Chapter 23
Originally, she had never thought that she communicated well with him, but now it seemed especially difficult to have a proper conversation.
“Do you really mean that you have no sensation in your hands?”
“You are both very surprised and very suspicious, aren’t you?”
Suspicious? That was ridiculous! Of course, anyone would be suspicious when hearing such a thing.
Marcella felt indignant. Yet Nell calmly looked down at his own palms.
“Let me correct myself. It’s not that I have no sensation at all.”
“Then that means you do have sensation, doesn’t it?”
How could a person have no sensation? Marcella was baffled. Nell, seeing her reaction, opened his eyes wide and looked at her.
The difference was subtle, something not easily perceived unless very close—but since he was right in front of her, Marcella could tell.
“…Yes, you do have sensation.”
What on earth was this person trying to say?
Marcella blinked rapidly, and Nell lightly closed his eyes and submerged both feet into the pond.
“It’s cold.”
Obviously! What was so funny about stating the obvious? Nell turned to look at Marcella, a faint smile on his lips.
“Arthur Digory, what ridiculous scheme are you plotting this time?”
“Scheme? Oh my, it seems like the Duke Digory thinks I am some kind of legendary schemer.”
Arthur, already busy enough, smiled lightly as he faced the older man glaring at him as though ready to kill him.
“Don’t think you can get away with that.”
“Then how would you have me comply? As you can see, I’m extremely busy, so I can’t entertain a long conversation. If there’s a quick way, please tell me.”
“Arthur Digory.”
Hearing the Duke Digory’s voice, Arthur thought, Ah, finally he’s genuinely angry.
“Do you know why I tolerated you swearing loyalty to that cruel one, doing all sorts of foolish things?”
“Cruel one, sir? In the Imperial Palace, you shouldn’t make such candid remarks.”
“That cruel one is ‘Haeri.’”
Arthur attempted to interject, but the Duke ignored him and continued referring to Nell as “cruel.”
“Yes, well, I am well aware of how loyal you are to Haeri, sir, so there’s no need to explain.”
As Arthur let out a small laugh and picked up his quill to quickly scan and sign the backlog of documents, the Duke slammed the desk. Arthur’s neat handwriting skewed as a result.
“Arthur Digory!”
“Why are you doing this, sir? You, more than anyone, hate messy handwriting.”
“You dare, under the name of Digory, to speak of your shameful actions of kneeling not to Haeri, but to Morris!”
Arthur, still holding his quill, looked at his father’s bloodshot eyes and smiled faintly.
“Do you think I didn’t notice you begging and clinging to the skirts of Lady Marcella Morris, making a pitiful spectacle?”
“I assure you, sir. After repeatedly setting traps and failing to eradicate your ‘rats,’ I gave up trying to keep the palace events secret. How many ‘rats’ do you even have?”
“You keep doing foolish things!”
“You say they are foolish, but I don’t quite understand, sir.”
Arthur lightly scratched his chin with the quill and squinted at his father.
“Which of my actions did you find so foolish? At least I didn’t kneel before Lady Marcella myself.”
“Do you call that an excuse?”
“Of course not.”
Arthur laughed loudly, then rang a small silver bell several times before placing it back on the table.
“I’ve only not knelt yet, that’s all.”
“Arthur Digory!”
“Sir, Lady Marcella is the very person whom Haeri, whom you adore, wants as his Empress. Eventually, it will happen, so what wrong would there be if I had knelt before her?”
A knock sounded at the door, and Arthur told them to enter.
“Did you not hear that the lady refused the cruel one’s proposal? That you chased after the girl who ran away because she disliked him?”
“It’s fortunate that you know I’m desperate. Ah, now that you’re leaving, sir, shall I help support you? You seemed about to collapse from anger.”
Arthur smiled at the servant and offered to help, but the Duke slammed the desk again.
“If you continue to act so temperamental, you’ll miss seeing your cherished daughter married.”
“Arthur Digory, I have warned you. Regarding your conduct under the Digory name…”
“My conduct is perfectly proper, sir.”
