Chapter 22
“Your Majesty, please don’t worry so much. Your sincerity will reach her someday.”
“Sincerity?”
Sincerity? Did Arthur Digory really think this Emperor harbored even the slightest bit of genuine feeling right now? No, impossible.
Marcella glared at Arthur with a sidelong, distrustful glance, trying to escape the web he was weaving.
“If it were truly sincere, it might reach me. If it *were* sincere, that is.”
“My lady, why do you assume it’s not sincere?”
Marcella detested Arthur Digory for his shameless lies. To lecture her about fairness while spinning lies—the audacity!
“Are you refusing my confession because you think my feelings aren’t genuine?”
“It seems that way, indeed. My lady seems to be under a firm misunderstanding.”
Nell tilted his head slightly, his pupils moving slowly as if in thought, then he opened his mouth.
“In that case, how many times would I have to confess for you to accept it as sincere?”
At Nell’s question, Marcella pondered. Just how many times would it take to end this ridiculous charade?
“…One hundred times.”
“One hundred times?”
“Yes.”
Marcella was certain he wouldn’t do it.
How could he possibly bother with such a tedious thing? You don’t even truly like me. You’d be better off spending that time looking for another lady.
“So, you’ll stay by my side until you receive one hundred confessions from me.”
Looking into Nell’s unwavering eyes, Marcella finally realized she might have made a mistake.
Could the Emperor’s proposal, his intention to confess, actually be sincere?
Marcella frowned as she studied Nell.
Wasn’t the look in one’s eyes different when gazing at someone they liked? Remembering the way her brother-in-law used to look at her sister, Marcella shook her head. It was distinctly different from the Emperor’s gaze upon her.
He spoke with such conviction, as if he meant it, but it couldn’t be real. His eyes were as cold as the chilling magic stone he’d given her. They seemed devoid of any emotion.
Someone like him couldn’t possibly confess a hundred times out of genuine affection. After all, her condition wasn’t that she’d *accept* after a hundred confessions, only that she’d *consider them sincere*.
Marcella reassured herself with various reasons that she hadn’t actually made a mistake.
“You are merciful.”
At Nell’s words, Marcella lifted her head.
He lowered his eyes to gaze at the steaming tea, only his lips moving.
“‘The proposal is not allowed, but confessions are fine’…”
The steam rising from the tea stopped.
“How merciful.”
Merciful? Marcella’s lips parted slightly.
It was that shameless Arthur Digory who had criticized her for being unfair by forbidding even confessions, leaving her speechless. And now ‘merciful’?
To Marcella, Nell’s words sounded nothing but mocking.
“It’s truly so. Perhaps you do possess the dignity of an Empress after all!”
As Arthur laughed and spoke hollow words, Marcella glared at him. Arthur raised both hands toward Marcella in surrender.
“My apologies, Lady Marcella. I got carried away and let my inner thoughts slip out.”
“I am absolutely not going to become Empress.”
“Yes, my lady. We agreed not to ask you to become Empress, so I’ll be more careful from now on.”
Arthur lowered his hands with a smile. Nell set down his steaming teacup and looked at Marcella.
Marcella couldn’t trust Arthur. Who knew when he might bring up the Empress topic again to trap her?
“Anyway, since it’s been decided, there’s no need to just sit here drinking tea. How about going for a walk?”
Arthur looked out the window. It was still August, a hot summer, but the weather was perfect for displaying the two of them together in public.
“Aren’t you tired of just drinking tea all the time?”
“Are you planning to show me some other treasure again?”
When she was young, she used to be curious about various imperial treasures, but now she had no such desire.
She had entered the underground vault to see the Dragon-Slaying Sword, got caught in that blizzard, lost consciousness, and then, under the pretext of having a cold, was seized by Arthur Digory and ended up in this situation.
“Is there something you wish to see?”
Nell asked, gazing at Marcella.
When Marcella shook her head, he blinked silently for a moment, then averted his eyes.
“The Dragon-Slaying Sword?”
So, after all that trouble, did he think she’d still want to see that sword? Marcella shook her head at Nell’s question.
“If we must take a walk, we don’t need to see treasures. You must be feeling stifled staying here all the time, my lady. The imperial palace is quite vast, so it will be good exercise.”
Arthur smiled brightly.
***
This swindler! Walking two steps behind Nell, Marcella realized she’d been fooled by Arthur again.
‘Quite vast’? It was incredibly vast. They had walked a considerable distance, yet the palace walls showed no sign of ending. They had been walking in one direction for a while now.
*’I have piled-up work to attend to. If I postpone it any further, it will be dangerously backlogged, so please enjoy the walk together, just the two of you.’*
She should have realized it when he said that. Come to think of it, Arthur hadn’t entered that blizzard-ridden vault either.
