Ian's description of “scary” probably wasn't referring to Dean. As Claire and Dean sat across from each other inside the moving carriage, only an awkward silence reigned. That was what Ian probably feared.

There was a rustling sound as Claire clutched the skirt of her dress. Ian had briefly told her what Dean had been up to—how he noticed that she hadn't come back, tracking her whereabouts from the dress shop, then leaking the information to Count Iris. But he left Ian to do the confrontation.

Her brother was a man who is easily swayed by power and money, and Dean knew that.

Or should she say sorry before that? But for some reason, Dean's face looked uneasy, so it was hard to find the words. What was he thinking?

A sneeze caught her by surprise. Due to the tension in the air she had forgotten about the chill and the goose flesh on her skin. Dean looked at Claire with a startled expression, and she felt like jumping out of the carriage. Why did she have to sneeze at this time?

Dean stared at Claire for a moment, then hurriedly opened the box next he was holding.

He opened the box and hurriedly pulled out Claire's coat. He seemed to have retrieved it from the store where she left it.

Claire accepted the coat. She swept away her hair and made to put her arms in the sleeves, when suddenly Dean caught her wrist.

His eyes flickered over her bruised arm. Until now, it had been hidden by the darkness and her hair.

He released her wrist, and Claire slipped on the coat while he began to push the b.u.t.tons in one by one.

His eyes burned, as if he wanted to turn the carriage and go grab her fiancé by the throat.

Claire started laughing at the term "crazy b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

Claire shook her head, but she found it so funny that she couldn't help herself.

Claire swept the tears from her eyes, and a few drops slid between her fingers.

Claire touched his hand when he reached for the last b.u.t.ton.

He turned away and answered curtly.

Then he continued.

He was a bit regretful. He wished he had something better to say…like…like what a poet could say. But Claire replied kindly to his rough words.

Her words were just as simple as his.

Dean furtively withdrew his hand away from Claire's.

Claire looked back at their two hands, which had drifted apart.

Finally, he pulled his stare from outside the window and turned towards Claire. His face was a brilliant red.

Claire frowned, even though the dress was now hidden from view with the coat.

Dean covered his face with one hand and sighed deeply.

After mumbling imperceptibly to himself, he turned his eyes back out the window again. Before they knew it, the carriage was nearing the Academy.

The pure white dress was like the only light in this darkness. It was true that he was a little upset because the dress matched her image. It looked so good on her that he was a little annoyed.

He leapt up from his seat, forgetting that the carriage was in motion. As soon as his head crashed into the ceiling, he sat down again.

He swept aside his hair and slid his forehead against the window. 

At that moment the carriage stopped. Dean opened the door wide and then jumped out onto the ground. Outside the carriage, he turned back to Claire with a complicated expression.

Claire rose slowly from her seat, her body heavy with exhaustion. She climbed carefully down on the steps of the carriage.

Dean frowned at her.

One was abandoned and the other she had taken off. It was too complicated to explain.

“Somehow I just ended up with no shoes…."

“You're really all over the place, aren't you?”

Dean kept on complaining, but he turned around and offered his back to her.

Was he—? 

“Hurry up! Louise Sweeney is procrastinating in your room!”

At his urging, Claire quickly hugged Dean's neck. As she leaned perfectly against his broad back, and he tipped over a little. She thought he was having trouble because of her dress, but she soon realized that he was simply adjusting her on his back.

“…It's a little embarra.s.sing.”

Claire spoke in a small voice, but Dean didn't answer and started walking.

“Thank you.”

“Today's work isn't mine, but the President's…”

“Not just for today.”

Claire comfortably leaned her weight against him.

“Everything from the beginning until now. You've always been there for me.”

“You don't have to thank me for that. It's natural.”

“Thank you for saying it's natural.”

“…Really. You.”

“Thank you for saying that I am pretty. The truth is…”

Claire had a delusion in the dress shop. She had wanted Dean to come, not her fiancé. She wished she could have seen his surprised reaction.

"Your reaction in the carriage was quite funny, so I was really happy."

“Really!”

He turned around and shouted at her, but their faces were so close that he hurriedly turned back again. Claire smiled, but then suddenly got worried.

“Well, but that means I won't see an enthusiastic reaction next time I wear a wedding dress.”

She didn't think she liked that.

“…I'll react.”

He returned a vague reply. His cheeks, which were against her arms, somehow felt hot.

“Enthusiastically?”

“Yes, with great enthusiasm! You'll be so astonished that you'll lose your shoes.”

“That's difficult.”

She didn't walk into a wedding like this.

“So, Claire Iris.”

She could feel the solidness of his arms that supported her.

“Next time, go pick the dress with me.”

“You don't like the idea?”

“Not that…just a little surprised.”

“Then do it, alright?”

Claire thought for a while. What a terrible, perfect proposal. She squeezed her arms a little more firmly around him. Who said it was winter now? It didn't feel windy or cold at all. Maybe it would be that way as long as the two of them were together.

“…Yes, I will. “

At that moment, the terrible winter of Claire's heart melted away.

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