CHAPTER 46…………………………………………..
A Teacher Worthy of Standing Beside You (2)
“It was last year. The kingdom that had sheltered the rebels had finally been forced into complete surrender, and all that remained was to weed out the remnants. Like always, he struck me.”
Enrique muttered as he rubbed one cheek, as though recalling the sting of the blow.
“But then, suddenly… his fists didn’t hurt as much as they used to.”
His gaze, which had been fixed on empty air, returned to me. He smiled faintly, the corners of his lips twisting grotesquely.
“At some point, I had grown to be about the same size as him. I’d grown up. And when I realized that… what do you think I did?”
“…You killed him then.”
“Yes. That’s right.”
Enrique nodded obediently.
I forced myself to speak.
“…Who else knows this story?”
“The entire Epsilon Order of Knights knows.”
“They helped clean up afterward,” he added under his breath.
During those five grueling years of hardship, the sight of the knight commander abusing the young crown prince could not have sat well with the other knights.
Dietrich Carlson once said he paid extra attention to me because I reminded him of his younger sister—but perhaps he had been more sensitive because he had once watched over Enrique.
Because he knew Enrique was capable of resolving to kill the very mentor he had followed for years.
“……”
At last, Enrique pulled back from where he had been leaning toward me.
The massive silhouette that had blocked the light disappeared, and the small candle suddenly felt like a blazing flame.
“Ah.”
My eyes stung, and I squeezed them shut for a moment.
So I could not clearly see his face—only hear his voice.
“So you should find me disgusting, Teacher.”
“…Me? Why?”
“To kill the man who taught me since childhood without hesitation. Not even beasts would do that. Aren’t you afraid? They say people call me the Murderous Crown Prince. It fits perfectly.”
A self-mocking laugh threaded through his words.
“Truly… I don’t belong by your side.”
He murmured weakly.
“……”
I slowly forced my stinging eyes open.
White dust drifted in the dark room.
Through it, faintly, I could see Enrique’s wretched expression.
“I am a murderer. It seems you forget that sometimes.”
He despised even himself.
There was one thing I had learned while teaching him.
The Enrique who was called a murderer was not someone who felt exhilaration from killing, nor someone who killed for mere amusement, as people liked to say.
It was true that killing had become an easy method for him—but only because violence had been the only way he knew to protect himself from the pain he faced.
And that habit had simply hardened into who he was.
After all, that was the only thing his swordsmanship master had ever taught him.
“Being called a murderer does not mean you deserved to be treated like that as a child.”
So I would teach Enrique another way.
So that he could wield something other than a sword.
So that he could build himself up with something other than blood and madness.
At my resolute tone, Enrique let out a faint sneer.
“Are you pitying me just because I was young? Do you know why I was exiled? If you did, you wouldn’t be able to pity me.”
He behaved like someone determined to make me hate him.
After a moment’s hesitation, I answered.
“…His Majesty never told me.”
But I had investigated separately.
I remembered the words of the noblewoman in the black veil at Garel Bookstore.
‘While the three empresses were having tea in the conservatory, His Highness the Crown Prince suddenly entered and drew his sword. He killed two of them and inflicted an irreversible wound on the third.’
And Enrique spoke the exact same words.
“When I was fourteen, I killed two empresses and left a severe scar on the face of the third.”
“……”
So it was true.
But how had that noblewoman known?
Even as the question arose, Enrique continued.
“So I was already a hopeless murderer by nature. It’s only natural that he resented me for being forcibly dragged into my exile because of my crimes.”
His heavy gaze dropped to the floor, as if unable to bear its own weight.
“And it was only natural for someone like me to kill him—unable to endure the punishment he gave me.”
His words were steeped in self-loathing and self-defense.
“So he was justified in treating me that way. Just as I was justified in treating him that way.”
But I immediately cut him off.
“No.”
Neither of them had been justified.
Just as there was no one who deserved to die by his hand, there was no reason he had to endure such things either.
