Chapter 28
When Marcella took another step back, Tamarin grinned and let out a low growl.
— I told you I’m not going to eat you.
He laughed as if in a good mood, then turned his head to look at the sun. A tiny dot against the dazzling light was flying straight toward them.
Seeing Tamarin frown, Marcella—who had been standing with her back to the sun—turned around.
— Marcella!
The phoenix flew straight at her. Just as Marcella was about to be knocked over by the impact, Tamarin caught her from behind and held her steady.
— You chicken-brain! Can’t you control your strength?
— Shut up, Tami. I don’t want to hear that from someone who’s been monopolizing Marcella this whole time.
Tamarin snapped back, but the phoenix ignored him, her voice full of laughter as she burrowed into Marcella’s arms.
A bird about the size of a human head nestled against Marcella, rubbing her head against Marcella’s face. Her feathers tickled Marcella’s nose.
“Ah—achoo!”
The phoenix’s eyes widened. Flames flared up around her body in an instant.
— You’ve caught a cold again, Marcella?
She spread her wings wide, draping them over Marcella’s shoulders like a blanket.
— It’s okay, Marcella. I’ll keep you warm.
— Idiot. At least learn the difference between coughing and sneezing.
Tamarin muttered, but the phoenix didn’t listen. Happy to see Marcella again after so long, she shamelessly clung to her and spread her wings even wider.
“Phoenix.”
— Yes, Marcella!
She sounded delighted just to hear her name after so long.
But Marcella was troubled. The more excited the phoenix became, the more her body burst into flames. It felt like a massive fireball was clinging to her.
“Phoenix, it’s hot! I’m burning!”
— Huh?
The phoenix looked down at herself, then gently pressed her flaming wing against Marcella’s cheek.
— So… is it hot?
“Of course it’s hot! I mean—huh?”
She was hugging a mass of flames. How could it not be hot?
And yet, it wasn’t. When they had met before, the heat had been so intense it felt like she’d melt—but now, it was only pleasantly warm.
As Marcella stared in confusion, the phoenix’s laughter wrapped around her.
— Marcella. That means you can’t push me away anymore.
The phoenix smiled brightly, but for some reason, cold sweat ran down Marcella’s back. It wasn’t hot at all, yet she felt uneasy.
“But Phoenix…”
— Do you have another excuse to push me away?
The phoenix asked in alarm. Marcella felt as if she’d done something terribly wrong, like a criminal being accused.
“What about His Majesty? You’re His Majesty’s divine beast—you should stay by his side.”
Not come to me.
The phoenix hopped up onto Marcella’s shoulder. Despite appearances, she wasn’t heavy at all—she felt as light as a single feather.
— It’s fine. Nel told me to go.
“But still…”
— Marcella, you see…
The phoenix leaned her small head against Marcella’s.
— I am loneliness itself.
“Loneliness?”
— Yes. So if you push me away, I’ll die of loneliness.
“…You’re a phoenix.”
It was a ridiculous lie—on par with one of Arthur Diggory’s scams.
— Actually, compared to the other divine beasts, I die pretty easily.
The weakness in the phoenix’s voice left Marcella speechless. At that moment, a lion cub jumped onto her other shoulder. Feeling the added weight, Marcella turned just in time to see Tamarin smack the phoenix on the head with his paw.
— Stop exaggerating. You revive instantly anyway.
— Tami! Don’t interrupt my time with Marcella!
The phoenix blocked Tamarin’s paw with her wing.
The two tiny beasts started fighting on top of Marcella. Tamarin swung his paw, the phoenix swatted it aside with her wing—and his furry fist smacked straight into Marcella’s nose.
“Ah!”
She cried out in pain, but the divine beasts didn’t stop. When Marcella bent forward, they climbed onto her back and continued bickering.
Overwhelmed, Marcella straightened up and grabbed Tamarin and the phoenix, one in each hand.
“Stop fighting! Especially on a person’s body!”
Breathing hard, Marcella glared back and forth between them. Dangling from her hands, the divine beasts blinked innocently at her.
— But Marcella, Tami hit me first. And—
— That phoenix is exaggerating again.
The two glared at each other. Marcella spread her arms wider, forcing them farther apart.
“Enough!”
At her shout, the growling divine beasts immediately watched her expression.
“Why are you fighting on my body of all places? Phoenix, Tamarin—you’re both His Majesty’s divine beasts. Shouldn’t you at least show some dignity befitting that status?”
She didn’t know exactly what a divine beast was supposed to be—but if they belonged to the emperor, shouldn’t they have some dignity? Not act like squabbling children.
