Goodbye Saintess (by Edelweiss W.S.) novel Chapter 194

Chapter 194

“Incredible! This style suits you perfectly!” I praised, certain my eyes sparkled.

Claire had chosen an outfit far less provocative than her usual for her grandmother’s event. The gown was modest, yet it accentuated her figure. Her makeup was subtle, not flashy–she looked regal, like someone to admire from a distance.

“Aren’t you a master of compliments!” she replied with a cheerful grin.

She produced an iron and stepped toward me. “Take the coat off, young man.”

I removed it. “I can do it myself, you know.”

“Did I stutter?” she quipped, snatching the coat away.

She laid it on the couch and pressed it carefully. A few minutes later, she draped it back on me and straightened my collars.

Awe and delight sparkled in her eyes. “Oh my god, your physique is incredible! Look at you. You’re like an A–list movie star! Gosh!”

I smiled. “Aren’t you a master of compliments too, Claire?”

Warmth spread through me.

I had dreamed of a marriage like this. While I willingly became a background character to her life and supported her career, she would be a sweet, considerate wife at home too. She would make meals for me, tidy my collars, do my necktie, press my clothes, the likes. 1

Hera had never done any of that in five years of marriage. Not once.

And now, despite having known Claire for less than a month, she had done everything I had always dreamed of in a perfect domestic life. How ironic was that?

Claire removed my coat and began unbuttoning my shirt, carrying it to the couch to press it as well. In two or three minutes, everything was neat and tidy.

Yet I noticed her attention drifting to my upper body several times until she finally asked, “Don’t you feel stuffy with all these layers? Take that off.”

She meant the tank top I wore as makeshift pajamas. I had not removed it while trying on my new suit because… Well, Claire was there. I did not think it was appropriate.

She had already begun to snake her hand toward the hem. I stepped away. “Whoa! What are you doing?!”

“Trying to remove your tank, duh! The shirt is figure–hugging. You won’t feel comfortable with it underneath,” Claire replied matter–of–factly.

“I could change in my room,” I offered quickly.

The excitement she seemed to be trying hard to hide was too suspicious.

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“You’re not… hoping to catch me topless, are you?”

“Oh, it’s that obvious, huh?” she blurted out, then hastily corrected herself, “I mean, who said that?! We are friends! There is no way friends would think of that kind of stuff about each other! Tsk, tsk. I’m disappointed in you, ‘bro!‘ Your suspicion exposed you more than it exposed me!”

I could feel her hands grazing all over my torso while she insisted she was being very “platonic.”

“Cool. Then I guess I’ll change in my room,” I said.

“No! There’s no time for that! You are removing this tank right now!” she rebuffed. “You are a man! Men are allowed to be topless, so just seize that gender privilege already! Besides, didn’t you see mine yesterday?”

She had stopped pretending to be disinterested and began to forcibly yank at my tank.

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