverage with prices ranging from cheap instant to cups costing tens of thousands.

“Exactly. Everyone in the Empire enjoys it. It’s exported, too. It’s one of our best foreign-currency earners.”

Surprised, Lev looked at Marco.

“Marco, you really know your stuff.”

“P-pardon?”

Startled by the sudden praise, Marco’s eyes went wide.

“How do you know all this?”

“Ah… well, my family is in the trade business.”

Marco answered shyly. Realizing why the boy could explain so freely, Lev’s eyes lit.

“Then is there a way to buy and sell this in bulk?”

Before possession, Lev had tried every job, and in recent years had worked in a café while seriously planning to start his own shop. 

His voice dropped conspiratorially: if Mobejeu was that popular and its price fluctuated, the profit margin might be large.

The contract with the Emperor lasted only until the end of the year. After that, Lev would receive a huge sum, the perfect seed money. Why not invest in tea?

“Eh?”

Lev pointed to the cup on the table. Marco followed his gaze, still baffled.

“Where do you source it?”

Lev leaned closer.

“It’s grown in the Alfonso region, so…”

At the moment Marco, flustered by Lev’s sudden nearness, began naming the plantation—

“What’s going on here?”

A chilly voice cut in.

Lev whipped his head toward the sound. Unexpectedly, Emperor Guien stood there.

He was on the bridge with arms folded. Sunlight reflected off the pond so that he seemed to glitter like a famous actor or model lit by a reflector.

“Are you two having an affair?”

That sparkling man uttered nonsense. Lev’s eyes went blank for an instant, then refocused.

“An… affair?”

Just how did this look like such a scene? They were sitting in an open pavilion!

Lev shook his head pointedly. Surely even you see that’s absurd.

But Guien did not look at him. Arms still folded, he stared unblinkingly at Marco with an intensity that bordered on rude. When the young page paled and nearly burst into tears, Guien at last let his gaze drift to the bowl of fruit, the delicate flower-patterned cups, and finally back to Lev with open displeasure.

“Or what exactly were the two of you doing in this secluded spot?”

At the ridiculous accusation, Lev’s face twisted.

“Cleaning!”

---

A strained silence fell between the Lev who had blurted that and Guien who had heard it. 

The awkwardness belonged only to Lev. Mortified, he felt heat creep up his neck. He scratched it self-consciously.

No one noticed the handsome Emperor’s mouth quirk briefly before it settled again.

“An unusual way to clean.”

Anyone could hear the sneer. Lev stared harder at the table, lips clamped shut. There’s no sense digging the hole deeper.

Guien watched his unresponsive consort and the fidgeting page, then unfolded his arms and stepped up into the pavilion.

Marco, who had been taut with tension, instantly rose and scuttled outside. Guien’s eyes followed him, then returned to the table.

Lev wore a thoroughly displeased expression. It was the same attitude as the first time they met.

Who was he? The exalted Emperor of Antoine. Yet a penniless lord’s son showed neither fear nor deference but revealed his feelings openly. 

People born that way existed, but Guien was sure Lev simply felt no need to hide.

Which was, in this case…

“Fascinating.”

“Pardon?”

Lev snapped his head up at the unexpected word. 

Guien did not answer. Instead, he dropped into the seat opposite his consort and poured out Lev’s half-finished tea, then filled the cup anew.

What on earth is he doing? Lev’s eyes brimmed with bewilderment, but Guien leisurely savored the aroma and took a sip, as though studying some curious specimen.

Where had such a creature come from?

“You said you were cleaning?”

The hand that set down the cup was extremely graceful. Admiring that trivial motion, Lev noticed hard calluses and scars on those fingers. Those were marks of long labor. 

He remembered Guien had roamed near-death battlefields before taking the throne. Those hands bore the proof.

“Lev Schilly.”

Only when his name was called did Lev realize the Emperor had asked a question. He hurriedly raised his head and recalled the earlier topic.

“Well, yes.”

Feigning composure, he shrugged, watching Guien’s expression. Fortunately, it did not look angry.

“So you have more skills than juice-selling. I thought that was your only talent.”

