Chapter 56
His lips brushed against mine lightly, and I pushed him away with my hand.
“Did you forget we agreed to meet at night?”
“How about we just go straight to my room like this?”
“I don’t want to. It’s uncomfortable. And besides, I told you — I’m wearing this for the victory ceremony.”
“That’s a shame.”
I must not kiss Adrian. If I do, I’ll end up kissing Francis too. And ever since Francis confessed his feelings, he’s been impossible to let my guard down around.
Not that I hate it — but every time it happens, it’s embarrassing.
“His Majesty has given permission for the three of us to go together.”
“My father did? That can’t be right!”
“There’s nothing I can’t persuade him to do.”
The confidence in his voice made me laugh. When I looked up, he was smiling faintly too.
That gave me an idea. The tailor making my dress was one of my sister’s people. Which meant, of course, that I couldn’t let my guard down. If even the maids and servants were hers, there was only so much I could actually do.
“Hey, Adrian. Can you do me a favor?”
“Do I ever need you to ask? Haven’t I always done what you ask anyway?”
“Oh, please. You say that, but in bed you—”
…In bed you were such a mess, weren’t you?
I almost said it, but Francis was looking at me with those pitiful eyes again, so I bit my tongue.
I’ll give back the marquis title soon and let him go once he’s come to his senses.
Right now, he’s clearly not in his right mind.
I don’t believe in love. Maybe my parents, who abandoned me, once loved each other — maybe they even loved me for a while. But in the end, they left me.
‘Why did you come here?’
‘Mom.’
‘I’m not your mom. So live your life as you have until now — as strangers. Don’t ever come looking for me again.’
“You all right?”
“Huh?”
I’d been lost in old memories, feeling sour, when I realized Adrian was watching me. His face was strangely gentle, almost as if he were worried.
Weird.
Whenever he makes that face… why do I think of Clayton?
“Can you read my face that easily?”
“Even if you wore a mask, I’d still know what you’re thinking.”
“Your Highness, I’m the same,” Francis added, nervously.
He was so adorably flustered that I couldn’t help but laugh.
“If either of you have a shred of conscience, how about getting some medical treatment while I try on these dresses?”
“……”
“……”
They both shut their mouths and just stared at me.
“Your lips are cracked, your face is swollen, and your eyes are practically bruised shut. Honestly.”
“Uh… I’m your bodyguard, so…”
“If Francis’s face looks like that, people will think I beat him up.”
“If Your Highness wishes to hit me, I’ll gladly take it. In fact, I’d be honored.”
“That’s not what I meant! And you’re supposed to dislike being hit, not enjoy it!”
I started sweating just from how sincere Francis sounded. His feelings were… heavy.
“It’s fine. You can hit me, or yell at me — I’d still be happy.”
“You damned mutt, you win one fight and now you think you can say whatever you want?”
“Don’t call people that, mutt.”
At that, Adrian suddenly pulled me into a tight embrace — so tight it hurt.
I didn’t fight back. Maybe it was the corset, but my ribs actually ached. Still, I endured it.
“Ugh…”
“After getting beaten up like that, you still don’t know your strength.”
“I can handle this much.”
He squeezed me even tighter, almost stubbornly. I remembered again that I’ve always been weak to being held.
“Ander Vils is going to be my aide. What do you think, Adrian?”
“His Majesty would probably think he’s too valuable to lend you.”
“Father’s the one who suggested it.”
“Then… he’s planning to abdicate soon.”
If that’s true, my sister won’t sit still during the victory ceremony.
Being declared Crown Princess isn’t far from being declared the next Emperor.
“He even said I’ll be regent once I’m named Crown Princess.”
“I see. Then you should probably have a child soon.”
“Ah… Your Highness.”
Maybe — if I planned to stay here even after clearing this game. But I’ll leave once I become Emperor. So why bother?
“I’ll think about it. For now, let’s finish with the dress.”
“…All right.”
I picked up one of the masks nearby and put it on before calling the attendants in.
After that, I ended up trying on nineteen more dresses.
By the end of it, I felt like a doll being played with all day — utterly exhausted.
“You got kicked out of the noble faction?”
Clayton hadn’t attended the state council that day. Instead, he’d met privately with the Emperor, the two of them whispering about something before he came out.
He had an office within the palace, so I figured he’d stop by there before leaving — and waited inside.
