Chapter 27
He shook his head vigorously and tightened his grip.
“Paralysis mushrooms? You must be mistaken, my lady. This isn’t a paralysis mushroom!”
“Are you saying I saw it wrong? How many years do you think I’ve been looking at mushrooms on that mountain?”
“No, my lady. This is not a paralysis mushroom. Look.”
Arthur shoved the mushroom into his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing it whole.
“See, my lady? There’s no paralysis at a—ghrk—at all.”
“…Sir Digory, I think your tongue is already paralyzed.”
“I juth nid to talk more.”
Arthur desperately tried to roll his tongue, but as it stiffened more and more, there was nothing he could do.
It seemed Nell had truly brought a real paralysis mushroom.
When Arthur glanced sideways at Nell, Nell was staring back at him with wide eyes.
Arthur feigned a sleepy yawn and hurriedly left the area. A moment later—thud—the sound of someone collapsing echoed.
—You could at least come up with an excuse.
Tamarin muttered sharply at Nell, who was standing there staring blankly at the spot Arthur had left.
When Nell looked at him, Tamarin gestured toward Marcella with his eyes.
“When I ate it, I didn’t feel any paralysis.”
It was an honest excuse—but not enough to clear up Marcella’s misunderstanding.
“I understand His Majesty’s intentions very well.”
That he wanted to harass her so badly, he’d even lie about being able to eat paralysis mushrooms.
“The mushroom you gave me—I couldn’t find it anywhere.”
“You mean the lemon mushroom?”
“Yes.”
That couldn’t be right. Given the season, lemon mushrooms should have been scattered just a little deeper into the mountain.
“There wasn’t a mushroom that smelled like lemon.”
“That mushroom only smells like lemon when it’s grilled.”
Nell’s lips parted slightly.
“It doesn’t smell like lemon if you don’t grill it.”
“I only thought of giving it to you… as quickly as possible.”
“…So instead of a lemon mushroom, you gave me a paralysis mushroom?”
Who would ever decide to substitute a paralysis mushroom just because they couldn’t find a lemon one? Marcella glared at Nell, convinced it was a ridiculous excuse.
“So you really wanted to make me eat a paralysis mushroom that badly.”
Even resorting to nonsense excuses.
“Thank you. Next time, I’ll be sure to understand His Majesty’s wishes and grill it myself instead of giving it to Sir Digory.”
Marcella turned and walked away.
—Idiot.
As Nell stood there blankly watching her leave, Tamarin spat out the insult. Nell looked down at him.
“When I ate it, there was no paralysis.”
—You have resistance. Poison and paralysis don’t work on you. Just because you are fine doesn’t mean most people are. Be aware of that.
“…Right.”
Nell shook out the mushrooms he had tucked inside his clothes. A pile of mushrooms—including paralysis mushrooms—fell at his feet.
Tamarin made a disbelieving scoffing sound.
—Did you forget you have resistance?
“I knew. I just… forgot.”
—Get a grip, Emperor.
Tamarin sniffed the mushrooms scattered on the ground, nudged them around, then dug his claws into Nell’s leg.
The fabric of Nell’s trousers tore along the claw marks, but not a single red scratch appeared on his skin.
—You could’ve just given her all the mushrooms.
Tamarin snapped irritably at Nell’s uninjured body.
But Nell trudged in the direction Marcella had gone, then suddenly leapt and vanished.
It was the Emperor’s second failed confession.
【Misunderstandings Can Always Grow Deeper】
Nell stared down at the mushrooms for a long time.
He felt strange. Whenever he was with Marcella—after talking with her—he often felt like this.
Even when Tamarin deliberately grew enormous and attacked him, Nell felt nothing. Yet now, it felt as though someone was gripping his body and pressing down on him.
It was like the first time Digory had ever spoken to him about emotions.
Nell inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. Realizing once wasn’t enough to release this feeling, he breathed in again.
Just as he thought he was calming down, his head unconsciously turned toward the direction Marcella and Tamarin had gone—and his breathing stopped.
He still didn’t feel good.
Nell turned his back on the mushrooms. Without realizing it, his pace quickened.
When he opened the door to his bedchamber, Phoenix was slumped weakly on the sofa.
“Phoenix.”
At Nell’s call, Phoenix’s eyes fluttered.
Nell stroked the orange bird’s head. The head of a phoenix—meant to be warm—was cold.
Lifting the bird, which looked as though its flames might extinguish at any moment, onto his lap, Nell handled her gently.
—Where’s Tamarin?
“With Marcella.”
At the answer, Phoenix closed her eyes and relaxed her body.
—Did Marcella like the mushrooms?
Nell couldn’t answer.
—I wanted her to like them.
