Chapter 40
I’ll Become the Tyrant’s Tutor
“What—what are you doing?!”
“You need to see a doctor.”
“It’s just my arm that’s hurt! I can walk by myself…!”
“I can’t stand to see you like that.”
Rein spoke firmly and began to walk. He came face to face with Daphnes and Kiris, who had been standing there blankly.
The murderous aura surrounding Rein snapped Daphnes back to his senses.
He cautiously grasped the sword hanging from his waist, ready to fight if he had to.
But Rein walked right past him—as though he were invisible.
Daphnes stared after him in disbelief.
Did he… just ignore me?
A hollow laugh escaped him. The hand holding the knife trembled.
Daphnes ground his teeth.
How dare he.
Those pests—how dare they! His fist slammed into the palace wall with a violent thud.
“Kyaa!”
A thin scream rang out just then. The voice was familiar. Daphnes looked up.
“…Elina.”
“Prince Daphnes?”
Elina stood there, staring at him in surprise. He hastily lowered his hand.
“W-what are you doing here?”
“I came to see Prim, but I heard some strange noises…”
Still flustered, Elina looked around.
The corridor was a mess. Someone’s art supplies were scattered all over the floor.
Huh?
Her eyes landed on the canvas in Daphnes’s hand.
The painting style was unmistakable—unclear what it depicted, but she knew exactly who had drawn it.
And in his other hand—a knife.
Elina immediately understood the situation.
Daphnes had tried to destroy Prim’s painting.
“Prince Daphnes, that’s…”
“Please return the painting. Your Highness.”
“….”
“Please.”
Her voice was uncharacteristically firm. Startled by her tone, Daphnes automatically handed the painting over.
Elina hugged it tightly to her chest and bowed.
“…I’m sorry, Your Highness. I’ll excuse myself first.”
And with that, she hurried away.
Daphnes didn’t stop her. Her eyes—filled with disgust—were just like Rein’s.
“Damn it!”
He threw everything he was holding. A sharp crash echoed down the corridor.
Everything was ruined. Because of that woman.
Daphnes’s eyes darkened.
* * *
“Absolute rest.”
That was the treatment prescribed for Prim.
Her wrist was so swollen that even twitching her fingers sent a wave of pain through her.
So it really is broken.
She sighed, staring at her tightly bandaged arm.
It was true she’d never wanted to paint—but she hadn’t wanted to get hurt like this either.
Prim clenched her teeth as she thought of Daphnes. She would make him pay—no matter what.
Even Satan would say, ‘Wow, that’s a bit much,’ when he sees my revenge.
What method should she use?
As she sharpened the blade of vengeance in her mind, she suddenly stopped.
She realized she was already in front of her room.
She was being carried again—in Rein’s arms. She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t even noticed.
Ugh, how embarrassing.
Prim wriggled, trying to get down.
But his strong arms wouldn’t let her go. Confused, she looked up.
Rein was gazing down at her, his expression pained.
He hesitated, lips trembling, before confessing in a low voice.
“…I’m sorry.”
The sudden apology widened her eyes.
“…Your Highness?”
“It’s all my fault. The reason that bastard did that to you—it’s because of me. Because I…”
He bit his lip, as if the words themselves hurt.
“It’s always been like this. Ever since I was a child… everyone who stays near me—painters too… Maybe…”
His face twisted with the effort of suppressing his emotions. The sight of him—so filled with sorrow—made Prim’s heart ache.
“I’m sorry.”
He said it again, guilt flooding his blue eyes.
“Your Highness.”
Prim lifted her uninjured hand and gently brushed his cheek. Rein closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, like a wounded animal seeking warmth.
“Please don’t say that. None of this is your fault.”
Her chest tightened painfully.
Even before he was born, there had been that prophecy—that everyone around him would drown in blood. That curse had become his lifelong guilt.
She felt sorry for him. He must have been so lonely, even as a child.
“It’s not your fault, Your Highness.”
