#25. And You Were the One Who Flirted First?
Wait.
「We must go now. The aura is stronger than ever before.」
The wolf urged.
Nikolai bit hard on the inside of his lip.
A metallic tang spread across his tongue, quickly turning into the bitterness he knew too well.
I said wait.
「You’ve fallen for that fragrant woman, haven’t you?」
Shut up.
「Don’t try to fool me, the one who’s always watching you. I know your desires better than you do.」
Don’t you dare appear on your own again. I won’t forgive it.
The warning was hollow and bitter.
And what if he didn’t forgive?
The Empire needed the wolf.
The Emperor had to coexist with the beast.
No—he had to appease it, feed it the prey it demanded at the right time.
The wolf knew that all too well and sought to exploit it at every chance.
「You mean the library incident?」
Shameless thing.
「I couldn’t help it. You know it too, don’t you? Her scent drives even me mad.」
You call that an excuse?
「Even now, I can’t stop thinking about Elizabet’s sweet fragrance. Just like you.」
The wolf, wearing Nikolai’s very face, licked its lips.
A strange, violent urge surged within him.
He wanted to tear apart the wolf coiled inside him, Empire and people be damned.
But even that desire was laid bare before the beast.
「Would you be fine killing me? Then the Death Flowers will bloom across the Empire again.」
……
「Hey, Niki. Don’t you realize what’s happening while you waste time like this?」
The wolf mocked him.
Nikolai tried to appear resolute, but the result was always the same.
Just as the wolf wanted, just as the wolf led.
It wasn’t the beast in chains. It was Nikolai.
And yet, tonight, he couldn’t bring himself to leave Elizabet behind.
He wanted to take her where she wished to go.
As if sensing his thoughts, Elizabet looked up at him.
“It’s not far from here.”
“And where is that?”
“I’ll tell you on the way.”
“……”
“There’s something important I want to say too. If Your Majesty is willing to hear it.”
Her dark eyes, lit by starlight, shone with a rare clarity.
Perhaps she was ready to open the door to her heart—just a little.
I want to listen to you all night. Even your silly jokes would be enough. I’m already drunk on your scent. I’ll beg the goddess to make this night unending. And while the goddess laughs at me, I’ll dream—that you, too, are offering the same foolish, sweet prayer.
But the wolf allowed nothing.
「Niki. Have you forgotten the late Emperor’s last will?」
The chain around his neck tightened.
Nikolai was dragged back to his fate.
“We should return.”
“You said you’d come with me.”
“I’ve remembered something urgent.”
“It’ll really only take a moment…”
Elizabet timidly grasped his sleeve.
Her trembling eyes begged him.
Words she could only say tonight lingered on her lips and cheeks.
After a painful struggle, Nikolai spat out words he knew he’d regret.
He shook off her small hand.
“I said I’m busy! You’re already troublesome enough!”
He turned away, but he felt the glow around her flicker and fade.
The trust that might have taken root.
The softness that had briefly shone in her eyes.
The courage that might never rise again.
And so, Nikolai had to turn from what could have been his last salvation.
「Well done, Niki. You endured again. You really are a fine Emperor.」
The wolf’s sneering voice echoed long in the silence.
For the first time in a long while, Nikolai wanted to die.
Just as he had on the day of his coronation, when the wolf first became his burden.
“Elizabet, what have you been daydreaming about all day?”
Franz drummed his fingers on the desk.
She blinked, turning away from the window.
“Sorry. Where was I?”
“You haven’t said anything yet.”
“Ha… is that so?”
“And you’re laughing at a blank schedule? What did you even do last night?”
Almost spilled everything to your father, that’s what.
Thank heavens for his fickle, busy nature—saved me from a fatal mistake.
Bless you, Your Majesty!
“Franz, could you stop prying into your tutor’s private life?”
“Then maybe my tutor should care more about her pupil’s studies?”
“What a cheeky brat.”
“And what a lazy instructor.”
The boy’s sharp tongue was natural-born.
Thanks to Franz, she could momentarily forget the way Nikolai had turned his back on her.
…Well, that was a lie.
No matter what, he wouldn’t leave her mind.
And to think you were the one who lured me out for a drive. Then suddenly, ‘urgent business’? Too busy, you said? If you’re that busy, how did you manage to visit the library, or the skewer shop? Busy? Troubled by me? Ha! The nerve!
If only she had an eraser for her thoughts.
She tried to push him out, but new versions of Nikolai kept popping up.
Not just one or two—an entire flock of little Nikolais, each saying their piece.
「You really are amusing.」
「You know nothing about me.」
「I don’t want you to misunderstand me.」
「It’s women like you that are worth it.」
「I’m begging you.」
And all that in one night?!
It was absurd.
First, wounded pride when she’d called him a womanizer.
Then, sweet, tender words—oh-so-kind and pure.
And finally? Don’t trouble me!
As if she’d fall for him again!
Out! Out of my head, all of you! Come back and I’ll smash you!
Grinding her teeth, she pulled out an imaginary toy hammer and whacked away at the little Nikolais.
Bam! Bam!
She swung harder and harder, but they didn’t vanish.
