🎭手違いから始まる恋の序曲 - Ch9 - No Curtains Between Us

💜💗💜💗💜 Story 💗💜💗💜💗 On the day of the next opera, Luka arrived early once again. She had believed that, this time, she had deliberately restrained herself. She had not come an entire hour early, as she had for The Winter Garden, nor had she appeared upon the theatre steps before the doors were fully open. She had even instructed her carriage to make a brief circuit through the nearby streets, waiting until a respectable number of guests had gathered at the entrance before allowing the driver to stop. And yet, when she entered the grand hall of the opera house, nearly forty minutes remained before the overture. Every crystal chandelier had been lit. Elegantly dressed guests moved steadily across the red-carpeted staircase, while attendants carrying silver trays passed between them. Some stopped beside the marble columns to exchange greetings. Others deliberately slowed their steps, waiting for the arrival of some nobleman whose presence was worth being seen to acknowledge. Luka stood to one side of the hall, holding the programme for that evening’s performance. She did not immediately go upstairs to the box. When they had last parted, Gakupo had promised to collect her. After further discussion, however, they had decided to meet directly outside the opera house, lest the appearance of his carriage at her residence attract more attention than either of them desired. They had agreed to meet half an hour before the performance. Ten minutes still remained. Gakupo was not late. Luka knew that perfectly well. She should not have looked towards the entrance every few moments. Nor should she have found herself unconsciously examining every passenger who stepped down whenever a carriage came to a halt outside. Yet she did both. What had happened behind the deep crimson curtains the last time they met had remained vivid in her memory ever since they parted. She remembered rising from her chair while singing the Queen’s song and walking towards him one step at a time. She remembered the brief flash of surprise in his eyes when she reached out her hand. And finally, she remembered how Gakupo had answered her with the navigator’s melody and taken her hand in his. When they left the opera house that night, they had released one another before opening the curtains. As though, once they stepped beyond that enclosed box, every gesture that had been too intimate ought to remain behind with the music, within the small world that had belonged only to them. Now, as she recalled it, Luka found herself unexpectedly uncertain. How were they supposed to greet one another tonight? Should they exchange their usual formal courtesies? Discuss the cast and the stage design? Or pretend that holding hands had merely been an extension of their improvised performance, something that did not need to be mentioned again? Luka lowered her gaze and opened the programme. That evening’s opera was The Sleeping Stars. It told the story of an astronomer who waited in an abandoned observatory for a star that would not appear again for another hundred years. Though he knew his life could never last until its return, he continued recording the heavens day after day, leaving behind his observations for people not yet born. Luka ought to have been interested in how the new production would create the night sky upon the stage. Yet after staring at the programme for some time, she was still on the first page of the cast list. “Miss Megurine.” A familiar voice sounded beside her. Luka raised her head. Gakupo was already standing before her. There was no sign that he had arrived in haste. His dark violet evening coat was perfectly smooth, and his long hair had been tied neatly behind him. Tonight, he carried no box of sweets and had not disappeared on some last-minute errand that might leave her unable to find him. He had arrived exactly as promised, half an hour before the performance. In fact, he was several minutes early. “When did you come in?” Luka asked. “Just now.” “I did not see you.” “I know.” A faint smile touched Gakupo’s lips. “You appeared deeply absorbed in the programme.” Luka glanced down at the programme whose first page she had yet to turn. “I was confirming the cast.” “For a considerable length of time?” “Mr Kamui.” She looked up at him. “Do you intend to provoke me the moment you arrive?” “Certainly not.” Gakupo bowed slightly. “I am merely pleased that you are already here.” Luka had intended to remind him that she had never liked being late. But she soon noticed that Gakupo’s gaze was no longer upon the programme. He was looking at the hand resting by her side. In that instant, Luka also remembered their joined hands behind the curtains. Her fingers curled faintly without her intending them to. Gakupo did not mention that night. Nor did he ask whether she still remembered it. He merely stepped naturally to her side. As though this were not a closeness that needed to be negotiated again, but simply where they had always been meant to stand. “Shall we?” He spoke gently. “The box is ready.” Luka nodded. “Yes.” Together, they walked towards the staircase leading to the second floor. At first, half a step remained between them. The hall was crowded with guests arriving for the performance. Skirts and evening coats passed them on either side, and now and then someone recognised them and offered a polite nod. Luka assumed they would enter the box as they always had. Only after the curtain closed and the outside world was shut away would they touch one another again. But they had taken only a few steps when Gakupo’s hand brushed lightly against her fingertips. It was not accidental. Nor was it the brief contact caused by passing through a crowd. His hand moved naturally down beside her arm, his fingers sliding across hers before gently gathering her hand into his palm. There was no hesitation in the movement. He did not look down to confirm what he was doing, nor did he ask with the careful solemnity he had shown the last time. It seemed merely the most natural thing to do upon seeing her. Luka’s steps faltered. Gakupo stopped with her. He turned his face towards her. “What is it?” His tone was so ordinary that he appeared entirely unaware of what he had done. Luka lowered her gaze towards their joined hands. “You did not ask me.” “Ask you what?” “Whether you might hold my hand.” Gakupo seemed only then to understand. His fingers loosened slightly. “My apologies.” He offered no excuse and made no attempt to hide behind a joke. He simply prepared to release her immediately. “I thought—” Before he could finish, Luka’s fingers curved around his. She returned his hold, preventing his retreating hand from truly leaving hers. Gakupo became still. Luka continued looking ahead. Beneath the bright lights of the grand hall, colour slowly rose into her cheeks, though she struggled