Chapter 2 ◆ My Fiancée Is Too Perfect and Precious

 

What a blunder, I thought, not even ten minutes into the evening party, already feeling a sigh coming on.

The location: Earl Theodore’s estate.

It had been twenty days since Vandel brought engagement gifts and said, “Come to my territory.”

As I’d told him, I could’ve wrapped up my handover work in five days, but with Lady Shitoen in tow, arranging travel routes, contacting various parties, getting Father’s permission, and explaining to the crown prince took so much time that the days flew by.

The reason for going to Vandel’s wasn’t entirely clear to either me or Lady Shitoen.

The crown prince asked, “What’s this trip for? What are you doing?” but I had no answer. Vandel only said, “Just come.”

Apparently, Vandel and his father, Earl Sein, had thoroughly explained things to Father.

It involved some confidential matter, and even the reluctant crown prince was convinced after Father’s direct explanation.

So, apologizing for the delayed departure in a letter, Vandel replied, “Can’t be helped. Even as the third prince, leaving the capital’s a big deal.” That was a bit of a relief. He knew he was asking a lot.

Now.

Traveling alone would’ve been simple, but with Lady Shitoen, it got complicated.

I planned to stay at royal villas used seasonally, but local lords insisted, “Please stay at my estate!” So, we ended up visiting the lords’ residences along the route.

They probably wanted to see Lady Shitoen.

The third prince’s bride—what a juicy topic for lords far from the capital.

“It’s like a debut at the estates we stay at. Are you okay with that?”

I checked with Lady Shitoen, and she replied instantly, “Of course.”

I figured it’d just be dining with the lord’s family.

So, in the carriage, I briefed her on the lords’ names, family structures, and their territories’ traits, which she memorized to handle interactions.

But I never expected such a grand welcome at the first estate.

“Once word spread that you’d stay, everyone wanted to meet you,” Earl Theodore said, laughing, his large belly shaking. I forced a polite smile and sipped my glass.

The strong liquor, a local specialty, had a pleasant barrel aroma. My second brother would love this.

I took another sip and scanned the venue.

The first-floor hall was divided by partitions and decorative flowers, separating men and women.

Around me were Earl Theodore, his father, sons-in-law, and distant relatives, just finishing greetings. The older nobles had shuffled to chairs, puffing on pipes.

Along the walls, young noble boys, barely teens, fidgeted, stealing glances. When our eyes met, they gave awkward bows, which was endearing. They seemed eager to talk but were held back by their parents or attendants, which was amusing.

Is Lady Shitoen okay? I pretended to scan the room, looking for her.

She seemed to be conversing with the hostess, Countess Theodore, at the center.

Her language skills are impressive, so I wasn’t worried about that. The challenge was names and ranks. I hoped she was managing… feeling oddly parental.

The knights I brought were stationed inside and out, so they’d report any issues. I’d send Raul to check on her discreetly later.

“Well now, Prince,” I turned back to the conversation, smiling politely.

A man in his forties, maybe the earl’s cousin, grinned like a hawk.

“When I heard you snatched Lady Shitoen at the Luminous engagement ceremony, I thought, ‘That’s the Winter Bear of Tidros!’”

I nearly spat out my drink. Swallowing reflexively, I coughed violently.

“Are you okay?!”

“Prince?!”

Someone patted my back, but I waved them off, handing my glass to a servant and wiping my mouth with a handkerchief, barely holding back a “Huh?!”

“S-Snatched…? That’s… quite different from the truth…”

The Winter Bear part’s accurate, though.

“Oh, really?”

Everyone in the circle looked surprised, which shocked me. What kind of rumors were spreading?

“No, I mean… I was there as the queen’s escort. I witnessed a terribly rude scene involving Lady Shitoen, so as a knight, I demanded an apology on her behalf…”

Summarizing, they all went, “Ohhh.”

“So that led to the queen taking a liking to Lady Shitoen, and here we are.”

“Rumors are so unreliable!”

“Hearing the truth, it’s completely different.”

They exchanged looks, laughing. Well, that kind of rumor’s harmless enough.

“Speaking of rumors, Lady Shitoen’s nothing like what they say,” Earl Theodore said, exhaling through his nose, his belly jiggling.

“Rumors?”

I only learned of Lady Shitoen at Arios’s engagement ceremony.

Were there rumors before that? I’m clueless about high society.

“When she was engaged to Crown Prince Arios, they said she flaunted her Tania heritage and dragon tattoo.”

“That she avoided society because she looked down on the Luminous royal family.”

Earl Theodore and his cousin nodded as they spoke. Nearby high-ranking nobles chimed in hesitantly.

“They said she struggled with speech. Couldn’t speak foreign languages, so she stayed out of society.”

“That she was extravagant, bullied servants—awful things.”

“Who said that?!”

I couldn’t help shouting. The nobles flinched, and Raul whispered, “Commander,” from behind, prompting me to compose myself.

“Sorry, I…”

But the nobles responded graciously.

“No, we’re sorry.”

“Of course, meeting Lady Shitoen today, we know those are vile rumors.”

Earl Theodore sighed heavily, speaking for the group.

“Likely slander spread by Arios, who didn’t want her. She’s fluent in languages and shows no arrogance.”

Unprompted, we all looked at Lady Shitoen.

She was listening intently to a young lady, then said something, eliciting soft laughter that even relaxed nearby servants.

She wasn’t using her native language—probably Tidrosian. At our first meeting, she spoke fluent Caravan common tongue.

A beautiful, approachable, and talented woman.

Arios didn’t like her, so he didn’t bring her to society, letting strange rumors grow.

A thought struck me.

How long has it been since she spoke her native language?

She left her country two years ago to blend into Luminous. Then came to me.

Two years, mostly living abroad, speaking foreign languages.

Thinking of her journey, I felt an indescribable emotion.

The white veil at the engagement ceremony looked like a cocoon to me.

If so, was she wearing that veil, suppressing her heart, to become someone else?

“The Luminous court is quite lively now,” someone muttered, and I shifted my gaze from Lady Shitoen as others nodded.

“The new crown princess is clueless about world affairs. Fine for domestic society but unfit for diplomacy.”

“Oh, the Tania emissary incident?”

“Emissary?”

Several nobles grimaced, nodding.

“You know how angry the Tania king was over Lady Shitoen’s annulment, halting mineral exports to Luminous?”

“Yeah, we’re buying their resources from other countries now, right?”

“Well, the new crown princess—Mail, was it?—she barged into the Tania emissary’s office, demanding, ‘Sell us jewels.’”

I was dumbfounded.

“The reason? She needed more gems for her wedding.”

What a bad joke. Laughter rippled through the group.

“Lady Shitoen took the villain role, boosting the new princess’s popularity…”

“But now the truth’s out…”

The nobles shrugged, sipping their drinks.

“The neighboring crown prince has no taste,” Raul whispered to me. I snorted.

After hurting Lady Shitoen like that, he deserves some pain.

“Hm?”

Raul made another quiet sound, unnoticed by the nobles.

I glanced at him, and he was looking at Lady Shitoen.

Following his gaze, I saw her tilting her head, holding a tall glass, looking troubled.

Was she holding a glass before? Did a waiter give it to her while I wasn’t looking?

Her maid, Eton, hurried over from the wall.

Lady Shitoen subtly stepped out of the conversation, said something to Eton, who frowned deeply.

“Raul, go.”

Before I finished, Raul was moving.

The guarding knights noticed too but waited for orders. I shook my head slightly, and they stayed put.

Raul approached Lady Shitoen and Eton, speaking briefly.

Eton gestured angrily, while Lady Shitoen calmed her.

Raul nodded, took the glass, and she bowed apologetically, looking relieved. Raul quickly stopped her.

Prompted by Eton, she returned to the ladies’ conversation.

They looked curious but smoothly included her again.

“What happened?”

I stepped away from the nobles to ask Raul.

“This.”

He showed me the glass.

It looked like an orange juice and soda cocktail. Was there debris in it?

“Smell it.”

He shoved it toward my nose, startling me.

“Is it spoiled?”

“No, just…”

I took it and cautiously sniffed.

The citrusy freshness tickled my nose. Orange juice, as expected.

“Hm?”

Ignoring manners, I sniffed closer.

“Peach?”

My tone sharpened.

A faint but distinct sweet peach scent.

“Right,” Raul said, anger in his voice.

We’d notified each lord’s estate.

Lady Shitoen can’t eat peaches or apples. They must not be used in meals or desserts.

Since childhood, they caused swelling in her throat and face, and fever. It’s worsened, and now even juice makes her ill.

We’d ensured meals and desserts today were free of them.

So why was peach in this drink?

“How did she get this glass?”

“She said a butler approached, saying, ‘For you, Princess,’ so she thought it was orange juice, as she’d requested earlier.”

It looked like it. Clear orange liquid with soda bubbles.

“But when she brought it to her nose, she noticed the peach smell and hesitated.”

“Mixed up with someone else’s?”

“Maybe, but he called her ‘Princess.’ No other woman here has that title.”

Raul’s voice lowered.

He bristled like a trained guard dog.

“You’re saying it was intentional?”

When I asked, he nodded, “Yes,” making me give a wry smile.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions. We’ll watch for now.”

Raul pursed his lips, dissatisfied. I shrugged.

“Find the butler who gave her the glass. Hear him out. We don’t want trouble at her debut or to cause misunderstandings.”

I signaled a few knights with finger signs to move toward the exits.

“Is something wrong?” Earl Theodore asked.

I forced a smile. “No, sorry. Just a word with my subordinate.”

I rejoined the conversation.

◇◇◇◇

Three hours later.

Lady Shitoen and I stood facing each other in the bedroom.

“Sorry if it’s awkward, but… think of me as air or something.”

I bowed slightly, and she widened her eyes in surprise.

“No, I’m the one intruding…”

She bowed back, so I did too, somehow.

Father and the crown prince ordered, “No touching until the wedding,” so we have separate bedrooms at my residence…

But what to do during this trip?

“We sleep in separate rooms for now.”

I could explain that to get separate rooms, but it might spark rumors.

“Looks like it didn’t work out with that lady either.”

Should we emphasize modesty or act affectionate? I was torn, and now there’s another issue.

Lady Shitoen might be targeted.

An hour ago, the knights debated fiercely.

“Commander, separate rooms are risky. Too dangerous.”

Everyone agreed, even Raul, who’s always watching to ensure I don’t touch her.

If something happens, the Winter Bear of Tidros being closest would be reassuring.

Though, I’m probably the biggest threat to her… but I’ll suppress my instincts with iron will.

“I’ll sleep over there.”

Grabbing a pillow, I pointed at a sofa.

As expected of an earl’s estate. The guest room was huge—big sofa, fireplace, counter bar, canopy bed… even a balcony.

“Making a prince sleep on a sofa? I’ll take it!”

She raised her hand sharply, making me laugh.

“No, I can’t let a girl sleep there. That’d disqualify me as a prince.”

“G-Girl…? I’m not that young anymore, you know?”

She blushed, embarrassed.

Twenty-something isn’t a girl anymore?

“Then let’s sleep in the bed together.”

She looked at me earnestly, and I nearly fell back.

“Think of me as air. I’ll stay on the edge, quiet.”

No, the issue is whether I can stay still.

“I’ll take the sofa…”

“Then I’ll sleep on the sofa too.”

“What?”

“I can’t let you sleep on the sofa alone. So, I’ll join you.”

“I’m not following…”

“If you don’t get it, choose. Sleep with me on the sofa or the bed.”

Her intensity overwhelmed me.

“…The bed, then.”

Honestly, I wanted the sofa.

It’s smaller, so we’d be closer.

I could say, “It’s tight, huh?” as an excuse.

“It’s not too small? Come closer… Oh, sorry, my hand slipped… Cold? Get closer to me…”

Even if I hugged her, it’d be force majeure, right?

But.

Would my rationality hold? Could I keep my promise not to touch her? Really?

No way!

I know myself best.

In that situation, I’d definitely make a move.

Guaranteed.

And regret it later. Better to endure at the bed’s edge.

“I’ll stay over there, quiet.”

She smiled, relieved, and climbed onto the bed with a “heave-ho.”

Her nightwear hem lifted, revealing pale calves. I looked away.

Dangerous. I want to stare.

Her movements are so small-animal cute.

Move more… masculinely! My rationality’s at its limit!

“Is this okay?”

She sat at the very edge, tilting her head toward me.

…Yes, an appropriate distance to avoid a crisis. Perfect.

“Don’t fall off the edge,” I said with a wry smile, steeling myself to sit at the bed’s front. The springs creaked.

Her movements didn’t make a sound. She’s so light. But thinking of her moving on the bed sparked unwanted images.

God, I’m such a hopeless guy… I slumped, dejected.

“What’s wrong?”

She hugged a pillow, tilting her head. Like a doll.

“I’m fine, fine, fine. Oh, right.”

I couldn’t keep moping.

“About that drink earlier.”

I changed the topic, sitting cross-legged, facing her.

The peach incident.

“It was meant for another lady but got delivered by mistake. They apologized profusely.”

“Really? Please don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“Of course.”

That was a blatant lie.

We haven’t found the butler.

Eton saw the butler who gave her the glass, and Raul and the knights searched based on her description, but he’s nowhere.

The head butler confirmed no one matching that description works here.

That’s when the knights and I got alarmed.

