Chapter 9

And so a few more summer nights passed by and Lelouch unexpectedly and unintentionally found himself in the plaza, in the company of a certain sunny man after the sun had set in the horizon.

And so as they had agreed, Lelouch then finds himself inside a humble silverware shop one sunny Sunday morning, surrounded with more bright, accommodating people who he isn't used to mingling with.

"Mr. Lamperouge, allow me to introduce Miss Shirley Fenette, the co-owner of the Fenette Silverware Shop," Gino introduces as a fond smile dances on his lips while looking down at the woman beside him.

Miss Fenette sticks an arm out which Lelouch politely takes. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Lamperouge. I hope that you'll be able to find the knife that would suffice your taste here."

"Nice to meet you, too, Miss Fenette. I'll be in your care for this day then," he answers, noting how young she is to be considered as the owner of a shop that seemed to witness generations.

A large tall man with hair so dark it shines blue under the light steps forward, arms crossed, eyes scrutinizing. "My name is Jeremiah Gottwald, the head shopkeeper, and this is Miss Nina Einstein, my assistant."

Glancing up shyly, a lady with two braided raven ponytails and a pair of glasses meekly greets Lelouch before returning to the side of the bigger man as if to hide using his size.

"My pleasure to meet you all, Mr. Gottwald, Miss Einstein. Gino had been talking highly of you and your neat ways of taking care of the shop."

"Well, Gino tends to exaggerate," Mr. Gottwald answers quite seriously, taking Lelouch aback.

Clearing his throat, the subject of the conversation puts his arm around Lelouch, a gesture that already grew on the latter.

"I believe Lelouch would like to see our products. Thank you for such a jovial greeting, Uncle. Come, Lelouch, I'll show you our bestsellers."

"Remember, you still have work to do, Gino. We are short of men right now," Mr. Gottwald reminds behind them as Gino steers them to a wall where a number of varying types of knives hang.

"I brought a customer today, didn't I?" the blonde good-naturedly responses.

The older man only grunts in return and takes his post behind the counter.

Roaming his eyes on the display before him, Lelouch couldn't help but get impressed by the variety and sophistication each product presented. It is actually such a surprise that this shop, so simple and plain on the outside – one may even overlook it as they pass by – could offer creations that could rival the silverware in the estate. And he is certain that the viscount only purchases from well-established companies. As Lelouch examines each knife before him, he asks, "You've mentioned that the shop's close during Sundays."

"Well, Shirley thought that since you coming today means opening the shop, it is reasonable to just open the shop for the whole day. It would bring additional customers and income to the business, anyway. Do you find anything that pleases your taste?"

"Can I touch them?"

Gino retrieves one short knife with leaves carved on its holder and hands it to Lelouch. Lightly running his finger on the blade, the raven-haired man stares at his face reflected on the metal.

"Let me inspect yours again," says Gino.

Getting his own one from the pocket of his pants, Lelouch gives Gino the worn knife. The latter goes infront of a window where he raises the item before the glaring sunlight. Squinting, the blonde man hums and nods, deliberating his observations in his mind.

Meanwhile, Lelouch gets another knife from the display - this one a little bit longer than the first one with thinner blade. The handle is plain smooth wood, lacking the artistry of the other in his right hand.

"This looks quite dull. Since when is it in your possession?"

"I got it from a trader who passed by our town five years ago. Back then, it rivaled the Excalibur with its beauty," he boasts.

"Have you ever used it?"

"A few times."

"In what way?" This time, Gino's blue eyes are pinned on him like a shark's locked on its prey.

But Lelouch only shrugs and begins throwing the second knife in the air - the blade spinning in mid-air, dangerous and sharp - but safely landing on his hand with the wood in his palm.

"To cut ropes, twigs. To peel apples and to protect myself."

"From what? Do you have enemies?"

Lelouch watches as the shiny metal flashes under the kiss of sunlight. The rush of knowing that a single wrong timing would get him hurt brings him excitement that he had been missing since he came to Britannia – the recklessness, the freedom, that living in a proper and traditional household withheld from him in a few weeks. At one moment, he thought of catching the blade in purpose – feeling the sting and watching the blood flow out of his skin – but quickly remembers the presence of other people and dismisses the idea grudgingly.

" 'Enemies' would be such a specific term. It means that you have a mutual grudge against each other and separate goals that each of you wants to achieve in manners that oppose the other's principles. In my rather unfair situation, I don't have anyone that I consider enemy but somehow, a few unreasonable men would attack me while I walk on the streets of my town."

"And what would be the reason behind their hostility towards you?"