They were just as nasty as the real one.
「Don’t lie, Elizabet.」
「You like me too.」
「You’ve already fallen for me.」
「Act proud all you want—you’re the same as any other woman.」
「Easier, even. One kind gesture and you’re ready to open up.」
She swung her hammer harder, desperate to drive out even a strand of his black hair, a shred of his shadow.
But nothing came easy.
She might have even been swinging her real arms without realizing.
“Elizabet, what are you doing? Are you sick?”
Franz asked, half worried, half dumbfounded.
She finally lowered her arm, forcing a sheepish smile.
“A gnat…”
“You could at least say you were doing calisthenics.”
“…Fine. Exercise, then.”
“…Unbelievable.”
How did other tutors survive the withering gaze of a ten-year-old?
Was that part of the job description too?
Still, thanks to Nikolai, she’d been jolted back on track, like a racehorse reminded of the finish line.
She couldn’t afford to lose her focus.
“All right, let’s draw up the real schedule now.”
“So you’re finally working? Bravo, Elizabet.”
“As I warned, swordsmanship training will be greatly reduced.”
“And theology classes?”
“On hold until I find suitable material.”
“Now we’re talking!”
“Why do you hate theology anyway? The other professors say your attitude’s fine in their classes.”
“It’s not theology I hate. It’s the goddess of healing, Morashincia.”
“Why?”
“She only saves the people she wants to. What kind of god is that?”
A shadow crossed Franz’s small, handsome face—an old wound.
Right. His mother died of illness, didn’t she? With how sharp he is, he’d remember everything.
Elizabet’s chest tightened, imagining little Franz praying desperately to the goddess at his sick mother’s side.
She might need to adjust her plan to use the Crown Prince to track down the second relic. But her desire to help him was genuine.
She flipped through the thick stack of his study materials.
“Your grades in politics, economics, foreign languages, and music are excellent. The weaker subjects are literature and math.”
“The professors are useless.”
“Don’t blame others, Franz. That’s ignorance at its worst.”
“Don’t nag, Elizabet. Kids are supposed to be ignorant.”
She sighed. Pointless.
Clutching her aching head, she changed the subject.
“What about the new literature and math professors?”
“Math’s so-so.”
“And literature?”
“The worst.”
He answered flatly.
“From his looks alone, I can’t stand him. A man should have charisma like His Majesty. Not smiling like some girl.”
“Douglas just has a pleasant face. Still, he’s handsome, isn’t he?”
“So that’s your type? Pathetic little bookworms? What a disappointment.”
Her real type had always been tall, lean, with a cold expression and piercing eyes.
Long hair tied back, eyes as blue as the South Pacific.
The genius swordswoman Claudia, who could rout an entire elite battalion on her own.
Normally, Elizabet would be lamenting her cruel fate of being destined to face her favorite on the executioner’s block.
But today was different.
Thanks to the endless parade of little Nikolais filling her head.
In the end, it’s always Nikolai. Round and round, and the answer is Nikolai. Is that the conclusion? …Sigh.
Her heart felt unsettled.
Especially with Franz giving her that pitiful look again.
She needed to focus.
“Ahem. So how should we handle art classes?”
Franz asked casually, pretending disinterest.
“I was thinking of inviting an art professor. What do you think?”
“…Since when did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That I… like… painting…”
He stammered, as though revealing some great secret.
“You stole the page’s clothes to paint in them, didn’t you?”
“See? Your tutor may be lazy, but she’s quick.”
“Thanks for the compliment, student.”
“What else have you figured out?”
He asked with a touch of expectation.
“Your hand scars gave you away.”
“My hand?”
“Sword training usually leaves cuts on the palms. But your deepest wounds are on the inside of your middle fingers. That’s from holding a pen with ruined hands, forcing yourself to use tools that didn’t fit.”
“…You’re right.”
“And I’ll bet you painted in secret, in the dark. The ink stains on your sleeves gave it away.”
Franz just shrugged.
This time, she asked:
“What are you hiding for? If you love painting, then paint.”
“Elizabet, you’re naïve. What good is it for the Crown Prince to paint well? How does that help the Empire?”
“And what’s wrong with artistic talent?”
“I already get called weak. Imagine the rumors if people knew I sat around painting instead of training. Cutting sword lessons and adding art is the worst idea.”
“You’ll do it anyway.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry about anything. I’ll make sure you paint openly and proudly. With the best teacher.”
She thumped her chest with a trust me gesture.
Franz clapped slowly, unimpressed.
“That baseless confidence—you’re a master of it, Elizabet.”
“Have I ever failed? Just trust me, Your Highness.”
“Sounds like you’re planning to put this fragile prince on solid ground. Am I wrong?”
“Franz, your attitude stinks, but your insight’s sharp.”
“Elizabet! What are you plotting again?”
She lowered her voice to answer—but a knock interrupted.
Knock knock.
“Your Highness, it’s Douglas Nettleton. May I enter?”
“But there’s no literature class today?”
Franz frowned, though he soon granted entry.
Elizabet had a hunch why Douglas had come unannounced.
He’s noticed I’ve been avoiding him. …What should I do?