She’s being targeted.

We don’t know why.

She’s new to this country, hasn’t done anything to earn enemies, and hasn’t even had a formal debut.

“Be as cautious as possible.”

I ordered the knights, deciding I’d protect her closest.

“Are you tired?”

She narrowed her eyes, probably worried by my silence.

“I’m fine. You, though…”

I straightened, facing her.

“Right, I thought earlier, when it’s just us, want to speak Tania-go?”

Her eyes widened when I spoke in her language.

“I know it’s weird to suggest and then say this, but I only know casual Tania-go. Not polite or formal stuff.”

I only use it for interrogating bandits, so my foreign language skills are rough. Even honorifics are fuzzy.

“That’s fine, but… why?”

She replied in flawless Tidrosian.

“Well, you’re always speaking foreign languages. Don’t you miss your native tongue sometimes?”

In Luminous, she was under pressure, facing harsh treatment, forced to speak their language.

It’s the same here.

I can tell she’s living on edge, determined not to fail again.

“We’ll need Tidrosian in public, but when it’s just us, let’s use Tania-go.”

My skills are lousy, but I grinned.

But her expression stiffened, clutching the pillow tightly, leaving me confused.

“Shitoen?”

I called her name softly.

Did I offend her?

Was my idea not comforting?

Or does she think I’m mocking her? I froze.

“Why are you so kind to me?”

Her peach lips spoke in Tania-go.

Relieved she wasn’t angry, I relaxed.

“Kind? Me?”

I shrugged playfully, but she remained tense.

“You protected me at the engagement ceremony… and you’ve been so good to me here.”

“Well…”

I hunched slightly to meet her gaze.

“We’re going to be husband and wife, right? It’s natural for a husband to treat his wife well.”

“Husband and wife,” she murmured.

I felt a strange unease.

Her clear eyes looked straight at me.

But somehow, it felt like she was looking through me.

Like she saw something else.

What was it? I stared, but she said nothing, silent for a long time.

“Prince…”

After what felt like ages, she spoke.

Her eyes were tense, shoulders still rigid.

“Will you look at my dragon tattoo?”

“The tattoo…? Uh, that’s…”

I faltered.

Didn’t she say it’s on her chest?

“The dragon tattoo was my pride. At least, back home.”

Her small, adorable face, usually smiling gently, lips curved like a crescent moon, warm like fresh-baked sweets.

But now, she was tense, exuding a sharp aura.

“The dragon is a god to Tania, the country itself. Royalty with its mark are taught to embody the nation’s nobility.”

Her amethyst eyes sparkled. I’ve always thought her very being is like a gem.

“I’ve heard that,” I nodded honestly.

She exhaled painfully, saying, “Thank you.”

“I’m truly grateful to those here who understand and empathize with my country’s history and culture.”

“Because you love Tidros just as much.”

She hasn’t spoken her native language or worn her country’s clothes until I prompted her.

“But I’ve learned not every country returns courtesy with courtesy… Sorry, that was out of line.”

She looked down, letting those words slip.

Raising her face stiffly, her silken silver hair swayed, leaving a shimmering afterimage.

“It’s all my fault.”

“Don’t blame yourself for everything that happened.”

My words came out harsh, but she looked oddly happy.

“You really are kind, Prince. You haven’t changed.”

Smiling, she fell silent again.

There it was again.

She said I “haven’t changed.”

When and where did we meet? I don’t remember.

I stared at her. She bit her lower lip, unmoving.

She was hesitating.

But she wanted to say something.

I’d wait.

Silence isn’t bad. Time can gently embrace someone.

“Disgust… it’s uncontrollable,” she began quietly.

But it wasn’t about our past meeting.

“For example… I’m scared of insects. Their many legs, their unreadable eyes.”

She shivered, imagining it.

“Anything you’re scared of, Prince?”

“Mother and the crown prince,” I answered instantly, making her laugh.

“Right… Hmm.”

Lingering on her laughter, she blinked a few times.

“Say there’s someone like me, afraid of insects. And someone appears with an insect carved on their body.”

She looked at me, smiling sadly.

“Could you love someone with your fear carved on them, Prince?”

I realized she meant Arios.

I don’t know what he fears—dragons, scales, or the act of tattooing.

So, Arios found Lady Shitoen physically repulsive?

Her dragon tattoo triggered his disgust.

“If I had something you found repulsive… you couldn’t love me.”

Her calm words made me not sad but angry.

I wanted to yell at her not to talk about that guy with her purple eyes and peach lips.

Forget him already.

I’m right here.

“So, Prince, please look at my dragon tattoo.”

“Look and do what?”

My voice came out belligerent.

“Find it repulsive? Call it gross? Like that guy?”

Mean words spilled out.

I’m five years older than her, yet I was so irritated.

Why compare me to that guy?

“Prince Saryu is different from Crown Prince Arios.”

She declared firmly.

Clutching the pillow, she leaned forward, almost rising.

“I tried to love Arios. To respect him as my fiancé. But it was impossible. How can you forgive someone who loathes, despises, and mocks you? I’m not a saint.”

Tears like crystal beads fell from her purple eyes, snapping me back.

I’d gone too far.

I knew her efforts, her struggles, her pain.

“Shitoen…”

I called her name, but no words followed.

Sorry, I didn’t mean it.

Before I could say more, she spoke.

“Being hated by someone I don’t care about doesn’t hurt. His rejection didn’t faze me. But…”

She started to say something, swallowing the rest.

Tears streaming, she forced out her words.

“I don’t want you to hate me, Prince Saryu. I like you so much. I cherish how you care for me. I even wish you’d love me.”

Her words pressed on my chest.

A meaningless “Huh?” escaped with my breath.

“But if you feel physical disgust, I’d have to give up on you. Because no matter what, you couldn’t love me.”

Choking back sobs, she seemed so fragile, like she’d vanish.

“I’d never hate you.”

I reached out to hold her, to keep her here.

“Please look at my dragon tattoo. Now, here.”

She twisted away, shaking her head, tears scattering.

“If you find it repulsive, I’ll let go of these feelings. I can still cut them off now. I can live as a doll, continuing this marriage for our countries.”

Tears fell from her lashes. She looked at me, resolute, testing me.

“So, the dragon tattoo…”

“Show me.”

I cut her off.

Her purple eyes fixed on me, then she nodded silently.

Dropping the pillow, she knelt on the bed.

She loosened the tie at her nightwear’s collar, undoing it.

Unbuttoning three fabric-covered buttons, she slowly bared her chest.

I tried to stay calm, but my heart pounded.

The dragon tattoo, feared by Arios, called “lizard people” by some.

How extensive was it? Was it shocking?

It’s on her chest, right? The center, she said.

Her chest…

Chest…

Chest, huh.

Suppressing the sweat beading on my forehead, I looked.

“…Huh. This?”

I blurted out in Tidrosian, stunned.

As she said, the tattoo was on her chest.

Slightly to the right.

Near the curve of her chest, rather.

Two cherry blossom petal shapes, like twin stars, the size of a pinky nail.

Colored blue, like aquamarine.

“This is the dragon tattoo?”

I asked, dumbfounded.

She nodded, looking like she’d cry, but her gaze never wavered, watching my reaction.

“Did Arios see this?”

“No. I offered, but he refused.”

Her voice’s hardness let me imagine her sadness then, and I panicked.

I regretted saying anything unnecessary, while inwardly cursing that guy as an idiot.

Imagining the dragon tattoo without even seeing it, getting scared on his own.

And hurting such a lovely girl because of it.

“…Uh, well…”

I let out a meaningless sound, then stared intently at the dragon tattoo.

It was far different from what I’d imagined.

I thought it’d be, like, dragon scales covering her chest in a dense, overwhelming pattern.

Probably, Crown Prince Arios imagined the same and felt repulsed.

Because of that, she was humiliated in public, hurt, and spent two years in a foreign land enduring hardship.

I gently reached out and touched the tattoo.

As expected, it was warm.

Her smooth skin had no roughness or eeriness.

Pressing lightly with my finger, it felt soft. I rubbed with my thumb, but it didn’t distort.

It wasn’t stuck on but naturally part of her skin.

Feeling oddly curious, the moment I covered the tattoo with my whole palm—

“Ah, um…!”

A startled voice rose nearby, and I blinked.

“Ah, um…!”

In front of me was Lady Shitoen, her face red as a boiled octopus, lips trembling as she stifled her words.

“…Huh?”

As for me…

My right hand was firmly grasping her chest, staring blatantly.

“S-S-S-S-S-S-S-Sorry!”

I jumped back, tumbled off the bed, and hit my head hard, curling up in pain.

But the sensation in my hand wouldn’t fade.

Soft, smooth, fluffy.

Suddenly, things got… complicated.

“Are you okay?!”

Her voice came with the rustling sound of her crawling across the bed, making me panic.

“Don’t come, don’t come! I’m in a bit of a situation!”

“Did you get hurt?!”

No, it’s more like my lower half—! I couldn’t say that, so I just repeated “I’m fine” while curled up, rubbing my throbbing head.

“Really, I’m so sorry…”

I apologized, hiding under the bed.

She only asked me to look, so why did I touch it?

“I’m the one who shouted suddenly…”

Her voice grew small with embarrassment, making me feel even more guilty.

“Um… so…”

“Hm?”

A tense voice came from above the bed. Having calmed down, I peeked up cautiously.

Lady Shitoen, having fixed her collar, sat awkwardly with her knees folded.

“The tattoo… it wasn’t gross, was it?”

Her serious question made my face heat up again.

Desperately shaking off the lingering sensation in my hand, I stammered, lips trembling.

“No problem at all… I mean, the opposite of gross—what’s that called?”

Mumbling incoherent Tania-go, I still couldn’t climb back onto the bed.

“…If you got close now, I’m pretty sure I’d pounce.”

Blushing head to toe, I said it, and the heat seemed to transfer to her.

Lady Shitoen turned beet red, even her toes steaming, grabbed the pillow, and scooted to the opposite side of the bed.

“…Did you, um, start to hate me?”

I asked dejectedly, and she shook her head vigorously.

Her silver hair swayed softly, distractingly beautiful.

“Um… can I… like you even more?”

Blushing, she asked, and I nodded enthusiastically.

I wanted to hug her and kiss her, but with my pathetic state, I couldn’t even manage that, so I stayed under the bed, enduring.

“Good.”

She smiled like a blooming hibiscus.

Damn it!

She’s so cute, and we’re mutually in love, so why can’t I touch her?!

What?! What’s this?! Who’s testing me?!

Crawling on the floor, I fought the urge to roll around. From the bed, she kept asking, “Prince? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’ll sleep on the bed’s edge soon. Sleep first, Shitoen.”

I couldn’t face her.

Lying face-down, I recited old school poems to calm myself.

Become nothing, me.

Rustle, rustle—she moved on the bed, maybe settling in.

Then something touched the back of my head.

“Huh?”

I looked up, meeting her purple eyes.

She was lying face-down, reaching out to pat my head.

“Pain, pain, go away.”

She smiled brightly.

Is she a goddess or a devil?

Saying “Thank you,” I decided to endure face-down a bit longer.

◇◇◇◇

Three days into the journey.

At a roadside café, I let out a huge yawn.

“Well, what can I say…” Raul sighed behind me.

Turning, I saw him and a few knights looking at me with pity.

“Truly unfortunate, Commander.”

“Pitiful, Commander.”

“Thanks,” I said, stifling another yawn.

Raul handed me a mug of coffee.

I sipped it, unprincely.

Going to Vandel’s shouldn’t have been such an ordeal.

That first day.

It was bad.

Seeing—touching—her tattoo.

Honestly, since grabbing her right chest, I’ve been haunted by fantasies, obsessed with her chest, wanting to touch more.

Staring so much I feel I could see through her.

And yet, we sleep in the same bed every night.

Of course, I can’t touch her.

She sleeps peacefully, even holding my hand last night, craving human warmth.

Meanwhile, I lie awake, unable to sleep.

Sleep deprivation at its peak.

The lords at our stays smirk, saying, “So young,” making me want to slice them with my foggy brain.

Can’t I, with prince privileges? But the knights and Raul are here, and I can’t let them down.

Raul’s planning to marry… eventually.

It’s a race: reach Vandel’s or die of sleep deprivation.

“While Lady Shitoen rests here, want to sleep? We can secure the second floor,” Raul offered.

The knights were tending horses, checking gear, and reviewing routes. I couldn’t just nap.

Coffee was enough.

“No, I’m good. Where’s Lady Shitoen?”

Shaking my head, Raul gave a wry smile.

“Over there, with Eton.”

He gestured.

The café was an open courtyard.

For security, we reserved the outdoor terrace, where Lady Shitoen and Eton sat on wicker chairs, enjoying tea.

Her silver hair gleamed in the dappled sunlight.

She nodded and smiled at Eton’s chatter, but her fatigue was clear.

For years, Arios kept her confined, rarely leaving the estate or meeting people.

Now, it’s the opposite.

Always poised, traveling by carriage all day, meeting new people every night, making small talk.

It must be exhausting, yet she shows no sign.

At night, alone, she says in Tania-go, “Speaking my language is relaxing,” chats idly, and falls asleep.

She’s under a lot of pressure.

“Join her, Commander?” a knight suggested, but I shook my head.