"Ah." A smirk lifts the side of his lips, mischief licks his eyes as he recalls the number of times he was forced to use his favorite weapon, gaining triumphs over men who thought brute force would overpower slyness. Lelouch is not a violent man. He would throw a few punches here and there but only if he was provoked or if it's the only way to get him out of the situation alive. Quite similar with his relationship with his knife.

No, Lelouch hadn't killed anyone and he wouldn't act on such violence as long as the situation is neither a matter of life and death. In fact, most of the encounters only involved cuts on the arms, thighs, cheeks, - only warnings of what could possibly happen if the attacker insists on his harmful motives. Because as much as what Lelouch lacks in physical power, he makes up with strategic actions requiring him little energy to waste and sharp smooth movements that break through his opponent's defense, giving him an unexpected victory despite the size and number of his attackers.

So, he can't help but still feel proud of his ability of outsmarting them even though his mother is never proud of his fights.

He should get rid of his rogue attitude, she had reprimanded during his teenage years with disdain in her eyes, red lips in a frown, cheeks marred with red of shame - shame for what it could do to her reputation, shame for having such a troublemaker son she couldn't control.

Returning the knives to their places, Lelouch glances from the corners of his eyes, addressing the man with practiced nonchalance. "It deeply embarrassed me to reveal this but... Well, I am sort of famous in our town especially with the women."

As if on cue, Gino's gaze travels from his head to toe like a curator studying an artifact. He nods, "Go on."

"And as a gentleman, it would be rude of me to deny them of my attention." Putting his hands in his pockets, Lelouch faces the taller man. "You can say that they were very willing and I was very much accommodating to the attention they showered me because who wouldn't? But unfortunately, some of them, I was unaware, were already betrothed or worse, married." Now, Gino's eyes are full of judgment, sending unwelcomed shivers to Lelouch's skin. He waves his hands to dispel the former's assumptions. "Hear me out; I would not have entertained them if I knew that they were already committed. Too much trouble." A lie. "So those men who attacked me were their lovers, husbands, secret admirers that I knew nothing about."

"Very reminiscent with the encounter with Annalise, then?"

His eyebrows furrow for a moment of confusion. "Annalise? Ah, correct. That is one perfect example, though, to be clear, I was completely intoxicated with alcohol at that time and I thought she was someone I knew."

"Hmmm, I see," Gino hums. "Can I borrow this for a while?" he asks, lifting Lelouch's knife between them. "I'll have our men inspect it. And while I'm gone, you are free to check all of our displays."

"Thank you."

Several minutes have passed, Gino hasn't returned and Lelouch had inspected almost all of the knives and even the other utensils on display. There are a few that caught his curiosity but none had given him the instant connection he had felt with his old one.

He has just put the last knife in his pocket when someone behind him clears his throat. Looking over his shoulder, Lelouch finds Mr. Gottwald, who is polishing a fork with a white cloth – cold metal glaring under the light – eyeing his heavy pocket. Immediately, Lelouch retrieves the knife and hangs it back on the wall.

"I was just testing if it could fit in my pocket," he mutters.

"So! Did anything catch your eyes?"

Gino, in all his sunny glory suddenly appears on his left, hands on his hips, a satisfied smile plastered on his lips. Why he is satisfied, Lelouch has no idea and he is still annoyed from being suspected of stealing a knife to even bother thinking about the reason.

"Unfortunately, no," he answers bluntly before realizing how rude and ungrateful he sounds. His eyes widen as his words sink in and quickly gathers his wits to apologize. "My apologies, what I mean - "

"Good."

Confused. "Good?"

"Miss Fenette thought that it would be better if we just made a customized knife for you out of your old one."

"How would you do that?" A sensation of excited interest creeps in Lelouch's mind.

"Creativity and skills." Both men turn to the light smooth voice and their eyes lay on the shop's owner who is making her way towards them with practiced grace and poise. She settles beside her fiancé, a few steps separating their arms but it doesn't escape Lelouch's sharp eyes how the tips of their index fingers briefly connected – too fast, too secretive – yet he can imagine the spark it must have sent both of the parties. Miss Fenette's eyes – which Lelouch observes is as clear as an expensive jade, the shade of green he had used for painting gemstones ornamenting a noble's neck – lands on him, and somehow, her inquisitive stare feels familiar. "Creativity... Mr. Weinberg had mentioned that Mr. Lamperouge has quite the talent in art, painting to be precise. So then, I thought, it would be lovely if you would have your own touch on the design of the hilt. That would make the item feel more personal and endearing.""

Lelouch smiles pleasantly. "That sounds brilliant, Miss Fenette."

