Chapter 10: The Temptation of the Lady

“Ugh, my arms are killing me…”

I trudged through the school gate, the morning sun casting long shadows along the path to the building. Last night’s princess carry had taken more of a toll on my arms than I’d anticipated. Guess I need to step up my training. Strength fades fast if you let it slip.

“Good morning, Kiyomiya-san.”

“Oh, morn—” I froze mid-response, caught off guard by the voice behind me. Only Sayaka or Maki ever bothered to greet me, and this wasn’t either of them. Sayaka wouldn’t arrive this early, and Maki? She’d never use such polite language. Which left…

“Maritsuji-san, right?”

“Yes, Maritsuji Anri, at your service.”

There she stood, her glossy black hair catching the light, cascading down her back. Her porcelain-white skin and delicate, refined features gave her an almost doll-like quality. Petite and slender, she barely reached 150 centimeters, looking for all the world like a middle schooler—yet there was nothing childish in her demeanor. Her Sōshūkan uniform was worn with an elegance that stood out, her knee-length skirt a rare sight in a sea of shorter ones, exuding grace from head to toe.

“It feels like forever, doesn’t it? Even though we’re at the same school.”

“Does it? Well, different classes and all.” I shrugged. I’m in Class 1-B, while Maritsuji Anri-san is in Class A.

Maritsuji-san has been at Sōshūkan since elementary, so we’re acquaintances in a loose sense. The Maritsuji family, a prestigious lineage rivaling the Kiyomiyas in status, carries weight in its own right. While many nobles relocated from Kyoto to Tokyo after the Meiji Restoration, the Maritsuji main branch remains rooted in Kyoto. Anri-san’s grandfather, the current head, resides there, while her father, the heir, has settled in Tokyo. The family still holds their ancestral lands, making them major landowners in modern terms.

Yet, the Maritsujis, known since the Heian era for their devotion to poetry and nature, are dubbed the “House of Song.” Wealth has never been their pursuit, and in financial power, they pale compared to the Kiyomiyas. Still, their noble lineage and refined traditions cement their equal standing.

“She’s like the quintessential ojousama, isn’t she?” I muttered under my breath. “Being called a friend by someone like her feels almost too grand.”

“Huh? Too grand?” Maritsuji-san tilted her head, her expression puzzled.

“Oh, nothing. Well, catch you later—”

“Please wait, Kiyomiya-san. Do you have a moment?”

I hesitated. There was still time before class, and even if there wasn’t, refusing a request from the Maritsuji family’s ojou-sama wasn’t an option. Our families may share similar rank, but as someone unable to inherit the Kiyomiya name, my status falls short of hers.

When I nodded, Maritsuji-san began walking, her steps purposeful. She wasn’t heading toward the school building but somewhere else entirely.

“Huh, was there a building like this here?”

“It’s fairly new, built about two years ago,” Maritsuji-san replied.

We had circled around the main building to the back garden, where a small wooden structure stood a short walk away.

“A tea room… right?”

“I’m in the tea ceremony club. Please, no need for formalities.”

Maritsuji-san’s smile was gentle, disarming. Born and raised in Tokyo but steeped in Kyoto’s refined influence, she carried an air of elegance. I couldn’t help but wonder—if I were to act crass, would she tease me with something like, “My, my, Kiyomiya-han, have you become quite the barbaric easterner?”

Of course, no such thing happened. We stepped into the tea room, and I settled across from her. As expected of a noble family’s refined lady, her seiza posture was flawless, a portrait of grace.

“Maritsuji,” I began.

“Yes?”

“You shouldn’t call out to me like that in public.”

“I decide who I speak to,” she said firmly.

Gentle as she seemed, Maritsuji Anri wasn’t one to shy away from speaking her mind—a true ojousama with a core of resolve.

“And you don’t need to use ‘-san’ in public either. Honestly, I’d be happiest if you just called me by my first name.”

“Even your parents use ‘-san’ with you, don’t they?”

I’d met Maritsuji’s parents years ago, back when I was a kid tagging along with my father on some outing. The Maritsuji family had been there, purely by chance.

“My parents were rude back then,” she said.

