I have a hitlist, and at the very top is my dear sister Anne, for crimes against the heart.

…Not really.

But it is quite frustrating that Viktor had already seen himself out by the time I'd finally been free to search for him again. Maybe that part was for the best, though. It's not like I could come back and say 'now where were we' after breaking that moment.

I might be easily carried away and giddy, but I'm not quite that out of touch with reality! And - well. More importantly, I'm sure Viktor, the quiet, demure, shy Viktor simply wouldn't appreciate something so forward from someone he knew so little. I haven't lost sight of the fact that while I adore him he barely knows me.

I smile to myself as I lay back in my bed and stare at the velvet…thing that goes over four poster beds. I never needed to look up the word for that thing before, as I never even briefly imagined living in a situation where I'd own one.

It's truly hard to reconcile just how different Ophelia's life is from Adelaide's. Even in the early days…well, there was no magic chemistry moments with Adelaide's husband. No stories of romantic constellations. This life…Ophelia's life…is different. And I like that.

Maybe it's time I can tell him I'm his admirer? We hit it off so well at the ball, after all. The last thing I want is to be competing with myself. I can't imagine Viktor would enjoy the unnecessary stress from such a situation, either.

My heart races as I roll to the side, biting my nail. I can't rush things. I'm not Eileen, things won't just fall into me lap. Even Eileen took time to win him over. I have the advantage of knowing exactly what to do and say, but…still. I can't get carried away.

I nod to myself and sit up.

Fruit.

I can buy fruit. Viktor likes fruit, so I can buy a nice basket for him. That can break the ice!

I leap out of bed with renewed determination, running past a surprised Nessa to find my handmaid so I can be ready for a quick outing.

I run around the corner and crash right into a servant.

The man yelps as a tray of fine linens flies through the air. My brain can process only two things. The first, is that I feel absolutely mortified at the clumsy behavior.

The second, is that it looks like my face is going to land on top of the bony man and I squeeze my eyes shut and brace myself for impact.

Thankfully, that does not happen, as a firm set of hands wraps around me and pulls me back to a standing position, holding me close.

My eyes open in a hurry.

The man who caught me, and saved me, is looking at me with a mixture of exasperation and amusement, a single eyebrow raised.

...I have...the very strong urge to slap myself in the face. Because I must be dreaming. Otherwise why would Viktor be in my house? Standing here? Looking so damn gorgeous?

It can only be a dream.

I close my eyes and let out a frustrated sigh as I pinch my cheek.

"If you keep injuring yourself in my presence I'll be the one to pinch your cheek. Hard."

That doesn't seem very dreamy. My eyes fly open. "You're really here??"

"Indeed." His expression turns wry, though it seems not to be specifically directed toward me. "I was called for my expertise on something your family doctor desired a second opinion on."

I can't help a giddy smile and bounce on my toes. "Ahaha...really? I...just never imagined I'd see you here. What luck!"

Viktor's brow knits in puzzlement, and he reaches up, pinching my cheek and twisting it ever so slightly.

My eyes water slightly from the unexpected assault. I give a helpless squawk and wriggle in protest. "Why are you punishing me?! I haven't injured myself again!"

His gaze meets mine, and even as my eyes water I can't help but hold his gaze. His voice is matter of fact. "It's advanced punishment for future injuries." His voice lowers and I feel the timbre of it go through me, an involuntary shudder shaking me to my core. "Or do I need to leash you to make sure you don't cause yourself any more harm?"

His hand is still firmly grasping my cheek. It feels very warm, and there's the barest hint of callouses. The touch of it makes my stomach knot and flip pleasantly.

"...Viktor..."

He gives my cheek one last tug before releasing it with a mischievous smile, as if he enjoyed seeing me struggle and fumble. "...Please try not to be injured in my absence, alright? I'm beginning to become anxious when you're not around you're still injuring yourself somehow."

I flush a vibrant shade of red. "I'm...not...always doing this!"

A bemused smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. "Really? From my understanding it's becoming an unfortunate trend for you to encounter trouble and harm."

I purse my lips, and say as evenly as I can, "Only when you're around, Viktor."

A faint flush blossoms on his cheeks. His eyes dart away from me as he clears his throat and gives a slight incline of his head. "...Is that so, now. How mortifying. A doctor causing harm to a patient...most shameful indeed."

