The moon peeked through a break in the thin clouds, casting a faint glow over the garden.
In the cool night air, Hina’s chest tightened the moment she noticed the figure standing there.
“…Master.”
Her voice trembled more than she expected when she called out his name, clinging to it as if desperate.
(Why… at this hour, here of all places?)
Keiichiro stopped in his tracks and quietly turned his gaze toward her. His expression held a trace of surprise—and something like faint relief.
(…I knew it. He really is…)
Rumors painted him as a cold man.
But all the maids insisted—it was nothing more than gossip.
After serving him for years, Hina understood.
Day after day, every time their eyes met and words were exchanged, she had sensed it.
The way his gaze softened under the moonlight—not cruelty, but deep, quiet thoughtfulness and kindness.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
At his question, something inside her snapped.
Hina lowered her head, lips trembling.
“…I had an arranged meeting today. With the eldest son of the Viscount family—Shinomiya Masumi.”
“Ah, so I’ve heard… The Shinomiya match isn’t a bad prospect. But you don’t look happy. No… rather, you seem terrified.”
At those words, Hina’s restraint crumbled. She told him everything—Shinomiya’s stifling control, the humiliating scrutiny of her purity, the suffocating pressure that crushed her will. And above all, the fear that she might never be able to make medicine again. Even if she consulted Kiyoe, she doubted he would listen.
“To speak of such things to you, Master… is truly shameful.”
Still looking down, she forced out the words.
“If I… if I weren’t pure, perhaps Lord Shinomiya would give up on the marriage… But… I have no one else, and I don’t know what to do… I’m at a loss…”
Keiichiro listened in silence. That silence terrified her.
But the words he spoke next were unexpected.
“…If you hate it that much, you don’t have to go through with it. But are you sure that’s what you want?”
Hina answered without hesitation.
“Yes. I don’t want to marry him.”
After another long silence, Keiichiro murmured softly.
“…Then what if it were me instead?”
“Eh…?”
Hina’s eyes widened.
His voice was gentle, warm.
She never imagined he would say such a thing.
Had she misheard?
Keiichiro was the Master. Their statuses, their positions—everything was different.
“I won’t force you to bind yourself to me. But… if only for tonight, if that’s what you wish, then I…”
When she understood his meaning, Hina slowly lowered her eyes.
This wasn’t love. Maybe just pity.
But even so—if it meant not having to face Shinomiya untouched—
…Then she could surrender herself to Keiichiro. That was what she felt.
Hina gave a small, silent nod.
At two in the morning, when even the sound of insects had faded into the deep night, Hina was led to Keiichiro’s room.
Only the moonlight filtering through the shoji dimly illuminated the space.
When they sat side by side on the Western-style bed, the mattress creaked faintly, breaking the stillness.
Unaccustomed to the unfamiliar feel of the bed, Hina’s back stiffened instinctively.
Keiichiro’s warmth was close enough that their shoulders nearly touched, and her chest tightened in response.
“…Are you really sure?”
His low voice asked carefully—one last confirmation before the point of no return.
Hina pressed her lips together and nodded.
“Yes…”
The moment she answered, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, pulling her closer.
His palm was warm.
“I’m still a man. …I might not be able to stop halfway.”
At those words, Hina’s body tensed further.
But now wasn’t the time for hesitation.
Grateful for his consideration, she nodded again—this time, firmly.
Her cheeks burned. Her lips were dry. But more than that, a slow, deep ache pulsed inside her.
Without a word, Keiichiro gently pushed her down.
In the dim light, their eyes met—his gaze, dark with quiet intensity, held hers without wavering.
Then, slowly, his face drew closer.
Hina closed her eyes, expecting his lips.
But—what touched her was his cheek.
(…Of course. This isn’t an act of love.)
The realization stung. She felt foolish for hoping.
Still, this was the path she had chosen.
Hina pressed her lips together in resolve.
Moonlight spilled into the room. Outside, a wind chime tinkled faintly in the cool breeze.
As if drowned out by the sound, Hina’s breath escaped in a quiet, trembling sigh.
The moment Keiichiro’s hand cupped her breast over her yukata—
“…!”
The perfect pressure of his touch sent an involuntary shiver through her shoulders.
Even through the thin fabric, his warmth seeped into her skin.
“…So soft.”
The low, sweet whisper at her ear made her heart leap.
His palm traced slow, deliberate circles over her chest.
“M-Master…!”
Hina was startled by how unsteady her own voice sounded.
Shame and something irresistible tangled together, sending heat pooling deep inside her.
His lips brushed against her neck—light at first, then deeper, slower.
From her neck to her shoulder, along the edge of her yukata, his mouth moved with deliberate tenderness.
Hina’s breathing quickened on its own. Though his hands were on her chest, the sensation coiled tight in her lower abdomen—ticklish, but not just that.
“You feel it here too, don’t you?”
With a quiet chuckle, Keiichiro’s fingers found the peak of her breast.
Through the fabric, he teased the hardening bud with his middle finger, rolling it gently—
“Ah…!”
A sharp jolt raced down her spine, drawing a stifled gasp from her throat.
Her face burned. She knew her cheeks were flushed. But she couldn’t pull away.
Keiichiro lifted his head, searching her eyes.
“Are you all right?”
His voice was full of concern—yet beneath it, a quiet heat that promised he wouldn’t let her escape.
“Y-Yes… It’s just… ticklish… I might… make noise…”
The honest admission made her avert her eyes in embarrassment. But she also realized—some small part of her wanted to indulge in this.
“That’s fine. Let me hear you.”
As he spoke, Keiichiro gently stroked her hair.
The gesture felt so natural, so deeply comforting.
It was strange—how easily she allowed herself to be touched like this.