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“It’s because it tastes bad.”
Hearing her whisper directly into his ear, he let out a hollow laugh, as if she were being absurd.
“Tastes bad, you say.”
As the carriage door closed, Ray repeated Rose's words with a look of disbelief. His attitude made her feel embarrassed, as if he were looking at a ten-year-old child.
“I know. I'm sure this is considered delicious food in Orturan.”
It wasn't so strange that it was inedible. However, almost every dish was simply tasteless. Once she was full, there was no desire to eat more.
Ray was still staring at her with an amused expression.
“You're wondering if taste is really that important for food right now, aren't you? That's only because you only eat this kind of food. I'm not the only one who thinks this. Ambassador Antaka's wife also said the food here isn't great.”
Rose, who had been defensively making excuses under his gaze, suddenly felt wronged. It was because she had heard far too many stories about the voracious appetites of Boltonians since arriving here.
“That's why people make fun of Boltonians for eating so much. Boltonian food is made so that once you start, you can't stop. Because it's delicious.”
“Fine, just keep the Orturan-bashing to yourself and me.”
Listening to Ray's pleasantly soft tone and low voice, Rose began reading the newspaper she had brought into the carriage again.
“Is there gold hidden in there or something?”
She had only been concentrating for a moment before his interrupting voice drifted over again.
The man who used to do nothing but stare out the window when they rode in a carriage now poked at her whenever she tried to do something else.
When he had to review materials, he wouldn't say a single word, but the way he would casually strike up a conversation and watch her reaction only when he was idle made her feel, at times, as if he viewed her as a clown hired to fill his boring hours.
“I don't know nearly enough about Orturan, so I have to read things like this.”
Rose replied without taking her eyes off the newspaper. Reading the paper every day was certainly a great help.
Lately, the Daily Oakley Review had been quiet, so there was nothing in the papers to ruin her mood.
“Do you know that Beth has a scrapbook where she collects articles about you? She pretends otherwise, but I think she likes her brother quite a bit.”
“I suppose you find that incomprehensible.”
The sound of Ray's laughter echoed beside her.
“Strange. You said you liked me quite a few times yesterday.”
At his teasing words, her gaze momentarily wavered from the newspaper. Memories and sensations from the previous night blurred into her mind.
Throughout the night, Ray had made Rose repeat those words. That she liked him.
Whenever she tried to hold out, unwilling to admit she enjoyed the things he poured out or the strange things he did, he pushed her to her limit until she eventually succumbed every time.
“...Because you kept making me say it.”
Rose muttered, pulling the newspaper closer to hide her face.
“So, was it a lie?”
“Just... it wasn't my own will, but rather yours.”
“Is that so? I'll have to check again today.”
Hearing that obnoxious chuckle, Rose began to read the newspaper again.
“What did Beth say?”
However, at the question that followed shortly after, she ended up folding the paper and setting it aside. She hadn't been able to concentrate well for a while anyway.
“Are you actually worried that she might have bad-mouthed you?”
The man didn't answer the playful remark, which was unexpected. He was lost in thought, resting his chin on his hand, as if contemplating something.
“Because she's so different from everyone else here.”
After a brief silence, Ray murmured.
“I don't even have time to see how she's doing, and we aren't close because of the age gap.”
Looking at Ray, who was immersed in human concern, Rose's expression softened noticeably.
“You must not know your sister very well. Beth is very resourceful. Even with Agatha nagging her like that, she didn't break at all. She doesn't know how to give up.”
Agatha had said that Beth took after her father's personality, but Rose thought there were differences.
Beth had strong assertions and was by no means fragile in character.
“Beth and Agatha argue often, but I don't think that's a bad thing.”
It wasn't "often"; in fact, it was almost every day.
Whenever the three of them sat together, the two of them would bicker, and Rose would sit there like a bump on a log, watching the scene unfold.
“At least they talk every day. You and Agatha hardly speak. You might look alike, but sometimes you seem like strangers.”
“My mother and I are simply more comfortable that way.”
Ray gave a small laugh and offered a light rebuke, but his expression had relaxed significantly.