He takes a step back, looking off to the side. There's a distracted air about him, but I can't tell what's caused it. "I...should be off, though, miss. My visit has run a bit over time and I've taken a bit longer to be properly introduced and consulted due to some...unfortunate delays. I can't neglect my schedule any further, so I must be on my way."

I blanch, and before I know what I'm doing my fingers have wrapped themselves around the edge of his sleeve.

He looks at me in surprise. I should feel mortified by this display, but the sight of him in front of me, real and not a figment of my imagination, has left me spellbound and hungry. "Stay, please."

The flush on his face grows.

"I...cannot stay, I am afraid," he responds, his voice faintly raspy, as if something caught in his throat. His expression is distant. His green eyes meet mine for the briefest of moments.

The air is tense around us. The silence stretches out for an eternity as my fingers stay wound tightly to his coat, as if I could physically tie him in place and make him stay. Eventually he manages to extricate himself from my grasp, a bemused smile on his face, a hint of wistfulness to the curl of his lips. "I hope to see you again soon, miss."

His footsteps echo in my mind as he walks out the door.

The moment the door closes I throw my head in my hands and let out an inhuman, long whine of frustration.

The servant I'd crashed into quietly gathers up the linen scattered on the ground and scurries away.

I should feel embarrassed at that. But all I can think of is the distance between us. And how I didn't want him to leave.

There was nothing stopping me from leaving to chase him down right now. And I consider that seriously for several minutes before deciding not to. It's a nice romantic gesture, to be sure...but we're still so early in our courtship...so early it's not even being called that! He might react poorly to the presumptuous nature of the action.

And that, I fear, would be disastrous for my efforts.

No, no. There is no rush. There's still nearly three years until the start of the game.

...Three years.

We'll be in love long before that.

Long before Eileen can even think about picking a route.

The rest of the day passes without incident. The rest of the week, in fact. I keep trying to work up the boldness - or come up with an excuse - to go and visit him, but I stop short each time. There's no helping it. I'll have to abandon the secret admirer angle if I want to continue pursuing him as Ophelia.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Well. In a way it's liberating. I can focus on moving things forward with Viktor as me. Not as my alter ego, but as Ophelia.

The week before my next scheduled appointment I plan carefully, setting aside the gifts I want to give him. I've picked out a book I think he might like, and I'd spent all week working on a little charm that would be the perfect addition to his practice.

The day I wake up is like any other, though my heart is thudding with anticipation and excitement. It will be so wonderful to see Viktor again, to spend the afternoon and evening in his company! I feel giddy with joy and trepidation.

The world must be making fun of me, because when I leave the manor it's bright and sunny, but by the time I get halfway to the clinic a fall rainstorm breaks out.

A bad one.

I mean, it's nothing unusual to have fall rain like this. But, as it happens, my carriage's roof doesn't stay closed.

Because apparently my life has become one bad joke after another, the moment my driver opens the door to the carriage to check if anything is amiss the storm completely soaks the poor man. To be fair, the rain only comes in on the passenger side, drenching my gown thoroughly, but in the time it took for him to get my attention and help me get out, both of us get soaked.

In the end I'm standing on the street in sodden shoes, shivering and miserable.

My dress clings to me, cold and wet, and my skin tingles in discomfort. I know I look utterly pathetic as I take out a handkerchief and try to dab the water off of my face.

If this is some kind of omen, I'm refusing to read it.

With determination and poise rivaling any noblewoman, I bid the driver to return home to the warmth of the manor. I shall walk the remaining distance to the clinic. With...none of the gifts I planned to give him, because those all rode off in the carriage while I was too distracted being wet and miserable.

It's fine.

The street is drenched in a shallow pool of muddy, churning water, and my heels sink into the soft, murky puddles. I walk with a slow, determined pace, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, my arms wrapped around my chest in an attempt to protect myself from the cold. My face and dress are splattered with mud. I must look like a mess. I just feel miserable. The only think keeping me going is knowing that Viktor is at the end of this walk.

Just the thought of him and his warmth is enough to drive me to take the next step forward.

When I arrive, my nose runs like a leaking faucet, and my face is red. Viktor is, to his credit, on his feet and attentive as I stagger through the door.

His voice is sympathetic. "You are sick."

"Muh."

My mouth makes noises that are at least somewhat in the ballpark of proper speech, but it's the best I can do as my body protests movement.