During breaks, she should limit company, enjoy sweets and tea. She doesn’t hate me, but I’m still a stranger. She needs space.

Then, a door clicked open.

A waiter with a silver tray approached her.

A dazzling fruit tart.

“Peaches or apples?” I asked Raul.

“We told them.”

Still uneasy, I squinted at the tart.

Grapes, strawberries, some yellowish-green fruit—melon or muscat, not peaches or apples. The fruit glistened, maybe glazed, beside a serving knife.

The waiter bowed, presenting the tart. He’d cut it now.

Eton said, “Looks delicious.”

Lady Shitoen nodded smilingly, and the waiter reached for his waist.

—Something’s off.

The tray had a serving knife.

Yet he reached for his waist.

“Get away!”

I shouted, hurling my mug.

I didn’t expect it to hit, just to intimidate.

Running, I felt hot sparks burst from my brain.

My heart pounded, heat surging to my limbs.

The mug arced ahead, spilling its last drops, flying toward the waiter.

They noticed the disturbance.

As Lady Shitoen tried to stand, the waiter pinned her, toppling her chair.

Seeing him straddle her, my rationality snapped. My vision flashed.

“What the hell!”

Before I knew it, I’d kicked his jaw hard.

But my toes didn’t feel the impact. It wasn’t a clean hit.

As expected, he leapt off her, kneeling, steadying himself. He held a dagger reverse-grip, glaring.

“Protect Lady Shitoen!”

I roared for the knights.

Several rushed to her, visible in my periphery.

“I’m in a really bad mood.”

Gripping my sword’s hilt, I drew it.

Heat radiated from my body.

My spirit surged, and despite my foul mood, I wanted to laugh, biting my teeth to suppress it, licking my lips.

The waiter stood out vividly, colors intensified.

Like spotting prey in a snowy mountain.

“Commander.”

Knights behind me readied their swords.

Clearly outnumbered.

I thought he’d flee, but he stayed low, closing the distance, lunging upward.

I stepped back, dodging, his dagger grazing my nose.

He aimed for my throat.

I parried his dagger with my blade, redirecting it. Extending my elbow to strike his head, Raul shouted, “Left!”

Glancing, I saw another dagger in his left hand, aimed at my waist. I stepped back, the tip missing my clothes.

His short daggers made him fast and close. Alternating attacks were annoying.

But there was a pattern.

Right, left—I shifted left, dropped my sword, grabbed his extended left arm, spun, threw him over my back, and swept his legs. Slamming him down, he screamed, sprawling.

I twisted his arm against its range.

“Rope! Get rope!”

A knight rushed over, binding the writhing man’s torso.

“You can let go. We’ve got him,” Raul said, yanking the arm harshly. Looked painful.

I started to say ease up, but he pointed behind me.

“Commander, over there.”

Turning, I felt a thud.

It took seconds to realize it was Lady Shitoen.

Her silver hair swayed as she buried her face in my stomach, arms around my back, clinging.

“That was scary, right? Are you okay?”

Recalling her being pinned, I nearly told Raul to dislocate the guy’s joints, but she looked up.

“Prince! Are you okay?!”

“What?”

“Are you hurt?! Anywhere in pain?!”

She’d been clinging but now hopped back, patting my arms and legs, checking for injuries.

“I’m the Winter Bear of Tidros. This is nothing.”

Her concern felt novel.

I crouched to her eye level.

Smiling reassuringly, she finally relaxed.

She stared, then reached out.

As I leaned forward, she wrapped her arms around my neck, hugging tightly.

How does she see me?

That first night, saying, “Pain, go away,” and now this hug, like comforting a child.

“Stay with Lady Shitoen, Commander. Shall we secure the café’s second floor?” Raul asked.

I hugged her back, standing, lifting her effortlessly. Supporting her waist, I turned, ignoring the knights’ whistles.

“No, let’s move. We should get to Vandel’s quickly, even if it’s tough.”

The peach incident, now this assassin—what’s going on?

“Some stay, investigate him. The rest, prepare to leave. Eton!”

I called her maid, but she seemed paralyzed. Why does she always collapse at critical moments? Knights struggled to help her up.

“Forget it. I’ll carry Lady Shitoen to the carriage. Someone get Eton.”

Sighing, Lady Shitoen clung to my neck again.

“You okay?”

I asked softly, and she nodded shakily.

“I’m so glad you’re safe.”

Her words tickled me.

Clinging like this, she seemed ready to protect me from any enemy.

“I’m fine. Always.”

I adjusted my hold, lifting her to eye level. Her purple eyes glistened with tears.

“Really? You’re okay? You won’t die?”

Tears fell, and she sobbed like a child, surprising me.

“Well, well, Princess…”

“She must’ve been terrified.”

“Oh my.”

The knights were rattled. No women around usually.

“Lady Shitoen.”

I pressed my forehead to hers.

At nose-touching distance, I grinned.

“I won’t die. And neither will you.”

Her wet amethyst eyes blinked.

“The safest place in this kingdom is in my arms. You’re there now. Nothing to fear.”

The knights laughed, chiming in.

“Exactly. Safest place there is.”

“Rest easy, Princess. No one will harm you.”

No one.

No one can hurt her anymore.

I’ll always be by her side.

◇◇◇◇

Three days later.

Sitting on a sofa with Lady Shitoen, a knock came, and Vandel entered with a man in his forties.

I stood, followed by Lady Shitoen.

“Man, you look healthy.”

I had plenty to say—about the tough journey, what his business was, our hurry to return, or more bandit attacks.

But seeing Vandel, that’s what came out.

Maybe because the man beside him was tanned dark, making Vandel’s healthy complexion stand out.

Not just that—his hair shone, and though his build was the same, his aura was brighter.

He used to exude a decadent vibe fit for the “Vampire Earl,” but now he was a crisp, likable young man. Soon he’d be the “Healthy Earl.”

“Yeah, I feel light.”

Vandel approached Lady Shitoen.

Kneeling, he kissed the back of her hand courteously, smiling softly.

“All thanks to you. Like I got a new body.”

“It’s your effort, Vandel-sama. Did you overcome your picky eating?”

She smiled. He stood, shrugging, like a kid caught.

“Hired a good chef. Cooking’s improved.”

“Like a child,” I scoffed.

He glared.

“Not a crude palate like you. I’m sensitive to flavors.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I replied dismissively, and he snorted.

I glared back, arms crossed.

“Sorry, but get to the point. Things feel off. I want to return to the capital.”

I was blunt, and Lady Shitoen chided, “Prince.”

But I couldn’t yield, even for her.

The peach cocktail might’ve been a mistake. The vanishing butler could’ve been Eton’s error.

But the café attack wasn’t a coincidence.

The waiter took his own life, saying nothing.

I wanted to cancel all banquets and dinners, but Lady Shitoen refused.

It’d strain relations, and she didn’t want a fuss.

True, saying, “Lend us your lodging, but we’ll meet no one,” would seem arrogant and look bad.

So, the knights checked all guests at subsequent events, banning weapons.

Skeptical nobles were placated when I said, “Can’t let anything happen to my cute wife,” laughing it off as a doting husband’s overreach.

It’s a charming rumor.

Partly for protection, but my constant presence by Lady Shitoen made nobles smile, saying, “His Majesty cherishes his queen too.”

Being like Father, they accepted it.

We managed, reaching Vandel’s earldom.

“I heard from Raul. Things are weird,” Vandel frowned.

If Raul told him directly, the attack on Lady Shitoen hasn’t spread as rumor. Relieving.

“Sorry. I meant to let you rest before business, but if something happens, I can’t handle it. No preamble.”

He introduced the silent man beside him.

“Lord Murder.”

“Pleased to meet you, Your Highness, Lady.”

Lady Shitoen isn’t officially a lady yet, but Murder bowed respectfully to her too.

“Let’s sit,” Vandel urged.

We sat—me and Lady Shitoen, Vandel and Murder.

As a butler served tea and left, Vandel spoke.

“As you know, my territory borders the Mira Empire. So, we have people of certain statuses you don’t see in the capital.”

Leaning back, he continued.

Lady Shitoen tilted her head curiously, but I had a hunch.

“Exiles?”

Some flee to Tidros for reasons. Fine if they follow protocol.

“I’m an exile from Mira. With Vandel-sama’s support and His Majesty’s permission, I’m a baron here,” Murder said.

His features were foreign, muscular—not a noble in name only.

A knight from another land? Like spotting a rare beast. He glanced at me, likely thinking, “Winter Bear of Tidros.” Fair trade.

“Lord Murder manages the exile district,” Vandel said, sipping tea, lowering his voice.

“There’s been a mysterious illness there.”

Lady Shitoen froze, holding her cup.

“What illness?” I asked.

Vandel sighed, exasperated.

“If we knew, we wouldn’t call it mysterious.”

“Where are the patients?”

I set my cup down, but Lady Shitoen stayed still, cup in both hands, steam rising.

Is she okay? I worried.

Since the attack, she’s been emotionally unstable, clinging to me.

At first, I thought she was scared, but no—she’s protecting me.

She thinks I’m in danger.

Initially, she rode in the carriage with Eton while I rode with the knights, but she’d watch me anxiously from the window, so I handed my horse to Raul and joined her.

In the carriage, she sticks close, only relaxing then.

“Where are the patients now?” she asked quietly.

“In an isolated building,” Murder replied.

“Not a hospital?” I was surprised.

Her brows furrowed, eyes sharpening.

“Is it infectious?”

Her words startled me.

“Is it?!” I turned to Vandel.

He shook his head firmly.

“We don’t know. But with similar symptoms, we can’t risk hospitals. If it’s infectious…”

He trailed off.

So, the confidential matter is a potential infectious disease in his territory.

“We need Lady Shitoen’s opinion,” Vandel said, staring at her earnestly.

I stood. “No way! Send her into danger?”

It’s not about treating anemia. An unknown disease?

“What if something happens to her?”

“It’s not confirmed infectious,” Vandel countered, standing.

“I’ve met patients. I’m fine.”

“I’ve lived with them for days,” Murder added, standing.

“We don’t understand. Some show symptoms, others are healthy. We can’t tell why.”

“Of course! You just watch and wait.”

“This isn’t that simple,” Vandel growled.

“It’s only in the exile district. If this gets out, it’ll spark brutal discrimination.”

I caught my breath.

“Exiles and locals get along now. But if this leaks, conflicts will start.”

Vandel bit his thumbnail.

“Our earldom borders another nation. If unrest breaks out, Mira will know. Worst case, they’ll invade with justification.”

“They’d burn the village for disinfection,” Murder said flatly, chilling me.

“They’d say Tidros was slow, so they acted,” Vandel spat.

“No… that’s too much. They’re your people.”

“Exiles aren’t their people. We’re traitors to them,” Murder said heavily.

Reality hit.

“You know our main duty,” Vandel said.

I know.

Protect the border.

Keep the kingdom safe.

“It must be handled secretly,” he glared.

“I went to the capital under the guise of your engagement, planning to summon a doctor, but explaining why would raise suspicions.”

He glanced at Lady Shitoen.

“Luckily, she’s not a doctor.”

It clicked.

She has medical knowledge but isn’t a doctor.

A newlywed visiting a friend to thank for engagement gifts—perfect cover.

“What are the symptoms?” her bell-like voice asked, then turned to a chuckle.

“Shall we all sit first?”

Embarrassed, we three men, standing and growling, coughed and sat.

“Most patients started with diarrhea, then worsened,” Murder began.

“Stomach pain, fatigue, skin turning blue-black, then death.”

“Wait, wait!” I interrupted.

“You say it so calmly, but that’s terrifying!”

“That’s why we’re troubled,” Vandel snapped.

“How are you handling it?”

Murder grimaced.

“As I said, we’re just isolating them in a building. Nothing else.”

Figures.

“We’ve gagged talk, but rumors are spreading. Worse, it’s linked to Mira merchants. If that reaches them…”

What?

I blinked, and Vandel sighed deeply.

“Patients with diarrhea ate dried fish from merchants. That’s when issues spiked.”

“Food poisoning?”

Vandel shook his head, grimacing.

“Some got sick, others didn’t. Some families were wiped out, others only men.”

“What’s that?”

No sense at all. Like a reaper swinging randomly.

“Are most patients men?” Lady Shitoen tilted her head.

“Relatively, yes,” Murder answered cautiously.

“Do men eat more dried fish? Women don’t?”

She pinched her chin, pondering.

“Not men, but exiles,” Vandel said, glancing at me. I nodded.

“Mira eats dried sea fish. Here, we do meunière or sauté.”

“Right,” she blinked, adorable.

“So ‘men’ means exiles?”

We three men groaned.

“Some families exile together, but most are single men,” Vandel said, looking at Murder, who nodded.

“Many marry local women.”

Maybe him too—ring on his left finger.

“So, even married, men keep eating their homeland’s food?” she pressed.

Murder nodded hesitantly.

“Especially karris, more than bread.”

“Karris?”

She and I said it together.

“A grain, cooked with water. Mira’s staple,” Vandel explained, shrugging.

“Salt and karris, and they survive.”

“That phrasing,” I chided.

Murder’s from Mira.

“It’s our pride,” Murder said, chest out. Food’s powerful.

“Is karris widely available here?” she asked.

Vandel and Murder nodded.

“Many grow it locally,” Vandel said.

She seemed to stop listening, repeating “I see.”

