Chapter 65
“Your Highness.”
Francis was close enough to touch, so I turned my head back to the diary. The bed tilted slightly since he was lying down beside me in the same way, but it quickly leveled again.
“You said we’d look at it together.”
“Yes.”
He had clearly dried his hair very roughly. Water trickled down his cheek, and when I brushed it away with my fingertips, he shivered.
“When did you start writing this?”
“It’s a habit. This one’s been going for about two years.”
“Have you written others before this?”
“Yes. Those are in the mansion in the capital.”
That made sense. Even though Francis is a knight, he wouldn’t be here all the time. Now that he’s regained his lands, once he reclaims his title, he could be a marquis again. And a marquis wouldn’t lack a mansion.
“Why do you keep a diary?”
“I wanted to record things myself after seeing Count de L’Bois write letters every time.”
“Letters?”
“Yes. To Your Highness… Ah, never mind.”
It was suspicious that he swallowed his words, but I couldn’t do anything about the parts I didn’t remember.
“Why did you like Clayton?”
Francis opened to a certain part of the diary and spoke.
“He saved me a few times on the battlefield. And among knights, he’s admired. Perhaps Your Highness… even you, if you saw Count de L’Bois wield a sword…”
His voice trembled slightly.
“By the way, why does Clayton’s sword look a bit different? The one Sir Francis uses seems similar to the other knights’.”
“That’s because Count de L’Bois mainly uses a longsword. And he’s also excellent with spear techniques. His spiritual strength is remarkable too—he’s even cut down enemy commanders through flames.”
“Now that you mention it, he really is impressive.”
“Yes…”
I thought he’d speak excitedly, but his expression looked a little dissatisfied.
“You admired him so much—does that mean you dislike me because of it?”
“Ah…”
Our shoulders touched. I could feel him trembling. The hair I’d swept aside was mostly dry, but still damp to the touch.
“I don’t dislike you. It’s just…”
“Just?”
“Compared to him, I feel insignificant. I once looked up to him like a star in the sky. So I keep questioning whether I’m truly worthy of being with Your Highness.”
“Then are you going to give up?”
“No.”
I expected hesitation, but his answer came immediately.
Feelings that arise in difficult situations are often not genuine—they could just be an escape, a source of comfort. That’s why I couldn’t fully trust Francis’s feelings.
Moreover, I was practically holding his leash, so it was strange that he liked me.
“My feelings are too strong to give up.”
Hearing him say it so seriously, I was at a loss for words and turned back to the diary. We smelled of freesia—his soap carried that scent.
“What did you mean by ‘releasing your strength’?”
I deliberately changed the subject to dissipate the awkwardness.
“Curious?”
“Yes, well…”
“Then will you release my strength for me?”
“How? Lift me again?”
“No, I think it’s better if I hold you.”
I didn’t understand what he meant, staring blankly, when suddenly our noses touched.
“K-Ke… Clayton, did nothing else happen besides that?!”
Startled, I turned my head and he shyly smiled.
I casually flipped through the diary and a certain phrase caught my eye. Since he didn’t stop me, I began to read slowly.
“I cannot fathom the magnitude of his affection. But when I watch him every day, sometimes he seems absent-minded, which makes me feel pity. Could it be that he left because his face turned out like that? Still, he remains beautiful. Why? ……”
“Did you say his face was beautiful even when cursed?”
“Ah, well…”
“Sometimes when our eyes meet, I think… if those eyes reflected only one person, perhaps this wouldn’t have happened.”
“One person? Clayton?”
“Ah, wait…!”
I read on as it slipped from his grasp. It was hard to focus while moving around.
“Even though the skin melted, his lips, eyes, and nose remained perfectly beautiful… ugh!”
He covered his mouth with his hand and snatched the diary. Collapsing onto the bed under its weight, his chin pressed into my chest and it felt like my ribs might break.
“Ah!”
“Your Highness!”
His face was as red as a tomato, yet he looked down with concern.
“Your Highness, are you alright?”
“Ugh, no… it hurts… so much…”
I gently pressed the spot where his chin landed.
“Reading the diary might make it feel better.”
“Your Highness…”
He returned to his normal self and took the diary.
“You said you’d let me read it.”
“I don’t think I can with this part.”
“Then will you show me other parts?”
“…Yes.”
I extended my arm while he was unguarded, and he lifted me up. I was completely pinned under Francis, but struggling didn’t help.
“You said you’d show me?”
As I tried to sit up, our faces nearly touched. I was lying between his thighs, so I couldn’t fully rise.
“Why do you want to see it?”
“Because I’m curious.”
“Curious about me?”
Even as he spoke evasively, his eyes were moist from embarrassment. Was he about to cry? I didn’t want him to.
“No?”
“Ah…”
Just as I thought, he almost cried again.
“I was joking.”
“Oh.”
He smiled again. I’d heard crying then laughing gives a horn on your butt—but I couldn’t focus on that now.
“You’re heavy, come down.”
“Then will Your Highness come up?”
“Where did you learn to say that?”
“If you come up… then I’ll let you read.”
His voice trembled so much that it didn’t feel threatening—he was just someone who couldn’t control his emotions when drunk or upset.
“Alright. But don’t touch me.”
“…Yes.”
He slowly moved and lay on the bed. Hesitating, I climbed on; his firm abs made me feel like I was riding a horse.
“I’m really bad at riding horses, but this feels like riding one.”
“Can I let you down?”
“Once I come down, it’s over.”
“Ah…”
Taking the opportunity, I snatched the diary. He gave it without resistance, so I opened it away from my face and continued reading.
“Ah, I forgot where I left off.”
“…Yes.”
I turned to another section.
“It’s common sense not to take your eyes off the person you’re protecting. But I don’t think it’s necessary to strictly follow that. Perhaps I dislike the princess who put me in this position, but maybe I hate Rubiana, who slandered me, more. Even while on guard, there were moments I wanted to kill the princess myself.”
Seeing his raw hostility, I glanced at Francis, then back at the diary, noticing him trembling slightly.
“To die by the hand of the guard, that’s a miserable end… does that serve as a little atonement? I still cannot understand why the princess had me assigned to guard her. When she’s next to me, showing no will to survive, it makes me angry.”
I looked under the book at Francis, slightly surprised. He reached out and stroked my cheek. I accepted the touch and turned to another chapter.
“Is a face really that important? The proud, authoritative princess changed completely once her face melted. I thought it was for the better, but seeing her crumble makes me feel sympathy. Perhaps I want to believe her words—that the princess who appeared that day was someone else. Unlike rumors, the princess I saw up close seemed fragile and easily broken. Even so, I cannot forgive her. She destroyed my father and the Patella family.”
Torn between depression and curiosity about the past, I flipped to the later pages.
“Telling me to give roses on the day he returned was just bravado. He didn’t expect me to do it. But recently, something seems off, and he listened to me strangely. And he cried too. It was really strange. Just imagining the face behind the mask made my chest tighten.”
“Ugh…!”
My fingers, which had been brushing his cheek, went into my mouth, and I closed the diary. There was Francis Patella below, looking like he was holding back something.