It's not my finest hour.

At least I'm not actually sick, under all the misery and rain. I need to have at least one - oh, no, wait two - experiences with this man where I'm not sick or injured! I'm supposed to be his future lover, not his most persistent patient.

Viktor leads me over to a chair and lays his palm over my forehead, giving a grim shake of his head.

"I know, I know." I mutter. He's surely thinking the same thing I did. About me being a persistent patient. Not about the lever bit.

"What do you know, Ophelia?" Viktor asks patiently as he pulls out a clean towel and gently mops my face off, wiping my runny nose with it.

I sigh at his mother hen attitude.

"...M'not sick. It's just the rain." I cross my arms defiantly. Although it's hard to say what I'm defiant about. Except that I won't. be. sick. Not right now. "Getting sick in the rain's a myth. A-and - and even if it weren't, I couldn't be sick so fast! I only just got wet!"

Yes. Yes I am lecturing a doctor about basic medical knowledge. I've already gone mad with the (nonexistent!) fever, clearly.

Viktor smiles in amusement, even as he unbuttons my coat, slipping it off and hanging it over the back of the chair. "You wouldn't be the first person to simply exhibit signs of a sickness you already had, exacerbated by the cold and rain, however."

"I. Am. Not. Sick."

Why!! Why is he looking so amused!? I'm! Not! Sick!!

He starts fussing over me, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders. "You need to dry off and warm up immediately. How much time do you have? Is your family expecting you at a certain time?"

"I'm an adult." Okay. This body is 16. But whatever. "I don't have a curfew."

"Is that so." Viktor pauses, and his hands smooth my hair back from my face.

"You...seem a bit disoriented and not thinking straight," he concludes with a serious look on his face. "You didn't happen to experience one of your...spells, did you?"

D-did he just...diagnose my tripping into him as some kind of disease? Or is he being cheeky?

I resolutely refuse to examine why I'm having trouble telling the difference.

"...N-no," I reply sullenly. "I did not. I'm just -" I sneeze.

Viktor smiles. "Very cute, in a manner not unlike an indignant cat."

I try to stand up to go do...something...I don't know, maybe put my foot on the chair to scream 'I'm a VISITOR not a patient' at him, but he effortlessly guides me back into my seat. "Warm up first, before you catch a chill. Your health is more important than being difficult and argumentative."

"You don't have to be so...blatant." I sniff. "...And I'm not being difficult."

I'm not being that difficult, anyway.

He sighs and wraps yet another warm blanket around me. I puff out my cheeks in silent protest...and huddle under the blanket. I know I probably look ridiculous, but I don't care. I'm warm now.

The look of bemused sympathy on Viktor's face is too much, so I turn to the window instead, taking in the pitter-patter of the rain on the glass.

"Would you like a handkerchief?" Viktor asks, holding it out in front of my face. "...So you can blow your nose."

"L-Ladies don't!!! Blow their noses!!! In public!!!" I shoot him a furious, indignant look.

"But it would be acceptable for them to do it in private, correct? Because, you know, I don't recall anyone else being here except you and me."

He seems so infuriatingly calm about this whole affair. Where are his usual shy, quiet mannerisms?! "Ahem. Hmph. Y-you're too clever for your own good."

He smirks. "Hardly, Ophelia. I only strive to be clever enough for my own good, is all."

He reaches out with the handkerchief and takes a moment to wipe away my runny nose.

Ough.

His hand feels warm. He smells wonderful. I mean, I'm pretty sure he does. The unladylike snot makes it hard to know what he smells like in this exact moment.

Not the point.

He's so gentle, his eyes so warm. It looks...like all he's seeing in this moment is me. Not the world, or the clinic. Just me.

I-

This would be a good time for a kiss, if not for...

my...everything.

Dammit.

I sigh. This is the second time something interfered with a perfectly good moment! (Nevermind the moment only exists because of the rain. Nevermind that.) First there was the ball-

"Ah!" I gasp, apparently so suddenly it startles poor Viktor.

"Is everything alright, Miss Ophelia? Is this about being ill? Please, if you will just lay down a moment -"

"The opera!!" I stand up, tossing the blankets off, and Viktor catches them neatly in the air.

"Opera?" His confusion is endearing, especially paired with the bewildered tilt of his head.

