133. (Self-Proclaimed) The Prince on a White Horse’s Kiss
“Did you just call me a third-rate villain? Look at you—looking like some dandified gigolo….”
The so-called third-rate villain—no, thug—snorted angrily.
Crack, crack.
He cracked his knuckles menacingly before swinging his fist with all his might.
“Let’s see how you like getting beaten to death by a third-rate villain!”
“……!”
At that moment, I clearly saw it—
a faint smile tugging at the corners of the Administrator’s lips.
“Hyah!”
Confidently, he rushed forward and threw his fist.
Wait, hold on. If he’s possessing Cayenne’s body, shouldn’t he be fighting with magic?
What the heck is with that straight-up jab?
“Guhh!”
But surprisingly, the Administrator’s fist slammed into the thug’s stomach.
Wait—it actually worked?
Was it thanks to his natural physique?
The Administrator fought barehanded like a fish in water, completely in his element.
Groaning in pain, the thug staggered backward.
“You little punk, you’re better than you look.”
“Better than some third-rate villain spouting cliché lines, at least.”
“You arrogant brat! I’ll show you real pain!”
“……!”
The thug whipped a dagger out from his clothes. He lunged straight for the Administrator’s torso, but the Administrator dodged lightly.
Then, with his long leg, he kicked the thug square in the head.
“Urgh!”
The roundhouse kick sent the thug reeling. The shock knocked the dagger right out of his hand, sending it clattering to the entrance of the alley.
“Yah!”
Seizing the momentum, the Administrator twisted the thug’s arm and subdued him completely.
“Damn it! How humiliating!”
The anticlimactic fight ended, and the thug fled, still tossing out pathetic villain lines to the very end.
The Administrator dusted off his hands with a satisfied pat pat.
“Phew. You saw that, right? You saw it?”
“Yeah, you fight pretty well.”
“That’s all you’ve got to say? Nothing about my bravery, throwing myself into battle for the sake of my beloved?”
“I don’t know about that.”
I replied indifferently.
What was there to feel moved about when he’d summoned that thug himself?
Besides, wasn’t that guy just all bulk with no real strength?
I had a sneaking suspicion the Administrator deliberately dialed the difficulty way down since he’d be the one fighting….
But doubts aside, his face beamed with pride.
“Anyway, that’s one bucket list item crossed off!”
“What kind of bucket list?”
“Experiencing what it’s like to be a prince on a white horse! Something every Administrator should try at least once.”
“Right, right. Congratulations.”
I jerked my chin toward the direction of the Duke’s mansion.
“Now that you’ve had your dopamine boost, let’s go home.”
“Wait. There’s still one more piece of content left.”
“What now?”
Summoning a thug wasn’t enough? What ridiculous event was he planning this time?
“There’s something a prince on a white horse absolutely has to do.”
“Huh?”
The Administrator’s face drew closer.
Those pomegranate-red eyes gazed steadily down at me.
“Thanks for today’s date.”
Peck.
Something warm and soft brushed against my forehead for the briefest moment, then lifted away.
“Your Majesty, are you still angry?”
Time had flown by, and several days had already passed since the Hunting Festival ended. But the Emperor’s fury showed no signs of abating.
Shylo, wearing a pitiful expression, kept glancing nervously at him.
“I’m deeply disappointed in you. Don’t bother coming to the imperial palace for a while.”
“Your Majestyyy.”
Shylo whined plaintively, but the Emperor was unmoved.
“You should be thankful I’m letting you off this easily. Acting out with childish feigned illness during such an important state ceremony—what were you thinking?”
“Aw, Your Majesty. I already said I was sorry. I’ve reflected plenty.”
The Emperor dismissed Shylo’s bloody episode as nothing more than a childish prank.
Shylo felt relieved at that—but the cold war with him dragged on far longer than she’d expected.
Day after day of fawning over the Emperor was beginning to wear on her.
“The Crown Prince is still bedridden. At this rate, all his schedules will have to be postponed for at least half a month. That means our trade negotiations with the Kingdom of Phylon may collapse entirely.”