“Gracie!”
“You shouldn’t call Sir Francis a mutt anymore.”
“Why?”
Because you’re even more of one.
I didn’t say it out loud — he’d probably take it as a compliment anyway.
“I’m not with the noble faction anymore. I told His Majesty myself. I’m joining the imperial faction, and I’ll prove my loyalty.”
“Because of me?”
“Yeah, thanks to you.”
Francis was probably standing guard outside the door right now. I couldn’t imagine what he’d think seeing Clayton come in — but I doubted he liked it.
“You came because you were worried about me?”
“Yeah.”
“Then maybe I should’ve let you hit me more.”
“Yeah. How come you’re barely hurt?”
“Hehehe.”
Of the three of them, I looked the least injured. Still, my lip was split and my right cheek was a bit swollen, but not like Adrian’s — his face was a mess of bruises.
Adrian was definitely the worst off, then Francis, then Clayton.
Why did that make me feel relieved?
“It still hurts, though. You should worry about me.”
“You said you only fought Adrian, the two of you.”
He’d said the three of them fought, ganged up on one first, then fought each other.
“I got hit a lot at the end too.”
“You lost to Sir Francis?”
“I wasted too much strength on that bastard Russell.”
“Ha! Funny, isn’t it?”
He smiled so brightly that I almost forgot to be mad. Honestly, none of them were normal — who looks happy about all this?
“Yeah. Feels nice though — you came ‘cause you were worried about me.”
“You’re so damn positive. Must be nice living like that.”
“As long as I have you, life’s easy.”
I pinched his cheek and pulled. It was hot and swollen, but his expression was innocent as ever.
“Stop trying to charm people with that pretty talk.”
“Did it work?”
“Who knows.”
“I hope it did.”
He tried to hug me again, but I shoved the medicine box into his chest instead.
“Ugh…!”
“Hey!”
Maybe I pushed too hard — he bent over, clutching the box.
Right. They beat the hell out of each other; of course he’s sore.
“Hurts so good.”
“You wanna die, huh?”
“Are you mad?”
“Yes!”
He was still joking around like an idiot, and my worry turned into anger. I smacked him on the back again — another hit to add to the pile.
“Not hitting me anymore?”
“What, are you a masochist too? You want more?”
“No. I just want you to put the medicine on me.”
He grabbed my hand — the one not holding the medicine — and gently pulled me toward the sofa. It looked just like the one in my office: same color, same cushions.
“You’re barely hurt.”
“No, I’m really hurt. Look closely.”
When I looked — god, he was absurdly handsome.
His lashes were long and dark, fluttering like butterfly wings. His hair, jet-black and neatly swept back — probably cleaned up after the fight — made him look even more striking than usual.
With his forehead exposed, his face looked like something carved by the gods. It was honestly too beautiful; I felt blinded just staring.
“You’re so annoying.”
“They say annoyance is a form of love.”
“Who says that?”
“Someone did.”
Definitely nonsense. I ignored him, opened the medicine box, and took out disinfectant. He just sat there, staring blankly.
“Look up.”
“Why?”
“I can’t put this on if you’re watching me.”
“Why? You don’t like me looking?”
“No. It just… feels weird.”
My face grew warm as I looked down and started cleaning the small cuts along his neck and ear. He trembled slightly but stayed still.
“Pervert. Getting all weird just from me treating your wounds.”
“It happens when you touch me…”
“Then die.”
“Sorry.”
He said it softly — but when I met his eyes, he was smiling.
That deep sapphire blue shimmered wickedly, leaving an afterimage in my mind even when I blinked.
“My lips hurt too.”
“If they didn’t, I might’ve kissed you. Too bad.”
“They don’t hurt!”
“Too late.”
I scooped up some ointment and spread it where the disinfectant had dried. He kept watching me intently, eyes locked on my face.
I ignored it, finished applying it, wiped my hand with a handkerchief, then took a little more to dab on his lips.
They were soft — warm — and every time my fingers brushed them, he exhaled a heated breath against my skin.
“I’m going to kiss you. Don’t pull away.”
“Don’t be stupid. Stay still.”
“I’m doing it.”
“You’re not.”
He caught my hand mid-motion.
“If you kiss me, I’ll get better, Gracie.”
Why did his pleading voice have to sound so… tempting?