“Nah, they weren’t rude.”

They’d simply never said my name or met my eyes. But that was nothing new—most noble families treated me the same way, not just the Maritsujis.

“As expected, Kiyomiya-san, you’re a generous soul. Now, let’s get to today’s main topic.”

“Uh, sure?”

“You’ve been getting close to Hisaka-san lately, haven’t you?”

“…!” The air in the tea room seemed to drop ten degrees in an instant.

“In over nine years since elementary, I can’t recall a single time you’ve approached me to talk, Kiyomiya-san. You’ve kept me at arm’s length, yet Hisaka-san is more to your liking?”

“It’s not about liking or anything like that. We’re not even that close.”

“Not being close is a sad thing, isn’t it?”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“Nothing. I’m merely confirming the facts. Any actions will come later.”

“Actions!?” My voice spiked. Even if Sayaka and I were close, Maritsuji had no grounds to interfere.

“Indeed, Hisaka-san is beautiful, top of her class, excels at sports, and perhaps struggles socially, which might hint at some emotional complexities. But aside from that, she’s nearly flawless.”

“…And, well, her family background.”

“I don’t care about that. Upbringing matters more than lineage.”

“Says the Maritsuji, who carries the most prestigious lineage…?” I raised an eyebrow. Born into impeccable pedigree with flawless upbringing, Maritsuji seemed strangely dismissive of bloodlines.

“But I understand lineage can matter.”

“Hm?”

Still in seiza, Maritsuji placed her hands on the tatami and leaned closer, her knees brushing against mine.

“Kiyomiya-san…”

“W-What?” I stiffened.

“If you take me as your wife, the Kiyomiya family’s succession would be unshakable.”

“Wife!?”

“No need to be shocked. It’s not uncommon at Sōshūkan for students to have fiancés.”

“Well, sure, but—” Verbal promises probably tied half the students here to future engagements.

“At the moment, among our peers, the only family with a son worthy of the Maritsuji name is the Kiyomiyas.”

“If I were the Kiyomiya heir, maybe.”

Another family could match the Maritsujis, but they lack a son. If I were the official Kiyomiya heir, an engagement with Maritsuji Anri—this striking, refined girl—might already be in motion.

“A marriage between the Kiyomiya’s illegitimate son and the Maritsuji family’s daughter isn’t exactly realistic.”

“If you ever wish to be engaged, just say so. I’ll send the paperwork.”

“It’s not like signing an insurance contract…”

“Marriage is, in essence, a contract.”

“You’re awfully practical about it.”

“Arranged marriages are far more complex than love marriages,” she continued. “You must balance family status, weigh the benefits and drawbacks for both families. It’s far harder than falling in love and marrying. People vilify arranged marriages these days, but I wish they wouldn’t overlook those who’ve found happiness through them.”

“That’s quite a speech! You’re passionate about arranged marriages.”

“To be honest, I have no interest in love marriages. I want someone from a proper family, raised with discipline. And I believe I have an eye for judging such people.”

Her knees still pressed against mine, Maritsuji leaned even closer. Her large, clear eyes—sharp and perceptive—locked onto my face, unwavering.

“Kiyomiya-san, you are the only son of the Kiyomiya family head. Your illegitimacy is irrelevant. I see you as the rightful heir and a suitable husband for me.”

“Don’t just make declarations about other people’s families like that,” I said, exasperation creeping into my voice. Maritsuji’s mindset was… peculiar, to put it mildly. She clung to the ancient rules of aristocratic society with a tenacity that felt almost anachronistic.

“I also see no issue with your standing in the Kiyomiya family. My only concern is Hisaka-san.”

“Back to that, huh?” It was clearly eating at her, given how much she kept circling back to it.

“I would permit you to have a concubine.”

“Another outdated term,” I muttered.

“Of course, you wouldn’t forgive a woman—me—cheating on you. I know that.”

“You know things about me that even I don’t!?”

“Men’s desires are selfish. I could forgive cheating… and, well, perhaps the three of us sharing a bed.”

“There’s nothing beyond that!” I snapped. She was practically excusing everything.

“But I’d be the main wife. The most important one.”

