I’m Not the Final Boss’ Lover

Chapter 52 - Talking Of the Past

“I will see you off,” Mayer answered and also got up, but the alcohol in him made him sway. Perhaps it was due to his large size, but even the slightest stagger came off as threatening. If he ended up falling over me… Yikes. Already feeling smothered, I desperately tried to dissuade him from seeing me off. “It’s fine, it’s fine! By the looks of it, I should be the one escorting you to bed, Captain. I suggest you hurry and go rest in your room.”

“…Just to the door, then.” He insisted and I couldn’t stop him. With Mayer’s every unsteady step spiking my anxiety, the room felt unnecessarily wide. After a moment that seemed like an eternity, we reached the door and I sighed in relief.

“Rest well, Captain. I enjoyed the wine,” I said, turning toward him.

“After all you drank, you take another bottle with you? Have you not had enough?”

“…Couldn’t you have just let it pass?” I grumbled. Honestly, did he have to point it out? Sometimes, it was better to turn a blind eye to things.

He leaned against the doorframe to steady himself, allowing me to finally have some peace of mind. “You sure are a strong drinker; today it was my defeat. I got completely strung along,” he remarked.

“You reap what you sow.”

Mayer’s eyes curled in mirth for a moment as he laughed at the warning hidden in my words. I had to admit, though: he was really tall up close. I had never noticed it before because we usually kept a distance, but his head was so far up that it was difficult for me to make eye contact, even though he was leaning at an angle.

As an odd silence enveloped us, I observed his coarse cheeks and shadowed eyes. His breaths were touching my forehead and I realized a bit too late that the fragrance coming from his mouth smelled the same as my wine. For some reason, that made my heart race… Had I not drunk enough? I promised myself to have another glass when I got to my room.

Right then, Mayer’s mussed black mane hung over me, tickling my forehead. I unconsciously reached out to touch it, only intending on pushing those loose strands behind his ear. Suddenly, Mayer caught my hand before I could do so as if he didn’t want me to touch him. He was, objectively speaking, overreacting.

I stood there blinking dumbly, failing to grasp the situation. Mayer registered his actions a few seconds later and quietly let go of my hand. It felt a little sore despite being held so shortly. “…I am sorry. I overreacted.”

“Not at all. That was a bit inappropriate of me.” I laughed it off awkwardly. Had I been in his shoes, I would’ve felt uncomfortable. Even a superior touching a subordinate’s hair would come across as ridiculing; how perplexing would it be the other way around? I had indeed crossed the line. Convinced that I was drunk after all, I decided to have no more wine after getting back to my room and bid farewell in a fluster. “Then… have a good night.”

“…The same to you.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but in the end, he didn’t. Even as I hurried down the hallway, I could feel his gaze on me and, for a splitting second, I was almost overcome by the urge to turn around. I wanted to see what his face looked like, but I shook it off and kept walking, not looking back.

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