ISTIMB 9

9. Don’t Touch a Man’s Body Carelessly

The thing that had crawled through the holly hedge wasn’t a stalker or a spy.

It was only a boy who looked barely ten years old.

“Who are you?”
“……”
“Don’t you know you’re not supposed to come in here? Didn’t the knights tell you ‘no’?”

The boy, wearing a battered hunting cap pulled low, didn’t answer. He just looked up at me with pale green eyes that flashed almost gold in the sunlight.

Though his gaze was defiant, the boy was as lovely as an angel in a Raphael painting. His cheeks were flushed pink, his lashes long and doll-like.

Contrary to his noble looks, he wore the kind of jade-green jacket and trousers that low-ranking pages wore. Had he inherited them from an older boy? The loose cuffs were smeared with messy black ink.

What caught my attention more than anything, though, were his hands—chapped and scarred, small hands reddened and rough.

‘A page-in-training? Has he been beaten or ostracized?’ The memory of my own childhood—when I could never truthfully say I was happy—came back.

“You’re forgiven for scaring me, little one.” I reached toward the boy who resembled my past in more ways than one.

The boy bristled at being called “little one” and his eyes hardened. “What kind of woman are you?”

“Talking down like that right off the bat? At least greet an elder properly.”
“Cut the nonsense and just answer.”
“Are you trying to get punished?”

Though I tried to be polite, the boy held his head stiffly. His rude tone hadn’t changed.

“Answer me, woman. Where are you from and what does your father do?”
“Kid. This is my room—uninvited guests like you don’t get to ask rude questions. Why should I answer?”
“You’re stupid as you look. Of course you answer when I ask.”

“What?”
“You. Woman. Who gave you permission to be in the Canaries’ room?” The question pinched the back of my neck.

But there was nothing more foolish than getting truly angry at a child. What’s needed in moments like this? A corrective education. I grabbed the cheeky boy’s face with both hands.

“Can’t let go?” His skin didn’t have much flesh to it, but it was chewy and soft like mochi—perfect to pinch and stretch. He squirmed, tears welling.

“It hurts!”
“Kid. You should apologize first. Beg.”
“You lowly woman—who gave you the right to teach me!”

I, too, had grown up without parents, so I half-understood where the boy’s bitterness came from—the kind of remarks that make a person wonder about their parents’ faces.

“You have no friends, do you?” I crouched down and rested my chin on my hands in front of him. The boy flinched at first, guarding himself against another pinch.

“You act nasty to strangers—who would want to play with someone like you?”
“I have lots of friends!”
“Stop lying.”

The boy’s pale green eyes trembled and for the first time he looked like a child of his age.

“Not everyone you play with is a friend. A real friend helps you when you’re in trouble and stays with you. That’s a true friend.”
“What are you saying?”
“You have no friends, so you crawl into holes and pick fights, don’t you?”
“Who said I crawled into holes? This is mine originally…!” The boy shut his mouth. Either he had something he couldn’t say, or he simply didn’t want to say more. His face turned pale and he lifted his chin.

“I don’t need friends.”
“Neither do I. So could you leave now?”
“Are you driving me out?”
“I generally don’t like children. Especially rude ones like you.” I gave a small smile.

He looked somewhat shocked. “I’ve never seen a woman so bluntly honest. Normally, even if someone dislikes a child, they’ll pretend to find them cute—so they don’t get insulted.”
“So you know a lot for a kid. Anyway, will you go now?”
“What I do here is my business. No one can stop me.” The boy put his hands on his hips and answered back like a young tyrant, not a page.

“Pfft. You remind me exactly of a man I know.”
“Who?”
“A nasty-tempered, foul-mouthed villain who enjoys tormenting others.”
“How dare you compare me to such a man! I’ll never forgive you!”

The boy swung a small fist at me, but it was as weak as a kitten’s paw. Beads of sweat showed through the hunting cap.

‘It’s cool out—why is he sweating? He looks pale too.’ I placed my hand on his forehead. No fever; his skin felt oddly cool, lower than normal.

The boy shoved my hand away. “Don’t touch a man’s body carelessly!”
“Me… a man?”
“Unmarried men and women should keep their distance. Don’t you know that?”

He was probably blustering out of ignorance, but I was oddly moved.

‘So Confucian thought lives on in this world—bravo, separate the sexes by age seven and eight!’ Feeling a pang of homesickness, I straightened.

I waved my hand like shooing a fly. “Alright, go on then. If you don’t leave I’ll call someone.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“You look like someone who abandoned their duties and ran away. Do you really want to be found?” The boy flinched again but didn’t give in.