“I’m not saying this out of pity for Your Highness. I have no intention of defending your actions.”
There is no such thing as something that ‘had to happen,’ nor a sin that ‘had to be committed.’
One simply lives on in atonement—shaping the remaining life into something better.
“However, Your Highness, I hope you understand this. Knowing full well that you are called a murderer. Even after nearly dying at your hands several times. It was I who chose to become your teacher.”
“…That only makes me understand you even less.”
Enrique’s eyes narrowed like the sclera of a reptile.
Though I felt the overwhelming pressure from his entire presence, I spoke.
“Because I’m confident.”
“Confident?”
“Yes. Confident that I can be the best— the finest teacher for Your Highness.”
“……”
At Lillian Crimson’s bold declaration, Enrique’s brow furrowed faintly.
Just what kind of woman was she?
Enrique could not understand Lillian Crimson at all.
‘If you truly value Lillian Crimson’s talent, then let her go now—so she doesn’t end up like Her Majesty the Empress—’
The sentence he had forcibly cut off with his sword kept circling in his mind.
He could not forget the certainty in Rondel Rubens’ eyes.
Enrique knew it himself.
His side was a graveyard. Madness was fiercely contagious—his mother and his master had not endured it.
What he cherished would die by his own hand. His madness would cling to him until death.
So he had been certain that once he laid everything bare, Lillian Crimson would leave his side as well.
Yet the “teacher” sitting across from him showed no sign of doing so.
In a dry voice, Enrique squeezed out his words.
“…Were you even listening to me? I’m a lunatic who can plunge a sword into his teacher’s heart without a shred of hesitation. And you still want to be my teacher? Do you want to die by my hand?”
His speech grew abruptly rough.
The veins stood out on the back of his tightly clenched fist, flickering with the reddish candlelight.
It looked like blood.
“Let me say this clearly. You do not belong with me. Stop.”
His voice trembled as he added one final word.
“While I’m still willing to let you go….”
“……”
At that moment, Lillian Crimson, blinking her pink eyes, suddenly leaned forward and grabbed his hand firmly.
“Your Highness.”
At the faint strength of the small hand holding him, Enrique flinched and growled in confusion.
“…Let go.”
“I’m sorry. But if I don’t hold on, I think you’ll run away.”
Holding tightly to Enrique’s hand stained in red light, Lillian Crimson spoke clearly.
“Thank you very much for acknowledging that I am an excellent teacher.”
“…What?”
In this situation?
“As repayment, I will show you what a proper teacher truly is.”
When she finished speaking, Lillian Crimson smiled faintly.
Before her pale, small face—so terribly mismatched with the image of blood—Enrique asked blankly,
“…Aren’t you afraid of me?”
Lillian Crimson tilted her head slightly and answered lightly.
“Honestly, sometimes I am. I’m human too.”
“Then why—”
“But how can a teacher run away while standing before her student?”
Her voice was light, but her fingertips were cold where they touched his.
She was calm on the outside, but clearly tense.
Yet she did not stop speaking, nor did she avert her gaze. She simply said,
“I will come to know Your Highness and try to understand you.”
“…It will be slow and frustrating. It would be faster to just abandon me.”
“But we’re already closer than we were a few weeks ago.”
“Even after seeing all of my madness?”
“That madness—”
Lillian Crimson’s pink eyes met deeply with his shadowed red ones.
“I will help you. Because I believe in Your Highness’s potential.”
…Lillian Crimson believed in another future for him.
Her firm voice seeped clearly into Enrique’s parched heart.
The strange emotion he had felt not long ago stirred his heart once more.
A forgotten feeling heated his insides, unsettling him. Something beyond his control was sprouting.
Not the madness that devoured reason—but something else.
Unaware of the turmoil within him, Lillian’s red lips parted again.
“And I will continue to believe in you.”
“……”
In that moment, Enrique froze.
He couldn’t even breathe.
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