The Special Anti-Grotesquerie Unit was an elite squad within the Imperial Army. It had been formed to deal with supernatural incidents. All members of the unit possessed Spirit-Sight and often other paranormal powers as well. Any type of supernatural ability was exceedingly rare, however, and those with the Gift were almost exclusively of noble birth. Since few aristocrats were willing to risk their life in military service, those who joined the Special Anti-Grotesquerie Unit tended to be eccentric. And thanks to its narrow area of focus, it was both chronically shorthanded and relatively unknown.

The commander of this unit, Kiyoka Kudou, was now absolutely swamped with paperwork. While one had to demonstrate unparalleled skill to rise to a position of leadership within the unit, the work itself was mostly office-based, so he rarely got to participate in missions. Though he would personally tend to particularly difficult assignments or situations that warranted his direct involvement and would sometimes receive orders from above requesting his presence, his current priority was getting through the piled-up paperwork.

Today, however, he found himself uncharacteristically unfocused. He knew the reason—he kept thinking back to what had transpired that morning. Yet, he couldn’t do anything to get it off his mind.

“I won’t eat food that might have been tampered with.”

He had left the new girl to mull over his words and returned to his room to get ready for the day. Yurie had followed him, full of reproach.

“That was no way to speak to a lady. Miss Saimori tried her very best to make that breakfast for you. If I am any judge of character, she isn’t the poisoning type!”

Kiyoka still found it hard to argue with Yurie, who’d raised him in place of his mother, but this time he was determined to stand his ground. He would not eat a meal made by someone he’d only just met and who hadn’t earned his trust yet. It had been a necessary precaution. Especially in light of her being a Saimori. Given how close in rank they were to his family, they could easily be plotting to assassinate him to seize his social position. It made sense for him to be cautious. But if his actions had been logical, then why did he feel uncomfortable about what he’d done even before Yurie told him off?

“Young Master, may I tell you something?”

“Go on.”

Yurie insisted that Miyo Saimori was somehow different from all the previous bridal candidates. Kiyoka had received many marriage proposals, more than a couple dozen. But none of the women had proved to be suitable for him. Some had indignantly turned away at first sight of his modest house. Some had angrily voiced their discontent, asserting it was ridiculous for a man of his stature to be living in a pitiful cottage. Still others had been sweet with Kiyoka but had pushed Yurie around behind his back, and yet more who’d been full of complaints, who’d disliked the food, who’d demanded a different personal room, and so on.

Kiyoka was sufficiently self-aware to know that his choice of domicile was unusual to say the least, but he was fed up with women who didn’t even bother trying to understand the man they might end up marrying, instead criticizing him outright. He was a proud man and conscious of his importance—that he wouldn’t deny. But he was neither conceited nor bossy, he thought, so he wouldn’t stand those traits in other people, either. That had always been the deal breaker.

“I like her,” said Yurie. “She’s considerate and helpful, unlike any of the girls before.”

“…Hmph.”

He’d stolen a look at Miyo when he’d left the living room. Her expression had been impassive but had also somehow given him the impression that she’d been about to cry. Now that Yurie mentioned it, Miyo did seem different from his other suitors.

As he headed out for work, he found Miyo waiting for him by the front door, expressionless as earlier.

“Have a good day.”

She bowed her head mechanically, nothing tearful in her manner this time.

“I’ll see you later.”

With her head so low to the ground, she reminded him of a servant. What had this girl’s upbringing been like? Someone of her status wouldn’t normally have behaved so humbly.

It’s too early to make a decision about her, he concluded while looking through his paperwork. He wasn’t planning on keeping her around too long, but although she was a strange one, so far he didn’t dislike her. There was also the fact that this marriage offer seemed almost too good to pass up on.

What’s this now—I can’t get a girl out of my mind while I’m working? I’m losing my touch. He heaved a sigh and forced himself to concentrate on the documents in front of him.

Kiyoka returned home long after the sun had set. Miyo came out to greet him, once again kowtowing at the door.

“Welcome home.”

“…Thank you.”

“Um, if I may,” she began timidly when he was taking off his boots, her face unreadable as usual, gaze directed at the floor.

“What is it?”

“…I apologize for my brazen and thoughtless actions this morning. It’s only natural for a man of your standing to refuse food from someone he can’t trust. I should have realized that.”

