Chapter 41
I’ll Become the Tyrant’s Tutor
Prim let out a deep sigh and flopped onto her bed.
Lane was away for training, and even the painting lessons were on hold, leaving her with nothing to do.
‘Should I go to the library?’
She sat back up.
The corridor outside was silent. Everyone was busy preparing for Lane’s birthday celebration, so the entire residence was practically deserted.
‘Then maybe I should check out the exhibition room.’
Prim headed toward the art gallery to look at the works of the painters she was close with.
But just as she neared the room—
A beastly growl echoed from somewhere nearby.
Startled, Prim froze.
Then she heard Kiris’s voice, cursing violently, followed by the sound of something crashing to the floor.
“Who’s there?! Come out, right now!”
He threw the canvas in his hands onto the ground.
The painting was torn to shreds. Judging by the situation, it must have been one of his own works.
‘Oh my goodness.’
Prim quickly hid herself.
Despite her shock, she couldn’t stop the corners of her lips from twitching.
‘I’m terrible,’ she scolded herself, shaking her head as she quietly slipped away.
Behind her, Kiris’s angry shouts continued to echo.
Because of him, she didn’t even get to see the exhibition.
“Where should I go now…”
After a moment’s hesitation, Prim decided to head for the garden.
The sunlight streaming down was unusually warm for winter.
She stared blankly at the golden rays filtering through the trees and gently closed her eyes.
For the first time in a long while, she felt at peace.
“Ah, damn it.”
But the peace didn’t last long.
A familiar voice broke the silence—Dapes.
‘What’s he up to again?’
Prim wasn’t eager for another confrontation, so she ducked behind a thick bush.
“Ever since she showed up…” Dapes muttered irritably.
‘He’s obviously talking about me.’
Prim pouted.
“People don’t avoid dung because they’re scared of it, but because it’s dirty,” she whispered under her breath.
After grumbling for a bit longer, Dapes finally left.
‘Thank goodness.’
Prim let out a quiet sigh of relief—
—when she suddenly heard a rustle nearby.
“…?”
“Uh…”
Her eyes met those of a young boy.
He stared back at her, wide-eyed, pressing his tiny hand tightly over his mouth as if trying not to make a sound.
Prim quickly looked him over.
A pale face, rosy cheeks, golden hair, and striking blue eyes identical to the Emperor’s.
He looked around six to eight years old—and he was wearing the uniform of a prince.
“Prince Rada?”
The name slipped out before she could stop herself.
“Ah!”
Startled, the boy immediately reached out and clamped his small hand over her mouth.
“Quiet! You mustn’t speak! I’ll be in big trouble if they find me!”
His panicked expression made Prim nod in understanding.
‘But… what is he doing here?’
Rada was only mentioned in the original novel—he never actually appeared in the story.
The ninth prince, Rada, had lost his mother in an accident right after birth.
The Emperor, hoping his son would overcome grief through beauty, sent him abroad to study art.
He was supposed to return once he was older—but because of Lane’s descent into tyranny, he never came back.
“Shh.”
Rada placed a finger to his lips again, anxiously glancing around.
From the way he moved, it was clear he was hiding from someone.
Prim thought for a moment before whispering,
“Your Highness, I can talk, you know.”
Rada flinched and swallowed nervously. His chubby cheeks puffed slightly as he pursed his lips.
The sight made Prim chuckle softly.
“Why are you hiding, Your Highness?”
“…”
Rada shut his mouth tightly, clearly unwilling to answer.
Prim narrowed her eyes slightly—a habit she had whenever she was trying to think.
Why would he sneak in here, avoiding everyone?
“You wanted to meet Prince Lanesys, didn’t you?”
Rada’s eyes went wide, like a startled rabbit. His expression clearly said, How did you know?
He had lost his mother at birth, and because of Lane’s curse, no one paid much attention to him.
Only his nurse had cared for him devotedly.
‘And that nurse hated Lane more than anyone.’
Even though Rada had returned for the birthday celebration, the nurse’s warnings about Lane must still ring in his ears.