“Look, in this country, since the Meiji era, concubinage was abolished, and monogamy was established…”

“What a joke. A mere hundred or hundred-fifty years? Our family’s been around for a thousand.”

“…”

Her words carried the weight of Kyoto’s old-guard mentality, the kind that scoffed, Whatever you eastern barbarians decide doesn’t matter to us. Maritsuji might have been born and raised in Tokyo, but surrounded by Kyotoites, she occasionally slipped into their lofty cadence. That was what made her unnerving.

Lost in thought, I barely noticed her flash a bright smile. “Just kidding. I’m a modern high school girl, after all. Let’s say I won’t forgive a concubine.”

“And while we’re at it, maybe back off a bit? You’re too close.”

“It’s a tea room, so being close is—w-wait, too close! That’s rude!” she huffed, her composure faltering for the first time.

Maritsuji abruptly scooted back, nearly crashing into the wall. Her knees lifted, and the hem of her knee-length skirt shifted, briefly exposing her pale thighs.

“Hyaaah!” she yelped.

“What’s with that scream?”

Flustered, Maritsuji hurriedly smoothed her skirt and resumed her seiza posture. “I-I didn’t mean to get that close. I’m an unmarried ojou-sama, you know.”

“Unmarried and definitely sheltered…” I muttered. I hadn’t seen her underwear, but her embarrassment was palpable. Tea rooms were meant for discreet conversations, but this level of proximity had clearly caught even her off guard.

“The warning bell’s about to ring,” she said, composure returning. “As reluctant as I am, we should go.”

“Yeah… whoa!” My legs, numb from seiza, buckled as I tried to stand.

“Ah!” Maritsuji’s quick reflexes caught me before I could collapse in an undignified heap. Her soft, warm frame pressed against me. Petite and modestly built, she was surprisingly delicate to the touch.

“Careful now,” she chided gently. “Kids these days aren’t used to seiza, so their legs go numb quickly.”

“…Well, both the main residence and the old manor at my place are Western-style. Is the Maritsuji house traditional Japanese?”

“Yes, dreadfully hot in summer and freezing in winter. Spacious, but that’s about it,” she replied with a light laugh, still steadying me.

“Uh, thanks for the help. You can let go now, Maritsuji.”

“Let go…? N-Now you’re even embracing me!” Her face flushed crimson as she pulled away. “I have no choice but to take you as my husband, Kiyomiya-san!”

“Your sense of chastity is intense. Wait, weren’t noble princesses back then kinda… loose? Like, ‘crawling into bed at night is fine’ or something?”

“D-Don’t bring up things from a thousand years ago!” Maritsuji sputtered.

“Didn’t you just say the Maritsuji family’s been around for a thousand years?” I shot back, recalling her earlier boast about her family’s ancient legacy.

She’d been all, “We’re still living by thousand-year-old vibes,” just moments ago.

“Even you, Kiyomiya-san, wouldn’t go so far as sneaking into someone’s bed at night… Well, it begins with secret meetings. Repeated clandestine rendezvous—that’s the essence of love between a man and a woman, isn’t it?”

“What an elegant take on dating…” I said, half-amused. Sneaking around wasn’t exactly rare among modern couples, so her point wasn’t entirely off.

“By the way, Kiyomiya-san, let me get just a little closer.”

Maritsuji edged toward me—or so I thought. Instead, she leaned in, her lips brushing dangerously close to my ear. Her breath, warm and faint, tickled my skin.

“I’ll allow you to be close with Hisaka-san,” she whispered.

“What authority do you even have?”

“However, Hisaka-san… she’s not exactly adept at navigating school dynamics. Despite her prominence, her cold demeanor toward those from distinguished families is unacceptable. She shouldn’t underestimate them.”

“…Why not tell Sayaka that directly instead of me?”

“Oh? Calling her by her first name, no honorifics?” Maritsuji’s eyes narrowed playfully. “I can’t let that slide… But you’d do well to heed my advice.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.”

Surprisingly, that last bit might’ve been her true point all along. It wasn’t just me with enemies at school—Sayaka had her share, too. Maybe keeping our distance in public was the smarter move for both of us.