“…”

“Yurie has prepared the entirety of our dinner tonight, and I will be merely serving it. I swear on my honor that I haven’t poisoned anything. Please, sir…”

She was pleading for his forgiveness, groveling on the floor. He would have understood if she was angry with him, but her apology made him deeply uncomfortable. Especially with how pitiful she was being. Her conduct made him feel guilty, as though he’d forced this apology on her. As if he was bullying this fragile girl who bowed before him, trembling slightly.

“I didn’t really think you’d poisoned my food.” He was just being careful, warning her of his concerns. “I didn’t choose my words well, so I sounded too harsh.”

“N-not at all! It was my mistake.”

She shrank back in fear, looking even more pitiful. Kiyoka wasn’t trying to intimidate her, yet she was clearly terrified.

He scrutinized her, further strengthening his earlier impression of how she didn’t fit the image of a highborn girl. Her kimono was not just well-worn; it was flat-out shabby. The thinness of her neck and wrists could be explained only by malnutrition, and the long black hair she wore plainly tied back looked damaged and lifeless. On top of that, the skin on her hands was rough and cracked, as if she’d been cleaning or laundering daily. These days, even commoner girls from the city were more put together than her.

“Have you eaten yet?”

He couldn’t even see her head, which she’d barely raised to answer. “Ah… I, well…”

Kiyoka didn’t understand why she’d gone silent. He went into the living room and saw that only one tray of food had been set. If she’d already eaten, she could have just said so. It seemed lying wasn’t her strong suit.

“So you haven’t eaten? Why is there no food tray for you?”

Seeing her eyes nervously darting this way and that unnerved him. He assumed it was a universal custom for families and couples to eat their meals together, but maybe he was wrong. Or else this girl simply didn’t understand her position. He sighed.

Anxiety was eating Miyo alive that day. She’d foolishly cooked for a man who was wary of poisoning. It had resulted not only in the meal going to waste but also in Kiyoka going without breakfast. Were he truly as merciless as the rumors said, he’d have gotten rid of her at once. Regardless, it was only a matter of time before he kicked her out, like all his previous fiancées and prospective brides. Yurie had told her to pay it no mind, as if that were even possible. Miyo had no home to go back to. Maybe she should start looking for some place where she could work as a live-in maid. She wondered if she was cursed, doomed to upset people wherever she went.

When she made Kiyoka sigh in exasperation only a few minutes after returning from work, fear stabbed her chest like a knife. She bit her lip.

“Did Yurie not make food for you?” he asked.

No, no, he thought. I shouldn’t doubt Yurie. Miyo failed to notice the lack of hostility in his eyes or his nonthreatening tone. She panicked.

“I-it’s not her fault…”

Miyo had told Yurie not to make dinner for her because she’d finish off what was left from breakfast. She’d eaten a little bit for lunch but had handed over the rest to the food-waste collector from a nearby village. It hadn’t been because she hadn’t wanted to eat it—she really had—but after years of eating only one meal per day, her stomach had shrunk, and her earlier faux pas had ruined her appetite. This wasn’t something she wanted to confess to Kiyoka, though, since she feared how he might take it. Also, if she told him the truth, he would ask her why she wasn’t eating properly at her home and would find out about how her family had treated her there—something she preferred to keep under wraps.

“I… I had no appetite. I told Yurie not to cook for me.”

“Is that so? Are you feeling unwell?”

“No, I… I simply don’t feel like eating at times.”

Sensing that Kiyoka was losing patience, she gave an evasive answer. In truth, her appetite wasn’t a problem—back home, she just didn’t always get to eat.

“If you say so.”

He sounded tired. Miyo felt some relief, taking his concern about her health as a sign that he wasn’t thinking about telling her to pack her bags and leave just yet. He sighed again, told her he was going to get changed, and went to his study, which served as his bedroom.

He’s not an unkind man.

She thought back to what Yurie had told her when she’d arrived. “I know there are many nasty rumors about the young master circling around, but he’s actually a good-natured person. You needn’t be so afraid, really.”

Nevertheless, she was still afraid of him. He seldom smiled, and his eyes and voice that morning had been so cold that just remembering them was almost enough to make her shake like a leaf. Somehow his extraordinary beauty only made him more frightening.

And yet, his apology had caught her by surprise. He’d even asked if she was unwell. Slowly but surely, Miyo was discovering that Kiyoka wasn’t as heartless as she’d initially taken him to be.