The sound of the carriage slowing down and coming to a gradual stop was heard.
It seemed they had arrived in front of the Tolland City Hall, where Ray's speech was scheduled.
As Rose stepped out of the carriage, she wasn't surprised by the massive crowd gathered in the city hall square.
She had been surprised in the first two cities, but by now, she had adapted to the attention and popularity pouring toward Ray.
Even when they stepped off the train, the platform had been packed with people, and the man had been busy waving to them until he entered the carriage.
Even as the guards flanked Ray and Rose to guide them to their positions, people continued to chant his name.
It seemed true that his popularity had increased further after he proposed the tax reform bill.
Following the guards, Ray headed toward the podium, and Rose headed toward the tent prepared beside the podium. There, she was tasked with distributing leaflets to the citizens.
The people receiving the leaflets glanced at Rose.
Their expressions were full of curiosity, and while some looked uncomfortable, few spoke to her directly.
It might have been because they weren't nobles.
As she had felt in the cities they had campaigned in previously, the power of the shield provided by the name Crawford—by being a noble—was stronger in Orturan than she had imagined.
“May I ask you one thing?”
Because of this, Rose couldn't help but be startled when a middle-aged woman suddenly spoke to her.
Not only her, but she could feel the guards standing beside her tense up as well. And this was just one middle-aged woman.
“Of course.”
After a brief silence, Rose replied with a smile. She was already worried about what the question would be.
“There's a football tournament here next week; who is Mrs. Crawford rooting for?”
The question was so unexpectedly mundane that her tension vanished.
She felt the gazes of the people lined up beside and behind the woman all fixate on her at once.
She had heard that the finals of the Continental Friendly Football Tournament were being held in this city, and it seemed the people's interest was immense.
Considering the opponent in the finals was Antaka, she thought she understood the reason for the question. These were Orturans who believed Bolton had always taken Antaka's side.
However, the woman's face showed curiosity and a slight wariness rather than malice.
Rose was well aware of how serious Orturans were about sports.
If there was one case where people who valued formalities so highly allowed—or rather, encouraged—rude and blatant remarks, it was when insulting the opposing team in sports.
Their language became merciless when criticizing the opposition.
Rose actually had quite a knack for that field.
“I wonder, did Antaka even know how to kick a ball with their feet? I thought they only knew how to juggle.”
Rose casually quoted an Orturan proverb.
Since Antakans, unlike Orturans, had a sense of humor, they would be able to laugh off such a light jab.
“Oh my. You've become a real Orturan.”
“Right, losing to Antaka is unthinkable. There's no greater shame than that.”
People murmured with satisfied expressions.
“What score do you think they'll win by?”
“If they're not in top form that day, maybe 10 to 0?”
The people in line laughed, noticing that Rose had intentionally named an absurd score.
Somewhere in the back, men suddenly began shouting the slogan “Orturan!” as if overcome by some emotion.
“Is this coat from here?”
“That's right.”
The people, sensing the mood, began taking leaflets while asking idle questions.
“Tolland wool is of great quality and is truly warm when worn.”
“Indeed, it can't be compared to Planto imports. Absolutely not.”
After an old man with a graying beard passed by with a satisfied expression, a group of relatively young women approached Rose.
“What is it like living with Minister Crawford?”
At the unexpected question, Rose, who had been answering skillfully until then, found herself speechless.
“Look, her face turned red.”
“Why would it be? Why would it be? It's obvious.”
The women didn't seem interested in Rose's answer; they laughed among themselves, patted each other's arms, and then left.
Only after a middle-aged man gave a long lecture disguised as praise, claiming that a man like Minister Crawford was a "real man" and that she had found a wonderful husband, did Ray's speech begin.
As Ray, standing on a frighteningly high podium, began to speak, the crowd gradually fell silent.
“What I protected back then was not only the territory of Orturan or His Majesty the King. What I protected was also you and your lives.”
He opened his speech with the story of the war that had made his name most widely known.
“A party that ignores the people's livelihood? That is unthinkable. Why would I ignore or belittle the very things I risked my life to protect with such hardship?”
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