I shake my finger. "You and I!!! I owe you an apology, Viktor! For...for inconveniencing you." No, I'm not obviously coming up with this on the fly. Psh. Pssh. "There will be an opera in two months. I have-an...an extra ticket!" Well I certainly will by then. "It will be...grand. Beautiful! There will be lots of singing! And food, and I would be honored if you could accompany me as my escort."

I nod. That's quite sufficient. Very normal. That covers everything!

Viktor blinks, a bit stunned, but then a small smile graces his lips. "Do you ask everyone who takes care of you for free to attend opera performances?"

"Nope. Only you."

Viktor chuckles, shaking his head. "...You didn't deny being treated for free, I see...I can only imagine the fate of the other poor doctors you trip into. They must be truly beleaguered to find themselves tangled into your troublesome charms."

"I am neither a trouble nor a charming girl!"

Wait.

Wait.

One of those was a compliment. Oop.

I quickly recover by shooting him a (sulky) glare that says definitively 'hey I caught that, you didn't trick me'.

Viktor laughs softly and reaches out to push a strand of hair away from my face. His touch lingers for the briefest moment against my temple before he retracts it, and the spot on my head where his hand once was feels colder for the absence. "Of course. Well. Since you insist so passionately...it would be an honor to attend an opera with you, Ophelia."

This time the smile he offers me is gentle. Warm.

My heart melts in response. I smile at him. "Then it's decided, Doctor! It will be the date...er. That is...the occasion upon which we shall attend the opera together, two months hence."

A flicker of an emotion crosses his face so fast I can't discern what it was, but he recovers with a wry smile. "...Then, I shall ensure to be free at the date of the performance, my dear Ophelia. Now. If your very important invitations are through...let's get something warm in you. Perhaps some soup?"

"That...does sound delightful..." I confess. Now that one of my goals is achieved...maybe. Just! Maybe! I do feel a little chilled and dizzy. But I'm not sick.

I am, however, looking forward to spending a few hours getting cozy with Viktor. I subtly curl up in the blankets once more. Not because I'm sick, but because it's cold.

He fetches a bowl of chicken noodle soup from his stove, which he made himself. From his grandmother's recipe. I know this, because I know my Viktor. My Viktor who is not just an excellent doctor but an excellent cook. And seamstress. Though I guess that last one isn't relevant right now.

This soup is the sort that warms up the body, with just the right amount of spices that keeps you from sweating through your clothes and overheating.

It's the perfect blend of refreshing and delicious.

"Oh this is marvelous," I tell him, as I lean back in the chair with a happy sigh. Just getting to eat Viktor's cooking...for the first time...for real...would definitely cure my illness if I had any.

(I don't, I repeat to myself firmly. I absolutely don't!)

"I'm glad that it's to your liking," he replies, watching me as he stands next to his desk, resting his hands against the edge of the polished wood.

My gaze traces the lines of his face as I cradle the soup close to my lips, warming my fingers around the mug. "Why don't you sit down and relax too? It feels silly that you're on your feet while I'm sitting here relaxing."

He makes a noncommittal noise as he picks up the chart in front of him. "It's hardly work to watch you eat and be enthusiastic over something simple as a homemade meal. It's quite nice, honestly."

I stare at him, feeling a rush of emotions bubble up in my chest, so many feelings and words and I don't even know where to begin expressing any of it. "That...you are the nicest person I know."

Viktor smiles fondly as he tilts the file up so he can see it better. "...That is...unlikely. But it's kind of you to say so. Now. I insist you rest a while before you return home, given the rain shows no sign of letting up. Perhaps you should retire to the office - or perhaps I could prepare the room we usually reserve for overnight patients?"

"I'm fine -"

Viktor stares at me, his eyebrow raised, and I flush, hiding behind my spoon. It is not the most effective strategy, but it's all I have. Ultimately...I'm not so stubborn as to argue over it- not when the alternative is to be close to Viktor a while longer. "The...room, please."

He nods. "I shall go and prepare the room for you. I won't take long, then I can properly see to your comfort. My apologies for the delay, Ophelia."

Viktor gives me a slight bow and goes off into the overnight room.

The moment the door is closed, I let out a groan, sinking into the back of the chair.

Okay.

Maybe the universe is actually conspiring on my side, instead. This...is definitely a perfectly good trade-off for getting a little drenched.

And not sick.