Vandel bowed to her.

“As you helped my anemia, can we borrow your wisdom?”

“Of course, if I can help.”

She agreed so readily, I panicked.

“Aren’t you scared? You can refuse.”

If it’s infectious… diarrhea, weakness, blue-black skin, death.

Her dying.

The thought chilled me.

She’s not scared?

I am.

Losing her terrifies me.

I don’t want to risk her.

Yet.

“If my knowledge can save lives, I should offer it.”

She nodded firmly.

Her resolve left me no choice but to respect it.

“Can you prepare strong liquor and scarves? Once ready, let’s go to the patients.”

Vandel and Murder exchanged smiles, extending hands. She hesitated, then shook Vandel’s with her right, Murder’s with her left.

◇◇◇◇

Two hours later.

Led by Vandel and Murder, we entered the isolation building.

We covered our mouths with scarves, as Lady Shitoen instructed not to touch anything. Infectious diseases spread through mucous membranes, like rubbing eyes. We should wash hands with liquor after leaving.

“Did your husband eat dried fish?” she asked.

In the room were her, me, Vandel, Murder, and Natalie, whose exile husband married last year, now isolated with symptoms.

“Is he still in stomach pain? Unable to eat?”

She and Natalie sat facing each other. Natalie, crying, took time to answer.

I was frustrated, but Lady Shitoen listened patiently—admirable.

“He only drinks my soup…”

“Do others with symptoms drink only soup?”

Natalie, cheeks wet, looked up, shaking her head. “I don’t know.”

“People make karris porridge for stomach issues, but I don’t know how…”

She wiped tears with her hand, sniffling.

“Karris porridge is traditional sick food,” Murder whispered. Natalie, newly married, might not know such customs.

“So, I made pork and onion soup, with thin garlic slices, for him.”

“Got it. Let’s meet him.”

Lady Shitoen stood, turning to us, reiterating.

“Don’t rub your eyes after touching anything. Keep scarves on, even if stuffy.”

Her scarf hid her mouth, but her eyes conveyed seriousness.

I steeled myself, but she softened her gaze.

“It might not be infectious.”

Muttering, she prompted Natalie.

“Take us to him.”

Natalie wiped tears with her apron, standing.

We left the room, walking down a corridor with similar doors. Natalie stopped at one, knocking.

“Rigo, I’m coming in.”

Inside, a pale young man leaned against the bed’s headboard.

“…Huh?”

Seeing us, he widened his eyes—barely, with swollen eyelids.

“Vandel-sama and Murder-sama brought these people,” Natalie said, rushing to him.

He seemed confused, mouth agape, staring.

“Sorry to bother you while unwell. May we talk?” Lady Shitoen smiled gently.

He nodded shakily.

“I’m Shitoen. You are?”

She tilted her head.

“Rigo,” he said hurriedly.

“She’s skilled in medicine, Rigo. You might be saved…” Natalie hugged him, crying.

He patted her back, looking at Lady Shitoen anxiously.

“Let me check your pulse.”

As Natalie moved, Lady Shitoen touched his right wrist, frowning.

“Rapid pulse… Can you show me your feet?”

He nodded hesitantly. Natalie pulled back the blanket, lifting his nightwear hem.

“That looks painful…” I grimaced.

His feet were severely swollen. Vandel and Murder mirrored my expression.

“Do your feet cramp often?” she asked.

Rigo and Natalie exchanged looks.

“He wakes at night saying his feet cramp,” Natalie answered.

“Putting a cushion under your ankles to elevate them helps swelling. Want to try lying down?”

Rigo shook his head.

“Lying down makes breathing hard. Sitting up is easier.”

That’s why he’s upright. I assumed heavy illness meant lying down.

“Orthopnea…” she muttered an unfamiliar term.

“Diarrhea, stomach pain, rapid pulse, swelling, orthopnea, cyanosis… It might be…”

She turned to us, but we three men stared blankly.

What?

“Sorry, is karris here?” she asked Natalie.

Nodding hesitantly, Natalie fetched it. “Show me,” Lady Shitoen said.

Natalie left, and Lady Shitoen asked Rigo, “Have you always eaten karris?”

“Yes… since exiling. Like how you eat bread.”

He answered haltingly.

“When money was tight, sometimes just karris. Before Natalie, I rarely ate meat.”

As Murder said.

“Miss,” Rigo looked up determinedly.

“Am I going to die? Like the others?”

Swallowing, he glanced at the door Natalie left through, speaking quickly.

“People here get worse… some die. Being here means that, right?”

Sweat beaded on his forehead, gripping the blanket tightly.

“I can’t leave Natalie… I’m not ready…”

He trembled, saying he didn’t want to die.

“Yeah, you can’t die.”

Before I knew it, I knelt by the bed, peering up at him.

“With a wife like that, you can’t just pass away peacefully.”

Same for me.

If something stopped my heart, my soul couldn’t rest.

I’d worry about Lady Shitoen.

After her annulment, she found relief here, but if her husband died…

No remarriage offers, and she’d blame herself.

It’s not her fault.

I’d want to comfort her, but without a body, I couldn’t.

“So, let’s fight to live.”

I patted his hand. His tense grip relaxed slightly.

“Don’t think about dying. Focus on living.”

As I said it, he burst into tears, startling me.

“Hey, your wife’s coming back. Stop crying!”

Smiling wryly, I stood, giving a light hug.

“Sorry,” he sniffled in my arms.

Vandel’s cough made me glance over.

“Don’t touch, remember?”

I looked at Lady Shitoen, expecting a scolding, but she softened her eyes.

Well, she touched him for his pulse, so…

She said nothing. Maybe the scarf helped. A hug without it might’ve gotten me scolded.

“Here it is,” Natalie returned, breaking the awkward air.

She opened a sack before Lady Shitoen. Rigo quickly wiped tears with the sheet.

Lady Shitoen reached in, scooping grains.

“As I thought…”

White grains, unfamiliar here. Karris.

“White rice…”

The words slipped from her.

“Huh? What?” I asked.

Not karris? Hakumai?

She didn’t answer clearly, looking up.

“It’s beriberi.”

“Beriberi?” Vandel’s brows furrowed.

We all looked confused.

She straightened, scanning us.

“A disease from vitamin B1 deficiency, causing fatigue, loss of appetite, numbness, swelling, sensory paralysis… Worsening, it leads to heart failure or brain damage.”

She rattled off, but our puzzled looks made her bite her lip.

“Is karris hulled and polished?”

Vandel glanced at Murder, who nodded vigorously, as did Rigo.

“That removes essential nutrients. The husk has vital vitamins.”

“So, eating karris heavily lacks nutrition?” I tilted my head.

“Exactly,” she pointed.

“Chronic B1 deficiency, worsened by fish-induced diarrhea, flushed out nutrients. Weakened, they can’t eat, but no nutrients come in. Beriberi progresses, leading to heart failure. Many die, and others worsen.”

We men were baffled.

Ignoring us, she turned to Rigo.

“But your wife’s soup gave you B1.”

“Soup…” Natalie murmured.

“Pork and onion?”

Lady Shitoen nodded firmly.

“Pork’s rich in B1, and onion with garlic boosts absorption. Her soup kept you holding on.”

“Will he recover?” Natalie asked.

Lady Shitoen smiled.

“Let’s work together.”

Natalie dropped the sack, hugging Rigo, sobbing. He held her, tears in his eyes.

“It’s not contagious?” Murder confirmed.

That’s key.

“Yes, it’s not,” she replied strongly.

Vandel exhaled, tension draining.

“Thank you. On behalf of my people.”

His voice trembled.

Yeah, worrying about an outbreak would do that.

“No, I just did what I could. More importantly…”

She looked at each of us.

“I respect you all. Despite fear, you trusted me and came. Prince.”

“Huh?” I startled.

Natalie and Rigo yelped, “Prince?!”

“Empathizing is one thing, but holding a patient’s hand, encouraging them—that’s rare.”

I beamed, thinking she was praising me, but she glared slightly.

“It’s reckless, though.”

I deflated. Sorry.

She chuckled at me.

“I can treat illness somewhat, but not humanity. Your kindness and tolerance impress me.”

Am I being praised? I looked at Vandel.

He scoffed.

“Flirt outside. Let’s go.”

I laughed, but Lady Shitoen whispered behind him, “You really haven’t changed.”

I turned, but she looked away, silent.

◇◇◇◇

I wanted to return to the capital immediately, but Vandel and Murder kept asking Lady Shitoen about patients, instructions, and cooking methods, delaying us.

She answered meticulously.

She detailed patient diets, tracked intake, even suggested measuring urine.

Wilderness camp? This is an earldom, I’m a prince, she’s my future wife!

But she never complained, choosing ingredients, bustling through the facility, giving orders.

I followed, kicking any man who tried touching her, carrying her on horseback when needed.

Basically, her attendant.

At night, free from busyness, we collapsed onto the bed.

Woken by knocks, we gulped bread with vegetables and cheese with tea or coffee, then back to the facility.

Five days later, patients showed improvement, and we were released.

Rigo, recovered, bowed deeply, saying, “Didn’t know you were a prince.”

“Stop it,” I nudged his shoulder.

“I’ll work hard for the kingdom.”

“Let’s both cherish our wives.”

We set off for the capital, but…

“No way! I won’t let you go without a gift!” Vandel insisted.

I considered slitting his throat to leave, but Lady Shitoen timidly spoke.

“There’s a shop I’m curious about.”

We must go!

Her interest? Mandatory!

So, Vandel, Lady Shitoen, and I were at a glass workshop.

A modest single-story shop, with glassware, odd art, and pricey accessories.

Not for commoners, judging by the staff’s attire.

“Did you give me something like this?” I asked Vandel, holding a glass.

Bubbles inside, with flowing blue. Like waves, but bubbles mean a flaw, right? It’s for sale, so maybe not.

“I did. In your engagement gifts. You didn’t even look, rude jerk.”

He crossed his arms, snorting.

Rude, huh?

He sent whale bones and weird rocks, using my engagement as an excuse to hunt for a doctor.

I sighed.

I stopped checking his gifts, but Lady Shitoen opened every box, memorizing contents.

She saw a lovely glass… something and wanted to buy it.

For the queen and crown princess, who’ve been kind.

She was eyeing a tea set.

Perfect for summer—cool-looking transparent cups and saucers.

“I’ll cover it,” Vandel whispered.

I pushed him away. His breath tickled!

“No need. You’re handling security.”

“That’s a given. I invited you,” he grimaced.

My paranoia about her safety meant his elite guards were on constant duty.

The shop was reserved, and he’d maintain this until we left. My men could rest—grateful.

“I’ll wrap these,” the clerk said.

Lady Shitoen nodded, signaling Eton, who approached with a bag.

“No, I’ll pay for everything—”

“That wouldn’t make it my gift,” she giggled.

Vandel pointed at me.

“Let him buy you jewelry.”

Great idea!

“No, I…” she flustered.

I nodded vigorously.

“Please, let me gift you!”

“Go on, indulge him,” Vandel said.

Nice assist, man. What’s with you?

Eton, done paying, smiled, saying, “Let him spoil you,” and Lady Shitoen, hesitant, said, “Okay…” and followed the clerk to the jewelry section.

I trailed, watching her choose.

New to women’s shopping, it was refreshing.

She chatted with the clerk, deliberating.

I enjoyed watching, but Vandel got bored, glancing out windows, stifling yawns.

“Prince Saryu.”

She called me over.

“They come in different colors.”

She held a yellow earring in her right hand, blue in her left.

Teardrop-shaped glass with bubbles.

Yellow had one large bubble, blue had many small ones.

The clerk smiled beside her.

“Both are popular with young women.”

“Which do you think?” she tilted her head.

“Me?!”

“Yes, what do you think?”

I groaned.

Groaned hard.

Arms crossed, I compared the earrings, staring at her.

It took forever.

I felt it, so others must’ve too. Like I froze time.

Vandel’s annoyance was heavy, but he suggested jewelry, so this is his fault…

Wait!

He set me up for this hell?!

“…What’s the dilemma?” the clerk asked, smiling wryly after fifteen minutes of my indecision.

“With your outfit, yellow!” I declared, holding the earring near her ear.

It suits her. Cute.

“But you often wear blue, right? So blue’s better… And it’s summer, and you picked blue dishes, so maybe you like blue…”

I couldn’t help but feel I’d messed up, letting out a sigh not even ten minutes into the evening party.

The location was Earl Theodor’s mansion.

It had already been twenty days since Vandel came with engagement gifts and said, “Come to my territory.”

As I’d told him, I could’ve handled the handover work in five days, but with Lady Shitoen accompanying me, arranging travel routes, contacting various parties, getting Father’s permission, and explaining to the crown prince—it all ate up time quickly.

After all, neither I nor Lady Shitoen fully understood why we were going to Vandel’s.

The crown prince asked, “What’s this trip for? What are you going to do?” but I had no answer. Vandel only said, “Just come.”

However, it seems Vandel and his father, Earl Scene, had properly explained things to Father.

Apparently, it’s a confidential matter, and even the reluctant crown prince was convinced after Father’s direct explanation.

So, I sent an apology letter for the delayed departure, and Vandel replied, “Can’t be helped. Even as the third son, a prince leaving the capital takes time.” That reassured me a bit. He understood he was asking a lot.

