Betrothed to My Sister's Ex

――How should I even start talking to her?

“Hey. Sorry to intrude, you know?”

I tried calling out to her. But maybe my voice was drowned out by the harsh clinking sounds, Anastasia didn’t respond. For now, I approached slowly, leaning my back against the wall nearby.

Then, I waited silently.

Clink, clink, clink, clink――the haircut was over in no time. Anastasia lifted her head and shook it like a wet dog. She brushed the hair bundles off her shoulders and began sweeping the floor. I crouched down holding a dustpan.

“…What are you doing?”

Anastasia’s voice was harsh and irritated. I tilted my head.

“Helping with the cleaning.”

“……Oh, I see. Thanks.”

She said that and then silently started sweeping hair into my dustpan.

When the cleaning was done, she shook her head again. A few strands of blonde hair fell onto her shoulders. I noticed and grabbed her arm to stop her as she began to walk away.

“Ah, wait. There’s still some cut hair left.”

It wouldn’t be good to have hair on the floor where customers come and go. I took out my comb and slowly combed through the top of her head. I flicked the strands that fell onto her shoulders.

“It’s better to wet your hair before cutting it. And use a cape. Most importantly, use a mirror. Actually, you should just go to a salon.”

“…You’re not mad?”

Suddenly, Anastasia muttered. I asked back.

“Hm? Mad about what?”

“That I cut my hair.”

“Why would I be mad?”

I really didn’t understand and asked again. But she just shook her head saying, “It’s nothing.” Then she fell silent and headed back to the workspace… Maybe because she cut off some of her voluminous hair, her back looked a bit smaller. I shrugged.

“Oh, your mother was obsessed with your blonde hair, right? That’s got nothing to do with me. You’ve had it that length since the first time we met—I’m not surprised.”

“…Yeah. I guess so.”

She muttered with a small laugh. Nodding with a smile, I laughed as usual.

――That was a lie.

The first time I saw Anastasia wasn’t as ‘Arthur’ in boy’s clothes. Actually, it was way back, about four years ago, at a social event.

At sixteen, on her debut into society, Anastasia shone like a magnificent flower.

Her wavy golden hair flowed far past her waist, her skin was so pale it seemed she’d never seen the sun, and her eyes were sapphire blue. The moment she entered the salon, everyone there gasped. The most beautiful girl smiled more charmingly than any noble lady.

Quickly, men surrounded her, showering her with flowers, alcohol, chocolates, jewels, love letters, and cash. These piled in front of Anastasia but soon flowed right past her to her father.

Whether given or taken away, her expression never changed.

A sweet smile carved onto a stationary doll――

――Ah, that girl is just like me. How pitiful.

I remember thinking that.

Because of that, I lost interest and forgot about her.

But now.

Anastasia sat on a low work stool, legs spread wide. She faced away from me, leaning forward.

The sharp, hard sounds of her work continued. Probably carving intricate details into buttons or brooches again. While I was in this workshop, most of the time she spent like this. I just watched her.

No turning around, no smiles.

Without expecting a reaction, I said,

“Today’s gift is something a bit special. You should eat it during your next break.”

“Sandwiches again?”

She asked while working. I slightly regretted not buying some for myself, as I pulled out a small case from my pocket—a medicine container shaped like an abalone shell.

“A hand cream popular with knight’s warhorse trainers. It’s reputed to be good for rough hands.”

“Didn’t you just say to eat it?”

“You can, it’s natural ingredients. But I’ve never tried it, so I don’t know if it’s tasty.”

――Tsk. A small, hiccup-like sound. I thought Anastasia’s back trembled slightly.

Silence for a moment. Then the tapping sounds of her work resumed.

“By the way, what’s hand cream? Knight’s warhorse? Trainer?”