"And the skills will come from our staff who will also do the replacing of the blade."

All of what Miss Fenette has told him brings a tickle of enthusiasm to the raven-haired man. The mere thought of possessing something out of his imagination, out of his own mind, his palm wrapping around the engravings of his art, fills Lelouch's chest witha sense of exhilarating magic of creation. But worry lingers in his mind, for not all creations come free in this world.

Suddenly, he is nervous of the great possibility that he wouldn't be able to afford such price and his desire would crumble into dust. "And how much would it cost me?"

Lelouch braces himself as Miss Fenette takes a step forward. His mind is already conditioned that such act from a businessman only meant the unpleasant process of price negotiation. So, he is rendered speechless when he heard the lady's next words. "We decided to give it to you for free."

"For free?" he disbelievingly repeats.

Miss Fenette nods. "Yes, but in return, I would like to ask for your assistance in repainting our signage outside. The former painter in the village sadly passed away last week leaving no one with artistic talent such as him in his place."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Miss Fenette nods solemnly. "He was admired here... Our signage was one of his works and he consistently repainted it twice a year. But when his illness took over his body last year, he wasn't able to do what he loved anymore."

"I understand," Lelouch says. "I'll do my best to continue his work."

"Perfect! Your efforts will be very much appreciated, Mr. Lamperouge."

On his way back to the mansion, Lelouch encounters a little mishap in the plaza where two burly men intentionally bump against his shoulders causing him to stagger a few steps back and habitually glare at the strangers.

"Do you think you can take us, lad?" the thicker man challenges, violence sparkling in his eyes while cracking his meaty fingers. Lelouch's reaches inside his pocket but is instantaneously reminded that he has nothing to depend on except for his physical strength, which unfortunately, wouldn't be of much help in the situation.

"A piece of advice," Gino had said before Lelouch left the shop that afternoon, "The capital is a vast dangerous place. Beneath its life and extravagance lies the war for power and authority. As someone who is new in the place, it is better for you to choose your battles. You never knew who you might be picking a fight with, you never knew whose lady you are spending the night with. You might find yourself badly beaten, or worse lifeless if you won't be careful."

His gaze jumps between the men, a sigh, a grudging acceptance of his defeat, a surrender for now. Tipping his hat until it slightly covers his eyes, he quietly says, "My apologies, gentlemen. I wasn't looking at where I am going."

"Be careful, young man. This city will devour you if you bump on the wrong people," the stranger sneers before walking away.

That night, Lelouch stands outside the mansion, cigarette in mouth, looking over the wide expanse of the garden. That night, Lelouch does not join the Britannias for dinner, not exactly in the mood to mingle with the endless energy of the twins and the doting nature of the viscount.

Instead, he chooses to spend the night in the silence of darkness while contemplating what he had accomplished during his month-long stay in the estate so far.

His eyes focus on the glowing orange tip of his cigarette and watch as smoke forms ghostly figures like nightmares. He has always been fascinated with the mystery that lies in the shapelessness of smoke. At a young age, he would find himself getting hypnotized just by watching smoke come out of his mother's pots when she cooks. When he was older and became the cook himself, the smoke turned to an entertaining companion, enchanting him of its silent grace and language. And that's the main reason why he started smoking cigarettes when he was eighteen. He wanted to understand its language. He wanted to control it on his own. But so far, he's still a slave of its mystical beauty and he isn't complaining.

After consuming all of his sticks, he then craves for a bottle of exquisite wine to ease the knots in his veins. A few moments later and he finds himself in the kitchen - not the main kitchen where the cooks do most of their duties and prepare the main dishes - but in the second kitchen - the one which is smaller (though for Lelouch, it is still larger than what he was used to), with lesser clutter and cooking materials. He rummages through the hanging cabinets, searching for the spare wine bottles that were deemed undeserving to be kept in the cellar but still tasteful nonetheless. He lets out a triumphant but whispery 'Aha!' as his hand wraps around a smooth surface and delightedly retrieves the bottle from its hiding place. He is about to leave the kitchen when he notices a soft brighter glow coming from the other side of the wall that divides the kitchen into two. Looking around, he wonders if he hasn't been alone all along. Did someone see him getting the wine? What he did does not count as stealing, didn't it? Yet there's not a single soul within the vicinity that might have caught him getting some disregarded wine. With his soles lightly touching the floor, hand around the bottle's neck, he soundlessly and slowly approaches the wall, stealthy as a cat.

And what, or rather, who he finds on the other side is someone he never expected to see in this place, alone.

"Miss Corabelle does not eat with us."