to keep her voice composed. “I did not say that you could not.” Gakupo looked at her. “Then may I continue holding it?” “You already are.” “I would like to be certain.” At last, Luka turned towards him. “The last time, you were the one who said certain matters required confirmation.” “Yes.” “But asking again every single time we hold hands would be rather strange.” A smile slowly appeared in Gakupo’s eyes. “So I need not ask in the future?” “I did not say anything about the future.” “Then what about tonight?” “Tonight…” Luka hesitated. She could feel people passing around them. This was not a box enclosed by curtains. There were no roles and no melodies behind which they might conceal themselves. Anyone needed only to lower their eyes to see their joined hands. Yet she did not let go. “Tonight is permitted,” she said. Gakupo settled his hand around hers once more. “I understand.” His voice sounded entirely serious, though the smile upon his lips was unmistakable. Luka narrowed her eyes slightly. “You are not permitted to smile.” “I am simply very happy.” The admission was far too honest. The reprimand she had prepared immediately disappeared. “What could possibly make holding hands so worthy of happiness?” “Because the last time, we were behind the curtains,” Gakupo said quietly. “I was uncertain whether you would still allow me to hold your hand after we left that box.” Luka looked at him. So she had not been the only one to wonder. He, too, had questioned whether their touch could exist only within the music and the roles they had borrowed. “Then you were testing me just now?” “No.” Gakupo shook his head. “When I saw you, I simply wanted to take your hand.” Luka felt her heart tighten abruptly. He spoke with such calm simplicity. There were no grand phrases from the stage, and no lyrics belonging to a Queen or a navigator to shield him. He had seen her and wanted to hold her hand. The reason was so simple that she could find no argument against it. After a moment, Luka tightened her fingers gently around his. “Then do not let go.” Gakupo stopped for the briefest instant. “Miss Megurine?” “The hall is crowded,” she said as though it were a matter of no importance. “If we become separated, we will only waste time searching for one another.” It was plainly not a reasonable concern. They needed only to follow the staircase to the same box. There was no genuine possibility of becoming lost. Gakupo did not expose her excuse. “You are quite right.” He held her hand more securely. “I shall not lose you.” They continued forward. As they climbed the stairs, Gakupo slowed his pace slightly to match hers. He made no attempt to conceal their joined hands behind his sleeve or the folds of her dress, nor did he appear uncomfortable beneath the attention of those around them. At first, Luka could still feel several passing glances. Some people seemed to recognise them. Others looked a little longer than courtesy required. She had expected the attention to make her uneasy. But Gakupo’s palm was warm. His fingers did not hold her too tightly, yet his grasp remained steady, as though assuring her that he had truly arrived and would not suddenly disappear. Gradually, the glances of others ceased to matter. “Mr Kamui,” Luka said when they reached the second floor. “Yes?” “You were not late today.” “I gave you my word.” “And you did not disappear to purchase sweets first.” “The sweets have already been delivered to the box.” Luka turned to look at him. “You still prepared them?” “Berry tarts.” “The same as before?” “With slightly less sugar.” “How did you know I would prefer them that way?” “You left the sweetest part uneaten last time.” He remembered again. Luka lowered her eyes, unable to prevent a small smile from appearing upon her lips. “For the moment, I shall consider your performance acceptable.” “Only for the moment?” “That depends upon tonight’s opera.” “Does my performance depend upon the production onstage?” “Of course.” Luka answered with complete seriousness. “If the opera disappoints me, it will affect my mood.” “Then I can only hope the company makes no mistakes tonight.” “Even if they do, we can discuss them.” “Then I still have an opportunity to recover?” “That depends upon the circumstances.” Gakupo laughed. This time, Luka did not forbid him from doing so. When they reached the familiar box, an attendant was already waiting beside the entrance. His expression did not change when he noticed their joined hands. He simply bowed and drew aside the curtain. Luka assumed Gakupo would release her before they entered. But he did not. Still holding her hand, he led her into the box. Only when she stopped beside her chair did his fingers loosen slightly. “Should I let go?” he asked quietly. Luka glanced at the two chairs arranged side by side. Two programmes and a box of berry tarts had already been placed upon the table. The curtains facing the stage remained tied back, allowing the bright lights of the theatre to fall into the box while the audience below continued taking their seats. She lowered her gaze towards their still-joined hands. “The performance is about to begin,” she said. “Yes.” “It would be inconvenient to turn the pages while holding hands.” “That is true.” Gakupo prepared to release her. But Luka did not let go immediately. Only after a moment did she slowly withdraw her hand and take her seat. When his warmth left her palm, she felt an unexpected sense of absence. Gakupo sat beside her. He did not remark upon it. He simply picked up one of the programmes and offered it to her. As Luka accepted it, their fingertips brushed again. She looked up at him. Gakupo was already looking at her. “What is it?” he asked. “Nothing.” Luka opened the programme. “I was merely wondering whether we should remain after the performance to discuss it.” “Have you decided?” “That depends upon whether the production is worth discussing.” “And if it is?” Luka looked towards the stage as its lights gradually dimmed. “Then we shall do as we always have.” Gakupo smiled softly. “Very well.” The conductor entered the orchestra pit. The first bell sounded, reminding the audience to fall silent, and the lights throughout the opera house went out one by one. Just before the overture began, Luka moved the hand resting between their chairs slightly closer to him. She did not look in his direction. Nor did she say anything. Gakupo understood at once. In the darkness, his hand settled over hers, naturally taking it once more. This time, Luka showed no surprise and did not ask why he had failed to request permission first. She simply allowed her fingers to rest within his palm and quietly returned his hold. The overture began. The stars upon the stage slowly illuminated the darkness. And within the unnoticed privacy of their box, they welcomed the beginning of another story with their hands joined.