Chapter 47
“Sir David, please—let Sir Francis come in.”
I’d already overheard too much to keep pretending not to listen. When I flung the door open, I saw David Grass’s face—brown hair, black eyes. “Grass”—that was the second time I’d heard that name today.
“Y-Your Highness…!”
“Ah… Your Highness.”
Both men dropped to their knees in formal greeting. Francis had his head bowed low, his expression twisted somewhere between shame and sorrow. His face, always so quick to flush, was now burning scarlet—he looked like he might burst into flames.
“What are you doing down there? Come here. I waited so long I fell asleep.”
“Your Highness, I—”
“Oh, and Sir David.”
“…Yes?”
“Your mouth smells like dung. Brush your teeth.”
After saying that, I—without any plan at all—just dragged Francis into the room with me. I checked the door to make sure it was closed properly, but unfortunately, I used my right arm to do it—the one that weighed about 70 kilos. It trembled as I reached out, and for a second, I thought I might die on the spot!
“Why were you trying to come into my room?”
In his arms were two clear bottles of rum—different colors. One amber, one navy-blue. Even from a glance, they looked expensive.
Wow. Before I came here, it was always just soju or beer. Guess I’m getting to try real liquor now.
Well, I have had some fancy wine here too, come to think of it.
“Your Highness said… if I won the bet… you’d give me a kiss at night. You told me to bring alcohol.”
Ah, he means when we played with paper airplanes and he won. But after what he just heard earlier, I doubt he still feels like doing that.
“Before that, tell me what’s going on.”
“…”
He didn’t answer. His head was bowed, but I could tell—he was crying. His voice had been trembling for a while, and now I knew why. He’d been so calm talking to David earlier… why now?
“Are you ashamed?”
“…”
“Then stop acting like your loyalty belongs to my sister. Why do you put yourself through this?”
“Pardon…?”
He looked up at me, startled—completely thrown off. Probably wondering how I knew.
“What… what do you mean?”
“You report everything about me to her, don’t you? That’s why you’ve been getting close to me.”
“Ah… that… what are you…”
“What did she promise you? A marquisate? A fiancé? Or a spot as her concubine?”
Shock, confusion—and something else I couldn’t name. But as tears welled up in his gray, glassy eyes again, the sorrow in them shook me. Even in this moment, he managed to make me feel unsettled, like I was the one who had done something wrong.
His eyes changed—hurt, resentful, as if asking why I’d doubt him.
“Your Highness… do you truly believe… my feelings were fake?”
He placed the rum bottles on the desk and came closer. I instinctively stepped back—but he matched my pace, closing in again.
Why is he angry? Is it because I saw through him?
“Come on. You—you like white hair and pink eyes. That’s clearly my sister. You hated me when we first met, almost wanted to kill me. So of course it’s not me. I get it. Even if you—ugh…”
His hands grabbed my shoulders and suddenly—his lips were on mine. His tongue pushed roughly, desperately, and I turned my head away to escape.
“What are you doing?”
“My… my feelings… Your Highness… Do you think they’re that shallow?”
“Why are you crying again?”
I tried to move away, but he came closer. His voice was trembling right by my ear, thick with emotion and something else—something dangerously intimate.
“When I said I liked you… did you forget?”
“Well, for you, my sister’s also a ‘Your Highness,’ so maybe you meant—oh, wait…”
“…Hhk…”
“W-wait!”
He lifted me off my feet—just like that. My center of gravity tipped with my heavy arm, and before I knew it—thud!—I was on the bed.
“W-what the—?!”
“Your Highness…”
His arms caged me in like prison bars. A tear slid down his nose and fell warm against my cheek. Each time he blinked, more dropped—clear and glittering like finely cut glass.
[Quest! “A Dog in Springtime!”]
Francis Patella is anxious.
Choose one of the following options to comfort him!
▼
I wanted to press it, but both arms were pinned. When I turned my head to avoid his tear-streaked face, even bigger tears rolled down.
“Sir Francis.”
“Please… just call me Francis.”
“Fran—mmph—!”
He said “just my name,” but didn’t even let me finish before kissing me again! His lips were trembling against mine, tasting of salt. When I twisted my face away, he looked at me pitifully.
“Francis. Wait.”
“No. You trampled on my feelings, Your Highness.”
“I didn’t kno—ugh—mmph!”
He stopped kissing just long enough to speak.
“If you didn’t know, how can you say you trampled them?”
“When you first kissed me, then, what did you think that meant?”
Ugh. Should I be honest or dodge? When you can’t think—say something weird. That usually stuns people.
“Then… call me by my name too.”
“What?”
“Gracie.”
“Ah… Gr—Gracie…”
He quieted down immediately. Maybe that was the right answer. His tears started to ease, and though it wasn’t the right time to notice, his beauty was distracting as hell.
“Calm down. I’m not going anywhere.”
I slowly freed my left hand, and he let me. I brushed his cheek, wiping away a tear—only for him to start crying again! What now!? He’d just stopped a second ago!
Ugh, whatever! Let’s just press the arrow!
I mentally pressed the floating arrow above us.
▼ Options:
- Kiss him.
- Spend the night together.
- Tell him to take his clothes off.
- (Censored). (Auto-execute).
Oh my god, are you serious? If this were an 18+ game, they should’ve sent someone experienced! Why me?! How is this fair!?
Wait… options 2 and 4 aren’t the same? Then… number 2!
[Invalid choice.]
[Invalid choice.]
[Invalid choice.]
[Invalid choice.]
[Invalid choice.]
[Invalid choice.]
[Invalid choice.]
[Invalid choice.]
Nooooooooooooo!
Fine—3!
“Take… take your clothes off.”
“May I really?”
“Yes. And I’m sorry for doubting you. I really didn’t know. I’m… pretty slow with this stuff. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
I reached out with my right hand to touch his cheek. His skin was damp and feverish—somehow sensual enough to make me tense.
“So tell me. What really happened between us?”
“That…”
“Whatever it is, I’ll believe you. Adrian told me a little, but… I’d rather hear it from you.”
His eyes darted around, conflicted, then finally met mine. I gently brushed his cheek again, my thumb grazing his lips.
“Ah—! Wh-why are you biting me!”
“Ah, I… you don’t like that?”
He looked flustered—and that’s when I noticed. His outfit. It was almost the same as the one Adrian had worn earlier.
“Come to think of it, this is the first time I’ve seen you not in uniform.”
“Do you like it?”
“No. It reminds me of Adrian. Creepy.”
“Eh? But…”
“Wait. Did you push your hair to one side just to look more like him—”
His cheeks turned red again, this time from shame, and tears welled up. I was starting to worry he might dehydrate at this rate.
“Because… because Your Highness loves Lord Russell. I thought if I looked a little more like him… maybe you’d look at me. I can change my hair if you want. My eyes too, with magic…”
“Don’t. Adrian is Adrian. You’re Francis. And I like red hair better anyway. White’s too common.”
“Ah…”
He smiled through tears—who does that? Smiling while crying somehow made him even prettier. Maybe the reverse-curse should’ve hit him instead of Lilfei.
“Your Highness.”
“Yes?”
Then suddenly, he wrapped his arms around me again. His lips brushed mine with a soft pop, and then he started undressing.
The bed was a mess—papers, pens stained with ink—but he didn’t care. He just tossed his clothes on top of everything.
“May I undress you too, Your Highness?”
“No. Only you.”
He looked a little crestfallen but leaned in for another kiss. His lips barely touched mine before he whispered—softly, as though casting a spell that would sink into my heart.
“Your Highness… make me obey you. I’ll be your loyal dog.”