While Lev breathed an inward sigh of relief, Guien’s mouth again curled briefly. He was clearly picking a fight.

“How long are you going to milk that juice story? Keep it up and it’ll become bone broth instead.”

“Bone… broth?”

Guien’s eyes asked what that meant. Lev realized he’d used a modern idiom.

“Never mind. It’s just that I’m good with my hands and have tried various jobs.”

He hurried on.

“I’ve worked in restaurants, done garden maintenance, cleaned buildings, even washed… um, carriages.”

He had almost said “cars.” Catching the slip, Lev clamped his mouth shut.

Glancing at Guien, he stiffened. The Emperor had reached out and grasped his hand.

Examining the tense fingers, Guien found them white, slender, soft. Unlike his own, worn by steel and war. With these hands, Lev claimed to have done all sorts of labor?

“With these?”

Where had he learned to tell such far-fetched lies? Lev looked down: smooth pale hands, no callus, no scar.

“I pick things up quickly.”

Awkward laughter. He gently withdrew his hand. Guien watched the white fingers disappear below the table.

“So, what business brings Your Majesty here?”

Lev fiddled with his fingers and changed the subject. He was genuinely curious: why had the Emperor come to this remote spot alone?

Guien lifted his cup, pondering.

Why indeed had he come?

While reviewing documents from various domains, the chamberlain reported that Lev Schilly had left his room. Guien had felt little interest until his glance out the window caught that familiar figure in the garden. Without thinking he rose.

“Your Majesty?” the chamberlain had called, puzzled. Guien replied it was nothing yet never took his eyes off the garden walk.

Soon he was striding to the door. The chamberlain and guard captain tried to follow, but he dismissed them and went out alone.

He reached the garden only to lose sight of Lev, but instead of returning he wandered. Then he saw Lev’s personal page hurrying with a tray and followed.

This place was so secluded he hadn’t known it existed. Observing the friendly chat between Lev and the page, Guien had felt… displeased. An impulse uncharacteristic of him.

“Just walking,” he answered shortly.

“Ah, sure,” Lev muttered inwardly, lifting the cup to drink then grimaced at the bitter rush across his tongue.

“Ugh!”

“So provincial.”

Amused by Lev sticking out his tongue in disgust, Guien smirked and glanced at Marco. Receiving the silent order, Marco exited the garden at speed.

By the time Lev raised his head from glaring at the cup, Marco had vanished.

Where’d he go? Lev looked around blankly.

Now only the Emperor and he remained in this out-of-the-way garden making the man opposite even more conspicuous.

How had Guien come here with no chamberlain or guards? A mere coincidence?

“You didn’t… follow us, did you?”

The moment he spoke, Guien’s expression changed.

Clack. The cup he set down struck the stone table sharply. The remaining tea splashed, leaving dark spots.

“Insolent as ever.”

Eyes narrowed, Guien glared at Lev. Fascinating, insolent, fascinating again—the Emperor did not notice how often his opinion shifted. 

He tapped the stone tabletop several times, annoyance clear.

What now? Lev felt a prickle of unease as Guien suddenly rose.

“Stop wandering around and making trouble. Go back quietly, and in future, get permission before leaving your room.”

The lazy command left Lev gaping. Guien turned on his heel and strode off. Lev remained seated, stunned.

What did I even do? Just a stroll and tea in a lonely garden. Was that worth a reprimand? Like the gold-button affair: he’d nearly been punished without cause. Hand cut off, they’d said.

“Jerk…”

Grumbling, Lev drained the cooled tea. Its taste was now downright astringent.

“Ah, Lord Lev. Where is His Majesty…?”

Marco reappeared, puzzled, carrying a small tray.

“What did you bring?”

Lev asked. Marco smiled and stepped close.

“Syrup and milk.”

Lev brightened, poured fresh tea, added milk and syrup, and stirred.

“Mmm… that’s better.”

Sweetness spread across his tongue, a faint smile softened his face. Meanwhile Marco looked around wistfully.

“What’s wrong, Marco?”

Lev, slurping his tea, asked as he noticed.