“I have a right to be here. I still have questions for you!” I tired of the petty argument and cleared my throat loudly.

“Hello, knights! There’s an intruder here!”
“Can’t you be quiet?!”
“Oh my, a hole here too? How frightening!”
“I told you not to!” The boy, face twisted, clung to my leg.

The armored knights hauled the insolent little koala off. “I’ll never forget this, woman!” the boy shouted as they took him away.

I waved brightly as they left. “Nice meeting you—let’s never see each other again.”

After he was gone I examined the hole. Unfortunately it wasn’t big enough for me to use. “What’s this? Trash?” I found a torn scrap of paper in the hole.

Putting the pieces together, it was a drawing of a monster in black ink. The artist had rendered vicious teeth and bulging eyes with skill. Though torn, it felt too good to throw away. I pocketed the torn picture and returned to my room, thinking that was the end of my connection with the boy.

Two days later.

Nikolai, having accepted Kares’s stratagem, sought out Elizabeth. The bronze lock hung on the Canaries’ door, as before. Nikolai felt both aimless anger and an unbearable longing at once. He felt that if he opened this door, Laila would be there to greet him.

He had had similar dreams many times; at times her absence from this world felt dreamlike. “Niki. Promise me—you won’t forget me. Promise you’ll protect our Finch.” Laila’s dying voice had settled at his ear and then vanished, leaving a dull ache beneath his breastbone.

If Laila knew how long he hadn’t seen Franz, what expression would she make? He shook off the thought and unlocked the door.

“Elisabeth?” She lay on her side on the bed, facing away. Even though she should have heard the door open, she didn’t move.

She had not only been kidnapped, but her last hope—marriage to the Marquis of Nettleton—had been dashed. Nikolai had sworn before her that he would make the betrothed into a servant of the court and the betrothed’s sibling into a concubine.

‘It’s only natural to be angry. It would be understandable if she despised me.’ He was used to contempt. But this time he wanted to avoid it. To be frank, he wanted to excuse himself—to say there were reasons that made his actions unavoidable. But the emperor was not someone who asked for understanding; he gave orders. Even if unreasonable and arbitrary, Nikolai’s words became law.

So why did his mouth keep going dry? The growing scent of cherry blossom only heightened his tension.

“Have you grown used to palace life?” He meant to ask flatly, but his voice cracked a little. Elizabeth still did not move. She seemed determined to ignore him completely. That realization made his chest drop.

“How long will you pretend not to know?” He reached to take Elizabeth’s shoulder and stopped midswing—he realized she was sleeping. She curled up, frowning, and perhaps dreaming of a nightmare; beneath her eyelids her eyes rolled left and right. Her long lashes revealed emotions even more delicately than her facial expression: pain, fear, anxiety—an urgency greater than any single feeling.

Her plump lips parted and a crushed voice leaked out. “P-please don’t do this. Just once….” The mouth formed what clearly meant, “Please save me.”

“……No! Stop!” She moaned and thrashed her thin arms through the air. Nikolai noticed red bruises on her wrists. He shut his eyes tight. Those were caused by his knights; therefore, effectively caused by him.

He wanted to kill the knights who had treated Elizabeth roughly. He almost had. A wave of emotion rose that couldn’t be captured by a single word like guilt. Since meeting Elizabeth, a strange, unpleasant vibration had not left him. If it were only unpleasant, he wouldn’t be so confused.

He grabbed Elizabeth’s wandering hand. It was small, soft, and hot. He murmured without realizing it.

“Do not be afraid. As long as I am here, no one can harm you.”

For the empire and the imperial family, Elizabeth had duties aplenty. It was only right for Nikolai to protect her. So his desire to sweep her fears away, even to seek out and destroy the source of her unease, felt natural—even if it was only self-deception.

‘I am the one who insulted Elizabeth’s fiancé and shut her in a well-prepared prison. The person she fears is me, and the one who hurts her is me.’ Nikolai swallowed a bitter poison.

Fortunately, Elizabeth seemed not to have heard his whisper. He clapped his hands once.

“Aaagh!” Elizabeth sprang up as if wound by a spring. I was sorry to have woken her so bluntly, but I showed nothing. Blinking, Elizabeth looked up at Nikolai. A gentle smile bloomed on her sleepy face like a spring flower caught in sunlight—a smile that would be burned into Nikolai’s chest like a brand. But he did not expect to hear the involuntary inner thoughts that followed.

“What the—are you some kind of shabby tyrant?”
“?!”
“I thought you were Radia.” She smacked her lips and went back to sleep, indifferent.

Nikolai’s thick brows shot up sharply. He could no longer stand to hold back.