As Phoenix exhaled, cold air leaked from her breath.
—Nell… does Marcella hate me?
“I don’t know.”
Phoenix was silent for a while.
Nell stood up, holding Phoenix’s cold body. He walked to the window and pushed it open with one hand—the morning sunlight was dazzling.
He breathed toward Phoenix’s drooping head. Cold air wrapped around her body.
“Phoenix.”
At his call, flames reignited across Phoenix’s body. Her shimmering orange eyes snapped open.
She rolled her eyes around, looking here and there, then looked up at Nell holding her.
Nell stroked her head once more and set her down by the window.
“You can go to Marcella.”
Phoenix tilted her head side to side, then hopped onto Nell’s arm. Her gaze grew clearer, like freshly formed glass marbles.
“Go, Phoenix.”
As Nell sent her off, Phoenix flapped her wings weakly at first—but with each beat, she gained strength, until flames burst forth.
Left alone, Nell looked around the chamber and sat on the sofa.
He didn’t close the window.
So that Phoenix—or Tamarin, or anyone—could return if they wished.
In a room without even a clock, only silence flowed.
* * *
“Tamarin, why do you keep following me?”
—Mind your own business.
“You’ve been tailing me this whole time. How am I supposed to ignore that?”
—Watching to see what kind of trouble you’ll cause. Surveillance.
Tamarin bared his teeth.
Marcella flinched backward, then stepped forward again.
“I’m not afraid of you anymore.”
Tamarin snickered.
“I mean it.”
—Sure. Let’s say that’s true.
Marcella glared resentfully. The statement was half true, half false.
Seeing his tawny mane sway didn’t scare her anymore. When she touched it earlier, it had been soft.
—What are you staring at?
He was trying to act threatening, but compared to before, it didn’t feel that way at all. Come to think of it—when had Tamarin started staying this close to her? She’d been told he kept people away from the Emperor.
—What?
“How do I get back to the annex where I’m staying from here?”
Tamarin lifted his head to look at her.
—So that’s why you’ve been wandering around the main palace in circles. You don’t even know the way, yet you walk around so confidently?
“I was going to ask someone, but why isn’t there anyone around at all?”
For a main palace, there should have been plenty of servants—but she hadn’t seen a single soul.
As Marcella looked around in confusion, Tamarin scoffed.
—You should’ve asked Nell to take you.
“Who uses the Emperor as a tour guide?”
—I thought you might.
“…What do you think I am? How could I dare do that?”
—Aren’t you close? Can’t even ask that much?
“Who told you that?! Sir Digory, right?!”
Marcella shouted, her face turning bright red.
—I heard it from Nell.
“…His Majesty?”
—And isn’t it a bit late to use the word ‘dare’? You’ve already done plenty.
Marcella felt indignant. Plenty? What had she done? Wasn’t it always His Majesty, the con artist Digory, or you beasts causing trouble?
—You rejected the Emperor’s proposal and confession like it was nothing. Stepped right over that foul-tempered Arthur Digory. Burned my mane and threw a shoe at me saying you didn’t know I was Nell’s divine beast. And just this morning, you threw a stick at me too.
“That was—!”
—Why? Did you forget I was his divine beast too?
“I was startled! I didn’t know it was you!”
Marcella blushed crimson as she protested.
—Hah. Later, go tell Arthur’s father—the father of fatherless Arthur—that you stepped on Arthur Digory. He’ll love it.
Tamarin grinned unpleasantly.
“I would never do that.”
Who would be crazy enough to tell Duke Digory they stepped on his son? It would be a lifelong secret.
—Why not? That brat’s too arrogant. He deserves it.
“So do you want to disgrace Sir Digory—or Duke Digory?”
Both? Marcella asked, and Tamarin stretched.
—Fatherless Arthur’s father is very much alive.
“That sounds extremely strange when you say it like that.”
Why had Arthur Digory come to be called fatherless Arthur when his father, Duke Digory, was alive and well?
Marcella could only assume it referred to how cold and calculating the man was.
“If even His Majesty’s divine beast finds Duke Digory arrogant…”
—You humans are the ones propping him up with titles. To me, he’s just bite-sized prey.
Tamarin opened his mouth wide. Marcella took a step back. Tamarin closed it again and snorted.
—Did I say I’d eat you? I won’t.
“How am I supposed to trust that?”
—Why are you so suspicious? Have you been deceived your whole life?
“…At least by Sir Digory…”
Tamarin made a thoughtful sound, agreeing—and somehow that annoyed her even more.
—If I did eat you, Nell would shove his hand into my mouth and pull you out.
“…Wouldn’t I already be dead by then?”
—You’d be in pieces.
That was not comforting at all—but Tamarin said it casually.
