Chapter 8
“…My lady. Are you crying?”
What the heck. I whipped my head away and stared back into the fire.
“I’m not crying.”
“You are crying.”
“I said I’m not.”
“No, I’m sure those are tears welling in your eyes… damn, one just fell on your cheek.”
“It’s dry, so I just put some water on it.”
“Don’t you think that excuse is a little pathetic?”
I glared at the Crown Prince with tear-filled eyes, and he shut his mouth tight.
‘Yeah, fine. I’m crying. So what.’
The more I thought about it, the more despicable he seemed.
Even when I exposed my back to the zombies, even when I screamed for him to grab my hand, he was testing me?
‘What if my hand slipped, what if I accidentally let go, how much I…’
Just remembering the situation made me dizzy.
When my emotions surged and I burst out crying, the Crown Prince’s eyes wavered, looking more flustered than ever before.
A few more tears fell before I scrubbed my eyes roughly with the back of my hand, shaking off my resentment with them.
I didn’t know how long I was panting.
A gust of wind blew through, carrying the fresh scent of damp plants, cooling my feverish head.
Breathing in the crisp air helped calm my storming emotions.
Embarrassment crept in, and I rubbed at my eyes again—when suddenly the Crown Prince pulled my chin toward him.
Unlike his earlier panic, he was composed now.
“They’re red.”
He frowned slightly, then gently brushed the corners of my eyes with his fingertips.
The expression he wore, as if deeply worried for me, was so out of place I almost laughed.
“Wait here.”
He let go of my face and walked toward the pond, pulling a handkerchief from his breast.
‘Doesn’t suit him, carrying a handkerchief around like that.’
He dipped it in the water, wrung it out, and returned, pressing it softly against my eyelids.
The burning heat cooled under the damp cloth. It felt good enough that I leaned back my head and let him tend to me.
After a moment, his calm voice sounded.
“Let me apologize again.”
“…”
“I didn’t expect you’d care for me enough to cry.”
What kind of nonsense is that.
“Were you that worried about me?”
“…Are you planning to keep spouting nonsense?”
I couldn’t bring myself to speak politely.
We were stuck in the zombie zone, no one was here to watch or listen, so what did I care about showing respect to royalty?
The Crown Prince didn’t seem inclined to scold me either—whether because he truly felt guilty or simply didn’t care. I only heard a soft laugh.
By the time the handkerchief turned lukewarm, he pulled it away.
The blurred firelight grew clear again.
“This much should keep the swelling down.”
He glanced at me, then sat at my side, handkerchief draped over his knee.
Sniffling, I stole a look at him. His profile wavered in the fire’s red glow.
‘Now that I really notice… his face is ridiculously handsome.’
But admitting that would bruise my pride, so instead I spoke.
“…Since I saved Your Highness, that means I won the bet.”
“Now that you mention it, we never agreed on a prize. Say what you want—I’ll grant it.”
I held out my pinky, and his eyebrows shot up like mountains.
“You want me to cut it off? I doubt I could slice it cleanly.”
“Who asked you to cut it off?!”
I jumped, and he chuckled.
He’d always smiled often, but before it had been sharp, edged. Now it felt softer, less guarded.
I shot him a look of disapproval.
“It means I want to make a pinky promise.”
“…A promise?”
“Why do you look like you’ve never heard of it before?”
“It’s been a long time since I heard that word. Promise.”
“Sorry if it sounds childish. But I want to do it anyway.”
He stared at my hand, his expression strangely complicated.
“Not childish. Just… odd, isn’t it? A promise. It’s supposed to be built on trust, an invisible law of the heart. But how many people actually keep it?”
“But you will keep it, won’t you?”
His face faltered, lips tightening as his brilliant eyes flickered.
There it was again.
That unfamiliar, innocent gaze I saw when I saved him.
I wasn’t trusting him blindly.
If anything, because he mistrusted humans so deeply, he must loathe betrayal. That meant, if we sealed it with even a pinky, he’d keep his word.
‘He’s misunderstanding something, but… no need to explain.’
Feeling a bit awkward, I wiggled my hand.
“Are you going to leave me hanging here?”
The Crown Prince smirked and hooked his pinky around mine, giving it a playful shake.
“I promise. I’ll grant you whatever wish you want.”
“You really promise?”
He nodded coolly, as if saying, I’m the Crown Prince, do you think I’d lie?
The fact that he accepted so readily made it feel strange, out of place.
I let go abruptly, pulling out my water bottle.
The spot where his warmth lingered felt oddly empty.
Perhaps he felt the same, because he stared at his little finger and muttered,
“I may regret this.”
“What do you mean?”
As I debated whether to use my wish for a pardon or wealth, I unscrewed the cap and asked.
“My secretary managed to get our engagement talks canceled. He said, ‘Lady Redria Arios is as foul-tempered as Your Highness, so as a candidate for Crown Princess—’”
Pfft!
I sprayed water all over him.
He scowled, wiping the droplets off his face with his hand.
“—‘She would be absolutely unsuitable,’ or so he said.”
Coughing, I stared at him blankly.
‘Who the hell would match me with this lunatic?’
Of course, he meant Redria—not me. But still, just hearing I’d been on that list made my skin crawl.
“Don’t tell me I’m still a candidate?”
“If you were, you’d be running away by now.”
“It was your secretary who said that, right?”
“Planning to smash his skull for me? That’d be nice. I’d appreciate you shutting that gossip’s mouth for good.”
He grinned mischievously, though his eyes were warm.
‘So he really trusts his secretary.’
That man had been the one scrambling to save him while he was trapped in the zombie zone. The Crown Prince’s only trusted person.
‘So even this misanthrope can believe in someone.’
Feeling unsettled, I shoved the bottle back into my pack.
“Since we’re on the subject—do you have someone you’re seeing?”
“No.”
“Figures. You’re rumored to be a delinquent.”
“…”
…This sociopathic bastard.
“And why are you asking?”
He turned toward me with a languid smile.
“Then, will you marry me?”
What…?
Whoosh—
The wind swept through suddenly, tossing leaves and his hair alike.
Shadows framed his eyes, his golden irises shimmering under the moonlight.
And with those eyes fixed on me… I’ll admit, my heart fluttered.
Who wouldn’t be moved by such a painting-like scene?
If not for the anger I carried, I might have nodded right then.
But I couldn’t forget.
This was the same lunatic who grinned at zombies and tested me with his life on the line.
“Don’t tell me you like me just because I saved you earlier?”
“Ha. As if.”
He actually scoffed twice, as though the idea was laughable, which only made me angrier.
“…Then why do you want to marry me?”
“Because life in the palace is boring. Having you around would be fun. I’m having fun now, too.”
…Sure, real fun, surrounded by zombies in the woods.
I turned my back to him, using my pack of rations and supplies as a pillow.
“If you’re going to keep talking nonsense, I’m going to sleep. Do as you like, Your Highness.”
I spoke curtly, and above my head came his laughter.
Even with my eyes shut, I caught the sound of him shifting closer. The cold wind at my back disappeared.
The Crown Prince, acting as my windbreak? Guess he really did feel sorry for making me cry.
“Wake me up later. I’ll take the next watch.”
“Alright.”
Along with his answer, I felt fingers tuck stray strands of hair behind my ear.
I flinched, and he chuckled softly—but even after the laugh faded, his fingertips lingered against my cheek, trembling faintly.