Prim spoke only the truth from her heart, hoping her words would reach him.
His blue eyes trembled faintly.
“Everything that happens does so for a reason. Don’t try to carry it all alone.”
“….”
“But if you insist on carrying it—”
She stroked his cheek softly. His eyes held only her.
“Then I’ll carry it with you. The pain, the guilt—I’ll share it.”
Would her words reach him? Prim didn’t know.
She wasn’t asking for much. She just wanted to lighten the darkness in his heart, even a little.
She wished for that—only that.
“…You’ll regret saying that.”
Rein’s voice was low, almost strangled.
Prim smiled faintly and shook her head.
“I won’t. You know I’m stubborn.”
He hesitated, his lips twitching, then finally chuckled softly.
“I know. I know that all too well.”
“Then you’ll believe me?”
Her cheeks flushed pink as Rein lowered his head.
“Yeah…”
Their foreheads touched.
The distance between them vanished. Only then did Prim realize she was still in his arms.
“Mm. I’ll believe you.”
Seeing the peace on his face, she couldn’t bring herself to ask him to put her down.
She simply smiled back.
His arms tightened around her.
Prim was grateful that her feelings had reached him—hoping his heart, trapped in guilt, might finally be free.
That was all she wanted.
“Ah! Prim!”
Just then, Elina’s voice rang out from afar.
Rein clicked his tongue discreetly and raised his head. Their foreheads separated.
“Prim! What happened? Oh my goodness!”
Elina ran toward them, holding something in her arms. When Prim gave a quick glance, Rein reluctantly set her down.
“Elina, I’m fine.”
“Fine? How can you be fine! How are you supposed to paint like this? Do you know how important a painter’s hands are?”
Elina examined her hand with teary eyes.
“These delicate hands…”
“I told you, I’m fine.”
Prim gave her a gentle, placating smile, but Elina couldn’t stop fussing.
And then—Rein scooped Prim up again.
Both women gasped.
“W-what are you doing?!”
“The doctor said you need absolute rest.”
“I said I’m fine! Put me down!”
Not in front of Elina, of all people!
But Rein didn’t seem to hear her. The two of them disappeared quickly into the room.
“…What the heck?”
Left behind, Elina stared after them, dumbfounded.
“Oh, that’s it!”
Refusing to be outdone, she ran straight to Prim’s room.
From behind the closed door came the sound of a light scuffle—though it soon went quiet, thanks to Prim’s words.
* * *
After that day, Prim no longer had to go out to paint.
In a way, it was freedom—though a reluctant one.
However…
“Ah.”
“….”
“Don’t like it? Should I bring another one?”
Prim looked down at the tart placed in front of her.
No matter how many times this happened, she couldn’t get used to it.
She glanced up at Rein.
“My left hand works just fine.”
“I know.”
“…That means I can feed myself.”
“Mm. But eat this first.”
Rein’s overprotectiveness had gotten worse.
She felt like she was being treated like a child.
No matter how many times she insisted she was fine, he wouldn’t back off.
“It’s practice.”
“Practice for what?”
“For feeding the person I love.”
That’s something you need to practice?
Prim stared at him, dumbfounded. But Rein was serious.
In the end, she reluctantly opened her mouth and took the bite he offered.
“See? You’re eating well.”
“….”
Rein smiled in satisfaction, while Prim awkwardly wiped the crumbs from her lips.
Her hand wasn’t completely useless—it just hurt to move too much.
But Rein didn’t seem to think so.
Every day, after his grueling training, he came straight to her room.
“I told you, I can do it myself!”
“With that hand? Hardly.”
He hovered around her like a man possessed.
He even tried to carry her everywhere.
“My hand’s hurt, not my feet!”
“Didn’t you twist your ankle?”
“No! I didn’t!”
This level of overprotection was too much.
She was a nameless painter—worse, one who’d gotten her position through connections. People already disliked her.
If rumors about this got out, it would be a disaster.