Now.

If it were just me traveling, it’d be simple, but with Lady Shitoen, it got complicated.

I planned to stay at royal villas used seasonally, but local lords insisted, “Please stay at my mansion!” So, we ended up lodging at the lords’ residences along the route.

They probably wanted to see Lady Shitoen.

What kind of wife did the king’s third son marry?

For lords far from the capital, it’s prime gossip.

“It seems staying at these residences doubles as a debut. Are you okay with that?”

I checked with Lady Shitoen, and she readily agreed, “Of course.”

I thought it’d just be dining with the lord’s family.

So, in the carriage, I briefed Lady Shitoen on the lords’ names, family structures, and estate features, which she memorized to handle interactions.

But I never expected such a grand welcome at the first mansion.

“Well, when we announced the prince’s stay, everyone wanted to meet you.”

Earl Theodor laughs, his large belly shaking. I force a polite smile, tilting my glass.

The strong liquor, a local specialty, has a pleasant barrel aroma. My second brother would love this.

I take another sip and scan the venue.

The mansion’s first-floor hall is divided by partitions and decorative flowers, separating men and women.

Around me are Earl Theodor, his father, sons-in-law, and distant relatives, just finishing greetings. The older nobles have shuffled to chairs, puffing on pipes.

Along the walls, young noble boys, barely teens, fidget while stealing glances at me. When our eyes meet, they offer awkward bows, which is charming. They seem eager to talk but are held back by their parents or attendants, which is also amusing.

Is Lady Shitoen okay? I pretend to survey the room, searching for her.

She seems to be conversing with the hostess, Countess Theodor, at the center.

Her language skills are impressive, so I’m not worried there, but remembering names and ranks might be tricky. I hope she’s managing… I feel oddly parental.

With my knights stationed inside and outside for security, any issues would be reported. I’ll subtly send Raul to check on her later.

“Well, Prince.”

I turn to the conversation circle, smiling politely.

A man in his forties, the earl’s cousin or brother, grins broadly.

“When I heard you stole Lady Shitoen at the Luminous Kingdom’s engagement ceremony, I thought, ‘That’s the Winter Bear of Tidros!’”

I nearly spat out my drink. Swallowing reflexively, I cough violently.

“Are you okay?!”

“Prince?!”

Someone pats my back, but I wave them off, handing my glass to a servant and wiping my mouth with a handkerchief, barely stopping myself from shouting, “What?!”

“S-stole her…? What…?! That’s quite different from the truth…”

The Winter Bear of Tidros part is accurate, though.

“Oh, is that so?”

Everyone looks surprised, which shocks me. What kind of rumors are circulating?

“Well… I attended as the queen’s escort. I witnessed Lady Shitoen being treated rudely, so as a knight, I demanded an apology on her behalf. That’s all.”

Explaining briefly, everyone nods, saying, “I see.”

“So that led to the queen taking a liking to Lady Shitoen, and here we are.”

“Rumors are such unreliable things.”

“Hearing the truth directly makes it completely different.”

They exchange glances and laugh. Well, rumors like this are harmless.

“Speaking of rumors, Lady Shitoen is nothing like the gossip.”

Earl Theodor exhales through his nose, his belly jiggling.

“Rumors?”

I only learned of Lady Shitoen at the engagement ceremony. Were there rumors before? I’m out of touch with high society.

“When she was engaged to Crown Prince Arios, they said she flaunted her dragon tattoo and her Tania heritage.”

“They said she avoided society because she looked down on the Luminous royal family.”

Earl Theodor and his cousin nod while talking. Nearby, high-ranking local nobles hesitantly add.

“They said she struggled with language, unable to speak foreign tongues, so she couldn’t appear in society.”

“That she was extravagant and bullied servants. Truly awful things…”

“Who said such things!”

My voice came out louder than intended. The nobles flinch, and Raul quietly says, “Commander,” from behind, prompting me to recover.

“Sorry, I got carried away…”

But the nobles respond apologetically.

“No, we’re sorry.”

“Of course, meeting Lady Shitoen today and seeing her character, we know those were malicious rumors.”

Earl Theodor sighs heavily, as if speaking for everyone.

“Likely spread by Crown Prince Arios, who didn’t want her. In truth, Lady Shitoen is fluent in foreign languages and shows no arrogance about her origins.”

Without prompting, we all glance at Lady Shitoen in the venue.

She’s listening attentively to a young lady’s story and responds, eliciting soft laughter that even nearby servants smile at.

She’s not speaking her native tongue but likely Tidrosian. When we first met, she spoke fluent Caravan Common.

She’s beautiful, approachable, and talented.

Crown Prince Arios probably didn’t like her and avoided taking her to society, letting strange rumors grow.

A thought strikes me.

How long has it been since she spoke her native language?

She left her country two years ago to blend into the Luminous court. Then she came to me.

Two years, mostly living abroad, speaking foreign languages.

Thinking of her journey, I feel a complex emotion.

The white veil she wore at the engagement ceremony looked like a cocoon to me.

If so, is she wearing that white cocoon veil, suppressing her true self to become someone else?

“The Luminous court is quite lively now,” someone mutters.

Shifting my gaze from Lady Shitoen, a few nod in agreement.

“The new crown princess is ignorant of world affairs. Fine for domestic society but unfit for diplomacy.”

“Oh, the Tania envoy incident?”

“Envoy?”

Several grimace and nod.

“With the broken engagement, King Tania was furious and halted mineral exports to Luminous. You know that, Prince?”

“Yeah, we’ve had to buy Tania’s resources through foreign channels.”

“The new crown princess, Meil, I think? She barged into the Tania envoy’s office, demanding, ‘Sell me gems.’”

I’m dumbfounded.

“The reason? She wanted more gems for her wedding.”

What a bad joke. Laughter ripples through the group.

“Lady Shitoen took the villain’s role, boosting the new princess’s popularity…”

“But now the truth’s out…”

The nobles shrug and sip their drinks.

“The neighboring crown prince lacks discernment,” Raul whispers to me. I snort.

He hurt Lady Shitoen so much. Let him face some consequences.

“Oh?”

Raul makes another low sound, unnoticed by the nobles.

I glance at him, and he directs his eyes toward Lady Shitoen.

Following his gaze, I see her holding a slim glass, tilting her head with a troubled expression.

Huh? Was she holding a glass? Did a waiter give it to her while I wasn’t looking?

Her maid, Eton, hurries from the wall.

Lady Shitoen subtly steps out of the conversation circle, says something to Eton, who frowns deeply.

“Raul, go.”

Before I finish, Raul moves.

The security knights notice the disturbance but wait for my signal. I shake my head slightly, and they stay put.

Raul approaches Lady Shitoen and Eton, speaking briefly.

Eton gestures angrily, while Lady Shitoen calms her.

Raul nods, takes the glass from Lady Shitoen, who bows apologetically with relief. Raul quickly stops her.

Prompted by Eton, Lady Shitoen rejoins the conversation circle.

The noblewomen look curious but smoothly include her again.

“What happened?”

I step away from the nobles and ask Raul as he returns.

“This.”

He holds out the glass Lady Shitoen had.

It looks like an orange juice soda cocktail. Maybe there was debris in it?

“Could you smell it?”

He shoves it near my nose, startling me.

“Is it spoiled?”

“No, not that.”

Taking it from Raul, I cautiously sniff.

The citrusy aroma tickles my nose. Orange juice, as expected.

“Hm?”

Despite the bad manners, I bring the glass closer.

“Is there peach in this?”

My tone sharpens.

A faint but distinct sweet peach scent.

“Right?”

Raul’s voice carries anger.

We’d informed each lord’s estate: Lady Shitoen can’t eat peaches or apples. Never use them in meals or desserts.

Since childhood, they cause her throat and face to swell, with fevers. It’s worsened, and now even juice contact makes her ill.

We ensured no peaches or apples were used today.

So why is there peach in this?

“How did this glass get to Lady Shitoen?”

“She said a butler approached, saying, ‘Here you are, Princess,’ so she assumed it was orange juice, as she’d requested.”

It looks like it. Clear orange liquid with soda bubbles.

“But when she brought it to her nose, she noticed the peach scent and hesitated.”

“Was it mistaken for someone else?”

An orange-peach soda cocktail seems plausible.

“But he said ‘Princess.’ No other woman here has that title.”

Raul’s voice lowers.

He’s on high alert, like a trained guard dog.

“Are you saying it was intentional?”

I ask, and he nods, “Yes,” making me give a wry smile.

“Let’s not escalate yet. We’ll observe.”

Raul purses his lips, dissatisfied. I shrug.

“Find the butler who gave her the glass. Hear him out. We’ll start there. I don’t want to cause a scene at her debut or create misunderstandings.”

I signal knights at the exits with finger gestures.

“Is something wrong?” Earl Theodor asks.

I flash a polite smile. “No, sorry. Just a word with my subordinate.”

I rejoin the conversation.

◇◇◇◇

Three hours later.

In the bedroom, Lady Shitoen and I stand facing each other.

“It’s awkward, but… please think of me as air or something.”

I bow slightly, and she widens her eyes in surprise.

“No, I’m the one intruding…”

She bows back, so I bow again.

Father and the crown prince strictly ordered, “No touching until the wedding,” so we have separate bedrooms and living spaces at my mansion.

But during this trip, what to do?

“We keep separate bedrooms until the wedding.”

I could explain that and request separate rooms, but that might spark odd rumors.

“They couldn’t make it work with this lady either.”

Should we emphasize modesty or show affection? I’m torn, and now another issue has surfaced.

Lady Shitoen might be targeted.

An hour ago, after heated debate among the knights:

“Commander, separate bedrooms are risky. Too dangerous.”

Everyone agreed, so I followed their conclusion.

Even Raul, who’s always watching to ensure I don’t touch Lady Shitoen at the mansion, agreed.

If something happens, the Winter Bear of Tidros by her side is the safest bet.

Though, the one most likely to “attack” her is me, which feels risky too…

I’ll just have to suppress my instincts with iron will.

“I’ll sleep over there.”

Grabbing a pillow, I point to a sofa.

As expected of an earl’s house, the guest room is spacious. Huge sofa, fireplace, counter bar, canopied bed… even a balcony.

“Letting a prince sleep on a sofa? I’ll take it!”

Lady Shitoen raises her hand sharply, making me laugh.

“No, I can’t let a girl sleep there. That’d make me a poor prince.”

“G-girl… I’m not that young anymore, you know?”

She blushes, embarrassed.

Isn’t early twenties still a girl?

“Well, then let’s sleep on the bed together.”

Her serious gaze makes me reel back.

“Think of me as air. I’ll stay on the edge, quiet.”

No, the issue is whether I can stay still.

“I’ll take the sofa…”

“Then I’ll sleep on the sofa with you.”

“What?”

“I can’t let the prince sleep alone on a sofa. So, I’ll join you.”

“I don’t understand…”

“If you don’t understand, choose: sofa together or bed together.”

Her intensity overwhelms me.

“…Fine, the bed.”

Honestly, I wanted the sofa.

It’s closer, right? I could say, “It’s cramped, no choice.” An excuse.

“Maybe move closer… Oh, sorry, my hand slipped… Cold? Then come closer…”

Then hug her tight, and it’d be “unavoidable,” right?

But.

Would my rationality hold? Could I keep my promise not to touch her?

No way!

I know myself best.

In that situation, I’d definitely make a move.

I’d definitely do it.

And then feel crushed afterward. Better to endure on the bed’s edge.

“I’ll stay over here, quiet.”

Lady Shitoen smiles, relieved, and climbs onto the bed.

Crawling to the far side, her nightwear hem lifts, revealing pale calves. I look away.

Dangerous. I want to stare.

Her movements are so small and animal-like, cute.

Come on… move more boldly! My rationality’s on thin ice!

“Is this okay?”

She sits at the very edge, tilting her head toward me.

…Perfect distance to avoid a crisis. Well done.

“Don’t fall off the edge.”

I give a wry smile, steeling myself to sit near the bed’s front. The springs creak.

Her movements didn’t make a sound. She’s so light. But thinking of her moving on the bed sparks unwanted fantasies.

God, I’m such a hopeless guy… I slump, dejected.

“What’s wrong?”

Her voice makes me look up. She’s hugging a pillow, tilting her head. Like a doll.

“I’m fine, fine, fine. Oh, about the drink earlier.”

Forcing a topic change, I sit cross-legged on the bed, facing her.

The peach cocktail incident.

“It seems it was meant for another lady but got delivered by mistake. They apologized profusely.”

“I see… Please don’t make a big deal of it.”

“Of course.”

That’s a complete lie.

We haven’t found the butler.

Eton saw the butler give Lady Shitoen the glass, and Raul and knights searched based on her description, but he’s nowhere.

The head butler confirmed no one matches that description.

That’s when the knights and I went on high alert.

Someone’s targeting Lady Shitoen.

We don’t know why.

She’s new to this country, hasn’t done anything to make enemies, and hasn’t even had a formal debut.

“Maximize caution.”

I ordered the knights, and I’ll stay closest to protect her.

“Not tired?”

Lady Shitoen narrows her eyes. My sudden silence worried her.

“I’m fine. You, though…”

I straighten, facing her fully.

She looks at me, puzzled.

“Oh, I was thinking, when it’s just us, want to speak in Tania-go?”