Harboring grievances against Arthur, Marcella moved her legs diligently.
“Your Majesty.”
Just how far did he intend to keep walking? When Marcella called out, Nell, who was walking ahead, turned around.
He fully turned his body to stand before Marcella, looking down at her.
“Why are you sweating so much?”
“And why is it that Your Majesty isn’t shedding a single drop of sweat?”
They were clearly walking the same path, and despite the heat, only Marcella was sweating profusely.
When Marcella looked at him with resentful eyes, Nell tilted his head.
“I don’t sweat easily.”
“How nice for you.”
It felt like a boast right in front of her, sweating as if caught in a downpour. Marcella’s twisted feelings spilled out.
Then a cool sensation approached her forehead. It was the back of Nell’s hand.
As Marcella flinched and stepped back, Nell didn’t advance further and lowered his hand again.
“Are you hot?”
“Thank you for asking. Yes, I am hot.”
Thanks to whom! Suppressing her resentment, Marcella spoke.
Nell rolled his eyes thoughtfully for a moment, then blinked and looked at Marcella.
“I’ve heard the pond is cool.”
After that single remark, he turned around and started walking ahead again.
Marcella secretly let out a sigh.
She didn’t inherently dislike walks. She enjoyed walking to the mountain 20 minutes away to pick mushrooms, and she liked hiking that mountain.
But that was without an uncomfortable person, the Emperor, by her side.
“Marcella?”
Noticing she wasn’t following, Nell turned and called her.
Marcella exhaled through her shoulders and followed him. She hoped the pond area would at least be cool, or have some shade.
But after walking all that way with such hope…
“The water is boiling.”
The pond water was boiling. Was today’s weather so hot that pond water would boil? No, that couldn’t be, even in midsummer.
Marcella stared at the pond. She could sense a mass of power from the pond’s bottom, causing the water to boil. Moreover, that mass of power felt familiar.
“Is it cool?”
Nell asked Marcella. She was already hot and sweaty, and now with the heat from the boiling pond water added, Marcella felt so hot she wanted to close her eyes tight and collapse. It was so hot the word ‘hot’ escaped her lips.
Nell watched Marcella silently for a moment, then stepped into the boiling pond water.
“Your Majesty!”
Seeing him step into the boiling water with his shoes on, Marcella was startled. As he was about to put his other foot in, Nell paused.
The water suddenly began boiling violently, creating huge bubbles.
“Your Majesty!”
Marcella grabbed Nell’s arm. But Nell wasn’t easily pulled back.
“What are you doing! Putting your feet in boiling water!”
“I’m cooling it down.”
“What?”
While walking, Marcella had thought it fortunate Arthur wasn’t accompanying them, but now she suddenly wished he were here.
She couldn’t comprehend what Nell was saying at all.
“What do you mean, cooling it down?”
“The water.”
Nell, who had been looking at Marcella, turned his head. Then the violently boiling pond water gradually subsided and soon grew calm.
As Marcella released Nell’s arm, Nell put his hand into the pond.
“I can’t tell.”
Nell pulled his foot from the pond and blew a breath of wind toward it. Instantly, his foot, which had been dripping water, dried completely.
“…I’m the one who wants to say ‘I can’t tell’.”
“Would you prefer it a bit cooler?”
Nell tilted his head.
Marcella stared blankly at the water that was no longer boiling.
She could tell Nell had used magic from the movement of magical power. But she couldn’t understand why he was doing this.
Hesitating, Marcella crouched down.
Putting her hand into water that had just been boiling wasn’t appealing. She thought it was a strange way to torment her.
Summoning courage, Marcella reached out, frowned, and lightly dipped her fingertips into the pond.
The pond water was chillingly cold.
“Is it still hot?”
Nell, who had plunged his hand up to the wrist into the pond, asked.
Marcella blinked and watched Nell with his hand submerged.
It was cold enough for anyone to feel. Yet, Nell acted as if he truly couldn’t tell. If he were teasing her, there wasn’t a hint of it on his face.
“No. It’s cold.”
“Is that so.”
Only then did he withdraw his hand and look at Marcella. Marcella seemed displeased about something.
“Your Majesty, do you perhaps lack sensation in your hands?”
“Yes.”
Even though it was a sarcastic remark, Nell agreed. He agreed so readily that Marcella, who had uttered the words, was taken aback.
“Why do you look so surprised?”
“Because Your Majesty is teasing me.”
“I have never teased you.”
“I asked if you lacked sensation in your hands, and you said yes.”
“Yes.”
Nell agreed again.
Marcella parted her lips slightly and made a face. Were they even having a proper conversation? Were they talking about different things?
