Chapter 24
The moment the soft flesh brushed against the wound, my whole body jolted. It stung sharply, like applying antiseptic to a scraped knee.
I let out a strained sigh and turned my head. A black cat was clinging to my back, licking the wound as if grooming itself.
It didn’t seem like that would actually help heal it—
Or so I thought, until the pain began to fade, and the heat in the area subsided as well. Even without checking the injury, I somehow knew it was healing.
The cat licked for quite a while longer before tapping my back with its front paw. It was a gesture like a doctor telling a patient, “All done now.”
I groped through the torn fabric to check the wound. The skin, freshly bathed in the cat’s saliva, was now smooth and supple, as if I’d just had a massage.
“…It doesn’t hurt.”
When I stared wide-eyed at the cat, it brought its paw to its mouth.
“A secret, huh?”
“Myaa.”
“Uh… thanks.”
I gave an awkward word of thanks—then realized something odd.
Wait… this thing hurt me, and now it’s healing me. Why am I thanking it? Isn’t this just giving the poison and then the antidote?
“Actually… thanks isn’t right. You’re the one who hurt me in the first place.”
While I was puzzling over this, the cat transformed into a human—Rishar—who crouched down and stared at me. At least he wasn’t entirely ungrateful.
“Do you remember? Or rather, do you remember me?”
I had almost spoken casually, thinking of him as my younger brother, but quickly corrected myself. Rishar narrowed his damp eyes, then abruptly turned his head toward the window.
“Speak comfortably.”
“No, I can’t do that.”
He was the Crown Prince, after all.
My firm refusal made Rishar ask in a dissatisfied tone,
“Why did Ballienor save me? And how did you know my true identity?”
“At first, I thought you were just a regular cat. Then I found a pendant with the crest of Rouman nearby, so I figured you must have a hidden identity. But I only realized you were the Crown Prince at dawn—when you briefly transformed into a human.”
I kept my explanation concise, hoping to put him at ease.
But though it was a neat answer, Rishar frowned as if he didn’t like it.
“You knew I was me, and you still left me alone? And what was with that note?”
“So you were awake earlier. Did you read it and wait for me?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“…”
“Do you realize how suspicious you seem right now?”
“And what exactly is suspicious? I only remember doing good things.”
Rishar rubbed his face like a cat washing itself and gave a quiet, incredulous laugh.
“Ballienor doing something good? That’s the suspicious part. Do you know what resolve it took for me to climb over Ballienor’s walls? And you can act so calm after seeing me switch freely between cat and human—”
His lips, red as if stained with flower dye, clamped shut. It seemed he’d realized he was saying too much to someone he found suspicious.
Huh… for someone saying all that, he does seem like he wants to trust me.
I calmly studied his expression and replied in an elegant tone,
“And what was this great resolve that made you climb over the wall? Were you afraid we’d do experiments on you, like the rumors say? Is that what Ballienor means to you?”
A refined smile lifted my lips. This deliberately aristocratic response made Rishar’s brow furrow.
“I misspoke. I apologize.”
“I’ll gladly accept your apology. There’s no rule saying Ballienor can’t do good deeds.”
“So you’re saying taking me in was pure goodwill with no ulterior motive?”
“And if I said that, would you believe me?”
“…”
He stayed silent—likely meaning no.
Smart, suspicious, and still just a boy. Emotional appeals wouldn’t work on him; logical persuasion would be better.
Meeting his eyes, I took a steady breath. The sharp black cat’s gaze grew faintly restless.
“Your Highness, I’m not good at speaking indirectly. Please forgive my bluntness.”
“…What?”
“First of all, Ballienor has no intention of harming you—because it gains us nothing.”
His beautiful lips parted, speechless, but I continued.
“You’re the Crown Prince in name only—stripped of the Empress’s protection and the Emperor’s favor. Threatened by your political enemies, you came to Ballienor for help. Which was a wise decision—because unlike other noble houses, Ballienor has no interest in the succession struggle. Whether you fell into our lap or not, we have neither the use for you nor the desire to exploit you.”
My frank words brought a hollow laugh from Rishar. His expression was half resignation.
Fourteen years old—old enough to see the truth of his situation.
He’d recently lost his mother, been targeted for assassination, and now had no friend, mentor, or relative he could trust. He must have felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff.
A cloud passed over the moon, and for a moment, silence fell. Without turning his head back toward me, Rishar finally spoke.
“So we’ve gone in circles again. Then why save me, when I’m so useless?”
Because I felt sorry for you.
The words rose to my lips, but I knew he wouldn’t accept that reason. I searched for one he might.
“Well… your ability to turn into a cat. I’m personally curious about it.”
“Personally?”
“Yes. Very personally. I’ve spent most of my time in bed reading, so I’m interested in legends with divine beasts like Rouman or Morgaus. If a direct royal descendant can turn into a cat, I suspect that ability might come from Rouman himself. Even your ability to heal wounds by licking them makes it worth investigating.”
“…I see.”
His face twisted, as if still unconvinced.
“And for now, I plan to keep it a secret that the Crown Prince and the cat are the same person—for as long as possible.”
“Why? It would be easier to investigate if you told Meterio.”
His sharp observation cut in, but I just shrugged and replied lightly,
“That’s not something for you to worry about. I plan to pester the Duke until he lets me keep you as my pet cat.”
It would be safer for him to remain a cat—away from the First Consort’s eyes. When he became an adult and could fully control Rouman’s power, then I’d let him walk around as a human again.
But I swallowed that thought and simply smiled sweetly.
He, of course, only responded with a cold, mocking laugh.
“A new way to insult the royal family? That’s just like Ballienor.”
“Believe it or not, that’s not the case. Anyway, Your Highness, all you need to do is rest and live comfortably here for the time being.”
I emphasized the word comfortably, but he seemed to take it the wrong way.
“What? You think that makes sense? You must take me for a fool. Just say what you want—Ballienor would strip the flesh from my bones if it found a use for me—”
His voice trailed off. His stiff neck drooped, thoughts clouding over that slender nape.
Poor thing.
If he could just accept a safe place to stay, this would be easy.
But no—he had to force me to say it outright. Whether he believed it or not, I’d only say it once.
“Rishar.”
My tone was different this time, and it caught his breath.
“Why do you think I stayed by your side even when my back was torn open? Because I felt sorry for you. Because I could see the pain of someone with no one to rely on. You’re so young—how hard must it have been? I couldn’t just leave you like that. So stay alive, grow healthy until you’re an adult. You’ll have plenty of chances to repay the debt once you’re strong enough.”
Not a shred of pretense—just pure sincerity.
Unfamiliar with such warmth, Rishar flinched like he’d been burned.
“Tch—! Better to trust an Abelungen follower than to believe Ballienor! You think I’ll fall for that?”
I could understand why he didn’t believe me.
“Then stay in Ballienor for now and see for yourself whether I’m telling the truth. You have nowhere else to go, do you?”
His eyes reddened, looking ready to cry. He glared at me as if blaming me for it, then suddenly transformed back into a cat and collapsed on the bed.
A faint fever was in the body that had seemed fine earlier. I laid the cat down gently and stepped out onto the terrace.
The predawn air was cold. Damp strands of hair clung to my skin, the wind adding to the chill.
I stared blankly at the faintly brightening sky, letting the cool air wash away the heat in my face.
“…Looks like things will go well.”
After all, when the world is full of blades aimed at you, there’s nowhere else to go.
If he thought about it even a little, he’d realize—only Ballienor could offer him food without poison and a bed without assassins.
