Chapter 90
He drove back an enemy who had once been difficult even to defend against.
If Titania and he hadn’t been there, Raymond might have killed the enemy on the spot—or at least uncovered its true identity.
Lysianthus had never felt resentful that he was always one step behind Raymond.
He knew his own limits. His brother was destined to be the head of their great house, and he himself was meant to be Raymond’s sword. Knowing the weight his brother bore, Lysianthus had never been jealous—only eager to help.
He had wanted to burn away the thorns along Raymond’s path with fire, to clear the way with his sword.
But when he saw Raymond—who had just rescued Titania—hesitate for a split second… when he saw those golden eyes tremble, unsure what to do with the woman in his arms… Lysianthus had screamed before he could even think.
‘Damn it, brother!’
Because I’m too weak.
‘Take Titania with you!’
Raymond, who was usually composed, had told him to “hold out.” For Raymond to say something like that meant the situation was truly dire.
‘Just… hold on a little longer, Lysianthus.’
Even Raymond, calm in every situation, had ordered him to endure.
‘Hah! Hold out, my ass. I’ll finish them off in no time, so hurry up and come back!’
He’d shouted with false bravado, but inside his chest burned like fire.
It was the first time in his life he had felt the sting of defeat.
“…It was a stupid idea. Trying to burn the monsters—I almost roasted you instead.”
Lysianthus clenched his hand, which had once been burned but now bore no scars thanks to Archbishop Illian’s healing. His nails dug into his palm, leaving marks.
“Hey, that’s not stupid,” Titania said lightly, shrugging her shoulders. “If you’re gonna die to monsters anyway, might as well go down fighting.”
At that, Lysianthus jerked his head up. His eyes met Titania’s, clear and steady.
Her hair gleamed neatly under the sunlight, her white forehead faintly pale and elegant. A soft pink hue touched her cheeks like brushed flower petals, and her calm green eyes—too serene for someone who’d just escaped death—made his heart ripple.
It felt as though someone had dug a pond in his chest and released green fish into it. Every time their eyes met, those fish twitched and swam, stirring ripples deep inside him.
Lysianthus spoke in a flustered tone before he could stop himself.
“…No, I mean—I might’ve burned you alive because I couldn’t control my power. Because I’m weak.”
“If you put it that way, then what about me? I was swinging a sword around in the Imperial Palace like, ‘Wow! Monsters! Die, you beasts!’—and then I almost died because I dropped it at the critical moment.”
“You—you’ve never even been formally trained in swordsmanship…”
“And you haven’t had a proper teacher for your fire magic, have you? You’ve just figured it out on your own, right?”
“Still, it’s different! Controlling fire—that’s what I’m supposed to be good at…”
Lysianthus’s voice grew smaller and smaller. Titania clicked her tongue and sighed. Then she reached out and pulled hard on his cheek.
At first he kept his lips pressed stubbornly shut like a sulky child, but the sharp pain from her fingers forced out a groan.
“…O-ow.”
If he’d known he’d sound so stupid, he’d have kept quiet! He was mortified that he’d just whimpered like that over something so minor.
But Titania used her other hand too, pinching both his cheeks mercilessly now.
“My, my. Sir Lysianthus Agni el Castrain, was it? The great knight who doesn’t even practice controlling his fire and just waves his sword around for fun?”
“N-no.”
Lysianthus barely managed to answer normally. There was no sense of victory in it, though—her fingers were slender, but somehow they had the grip of a vice! It hurt! He was dying of embarrassment being treated like a child, yet the moment she scolded him, his mind just scrambled with Who am I to argue?
“So what, Sir Lysianthus thought, ‘Ugh, Titania’s such a bother, I’ll just half-ass my duties since Debbie and the others are around anyway,’ is that it?”
“…No…”
“Then you’ve done your part. End of story.”
She said it so lightly that Lysianthus felt a twinge of anger. Why did she always treat her own life like it was nothing? She was royalty! Weren’t knights executed for failing to protect a royal?
“I still failed to protect y—ah! Ow!”
But his outburst was cut short. Titania’s voice rang out sharply, like a teacher scolding a naughty student.
“So it’s this mouth that keeps saying such nonsense?”
“Don’t pinch my lips!”
Completely thrown off by her sudden attack on his lips, Lysianthus yelped in shock.
“This mouth, this mouth! Hey! Hey!”
“Oh come on, I’m trying to talk seriou—mffph!”
Titania’s relentless pinching of his cheeks and lips left Lysianthus dizzy.
It was, in fact, the first time in his life anyone had ever done something like this to him.
The Castrain family wasn’t the sort to express affection through physical contact. Only after Vivi joined the household had things warmed up a little—and she was the only one everyone was openly affectionate with. Among the men, though? Never! Maybe when he was a baby someone had patted his head, but lips? Never!
Titania clicked her tongue at his stunned expression and gave an order.
“Debbie, seize this criminal’s arms.”
“Yes, Your Highness!”
“Barbara, grab that idiot’s waist while you’re at it!”
Seeing Debbie and Barbara approach without hesitation, Lysianthus stammered in panic. Normally Barbara would at least pretend to defend his dignity—but not today. She grabbed his waist, while Debbie grinned brightly, eyes sparkling with “Wow, this is gonna be fun!”
Now looking exactly like a prisoner being hauled away, Lysianthus sputtered,
“W-w-what are you doing?!”
“I sentence this criminal to tickling and pinching!”
“Waaaughhh!”
Titania pounced like a cat toying with a mouse, tickling and pinching his sides mercilessly. Lysianthus’s face turned crimson.
He wasn’t usually ticklish, nor was he the sensitive type—he didn’t even care about heat or cold. That’s why he often went around shirtless and casually dressed. His father and brother would lecture him—“At least try to look presentable!”—but he’d always brushed it off.
As long as he looked decent at official events, who cared? He’d get dirty swinging a sword anyway. Comfort was what mattered.
…Or so he’d thought. But now, with Titania’s small, delicate fingers—how were they so thin, so soft?—pinching the bare skin under his loosely buttoned shirt… He knew it was just teasing, but the awareness of it, the heat rising in his chest—
‘…I’m doomed.’
Lysianthus suddenly realized, with a chill of terror, what this feeling was.
“Hmph. Good. The foolish man who was pointlessly digging the ground has now learned his lesson, yes?”
As he fell quiet, Titania released him with a satisfied little smile.
“…Yes, yes. I was wrong, Lady Titania.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really…”
“Do you truly repent?”
“Yes, ma’am…”
Looking utterly deflated, Lysianthus resembled laundry beaten and rinsed clean. Titania crossed her arms proudly and declared,
“Then, as a sign of repentance, you shall present me with dessert! The fruit here is delicious! And the ice cream too!”
“…Didn’t I already say the chocolate earlier was your last sweet thing for today?”
“Eh-heh. Barbara, um…”
Facing Barbara’s sharp glare, Titania instantly turned timid, like a mouse before a cat.
“Just a little? Please? The food and desserts here are amazing! I’ll regret it once we’re back at the palace!”
“…Only a little.”
“You’re the best, Barbara!”
Watching Titania cheer as if she’d just won the world over a bit of dessert, Lysianthus had a sudden, terrible realization.
Ah. I really do like her.
I’m screwed.