As Marcella glared at them, applause sounded from behind her. Arthur Diggory walked over, clapping enthusiastically with a deeply moved expression.
“Lady Marcella! I’m truly touched!”
He shouted dramatically, clapping nonstop.
“I’ve been suffering daily from these two throwing dignity to the dogs and fighting nonstop. Yet you—how did you know to say exactly what needed to be said? It’s like a spring breeze blowing through my soul, which had been trapped in a pit of fire!”
— Insolent, Arthur Diggory.
Tamarin wriggled free from Marcella’s hand and bit Arthur’s leg hard. Arthur screamed and collapsed to his knees.
The phoenix also slipped from Marcella’s grasp, pecked Arthur on the head, then perched on Nel’s shoulder behind him.
— I got scolded by Marcella because of Tami.
She tattled into Nel’s ear.
When Nel looked down at Tamarin, Tamarin bit his ankle in return. Nel, unfazed, simply grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and lifted him up.
— Marcella is scary when she’s angry.
— I told you, she pretends she’s not, but she’s got a temper.
“That’s because you make me angry!”
— See? She’s angry again.
As Phoenix complained, Nel quietly walked toward Marcella.
Marcella flinched and tried to step back, but Nel reached out. His fingers brushed across her lips.
Tilting his head, Nel looked at the blood on his fingers, then back at Marcella.
Only then did she realize her nose was bleeding.
Startled, she wiped beneath her nose, leaving a red smear across her face.
* * *
“Do you understand, Your Majesty? Confessions require atmosphere.”
“Atmosphere… What do you mean?”
Duke Martinez confidently opened his mouth—then froze.
His brain spun rapidly. How was he supposed to explain this in a way this emperor would understand?
Looking at Nel’s face filled him with despair.
“After spending several days face-to-face with Your Majesty, I’ve realized something.”
“And that is?”
“It’s astonishing that Lady Marcella has spent so much time with you. From what I’d heard, I thought she was reckless and completely lacking in patience…”
She ran from his proposal, got chased by Arthur Diggory, stepped on him—Martinez had thought that assessment fair.
But now she understood.
“That lady has incredible patience.”
“Does she?”
“You drink tea together every day, don’t you? What on earth do you talk about? Do you even talk? If I were ordered to drink tea with Your Majesty daily, I’d rather say, ‘Please just kill me,’ and offer my neck.”
“Martinez.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Ah. Had he finally offended even Nel Highlyr?
Martinez inwardly smacked her lips, hoping she’d succeeded.
“Marcella is not Marsala.”
Martinez exhaled through her nose and leaned back against the sofa.
“I’ll just give you an example. If it roughly fits, try it.”
“Go on.”
“First, make eye contact with the lady. If she looks away, don’t say a word. If she keeps eye contact, proceed.”
“Understood.”
“But are you really planning to confess a hundred times?”
“Marcella told me to.”
“To anyone listening, you’d sound like the most devoted romantic in the Western Empire.”
Despite that expressionless face like a magical weapon.
Martinez had no faith in Nel’s success. How could a magical weapon fall in love?
Smiling at Nel as he tilted his head, she added:
“If her face turns red when your eyes meet, that’s even better. It’s the perfect moment to confess.”
If that ever happened, that is.
* * *
When had the nosebleed started? Marcella was flustered and mortified. She hadn’t even noticed and had been lecturing about dignity.
“Marcella.”
Nel stared straight at her. Was there something else on her face besides blood?
As she nervously searched his expression, Nel’s lips moved.
“I like you.”
A crease formed between Marcella’s brows.
It was the emperor’s third failed confession.
* * *
Their eyes met, and Marcella didn’t look away. He had confessed even when giving her mushrooms—but her face hadn’t turned red then, so perhaps she had ignored him on purpose.
That must have been a silent rejection.
So Nel waited. He waited for the moment when her face would turn red as their eyes met.
The opportunity came sooner than expected. He was still far from a hundred attempts, but Marcella’s face was red—from her nosebleed. Was this the “right moment” Martinez had mentioned?
Unsure, Nel decided to try anyway.
“I refuse.”
This time, at least, he got a response.
He looked at Marcella’s still-bleeding face.
“Why are you bleeding?”
“Ahem.”
Arthur cleared his throat. Nel turned to him.
Arthur silently signaled frantically. When Nel tilted his head, Arthur widened his eyes, then mouthed words before grabbing his head with both hands and shaking it like he was losing his mind.