Speaking in Tania-go, her eyes widen.

“I know it’s odd to suggest when my Tania-go is terrible. I only know casual stuff, no honorifics.”

I learned it for interrogating bandits, so my foreign language skills are rough.

“That’s fine, but… why suggest it?”

She responds in perfect Tidrosian.

“Well, you’re always speaking foreign languages. Don’t you miss your native tongue sometimes?”

In Luminous, she was under pressure, facing harsh treatment, forced to speak foreign languages.

It’s the same here in Tidros.

I can tell she’s living on edge, afraid of making mistakes.

“You’ll have to speak Tidrosian in public, but when it’s just us, let’s use Tania-go.”

I grin, admitting my poor skills.

But Lady Shitoen stiffens, clutching the pillow tightly, leaving me confused.

“Shitoen?”

I call her name softly.

Did I offend her?

Was my idea not comforting?

Or does she think I’m mocking her? A chill runs through me.

“…Why are you so kind to me?”

Her peach-colored lips form Tania-go words.

Relieved she’s not angry, I relax.

“Kind? Me?”

I shrug playfully, but she remains tense.

“You protected me at the engagement ceremony… and you’ve been so good to me here.”

“Well…”

I hunch slightly to meet her gaze.

“We’re going to be husband and wife, right? It’s natural for a husband to treat his wife well.”

She murmurs, “Husband and wife.”

I feel a strange sensation.

Her clear eyes are fixed on me.

But it’s like she’s looking through me, at something else.

What is it? I stare, but she stays silent, saying nothing more.

“…Prince.”

After a long pause, she speaks, her eyes tense, shoulders stiff.

“Could you… look at my dragon tattoo?”

“The dragon tattoo…? I mean…”

I falter.

Didn’t she say it’s on her chest?

“The dragon tattoo was my pride. At least, back home.”

Her small, cute face, usually gentle with crescent lips, warm like fresh pastries.

But now, she’s tense, radiating sharpness.

“The dragon is a god in Tania, the embodiment of the nation. As royalty with its mark, I was raised to be noble, representing the country.”

Her amethyst eyes shine. I’ve always thought her very being is like a gem.

“I’ve heard that.”

I nod honestly, but she exhales painfully, saying, “Thank you.”

“I’m truly grateful to those in this country who understand and empathize with my nation’s history and culture.”

“It’s because you love Tidros just as much.”

She hasn’t spoken Tania-go or worn her homeland’s clothes until I suggested it.

“But I’ve learned not every country repays courtesy with courtesy… Sorry, that was rude.”

Her words slip out as she looks down.

Raising her face, her silken silver hair sways, leaving a lingering afterimage.

“It’s all my fault.”

“Don’t blame yourself for everything.”

My words come out sharp, but she looks oddly happy.

“You really are kind, Prince. You haven’t changed.”

Smiling, she falls silent again.

There it is again.

She says I “haven’t changed.”

When did we meet? I don’t remember.

I stare intently, but she bites her lip, unmoving.

She’s hesitating.

But she’s trying to say something, to convey something.

I’ll wait.

Silence isn’t bad. Time can gently embrace someone.

“Disgust… it’s something you can’t help.”

She begins quietly.

But it’s not about meeting before.

“I’m… afraid of insects. Their many legs, their unreadable eyes.”

Imagining them, she shudders.

“Prince, is there anything you’re afraid of?”

“Mother and the crown prince,” I answer instantly, earning a laugh.

“Right… Hmm.”

Giggling, she blinks a few times.

“Say there’s someone like me, afraid of insects, and someone with an insect tattoo appears.”

She looks at me, smiling sadly.

“Could you love someone with a tattoo of something you hate?”

I realize she’s talking about Crown Prince Arios.

I don’t know what he hates. Dragons? Scales? The act of tattooing?

So, Arios found Lady Shitoen physically repulsive.

Her dragon tattoo triggered his disgust.

“If I had something that caused physical repulsion… you probably couldn’t love me.”

Her calm words make me more angry than sad.

I want to yell at her to stop talking about him with those tearful amethyst eyes and peach lips.

Forget him!

I’m right here!

“So, Prince, please look at my dragon tattoo.”

“What good will that do?”

My voice comes out belligerent.

“You want me to hate it? Call it disgusting? Like that guy?”

Petty words spill out.

I’m five years older, yet I’m so irritated.

Why compare me to him?

“Prince Saryu is different from Crown Prince Arios.”

She declares firmly.

Clutching the pillow, she leans forward.

“I tried to love Arios. To respect him as my fiancé. But I couldn’t. How can you forgive someone who loathes, despises, and mocks you? I’m not a saint.”

A crystal tear falls from her purple eyes, snapping me back.

I went too far.

I knew her efforts, her pain, her struggles.

“Shitoen…”

I call her name, but no more words come.

Sorry, I didn’t mean it.

Before I can speak, she continues.

“Being hated by someone I don’t care about doesn’t hurt. His rejection didn’t bother me. But, P…”

She starts to say something, swallowing the rest.

Tears stream as she forces out words.

“I don’t want you to hate me, Prince Saryu. I really like you. I love how you cherish me. I even hope you’ll love me.”

Her words press against my chest.

A meaningless “Huh?” escapes with my breath.

“But if you feel physical disgust, I’ll have to give up on you. No matter what, you wouldn’t love me.”

Choking back sobs, she seems fragile, like she might vanish.

“I won’t hate you.”

Desperate to keep her, I reach out.

“Please look at my dragon tattoo. Now, here.”

Dodging my hand, she shakes her head, tears scattering.

“If you find it disgusting, I’ll bury these feelings. I can still do that now. I can live as a doll. And for our countries, I’ll continue the marriage.”

Tears fall from her lashes, but her expression is resolute.

She’s testing me.

“Then show me.”

I cut off her words.

Her purple eyes fix on me, then she nods silently.

Dropping the pillow, she kneels on the bed.

She unties the strings at her nightwear’s collar, unfastening three buttons, and slowly opens it.

I try to stay calm, but my heart pounds with nerves.

The dragon tattoo, which Arios hated and some call the “lizard mark.”

How extensive is it? Is it shocking?

It’s on her chest, right? The center, she said.

Her chest…

Chest…

Chest, huh.

Suppressing the sweat beading on my forehead, I brace myself.

“…This?”

Dumbfounded, I slip into Tidrosian.

As she said, the dragon tattoo is on her chest.

Slightly to the right.

Near the curve of her chest, rather.

Two cherry petal shapes, like twin stars, the size of a pinky nail.

Colored aquamarine blue.

“This is the dragon tattoo?”

I ask, stunned.

She nods, on the verge of tears, but never looks away, watching my reaction.

“Did Crown Prince Arios see this?”

“No. I offered, but he refused.”

Her voice’s hardness lets me imagine her sadness, and I panic, regretting my words.

I regretted saying anything unnecessary, while inwardly cursing that guy as an idiot.

Imagining the dragon tattoo without even seeing it, getting scared on his own.

And hurting such a lovely girl because of it.

“…Uh, well…”

I let out a meaningless sound, then stared intently at the dragon tattoo.

It was far different from what I’d imagined.

I thought it’d be, like, dragon scales covering her chest in a dense, overwhelming pattern.

Probably, Crown Prince Arios imagined the same and felt repulsed.

Because of that, she was humiliated in public, hurt, and spent two years in a foreign land enduring hardship.

I gently reached out and touched the tattoo.

As expected, it was warm.

Her smooth skin had no roughness or eeriness.

Pressing lightly with my finger, it felt soft. I rubbed with my thumb, but it didn’t distort.

It wasn’t stuck on but naturally part of her skin.

Feeling oddly curious, the moment I covered the tattoo with my whole palm—

“Ah, um…!”

A startled voice rose nearby, and I blinked.

“Ah, um…!”

In front of me was Lady Shitoen, her face red as a boiled octopus, lips trembling as she stifled her words.

“…Huh?”

As for me…

My right hand was firmly grasping her chest, staring blatantly.

“S-S-S-S-S-S-S-Sorry!”

I jumped back, tumbled off the bed, and hit my head hard, curling up in pain.

But the sensation in my hand wouldn’t fade.

Soft, smooth, fluffy.

Suddenly, things got… complicated.

“Are you okay?!”

Her voice came with the rustling sound of her crawling across the bed, making me panic.

“Don’t come, don’t come! I’m in a bit of a situation!”

“Did you get hurt?!”

No, it’s more like my lower half—! I couldn’t say that, so I just repeated “I’m fine” while curled up, rubbing my throbbing head.

“Really, I’m so sorry…”

I apologized, hiding under the bed.

She only asked me to look, so why did I touch it?

“I’m the one who shouted suddenly…”

Her voice grew small with embarrassment, making me feel even more guilty.

“Um… so…”

“Hm?”

A tense voice came from above the bed. Having calmed down, I peeked up cautiously.

Lady Shitoen, having fixed her collar, sat awkwardly with her knees folded.

“The tattoo… it wasn’t gross, was it?”

Her serious question made my face heat up again.

Desperately shaking off the lingering sensation in my hand, I stammered, lips trembling.

“No problem at all… I mean, the opposite of gross—what’s that called?”

Mumbling incoherent Tania-go, I still couldn’t climb back onto the bed.

“…If you got close now, I’m pretty sure I’d pounce.”

Blushing head to toe, I said it, and the heat seemed to transfer to her.

Lady Shitoen turned beet red, even her toes steaming, grabbed the pillow, and scooted to the opposite side of the bed.

“…Did you, um, start to hate me?”

I asked dejectedly, and she shook her head vigorously.

Her silver hair swayed softly, distractingly beautiful.

“Um… can I… like you even more?”

Blushing, she asked, and I nodded enthusiastically.

I wanted to hug her and kiss her, but with my pathetic state, I couldn’t even manage that, so I stayed under the bed, enduring.

“Good.”

She smiled like a blooming hibiscus.

Damn it!

She’s so cute, and we’re mutually in love, so why can’t I touch her?!

What?! What’s this?! Who’s testing me?!

Crawling on the floor, I fought the urge to roll around. From the bed, she kept asking, “Prince? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’ll sleep on the bed’s edge soon. Sleep first, Shitoen.”

I couldn’t face her.

Lying face-down, I recited old school poems to calm myself.

Become nothing, me.

Rustle, rustle—she moved on the bed, maybe settling in.

Then something touched the back of my head.

“Huh?”

I looked up, meeting her purple eyes.

She was lying face-down, reaching out to pat my head.

“Pain, pain, go away.”

She smiled brightly.

Is she a goddess or a devil?

Saying “Thank you,” I decided to endure face-down a bit longer.

◇◇◇◇

Three days into the journey.

At a roadside café, I let out a huge yawn.

“Well, what can I say…” Raul sighed behind me.

Turning, I saw him and a few knights looking at me with pity.

“Truly unfortunate, Commander.”

“Pitiful, Commander.”

“Thanks,” I said, stifling another yawn.

Raul handed me a mug of coffee.

I sipped it, unprincely.

Going to Vandel’s shouldn’t have been such an ordeal.

That first day.

It was bad.

Seeing—touching—her tattoo.

Honestly, since grabbing her right chest, I’ve been haunted by fantasies, obsessed with her chest, wanting to touch more.

Staring so much I feel I could see through her.

And yet, we sleep in the same bed every night.

Of course, I can’t touch her.

She sleeps peacefully, even holding my hand last night, craving human warmth.

Meanwhile, I lie awake, unable to sleep.

Sleep deprivation at its peak.

The lords at our stays smirk, saying, “So young,” making me want to slice them with my foggy brain.

Can’t I, with prince privileges? But the knights and Raul are here, and I can’t let them down.

Raul’s planning to marry… eventually.

It’s a race: reach Vandel’s or die of sleep deprivation.

“While Lady Shitoen rests here, want to sleep? We can secure the second floor,” Raul offered.

The knights were tending horses, checking gear, and reviewing routes. I couldn’t just nap.

Coffee was enough.

“No, I’m good. Where’s Lady Shitoen?”

Shaking my head, Raul gave a wry smile.

“Over there, with Eton.”

He gestured.

The café was an open courtyard.

For security, we reserved the outdoor terrace, where Lady Shitoen and Eton sat on wicker chairs, enjoying tea.

Her silver hair gleamed in the dappled sunlight.

She nodded and smiled at Eton’s chatter, but her fatigue was clear.

For years, Arios kept her confined, rarely leaving the estate or meeting people.

Now, it’s the opposite.

Always poised, traveling by carriage all day, meeting new people every night, making small talk.

It must be exhausting, yet she shows no sign.

At night, alone, she says in Tania-go, “Speaking my language is relaxing,” chats idly, and falls asleep.

She’s under a lot of pressure.

“Join her, Commander?” a knight suggested, but I shook my head.

During breaks, she should limit company, enjoy sweets and tea. She doesn’t hate me, but I’m still a stranger. She needs space.

Then, a door clicked open.

A waiter with a silver tray approached her.

A dazzling fruit tart.

“Peaches or apples?” I asked Raul.

“We told them.”

Still uneasy, I squinted at the tart.

Grapes, strawberries, some yellowish-green fruit—melon or muscat, not peaches or apples. The fruit glistened, maybe glazed, beside a serving knife.

The waiter bowed, presenting the tart. He’d cut it now.

Eton said, “Looks delicious.”

