Chapter 73
For Three to Become Four
Rescal’s words were only half true.
It was true that Rescal spent the entire day thinking about Rasilia, but that didn’t mean he intended to disobey her instructions just because of what he was feeling at any given moment.
Rasilia had said she would go to the Duke’s residence alone.
From her perspective, it was a considerate gesture—telling him not to waste his time on something that didn’t require his presence. But to Rescal, it felt like rejection, and that left him somewhat dejected.
That dejection, at some point, turned into a sharp sense of unease.
He didn’t know exactly why.
He just had a feeling something bad might happen to Rasilia.
Even the half-grown bird came fluttering over and said the same thing: something felt terribly wrong.
So, without another thought, he stormed out of the palace.
Lyan hastily gathered the royal guards and chased after Rescal.
When they arrived at the Pielion Duchy, they were told there had been an intruder. But that intruder, it turned out, was a guest from Delarta.
His mind understood it.
There was no lover Rasilia had left behind in Delarta.
And yet, the unpleasant feeling wouldn’t go away.
His feet carried him straight toward Rasilia.
When he opened the door, he saw a man kneeling in front of her.
The only relief was that Pipi had arrived first and pecked at Esselion, forcing him to let go of Rasilia’s hand.
“Piii!”
Pipi scolded Rescal for being so late, saying this wouldn’t have happened if he’d stayed close like he was supposed to.
“Don’t spout nonsense, you half-grown thing.”
Normally, Rescal would have ignored such remarks, but this time he snapped back—proof that he was deeply annoyed.
“Did something happen while I was gone?”
Rasilia didn’t understand why both Pipi and Rescal were so upset, but she could tell his mood was foul.
She raised her free hand and placed it on Rescal’s cheek.
Rescal flinched slightly.
He still wasn’t used to Rasilia touching him so casually. His heart dropped heavily in his chest.
“Nothing happened.”
“So you really just came because you missed me?”
“They said they didn’t know when you’d be back.”
“Even so, the Emperor can’t just leave the palace on a whim.”
“Wouldn’t that be better? Than an unscheduled transformation.”
“Ah… Was it dangerous?”
It hadn’t been. The Blue Moon had passed, and he hadn’t felt her safety was at risk.
Still, Rescal nodded.
“Because you weren’t there.”
And of course, Rasilia wasn’t fooled by his blank expression.
“That just sounds like you didn’t want to wait.”
Caught in his lie, Rescal toyed with her fingers to avoid her gaze.
“…You know something? You’re far too strict with me.”
From Rasilia’s perspective, if anything, she was too lenient. Even now, when he’d obviously tried to lie, she wasn’t even angry—just a little exasperated.
On the contrary, she felt strangely warm inside.
He never hides his feelings…
Which meant if he said he couldn’t bear waiting because he missed her, it was the truth.
“Your Majesty, I think you misunderstand the meaning of strict.”
“Not at all. You’re scolding me for wanting to see you.”
“I wouldn’t call this scolding.”
Rasilia tapped his cheek lightly as she spoke.
Rescal half-closed his eyes and let out a contented sigh.
“Do it more.”
That was when Esselion stood up.
“I forgot my manners in the confusion. Endless prosperity to Eliaeden. I am Esselion Brün Berhoyet of Delarta.”
“….”
Rescal slowly turned his head, his displeasure plain.
When his golden eyes landed on Esselion, they grew even colder as he looked him over from head to toe.
“And why is a foreign prince in my territory without any notice?”
“I regret that I could not send word. Circumstances in my homeland are too unstable to allow for communication.”
“Hmph… Then perhaps you should be tending to your homeland instead of wandering into mine.”
“Your Majesty.”
There was no need to point out how openly hostile that remark was. Rasilia tugged at Rescal’s sleeve.
When Rescal looked at her, his eyes softened instantly, sweet as honey.
“What is it?”
“I owe a debt to the late King Berhoyet of Delarta.”
“…And?”
“Lord Esselion is here to receive that debt in his stead.”
“….”
Meaning, please don’t drive him out.
“Is that a request?”
At first, his lips twitched in irritation. Then suddenly, he straightened and asked seriously.
“You can think of it that way.”
“Fine then.”
Rescal clasped Rasilia’s hand tightly with a satisfied look.
“If it’s your request, I can endure anything.”