‘She must’ve told him never to go near his brother.’
So that’s why he had snuck in.
While Prim pieced it together, Rada tugged on her sleeve impatiently.
“How did you know? Huh? Can you read my mind?”
It was such a random question that Prim burst into laughter.
“Of course. I can see what Your Highness is thinking.”
Then she leaned closer, her eyes twinkling mischievously.
“If you think really hard—I want to see him!—then I can see it too. Isn’t that amazing?”
Her purple eyes shimmered faintly as she spoke.
Rada blinked in awe, about to say something—
“Prince Rada!”
A loud voice called out from behind them.
“Your Highness! Where are you?!”
“Ah! It’s Kana!”
Rada gasped and pressed his finger to his lips.
“We’ll talk later! Don’t tell anyone you saw me, okay?”
“Huh? Wait, where are you—”
“See you again!”
And with that, the little prince dashed off.
His attendants rushed about, nearly in tears, calling his name.
Left alone, Prim opened her mouth to point them in his direction—but then shut it again, remembering her promise.
The birthday celebration was only a few days away.
Unable to resist Prim’s insistence any longer, Lane reluctantly approached her.
“Your wrist still hurts. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s getting better—I can move it a little now.”
Prim smiled brightly, brushing off his concern.
“Come on, let’s practice.”
The celebration would be the occasion to officially announce that Lane’s curse had been lifted. Every citizen of the Empire would be watching.
At the party, it was customary for a man and woman to open the dance together. Naturally, the main role fell to Lane.
He was expected to pass by all the noble ladies and invite Elina to dance.
After all, she was his “fated partner.”
Just like in Beauty and the Beast, the iconic moment would be when Belle and the Beast faced each other and danced, realizing their love through music and movement.
‘So practice is essential!’
“Remember the dance we practiced for the ball? I taught you before,” she reminded him.
“That was…”
Was that really teaching? Lane swallowed the words before they escaped.
Prim, oblivious, continued eagerly,
“When you ask a lady to dance, greeting her properly comes first. Leading her comes after. Never forget the gesture of invitation, and then…”
It seemed she was ready to explain every little detail from start to finish.
Lane had asked for lessons, but he hadn’t expected an actual lecture.
He sighed quietly, bent down on one knee, and extended his hand to her.
“Actions speak louder than words.”
He offered his hand like a gentleman asking for a dance.
Prim smiled and placed her hand over his.
“Still, I think a line would make it better, don’t you?”
“A line?”
Lane raised a brow.
“Yes. When you invite a lady, you should say something fitting.”
Lane pondered for a moment.
“What would you say?”
“Hmm…” Prim thought seriously while he watched her intently.
‘If I were a fairy-tale prince…’
Finally, she lifted her head and declared,
“My lady, would you do me the honor of this dance?”
Then she added a playful wink.
The perfect prince line!
“…”
But Lane’s expression was far from impressed.
‘Guess that didn’t land…’
Prim felt awkward. But that’s how they always say it in books and movies!
“It was just an example, you know. Haha…” She tried to laugh it off.
Then Lane suddenly asked,
“What do husbands and wives usually call each other?”
“…Husbands and wives?”
Already? We haven’t even danced yet!
“Your Highness, isn’t that a bit… fast?”
“So what? It’s going to happen anyway.”
He shrugged casually, confidence radiating from him.
Prim could only shake her head with a small smile.
“Well, in that case, you could use a nickname. Calling each other by name works too, but if you want something you can say in front of others—and still sound affectionate…”
She thought for a moment, then her eyes lit up.
“‘My lady.’”
“…”
“You can call me my lady.”
At that, his grip on her hand tightened just slightly.
Her gaze dropped to their joined hands, then lifted back to his. The strength in his grasp quickly softened again, as if nothing had happened.
Then, in a smooth, low voice, Lane spoke:
“Then… my lady.”
His blue eyes gleamed as he looked at her.
“Would you do me the honor of this dance?”
His lips brushed the back of her hand, feather-light, for just an instant.