Lady Shitoen nodded smilingly, and the waiter reached for his waist.

—Something’s off.

The tray had a serving knife.

Yet he reached for his waist.

“Get away!”

I shouted, hurling my mug.

I didn’t expect it to hit, just to intimidate.

Running, I felt hot sparks burst from my brain.

My heart pounded, heat surging to my limbs.

The mug arced ahead, spilling its last drops, flying toward the waiter.

They noticed the disturbance.

As Lady Shitoen tried to stand, the waiter pinned her, toppling her chair.

Seeing him straddle her, my rationality snapped. My vision flashed.

“What the hell!”

Before I knew it, I’d kicked his jaw hard.

But my toes didn’t feel the impact. It wasn’t a clean hit.

As expected, he leapt off her, kneeling, steadying himself. He held a dagger reverse-grip, glaring.

“Protect Lady Shitoen!”

I roared for the knights.

Several rushed to her, visible in my periphery.

“I’m in a really bad mood.”

Gripping my sword’s hilt, I drew it.

Heat radiated from my body.

My spirit surged, and despite my foul mood, I wanted to laugh, biting my teeth to suppress it, licking my lips.

The waiter stood out vividly, colors intensified.

Like spotting prey in a snowy mountain.

“Commander.”

Knights behind me readied their swords.

Clearly outnumbered.

I thought he’d flee, but he stayed low, closing the distance, lunging upward.

I stepped back, dodging, his dagger grazing my nose.

He aimed for my throat.

I parried his dagger with my blade, redirecting it. Extending my elbow to strike his head, Raul shouted, “Left!”

Glancing, I saw another dagger in his left hand, aimed at my waist. I stepped back, the tip missing my clothes.

His short daggers made him fast and close. Alternating attacks were annoying.

But there was a pattern.

Right, left—I shifted left, dropped my sword, grabbed his extended left arm, spun, threw him over my back, and swept his legs. Slamming him down, he screamed, sprawling.

I twisted his arm against its range.

“Rope! Get rope!”

A knight rushed over, binding the writhing man’s torso.

“You can let go. We’ve got him,” Raul said, yanking the arm harshly. Looked painful.

I started to say ease up, but he pointed behind me.

“Commander, over there.”

Turning, I felt a thud.

It took seconds to realize it was Lady Shitoen.

Her silver hair swayed as she buried her face in my stomach, arms around my back, clinging.

“That was scary, right? Are you okay?”

Recalling her being pinned, I nearly told Raul to dislocate the guy’s joints, but she looked up.

“Prince! Are you okay?!”

“What?”

“Are you hurt?! Anywhere in pain?!”

She’d been clinging but now hopped back, patting my arms and legs, checking for injuries.

“I’m the Winter Bear of Tidros. This is nothing.”

Her concern felt novel.

I crouched to her eye level.

Smiling reassuringly, she finally relaxed.

She stared, then reached out.

As I leaned forward, she wrapped her arms around my neck, hugging tightly.

How does she see me?

That first night, saying, “Pain, go away,” and now this hug, like comforting a child.

“Stay with Lady Shitoen, Commander. Shall we secure the café’s second floor?” Raul asked.

I hugged her back, standing, lifting her effortlessly. Supporting her waist, I turned, ignoring the knights’ whistles.

“No, let’s move. We should get to Vandel’s quickly, even if it’s tough.”

The peach incident, now this assassin—what’s going on?

“Some stay, investigate him. The rest, prepare to leave. Eton!”

I called her maid, but she seemed paralyzed. Why does she always collapse at critical moments? Knights struggled to help her up.

“Forget it. I’ll carry Lady Shitoen to the carriage. Someone get Eton.”

Sighing, Lady Shitoen clung to my neck again.

“You okay?”

I asked softly, and she nodded shakily.

“I’m so glad you’re safe.”

Her words tickled me.

Clinging like this, she seemed ready to protect me from any enemy.

“I’m fine. Always.”

I adjusted my hold, lifting her to eye level. Her purple eyes glistened with tears.

“Really? You’re okay? You won’t die?”

Tears fell, and she sobbed like a child, surprising me.

“Well, well, Princess…”

“She must’ve been terrified.”

“Oh my.”

The knights were rattled. No women around usually.

“Lady Shitoen.”

I pressed my forehead to hers.

At nose-touching distance, I grinned.

“I won’t die. And neither will you.”

Her wet amethyst eyes blinked.

“The safest place in this kingdom is in my arms. You’re there now. Nothing to fear.”

The knights laughed, chiming in.

“Exactly. Safest place there is.”

“Rest easy, Princess. No one will harm you.”

No one.

No one can hurt her anymore.

I’ll always be by her side.

◇◇◇◇

Three days later.

Sitting on a sofa with Lady Shitoen, a knock came, and Vandel entered with a man in his forties.

I stood, followed by Lady Shitoen.

“Man, you look healthy.”

I had plenty to say—about the tough journey, what his business was, our hurry to return, or more bandit attacks.

But seeing Vandel, that’s what came out.

Maybe because the man beside him was tanned dark, making Vandel’s healthy complexion stand out.

Not just that—his hair shone, and though his build was the same, his aura was brighter.

He used to exude a decadent vibe fit for the “Vampire Earl,” but now he was a crisp, likable young man. Soon he’d be the “Healthy Earl.”

“Yeah, I feel light.”

Vandel approached Lady Shitoen.

Kneeling, he kissed the back of her hand courteously, smiling softly.

“All thanks to you. Like I got a new body.”

“It’s your effort, Vandel-sama. Did you overcome your picky eating?”

She smiled. He stood, shrugging, like a kid caught.

“Hired a good chef. Cooking’s improved.”

“Like a child,” I scoffed.

He glared.

“Not a crude palate like you. I’m sensitive to flavors.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I replied dismissively, and he snorted.

I glared back, arms crossed.

“Sorry, but get to the point. Things feel off. I want to return to the capital.”

I was blunt, and Lady Shitoen chided, “Prince.”

But I couldn’t yield, even for her.

The peach cocktail might’ve been a mistake. The vanishing butler could’ve been Eton’s error.

But the café attack wasn’t a coincidence.

The waiter took his own life, saying nothing.

I wanted to cancel all banquets and dinners, but Lady Shitoen refused.

It’d strain relations, and she didn’t want a fuss.

True, saying, “Lend us your lodging, but we’ll meet no one,” would seem arrogant and look bad.

So, the knights checked all guests at subsequent events, banning weapons.

Skeptical nobles were placated when I said, “Can’t let anything happen to my cute wife,” laughing it off as a doting husband’s overreach.

It’s a charming rumor.

Partly for protection, but my constant presence by Lady Shitoen made nobles smile, saying, “His Majesty cherishes his queen too.”

Being like Father, they accepted it.

We managed, reaching Vandel’s earldom.

“I heard from Raul. Things are weird,” Vandel frowned.

If Raul told him directly, the attack on Lady Shitoen hasn’t spread as rumor. Relieving.

“Sorry. I meant to let you rest before business, but if something happens, I can’t handle it. No preamble.”

He introduced the silent man beside him.

“Lord Murder.”

“Pleased to meet you, Your Highness, Lady.”

Lady Shitoen isn’t officially a lady yet, but Murder bowed respectfully to her too.

“Let’s sit,” Vandel urged.

We sat—me and Lady Shitoen, Vandel and Murder.

As a butler served tea and left, Vandel spoke.

“As you know, my territory borders the Mira Empire. So, we have people of certain statuses you don’t see in the capital.”

Leaning back, he continued.

Lady Shitoen tilted her head curiously, but I had a hunch.

“Exiles?”

Some flee to Tidros for reasons. Fine if they follow protocol.

“I’m an exile from Mira. With Vandel-sama’s support and His Majesty’s permission, I’m a baron here,” Murder said.

His features were foreign, muscular—not a noble in name only.

A knight from another land? Like spotting a rare beast. He glanced at me, likely thinking, “Winter Bear of Tidros.” Fair trade.

“Lord Murder manages the exile district,” Vandel said, sipping tea, lowering his voice.

“There’s been a mysterious illness there.”

Lady Shitoen froze, holding her cup.

“What illness?” I asked.

Vandel sighed, exasperated.

“If we knew, we wouldn’t call it mysterious.”

“Where are the patients?”

I set my cup down, but Lady Shitoen stayed still, cup in both hands, steam rising.

Is she okay? I worried.

Since the attack, she’s been emotionally unstable, clinging to me.

At first, I thought she was scared, but no—she’s protecting me.

She thinks I’m in danger.

Initially, she rode in the carriage with Eton while I rode with the knights, but she’d watch me anxiously from the window, so I handed my horse to Raul and joined her.

In the carriage, she sticks close, only relaxing then.

“Where are the patients now?” she asked quietly.

“In an isolated building,” Murder replied.

“Not a hospital?” I was surprised.

Her brows furrowed, eyes sharpening.

“Is it infectious?”

Her words startled me.

“Is it?!” I turned to Vandel.

He shook his head firmly.

“We don’t know. But with similar symptoms, we can’t risk hospitals. If it’s infectious…”

He trailed off.

So, the confidential matter is a potential infectious disease in his territory.

“We need Lady Shitoen’s opinion,” Vandel said, staring at her earnestly.

I stood. “No way! Send her into danger?”

It’s not about treating anemia. An unknown disease?

“What if something happens to her?”

“It’s not confirmed infectious,” Vandel countered, standing.

“I’ve met patients. I’m fine.”

“I’ve lived with them for days,” Murder added, standing.

“We don’t understand. Some show symptoms, others are healthy. We can’t tell why.”

“Of course! You just watch and wait.”

“This isn’t that simple,” Vandel growled.

“It’s only in the exile district. If this gets out, it’ll spark brutal discrimination.”

I caught my breath.

“Exiles and locals get along now. But if this leaks, conflicts will start.”

Vandel bit his thumbnail.

“Our earldom borders another nation. If unrest breaks out, Mira will know. Worst case, they’ll invade with justification.”

“They’d burn the village for disinfection,” Murder said flatly, chilling me.

“They’d say Tidros was slow, so they acted,” Vandel spat.

“No… that’s too much. They’re your people.”

“Exiles aren’t their people. We’re traitors to them,” Murder said heavily.

Reality hit.

“You know our main duty,” Vandel said.

I know.

Protect the border.

Keep the kingdom safe.

“It must be handled secretly,” he glared.

“I went to the capital under the guise of your engagement, planning to summon a doctor, but explaining why would raise suspicions.”

He glanced at Lady Shitoen.

“Luckily, she’s not a doctor.”

It clicked.

She has medical knowledge but isn’t a doctor.

A newlywed visiting a friend to thank for engagement gifts—perfect cover.

“What are the symptoms?” her bell-like voice asked, then turned to a chuckle.

“Shall we all sit first?”

Embarrassed, we three men, standing and growling, coughed and sat.

“Most patients started with diarrhea, then worsened,” Murder began.

“Stomach pain, fatigue, skin turning blue-black, then death.”

“Wait, wait!” I interrupted.

“You say it so calmly, but that’s terrifying!”

“That’s why we’re troubled,” Vandel snapped.

“How are you handling it?”

Murder grimaced.

“As I said, we’re just isolating them in a building. Nothing else.”

Figures.

“We’ve gagged talk, but rumors are spreading. Worse, it’s linked to Mira merchants. If that reaches them…”

What?

I blinked, and Vandel sighed deeply.

“Patients with diarrhea ate dried fish from merchants. That’s when issues spiked.”

“Food poisoning?”

Vandel shook his head, grimacing.

“Some got sick, others didn’t. Some families were wiped out, others only men.”

“What’s that?”

No sense at all. Like a reaper swinging randomly.

“Are most patients men?” Lady Shitoen tilted her head.

“Relatively, yes,” Murder answered cautiously.

“Do men eat more dried fish? Women don’t?”

She pinched her chin, pondering.

“Not men, but exiles,” Vandel said, glancing at me. I nodded.

“Mira eats dried sea fish. Here, we do meunière or sauté.”

“Right,” she blinked, adorable.

“So ‘men’ means exiles?”

We three men groaned.

“Some families exile together, but most are single men,” Vandel said, looking at Murder, who nodded.

“Many marry local women.”

Maybe him too—ring on his left finger.

“So, even married, men keep eating their homeland’s food?” she pressed.

Murder nodded hesitantly.

“Especially karris, more than bread.”

“Karris?”

She and I said it together.

“A grain, cooked with water. Mira’s staple,” Vandel explained, shrugging.

“Salt and karris, and they survive.”

“That phrasing,” I chided.

Murder’s from Mira.

“It’s our pride,” Murder said, chest out. Food’s powerful.

“Is karris widely available here?” she asked.

Vandel and Murder nodded.

“Many grow it locally,” Vandel said.

She seemed to stop listening, repeating “I see.”

Vandel bowed to her.

“As you helped my anemia, can we borrow your wisdom?”

“Of course, if I can help.”

She agreed so readily, I panicked.

“Aren’t you scared? You can refuse.”

If it’s infectious… diarrhea, weakness, blue-black skin, death.

Her dying.

The thought chilled me.

She’s not scared?

I am.

Losing her terrifies me.

I don’t want to risk her.

Yet.

“If my knowledge can save lives, I should offer it.”

She nodded firmly.

Her resolve left me no choice but to respect it.