His face was soft, but his words were anything but. To Esselion, it meant he was only being tolerated because of Rasilia.
Hearing that right to his face, Esselion stiffened.
Or maybe it wasn’t just Rescal’s blatant disdain that unsettled him—it was what followed.
“In exchange, can we make it three times?”
At that, the Prince of Delarta gave a bitter smile.
Bitter, but beautiful. Esselion had never seen anyone more beautiful than the prophet. Now he understood why the gods had chosen her as their representative.
Because no human should dare covet her.
Esselion hadn’t risen against his uncle Ricardo because he desperately wanted the throne.
The first thing Ricardo did after stealing the crown was destroy the Grand Temple.
And in the chaos, the highest being in Delarta—the prophet—vanished. The cornerstone decreed by the gods themselves, whom no mortal was permitted to touch, was gone.
Esselion could not accept that—not even more than his father’s death.
“Three seems too many.”
“Not at all.”
Yet that divine envoy had become the consort of a man with demon blood—the Emperor of the Empire. He held her close and looked at her like a lover, his gaze burning with desire, fingers caressing hers, eyes fixed on her lips.
Esselion felt as though something precious was being stolen from him.
“On the contrary, it’s far too few.”
“It’s plenty. It’s already late afternoon. To do it three times, you’d need…”
Rescal straightened his back, eyes gleaming.
“You mean to do all three today?”
Esselion didn’t know what three times meant.
But he knew he absolutely did not want to know. Because once he did, he felt there would be no going back.
Rasilia, flustered, asked back:
“That’s… not what you meant?”
“Perfect. That’s perfect.”
“…”
Rescal seized her hand.
“Then, if we’re going to do all three, we need to head back to the palace right now.”
If the Emperor of Eliaeden had been a wolf, his tail would’ve been wagging so hard it vanished from sight.
Esselion could almost see an imaginary tail thrashing wildly before his eyes.
“I still need to stay here a while longer.”
Thankfully—blessedly—the prophet stopped the Emperor.
“Why…? Don’t tell me it’s because you don’t want to do three?”
Again, he imagined drooping ears where none existed.
“No. It’s because the Duke of Pielion’s condition is critical. I may have to witness his final moments.”
“I see. Then I’ll wait.”
“I’d rather you didn’t. You can’t afford to leave the palace for so long.”
“It’s fine. It’s three times.”
Of course, it wasn’t fine. No one knew how long the Duke had left, and the Emperor couldn’t leave the capital for days without preparation.
“Then let’s do this. If you promise not to be stubborn about this, we’ll do three times.”
Rescal frowned, then shook his head.
“If that happens, then it becomes four.”
“No. Three.”
“Why?”
“Because it was originally two.”
There was no way Rasilia didn’t notice Rescal had sneakily tried to increase the number to three. And she knew if she kept giving ground, that number would grow without end.
“You’re too strict.”
“Not at all. If I were, we wouldn’t even be at three.”
“That’s exactly what strict means.”
Rasilia chuckled softly at his deadly serious expression.
Rescal let out a sigh, almost like a whimper.
“When you smile like that, I can’t argue.”
He still didn’t know—that was why Rasilia always softened for him.
“So, now that it’s three, do you dislike it?”
“Of course not.”
Rescal quickly did the math.
He couldn’t interfere with her wish to witness her father’s final moments—not as much as it pained him. She seemed determined not to let him stay.
Waiting wasn’t hard. The only problem was the annoyingly handsome prince who owed her a debt—but the half-grown bird could handle that.
In the meantime, he had something else to look forward to: three kisses.
Three.
A whole three. All in one night.
Just thinking about it made his heart pound violently.
“Then I’ll wait.”
As if she expected that answer, Rasilia nodded and patted his cheek.
“I’ll see you at the palace.”
“As soon as possible.”
“Hmm… Isn’t that an inappropriate thing to say?”
It was—basically telling the Duke to hurry up and die.
“If it takes too long, call me. I’ll come back—and next time, I’ll make sure you can’t tell me not to leave the palace.”
For a moment, Rasilia imagined the Duke’s residence swarming with the Emperor’s attendants and maids, and she shook her head quickly.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
That stung a little, but the sting faded when she escorted him to the front gates.
Rescal even left one of his royal guards behind to deliver news the moment the Duke passed.
But the Duke lived longer than anyone expected.
And for a reason no one could have imagined.
