His face, looking up in thin lights, was so beautiful that it soothed.
The sudden appearance of myself in his eyes like that is kind of miserable and makes me want to cry.
Wang Du was plugged into a brief midsummer period.
The day as usual was coming to an end, and Berta was in her room letting the samurai substitute a light letter for her.
The private message to the Southern merchants I am cordial about is not even a big deal. The conversation with the proxy samurai was almost a chat.
"... there's a little noise outside."
A samurai holding a brush looked a little suspicious.
Berta also sits deeply on the bench, looking toward the window. The windows that are open to let in the wind conveyed signs outside the palace, although the curtains were drawn and not visible outside.
Let's see how it goes, and the lady jumped into Berta's private room when the samurai was about to lift her hips.
"Master Berta! … Your Majesty is here"
Berta, who was having a slow time before bedtime, was distracted by the momentum of a woman officer who could almost say she had run in.
"Huh? Your Majesty wants it?
"I hope so. May I come through?"
Faster than Berta tries to answer anything, the samurai who was replacing her indoors replies to the eating mood.
"Of course, sir."
When the samurai stood up in a hurry, she rounded it to a shabby shabby, regardless of the dry paper of the ink she had just been writing.
"Eh, Isalia,"
"I'll rewrite it later"
The samurai, who seems unwilling to listen to her husband at all, says so quickly and begins to just clean up a set of formats.
In the meantime, what Berta did was to get up from the bench where she kept herself and wander around somewhat indoors.
"I'm sorry I stopped by so suddenly."
Your Majesty - also Berta's husband, Harold, came to the room as soon as she was led by a female officer.
"No......"
Berta couldn't even look him in the eye and was only hesitating to flush his gaze to his feet.
I guess he also doesn't feel like coming back just to talk like one winter night, looking like he's got his sleep schedule in place.
Excuse me, sir.
"Good night"
Not while I call on the ladies who will be gone in a hurry.
Berta also knew that I had just stopped calling in the first place to the extent that the white atmosphere just lasted a little.
In a room where the hustle and bustle had gone quiet as a lie until a moment earlier, Harold opened his mouth without putting it between them.
"Berta"
In recent days, I have been seeing him a lot outside in the morning for the table. But the face I saw in the bedroom alone was like a man I didn't know.
"Berta.... come here"
I can't hear him, like leaking with a bitter smile.
I touched Berta, pulled my hand, and there was no precipitation in Harold's movements that made him sit on the sleeping table.
Well, he'll be used to it. And a response to a woman like Berta right now who can't boil it off. This is the rear palace, and he is His Majesty the King, all of which is forgiven.
"Don't be so troubled. You didn't like that?
Kneeling straight next to the bedroom, Harold peered in to look up at Berta's face.
It's like he's the one who's having a little trouble, and still seems to be able to afford it, a mouth in the form of a grin in his eyes.
"No, but suddenly I needed it."
"I was right to come without telling you. If I had told people, you would have thought too much more by night."
I don't see why Harold is so grasping my personality.
His hands were resting on Berta's lap, wearing only one pair of everyday bedtime clothes, and Berta was unable to move because his consciousness was so tangled up.
"I don't mean to be abrupt, but it's been a long time since I got involved with you like this. Besides, we're godforbidden husbands and wives.... Of course, your feelings are more important to me than God's will."
I guess he's still saying he's going to wait.
But where I bought some time, would that make any difference from the status quo? A vainly rational idea comes to mind that it won't change tonight or any day of it.
Because we are a couple. Unlike three years ago, when we were politically married, we became husband and wife under oath that we would live together in the actual sense.
"No......"
I just didn't feel like my mouth was turning anymore. It was a hundred million robberies to move heavy thoughts like it took, and Berta wanted to abandon the conversation like this.
"I just..."
Reflecting the slightest light in the room, his eyes, peering up close, looked red and swayed.
It was a long time ago that I was taught what to do at a time like this.
But three years before I married him, even then, I didn't teach him anything big. - In summary, a woman should not do anything. Berta remembers being so upset that she had never had an education in her life that she didn't get that kind of procedure.
I moistened my eyes with agitation and confusion, and still looked at Harold.
That's about all I could think of to help show agreement.
"Berta,"
He would have liked to have guessed exactly what Berta intended in seconds. Happily, he was called famous for his caged voice of fever and learned of the body temperature he could hug.
Then it was a night like three years ago.
Unlike at the time, Berta understood what was going to happen, and it's only a hassle for what she understands.
I feel like there were a lot of different things going on, but it was equally painful, and I hoped it would be over soon.
Harold was still like a dude who didn't know what to do.