“Can you prepare strong liquor and scarves? Once ready, let’s go to the patients.”

Vandel and Murder exchanged smiles, extending hands. She hesitated, then shook Vandel’s with her right, Murder’s with her left.

◇◇◇◇

Two hours later.

Led by Vandel and Murder, we entered the isolation building.

We covered our mouths with scarves, as Lady Shitoen instructed not to touch anything. Infectious diseases spread through mucous membranes, like rubbing eyes. We should wash hands with liquor after leaving.

“Did your husband eat dried fish?”

In the room were her, me, Vandel, Murder, and Natalie, whose exile husband married last year, now isolated with symptoms.

“Is he still in stomach pain? Unable to eat?”

She and Natalie sat facing each other. Natalie, crying, took time to answer.

I was frustrated, but Lady Shitoen listened patiently—admirable.

“He only drinks my soup…”

“Do others with symptoms drink only soup?”

Natalie, cheeks wet, looked up, shaking her head. “I don’t know.”

“People make karris porridge for stomach issues, but I don’t know how…”

She wiped tears with her hand, sniffling.

“Karris porridge is traditional sick food,” Murder whispered. Natalie, newly married, might not know such customs.

“So, I made pork and onion soup, with thin garlic slices, for him.”

“Got it. Let’s meet him.”

Lady Shitoen stood, turning to us, reiterating.

“Don’t rub your eyes after touching anything. Keep scarves on, even if stuffy.”

Her scarf hid her mouth, but her eyes conveyed seriousness.

I steeled myself, but she softened her gaze.

“It might not be infectious.”

Muttering, she prompted Natalie.

“Take us to him.”

Natalie wiped tears with her apron, standing.

We left the room, walking down a corridor with similar doors. Natalie stopped at one, knocking.

“Rigo, I’m coming in.”

Inside, a pale young man leaned against the bed’s headboard.

“…Huh?”

Seeing us, he widened his eyes—barely, with swollen eyelids.

“Vandel-sama and Murder-sama brought these people,” Natalie said, rushing to him.

He seemed confused, mouth agape, staring.

“Sorry to bother you while unwell. May we talk?” Lady Shitoen smiled gently.

He nodded shakily.

“I’m Shitoen. You are?”

She tilted her head.

“Rigo,” he said hurriedly.

“She’s skilled in medicine, Rigo. You might be saved…” Natalie hugged him, crying.

He patted her back, looking at Lady Shitoen anxiously.

“Let me check your pulse.”

As Natalie moved, Lady Shitoen touched his right wrist, frowning.

“Rapid pulse… Can you show me your feet?”

He nodded hesitantly. Natalie pulled back the blanket, lifting his nightwear hem.

“That looks painful…” I grimaced.

His feet were severely swollen. Vandel and Murder mirrored my expression.

“Do your feet cramp often?” she asked.

Rigo and Natalie exchanged looks.

“He wakes at night saying his feet cramp,” Natalie answered.

“Putting a cushion under your ankles to elevate them helps swelling. Want to try lying down?”

Rigo shook his head.

“Lying down makes breathing hard. Sitting up is easier.”

That’s why he’s upright. I assumed heavy illness meant lying down.

“Orthopnea…” she muttered an unfamiliar term.

“Diarrhea, stomach pain, rapid pulse, swelling, orthopnea, cyanosis… It might be…”

She turned to us, but we three men stared blankly.

What?

“Sorry, is karris here?” she asked Natalie.

Nodding hesitantly, Natalie fetched it. “Show me,” Lady Shitoen said.

Natalie left, and Lady Shitoen asked Rigo, “Have you always eaten karris?”

“Yes… since exiling. Like how you eat bread.”

He answered haltingly.

“When money was tight, sometimes just karris. Before Natalie, I rarely ate meat.”

As Murder said.

“Miss,” Rigo looked up determinedly.

“Am I going to die? Like the others?”

Swallowing, he glanced at the door Natalie left through, speaking quickly.

“People here get worse… some die. Being here means that, right?”

Sweat beaded on his forehead, gripping the blanket tightly.

“I can’t leave Natalie… I’m not ready…”

He trembled, saying he didn’t want to die.

“Yeah, you can’t die.”

Before I knew it, I knelt by the bed, peering up at him.

“With a wife like that, you can’t just pass away peacefully.”

Same for me.

If something stopped my heart, my soul couldn’t rest.

I’d worry about Lady Shitoen.

After her annulment, she found relief here, but if her husband died…

No remarriage offers, and she’d blame herself.

It’s not her fault.

I’d want to comfort her, but without a body, I couldn’t.

“So, let’s fight to live.”

I patted his hand. His tense grip relaxed slightly.

“Don’t think about dying. Focus on living.”

As I said it, he burst into tears, startling me.

“Hey, your wife’s coming back. Stop crying!”

Smiling wryly, I stood, giving a light hug.

“Sorry,” he sniffled in my arms.

Vandel’s cough made me glance over.

“Don’t touch, remember?”

I looked at Lady Shitoen, expecting a scolding, but she softened her eyes.

Well, she touched him for his pulse, so…

She said nothing. Maybe the scarf helped. A hug without it might’ve gotten me scolded.

“Here it is,” Natalie returned, breaking the awkward air.

She opened a sack before Lady Shitoen. Rigo quickly wiped tears with the sheet.

Lady Shitoen reached in, scooping grains.

“As I thought…”

White grains, unfamiliar here. Karris.

“White rice…”

The words slipped from her.

“Huh? What?” I asked.

Not karris? Hakumai?

She didn’t answer clearly, looking up.

“It’s beriberi.”

“Beriberi?” Vandel’s brows furrowed.

We all looked confused.

She straightened, scanning us.

“A disease from vitamin B1 deficiency, causing fatigue, loss of appetite, numbness, swelling, sensory paralysis… Worsening, it leads to heart failure or brain damage.”

She rattled off, but our puzzled looks made her bite her lip.

“Is karris hulled and polished?”

Vandel glanced at Murder, who nodded vigorously, as did Rigo.

“That removes essential nutrients. The husk has vital vitamins.”

“So, eating karris heavily lacks nutrition?” I tilted my head.

“Exactly,” she pointed.

“Chronic B1 deficiency, worsened by fish-induced diarrhea, flushed out nutrients. Weakened, they can’t eat, but no nutrients come in. Beriberi progresses, leading to heart failure. Many die, and others worsen.”

We men were baffled.

Ignoring us, she turned to Rigo.

“But your wife’s soup gave you B1.”

“Soup…” Natalie murmured.

“Pork and onion?”

Lady Shitoen nodded firmly.

“Pork’s rich in B1, and onion with garlic boosts absorption. Her soup kept you holding on.”

“Will he recover?” Natalie asked.

Lady Shitoen smiled.

“Let’s work together.”

Natalie dropped the sack, hugging Rigo, sobbing. He held her, tears in his eyes.

“It’s not contagious?” Murder confirmed.

That’s key.

“Yes, it’s not,” she replied strongly.

Vandel exhaled, tension draining.

“Thank you. On behalf of my people.”

His voice trembled.

Yeah, worrying about an outbreak would do that.

“No, I just did what I could. More importantly…”

She looked at each of us.

“I respect you all. Despite fear, you trusted me and came. Prince.”

“Huh?” I startled.

Natalie and Rigo yelped, “Prince?!”

“Empathizing is one thing, but holding a patient’s hand, encouraging them—that’s rare.”

I beamed, thinking she was praising me, but she glared slightly.

“It’s reckless, though.”

I deflated. Sorry.

She chuckled at me.

“I can treat illness somewhat, but not humanity. Your kindness and tolerance impress me.”

Am I being praised? I looked at Vandel.

He scoffed.

“Flirt outside. Let’s go.”

I laughed, but Lady Shitoen whispered behind him, “You really haven’t changed.”

I turned, but she looked away, silent.

◇◇◇◇

I wanted to return to the capital immediately, but Vandel and Murder kept asking Lady Shitoen about patients, instructions, and cooking methods, delaying us.

She answered meticulously.

She detailed patient diets, tracked intake, even suggested measuring urine.

Wilderness camp? This is an earldom, I’m a prince, she’s my future wife!

But she never complained, choosing ingredients, bustling through the facility, giving orders.

I followed, kicking any man who tried touching her, carrying her on horseback when needed.

Basically, her attendant.

At night, free from busyness, we collapsed onto the bed.

Woken by knocks, we gulped bread with vegetables and cheese with tea or coffee, then back to the facility.

Five days later, patients showed improvement, and we were released.

Rigo, recovered, bowed deeply, saying, “Didn’t know you were a prince.”

“Stop it,” I nudged his shoulder.

“I’ll work hard for the kingdom.”

“Let’s both cherish our wives.”

We set off for the capital, but…

“No way! I won’t let you go without a gift!” Vandel insisted.

I considered slitting his throat to leave, but Lady Shitoen timidly spoke.

“There’s a shop I’m curious about.”

We must go!

Her interest? Mandatory!

So, Vandel, Lady Shitoen, and I were at a glass workshop.

A modest single-story shop, with glassware, odd art, and pricey accessories.

Not for commoners, judging by the staff’s attire.

“Did you give me something like this?” I asked Vandel, holding a glass.

Bubbles inside, with flowing blue. Like waves, but bubbles mean a flaw, right? It’s for sale, so maybe not.

“I did. In your engagement gifts. You didn’t even look, rude jerk.”

He crossed his arms, snorting.

Rude, huh?

He sent whale bones and weird rocks, using my engagement as an excuse to hunt for a doctor.

I sighed.

I stopped checking his gifts, but Lady Shitoen opened every box, memorizing contents.

She saw a lovely glass… something and wanted to buy it.

For the queen and crown princess, who’ve been kind.

She was eyeing a tea set.

Perfect for summer—cool-looking transparent cups and saucers.

“I’ll cover it,” Vandel whispered.

I pushed him away. His breath tickled!

“No need. You’re handling security.”

“That’s a given. I invited you,” he grimaced.

My paranoia about her safety meant his elite guards were on constant duty.

The shop was reserved, and he’d maintain this until we left. My men could rest—grateful.

“I’ll wrap these,” the clerk said.

Lady Shitoen nodded, signaling Eton, who approached with a bag.

“No, I’ll pay for everything—”

“That wouldn’t make it my gift,” she giggled.

Vandel pointed at me.

“Let him buy you jewelry.”

Great idea!

“No, I…” she flustered.

I nodded vigorously.

“Please, let me gift you!”

“Go on, indulge him,” Vandel said.

Nice assist, man. What’s with you?

Eton, done paying, smiled, saying, “Let him spoil you,” and Lady Shitoen, hesitant, said, “Okay…” and followed the clerk to the jewelry section.

I trailed, watching her choose.

New to women’s shopping, it was refreshing.

She chatted with the clerk, deliberating.

I enjoyed watching, but Vandel got bored, glancing out windows, stifling yawns.

“Prince Saryu.”

She called me over.

“They come in different colors.”

She held a yellow earring in her right hand, blue in her left.

Teardrop-shaped glass with bubbles.

Yellow had one large bubble, blue had many small ones.

The clerk smiled beside her.

“Both are popular with young women.”

“Which do you think?” she tilted her head.

“Me?!”

“Yes, what do you think?”

I groaned.

Groaned hard.

Arms crossed, I compared the earrings, staring at her.

It took forever.

I felt it, so others must’ve too. Like I froze time.

Vandel’s annoyance was heavy, but he suggested jewelry, so this is his fault…

Wait!

He set me up for this hell?!

“…What’s the dilemma?” the clerk asked, smiling wryly after fifteen minutes of my indecision.

“With your outfit, yellow!” I declared, holding the earring near her ear.

It suits her. Cute.

“But you often wear blue, right? So blue’s better… And it’s summer, and you picked blue dishes, so maybe you like blue…”

“You really watch Lady Shitoen closely, huh?”

Vandel’s exasperated, but I’m always watching her. So what?

“As you say, blue might suit the season. But pairing it with yellow accessories…”

The clerk adds more info, making me deliberate another fifteen minutes.

Exhausted, I finally told Lady Shitoen.

“Blue’s best!”

“Understood,” the clerk bowed deeply.

“Raul! Payment!”

I shouted toward Raul at the door.

Phew, done, I thought.

“Commander, in these cases, you buy both.”

Raul’s whisper as he passed left me stunned.

“W-w-w-what?!”

There was a third option?!

“Say that sooner! You had plenty of time to advise me!”

What were you watching? Laughing at my struggle?!

“He’s right. Earrings alone? No necklace or ring?” Vandel chimed in.

Then tell me that first! What’s with you guys? Enjoying my torment?!

Oh… Mother once said, “Everything from that shelf to that one, please♪.”

“Wait! Lady Shitoen, um…”

I tried to call the clerk back, but she shook her head.

“Blue’s fine. Just the blue earrings.”

She said clearly, but I panicked. When else to use prince privileges?

“No, if there’s anything else you like…”

“No, it’s not that. I’m happy you chose for me. I wanted you to pick. Not because I want more.”

Blushing, she smiled shyly.

“Thank you. I’m happy.”

“I… see.”

I nearly collapsed, unwittingly grabbing Vandel’s shoulder.

“Such a selfless lady,” Vandel said, patting my back. I swatted his hand away.

And so, with this shopping trip, we left Earl Scene’s territory.