Lowering the Mask

Cloella walked to the table in the center of the room and set down the tray. "I'll leave these here for you, milord," she said, and then she turned on her heel and started back toward the door.

"Wait!" Dante leapt to his feet, the book in his lap flopping face down to the floor. "I just want to talk, Cloella!"

Cloella froze and shot a glance over her shoulder, one hand on the door frame.

Dante cleared his throat. "I ordered these for us," he said, gesturing to the tray she'd left on the table. "I thought we could eat them while we talked."

She turned to face him. "I don't understand, milord."

"Yeah, I don't either," Dante admitted with a shrug. He bent down to pick up the book he'd dropped and awkwardly attempted to fix the half dozen pages that had ended up bent when it had hit the ground. "Wait, you did get my note, right?"

She blinked. "Note?"

"Ah, that'll explain it." He closed the book and shoved it back on the shelf before going to the table and taking a seat. "I wanted to talk to you when you got a chance, and left you a note saying to meet me here."

She glanced behind her as though double checking that her escape route still existed.

"Are you free now?" Dante asked hopefully.

"I'm sure that being asked to stay by you would be seen as excuse enough for my absence, milord," she said. She didn't move from where she stood by the door.

Dante gestured at the seat closest to her at the table and then grabbed a pastry covered in powdered sugar. "Join me?" He bit into it, revealing a mouthful of strawberry jam in its center.

Cloella shot one last glance behind her and then closed the door to the library and took the indicated seat. She kept her hands folded neatly in her lap, eyes lowered so she was looking at neither the pastries nor Dante.

"You can relax, you know," Dante said. He nudged a plate of croissants closer to her and then filled up a mug with coffee, which he nursed between bites of pastry. "Help yourself."

Her eyes lifted, and she regarded Dante with a curious expression. "You don't speak like the rest of the nobles," she said slowly.

"That's because I wasn't raised here," Dante said. "I'm from another world, one that's not too far from here, actually. I was born a peasant and mostly raised by my uncle in his shitty, rundown tavern."

She smiled and reached across the tray for one of the tea sandwiches, which was filled with some sort of shredded meat held together by a thick sauce. "That's good to know," she said. "Is that why you wanted to talk? You wanted to reach out to someone with a similar background?" Her tone had changed. The softness and reservation had both been drained out of it and had been replaced by a vibrant confidence. A playful, almost defiant glimmer lit up her dark eyes.

"Well, that's part of it, I suppose," Dante said. "I mean, my cousins are nice and all, but they're in a totally different world from me."

She ate while she listened to him, and then poured herself a mug of coffee. Ignoring the sugar and milk, she cupped it in her hands as she sipped from it. "Completely understandable," she said. "But that doesn't entirely explain why you're interested in me. There are tons of servants."

Dante didn't want to blurt out what he knew just yet, so his mind raced for a different answer. "Er, well, I just thought you were pretty, is all." The second those words were out of his mouth, he regretted them.

She laughed, almost in a mocking way, but there was a tinge of red darkening her cheeks.

"Um…"

"No, I'm flattered," Cloella said, "I'm just not interested."

"I didn't mean it like that," Dante said quickly. "I'm not looking for this to get romantic or sexual or anything. I just figured that my conversation partner might as well be pleasant to look at, you know?"

Cloella selected another sandwich from the plate and took a bite from it, chewing thoughtfully. "That seems a bit shallow, but at least you're honest," she said.

Dante swallowed hard, trying to look semi-flattered by her semi-compliment, even though he knew it was false. "I feel like there's a lot that I can't say to my family," he continued. "And no matter how close I try to get to them, they're always so distant, even to each other. It's frustrating."

"It's how nobles are," Cloella said. "It sounds like you're still learning how to be like them. Don't let it change you too much."

"It's hard to fight the pressure to conform," Dante admitted.

"Then do what I do," Cloella said. "I act like the other servants on the surface, but as you can see, I'm still myself underneath." She reached over again and grabbed the entire plate of sandwiches before refilling her coffee.

"I think that's easier for a servant to get away with," Dante commented.

"You'd think, but it's surprising how many of my coworkers have lost themselves to their job. They bow and speak formally even to their peers. It's sad to watch." She looked up at him. "If you changed completely and conformed to the rest of the Nascentian nobles, you'd be better off than they are, but it would still be sad. You wouldn't be you anymore, but just a poor copy of them."

"And if I keep my originality?"

She scoffed. "Good luck."

He couldn't help but smile at that. "I like you," he said. "I think I made a good call choosing you to talk to."

"You couldn't have debated on it for long," she said. "I only started working at the castle a few days ago."

"Yeah, I've been told I'm impulsive."

Cloella smiled at that.

"So, do you have a Chimera? If so, I can reach you easily."

She shook her head. "I'm working toward getting my Chimera still. It's why I wanted to work here."

"Oh. Well, what time do you get off work? We could meet up in the evenings to chat like this a few times a week if you're up for it."

The smile vanished from Cloella's face. "I work until late and go right to sleep, so I couldn't then."

"How about the mornings?"

"I like to sleep in."

Dante made note of this information for later use in trying to piece together the mystery behind her. "Well then, is there any time that would work?"

"I have roughly an hour break for lunch," she said. "And if it means more food like this, I'd be more than happy to eat with you."

"I'll trust you to make something for both of us," Dante said with a smile. "Here in the library, or in my room?"

"Hm, well, your room should be more private, right?" Cloella prompted.

Dante nodded.

"Then I'll come by your room at about this same time tomorrow," Cloelle said. She wolfed down another sandwich, followed by a couple bites of sweet pastry, and she drained the rest of her coffee before standing. "Shall I clear these away for you, milord?" She winked at Dante playfully.

Dante smiled, but he wasn't sure if he should continue to respond casually with her or take the playful role of overbearing lord. In the end, he settled for, "I'm good. I'll see you tomorrow."

Cloella's tender smile made Dante assume he had chosen correctly, and he watched as she left the library, leaving him alone with only books and his thoughts for company.