“Collapsed? No, Your Majesty. While it’s terrible that the Crown Prince was injured, giving up on something as important as international trade would be absurd. Wouldn’t it be better to entrust it to another suitable candidate?”
“Another candidate?”
“Marquis Balton, of course. He was the one who secured the negotiations in the first place, so why not let him handle the finalization as well…?”
“Shylo!”
The Emperor’s furious shout made Shylo shrink back.
“Do you think this is the time to talk so lightly?”
“…….”
“And Balton too! Thanks to the man he recommended, that disaster happened at the Hunting Festival, and you still want to defend him?”
Not long ago, the Emperor praised Marquis Balton as an irreplaceable loyal retainer, a man of talent. But in just a few days, his attitude had flipped completely.
“Do you have any idea how hard I had to work to appease the nobles who attended that day? If I hadn’t left my seat, things wouldn’t have gotten that bad.”
Shylo had to work hard to keep her expression from twisting.
Who was the one who said he’d indulge Balton’s every request and approved that recommendation in the first place?
Back then, the Emperor had been happy to oblige. And now he was blaming others?
But she swallowed down her rising irritation.
“Your Majesty, I misspoke. Please let go of your anger now.”
It was important to soothe his mood, but even more important was steering the vacant position of trade envoy to her advantage.
Marquis Balton, having incurred the Emperor’s wrath, was now in hiding. That meant she alone had to curry favor.
“I don’t want to hear it! I don’t even want to see you—leave for today.”
“Your Majesty…”
But all her efforts went to waste. The Emperor coldly dismissed her.
No matter how she clung, it was useless. With his son grievously injured, the Emperor was unrelenting.
Back in her quarters, Shylo summoned her maids.
“I’ll ask again. On that day—who was the very last person to leave the grounds?”
“On that day, you mean…?”
Countess Garcia, newly appointed head lady-in-waiting, asked cautiously.
Shylo snapped back sharply.
“The day of the Hunting Festival! Who botched the cleanup and caused this whole mess?”
Because one useless maid had failed to properly secure a single blood pouch, she’d been suffering the Emperor’s coldness for days now.
If not for that, she wouldn’t have incurred his wrath in the first place.
Her maids exchanged uneasy glances.
In the tense silence, Evelyn sat stiff as a board, her heart hammering wildly.
“Why is no one answering? How long do you plan to keep your mouths shut?”
When the silence dragged on, Shylo snapped irritably.
“If no one will speak, then you, Lady-in-Waiting. Speak on behalf of them all.”
After some hesitation, Countess Garcia opened her mouth.
“That day… we entrusted the cleanup to the young lady of Marquis Balton’s house…”
Being singled out, Evelyn flinched.
“Marquis Balton’s daughter?”
Shylo’s eyes narrowed. Countess Garcia quickly added,
“Everyone was flustered that day, so the young lady must have made a mistake. It was also my failure for not checking more carefully.”
But Shylo’s sharp glare was already fixed on Evelyn.
Her eyes seemed to say: Well? Let’s hear your excuse.
“Th-the thing is… I really thought I secured it properly, but I must have dropped it in my haste…”
Evelyn stared down at the floor, her voice shrinking smaller and smaller with every word.
Before becoming Shylo’s maid, she had been confident to the point of arrogance.
But since entering the imperial palace, her spirit had noticeably withered.
Life in the palace was no easy matter.
She wasn’t used to serving others, so being scolded and reprimanded daily had become routine.
And Shylo turned out to be far, far scarier than she’d ever imagined.
Shylo glared at her irritably.
“Disappointing. Like father, like daughter… Enough. Everyone out.”
With that, Shylo dismissed them.
The maids scattered, and Evelyn returned to the maids’ quarters to calm her shaken heart.
But there, she found an unexpected man waiting.
“You’re here, Evelyn.”
“Father? What are you doing here?”
Marquis Balton greeted her, and she couldn’t hide her surprise.
“You said you’d refrain from entering the palace for the time being…”
The Marquis chuckled and pulled a newspaper from his coat.
“When something interesting happens, of course I must come. Here, look.”
“What is it?”
“The Hunting Festival. It seems a celebrity was born from the incident that day.”
“What?”
Reading the article, Evelyn’s eyes widened in shock.