"Because she is not mama."

Her back is as straight as a stick as she takes a spoonful of soup to her mouth. As if being watched (which she really is though without her knowing), she chews her food in little movements, her jaw barely moving making Lelouch wonder, with furrowed eyebrows and wrinkled forehead, how the hell would she be able to finish fast with the manner of her eating. Strands of her hair escape from her pristine bun and she tucks them behind her ear only to slip again and almost dip into the soup. Sighing, she puts the spoon down and fixes her bun. For a brief moment, Lelouch catches her with her hair completely down for the very first time and for a second, he forgets how to breathe. Only when she resumes eating that he finally releases the air that he held like a balloon deflating to an ordinary rubber. It is all peaceful and well again, the bottle of wine forgotten in his hand when all of a sudden she succumbs to a coughing fit. He watches her struggle as her eyes water, her chest heave until her elbows rest on the table, her forehead on her palm. He watches there, torn between maintaining his concealment and abandoning his hide out in order to pat her back.

Gradually, her coughing subsides until it is rendered into little hiccups and she is finally able to drink some water.

"Oh, good heavens," she helplessly mutters.

So this is where the governess eats her meals. This is how she takes her meals - alone and secluded with no one to help her in case of an eating mishap.

With flushed cheeks, she wipes the tears with the heels of her palms so much like how a child would after crying. Scattered little sniffs here and there, a deeper than usual breathing process, and she proceeds to finish her food.

Lelouch turns away, leans his back against the wall and slides down to the floor. With his one leg stretched infront of him and the other bent, he uncaps the bottle of wine (as silent as he could) and stays there, until he hears the scraping of wooden legs against the marble floor, and leaves the kitchen before Miss Corabelle finds him on the other side of the wall.

Disappearing in the dark as fast as smoke dissolves in the air.

"What do you think of Lelouch?"

"Lelouch?"

Shirley raises a friendly eyebrow as she lifts her face up from the freshly-picked flowers that her beloved gave to her. "You seem to be thoroughly familiar with each other despite just meeting him a few days ago."

Gino shrugs, picks a daisy from the bouquet and puts it behind Shirley's ear. Blushing, the lady bites her lower lip and returns her eyes to the pretty flowers.

"We are good friends," he answers with a hint of a smile in his voice.

"You give your trust away too easily, my love," she whispers. "Well, based on what you have told me about his circumstances in his hometown, Mr. Lamperouge seems like a trouble-maker hiding behind a decent appearance."

It's Gino's turn to raise a brow. " 'Decent appearance'?"

Rolling her eyes, Shirley leans her head against his shoulder and closes her eyes. Ah, she loves spending peaceful times like this with him – so openly on the outskirts of town, fresh meadow air gracing their sun-kissed skin, birds sweetly chirping on the sky high above, the fragrance of wild flowers invading their noses as they sit beside each other on a large rock with butterflies flying around them.

She can clearly see it, how simple yet happy their life would be when they are finally married to each other. A house big enough to accommodate their family, eating meals together with their perhaps two, or may be three children. Oh, Shirley would love to have a daughter whose blonde hair and smile came from her father. Maybe they would own a dog, too. The big furry but gentle kind that will play with the children during the day, and snuggle with the adults at night. On Sundays, they will go to church together with their Aunt Ceci who'll stay until lunch time. Their Aunt Ceci who is done being a governess of the Britannian Estate and with a family of her own.

Shirley never dreamed of a luxurious life. All she desires is to spend her life with her loved ones, and spend it long and warm. She is a simple girl from a simple town, and simple things make her happy.

"Well, impressive appearance," she corrects, "Even you can see that, right?" she teasingly asks.

Gino lets out a chuckle and it rumbles her core. "I do. I do. And I am certain that Mrs. Smith saw that, too," he says with nostalgia in his voice. "So, a trouble-maker? Hmmm."

"But you see something beneath his skin, don't you? That's why you bother to befriend and take him to the shop despite knowing him for only a short period of time."

He nods. "Go on."

"And that's also the reason why you suggested to make a customized knife for him – to keep him away from trouble as long as possible."

"You really know me well, darling." Leaning forward, Gino gives him a light and sweet kiss on the lips. For a moment, Shirley is heady and all she can think of is pulling him back again and kissing him for much longer, much deeper until her lungs are aching, her heart bursting. She wants and loves to run her fingers into his golden strands, feeling the soft tendrils of his crown as they tickle her cheeks. In moments of weakness – when work in the day had been too grueling, too busy to even spare a single greeting, or when Gino has to deliver products to far away customers – the distance and tiredness would overwhelm Shirley that when they are finally together, huddled infront of her little fireplace, whispers of love words, gestures of intimate actions would fill the quiet atmosphere until their longing for each other is completely sufficed.