Arthur nodded at the servant, who moved to support the Duke.
The Duke struck the servant’s hand with his cane and stormed out.
“Tsk, so ill-tempered,” Arthur muttered with a smile, thinking how much time had been wasted when he had plenty to do.
“So… what is His Majesty doing? Are they done with the walk?”
“They are in the pond, apparently.”
“Ah… the pond?”
Ever since the phoenix, flaring with uncontrolled emotion, entered the pond, it had been continuously boiling day and night.
There was no other pond, so they must still be there. If they had left the palace, Arthur would have been informed first.
“Lady Marcella is with him, right?”
He nodded, and Arthur smiled. Everything seemed to be going according to plan. He had feared Marcella would leave, stepping over him, but this was perfect.
Having seen them off at the underground vault, Arthur thought his plan was flawless.
Yet, what he had meticulously prepared—including cooling the table and the dishes for the Emperor—was completely ruined.
“Your Majesty, have you not even tried to understand why I did that, even a little?”
“You simply took Lady Marcella as you pleased.”
“I suggested the fur cloak for Your Majesty in the middle of summer! What was the reasoning behind that?”
“…”
“Could it be that you thought Your Majesty might feel cold, and so I worried, thinking to keep you warm?”
Nonsense! Arthur stomped, frustrated at how impossible it was to make him understand.
“Perhaps it was the same reason you always said, to never wear ragged clothing in front of others?”
“Of course, I put it on so Lady Marcella would not freeze! To prevent her from collapsing!”
Arthur shouted as Nell furrowed his brows.
“You knew she couldn’t endure the cold there?”
“Oh, Your Majesty, who wouldn’t know that? You’ve seen soldiers shivering at the northern wall, haven’t you? Yet how could Lady Marcella, wearing only a thin summer dress, feel cold?!”
“An underground vault is not the northern wall.”
“Being cold enough to freeze one’s heart is the same! Your Majesty’s resistance is extraordinary, so it doesn’t matter if you wear the fur cloak or not, no matter the snowstorm. But that is why I cast the warming spell on the cloak for her!”
Arthur’s anger was bursting.
“Her body is weak, indeed…”
“She is perfectly healthy, just not blessed with Your Majesty’s resistance and divine protections.”
—Arthur is developing quite a habit of speech, isn’t he? Lacking fear, apparently.
Tamarin smirked at Arthur. Arthur flinched, then scoffed.
“Since it’s come to this, I will keep Lady Marcella in the palace to protect her.”
—Nasty, giving the medicine after causing the fever. But will she even stay put?
Tamarin, approaching Nell’s feet and yawning, mocked Arthur.
Arthur had no choice but to acknowledge it. Marcella would not remain here quietly—but…
“I will make her stay, by force if necessary.”
—I see why people dislike you, Arthur, being fatherless.
“Yes, after all, I am a Digory with no blood, no tears, no father. Will I fear being disliked now?”
Tamarin, observing Arthur proudly, scoffed and bumped his head against Nell’s leg.
—Do you even understand what he’s doing?
“Arthur seems to have taken quite a liking to Lady Marcella.”
—…What do you expect from me?
Tamarin shook his head and raised his hands.
“Lady Marcella’s cold will heal naturally.”
—Brutal. There are healers in the palace, yet he chooses natural recovery?
“Magic is not omnipotent, Tamarin. You have said that before.”
Tamarin stood, approached Arthur, and, unseen by Nell, bit his head.
Arthur cried out, but Nell was absorbed in his own thoughts.
“Your Majesty!”
After calling to Nell about ten times, Arthur’s head was covered in blood from Tamarin’s bite.
“Tamarin.”
—That little beast has gotten cocky.
Nell raised his hand, and Tamarin transformed into a tiny lion cub, small enough to fit in his palm. Yet Tamarin remained defiant, growling at Arthur.
“Tamarin.”
—As long as he’s not dead, that’s fine!
Tamarin, insolent as ever, insisted he hadn’t bitten to kill.