She feels guilty for keeping such a wonderful part of her life from her sister – a part that will soon become her whole world – but Ceci already has her plate filled with enough worries that Shirley decided to only reveal the engagement when she and Gino have the preparations done. Uncle Jeremiah and the others have been very helpful and understanding about their situation. They, too, have sworn secrecy and ever since Ceci's last visit, everyone has been hard at work in order for the shop to earn more income that the sisters desperately both needed.

Which reminds Shirley of an equally important matter…

"Were you able to send the letter to Ceci?" she asks Gino who had made his head comfortable on her lap.

"I was. I went to the post office before meeting with Lelouch. It's truly surprising that the Guilfords would resort to such action in order to solve the problem. I suppose they know the eventual result of their decision will suddenly come, but to think that they still went on and did it," he shakes his head in disappointment, "The consequences will be awful for their business and family."

"If I'm not mistaken, the palace also uses silverware from them," Shirley says with a frown. Just thinking of the Queen eating with a pair of rusty spoon and fork is an idea that is utterly horrifying.

"Well, isn't this a good opportunity for us to infiltrate the royalties?" Grabbing her left hand, Gino mindlessly intertwines their fingers on top of his stomach. "I'll find someone in the city who knows a connection to the palace. Then, I'll subtly try to convince them to purchase to our shop."

"That wouldn't be easy."

"But we've got to try. For our future. For Ceci's principles."

Shirley directs her eyes to the greenery before her, the wide expanse of grass with occasional assortment of wild flowers scattered among them. She can clearly see their past - them as young children who played all day under the sun, trying to squeeze all of the days, weeks they were separated in a matter of hours of simple playdates until it was dinner, and the next day, early in the morning - too early for a young Shirley to wake up - and it was time for Ceci to come back to the estate.

And always, on the rare times that her older sister visits them, Ceci would adamantly say how she wouldn't let history repeat itself to their children. Oh, dear Ceci, you worry too much about the sake of others, who does worry about you?

Of course, Shirley does, but distance keeps her worries only as that and all she can do is to help Ceci from afar.

But now, now she can take actions on her worries.

"We've got to try," she silently repeats, contemplating. Then with a resolute voice and eyes of determination, she declares, "We will try."

There's a rat. A big rat, she concludes, roaming around the second kitchen. A rat that might be as large as her forearm, so large that it could produce large sounds.

Lately, it is always there during dinner. Beyond the dividing wall, running over the cabinets, knocking on woods, tapping the door.

She will halt her chewing only to listen for the rat's footsteps. Sometimes, the rat bumps onto bottles.

She had reported her observation to Mr. Darlton on a Tuesday morning but that night, the older man went back to her with news of failure to catch, and even see the rat.

Now, Ceci worries that the pest might bring diseases to the family. On the nights she spends in the kitchen, she sits on alert, listening carefully to her surroundings with the hopes of catching a glimpse of the mysterious rat.

She warned the twins about its presence and asked them to refrain from going to the second kitchen for the meantime while the rat is still loose and is a potential cause of danger. She told them how it always runs around during dinner and how she has to eat fast now for fear of it jumping into her food. Alarmed, Nunnally and Rolo promised not to venture to that place until the rat is caught. But Nunnally asked, "Can we keep it as a pet?"

Somewhere further in the room, the governess heard someone coughing behind her and when she turned around, she found Mr. Lamperouge, sitting on the couch, all red and embarrassed. When she asked if he was alright, the man only waved at her then left the room.

Puzzled, she returned her attention back to the twins and made Mr. Lamperouge as an example of what illnesses a dirty rat could bring to the household.

A rat.

He is reduced to a rat. A pest.

The situation is hilariously annoying that all he can do is stand by the corridor, lean against the closed door of the Sun Room, and muffle his laughter with his hand. Shoulders shaking, chest vibrating, his suppressed laughter catches the attention of a few servants passing by earning him strange glances.

Oh, Miss Ceci, a rat really? Can't you think of other animals to suspect, perhaps a cat? A cat would definitely be much of a better representation.

Nonetheless, it seems like he hasn't been as stealthy as he thinks he is. His actions will be soon discovered if this course of situation persisted.

So that night, the rat magically disappeared in the kitchen, and to the family's surprise, Lelouch rejoined the Britannias in their dinner table.

My apologies for the great delay. A lot has happened lately. Thank you for your patience and understanding. Have nice day!