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Chapter 42
“I know how to put on socks.”
“You couldn’t do it earlier. I saw you.”
“I can do it. Tanesa unni just did it for me earlier.”
Actually, until the beginning of this year, it used to take Ariletti thirty minutes to put on her socks. She widened her eyes, determined not to let that embarrassing truth be exposed.
“What about you? Could you put on socks when you were five?”
“I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I was five.”
“You probably couldn’t either. Five-year-olds can’t put on socks by themselves. Their bodies don’t listen to them.”
“Sure, you sock-illiterate loser.”
Who are you calling a loser, you personality-wrecked brat?
The casual mockery made her head spin.
Because of his frail body, Rasian had an equally prickly temper. It was so bad that the Second Prince, Lucius, once called his half-brother a “starved mad dog.”
But this kind of insult? She couldn’t just let it slide.
Ariletti braced herself on the blanket and pushed her upper body up, ready to snap back.
“Who are you calling a lo—”
But when she saw the boy glaring at her as if he might devour her, she quickly gave in.
Fine. She was the loser. He was a prince.
With every trace of blood washed away, Rasian Pederka looked like a doll carefully sculpted by the White Forest itself.
He should bow every morning and night toward the imperial capital where the emperor lived and say, Thank you for shaping me like this.
‘With that face, he bewitched Glen Hezette and even Count Hezette.’
And me too.
After firmly restoring her patience, Ariletti shuffled closer, blanket and all.
Rasian turned at the light tapping on his back. A strange, caterpillar-like bundle was staring up at him.
“When did you drink the poison?”
“Cough—what are you…?”
“You knew it was poisoned when you drank it, didn’t you?”
Rasian’s coughing was getting worse.
A child left alone in the imperial palace without a single ally couldn’t possibly refuse everything. If the First or Second Prince forced poisoned tea or food on him, how could he refuse?
“How long has it been?”
“…It started getting bad last year. Before that, I drank it quietly to build resistance. But those lunatics don’t know when to stop.”
“Don’t use bad words.”
“They probably wanted to see me die— But why do you care about this?”
“I’m going to fix you.”
“How would you? And why?”
Because you’re one of my original sins too.
Ariletti pulled out a potion bottle from her emergency bag. It had a straw fitted into the cap so even a child could drink it easily.
She held it out to Rasian.
“It’s an antidote. If you don’t fix it now, you’ll live with that cough for the rest of your life.”
She had considered using the Time Mage’s blessing to freeze his body’s time instead—it required less power than full regression—but if she did that, she might get slapped by the Needle Spirit.
Besides, this would be much more effective.
“…How do you know that?”
“I can tell just by looking.”
As far as Ariletti remembered, Rasian Pederka had been skinny and unimpressive until just before adulthood.
Under the care of the Hezette family, he learned only basic swordsmanship. Because of his weak constitution, his skill was nothing remarkable. Even under Glen’s guidance, he never became a Sword Master—he didn’t even reach the level of an Aura User.
After Glen, who had been both his sword and shield, died, Rasian didn’t last even a few months.
In Ariletti’s first life, he died at fifteen. In her second life, at twenty-two.
If Glen intended to serve this boy as his lord, then Ariletti couldn’t ignore him either. The moment he came to Hezette, their fates were tied together.
‘If this child dies, that means Glen Hezette loses.’
Which meant Rasian Pederka was someone she had to protect as well.
But Rasian slapped her hand away.
The potion spilled all over the carpet.
She hurriedly picked up the bottle, but not a single drop remained.
…My potion. Made with precious mandrake. Do you even know what this is…?
“Don’t touch my body.”
The boy glared like an angry cat.
Ariletti took a long breath.
Endure it. He’s nine years old.
“…Why don’t you want it?”
“How do I know what you mixed in there?”
“I didn’t make this. Dr. Sergio, a graduate of the Imperial Royal Medical Academy—”
Her voice gradually trailed off as she tried to explain.
“…Uncle Dunken and the knight uncles went down under the ice cliff and brought back… a piece of mandrake…”
It was a special potion made with the whole thing.
The boy’s gaze toward her was far from ordinary. Ariletti froze, clutching the empty bottle.
Rasian stared fiercely at her hair.
A deep pink, almost purple.
It had bothered him from the moment he first saw it. Something inside his chest twisted.
“The color I hate most in this world is pink.”
“Why?”
“Because a woman with hair like yours keeps making me feel worthless and useless.”
“Hair like mine…?”
“Yes, damn it. She interferes with me every time. Even her eyes are the same color as yours. And that slow way of speaking, exactly the same!”
“…”
“If it weren’t for that crazy woman…”
In this life, I’ll kill her first. No matter what.
His eyes burned with a fury no nine-year-old should possess.
“…I don’t know who that ‘crazy woman’ is.”
Ariletti took out another potion and removed the stopper. She swallowed a mouthful first to show him, then held out the rest.
“I didn’t mix poison into it. This is really precious. Even with endless wealth, you could never make the same one again—”
She was about to add that it was filled with the goodwill and affection of the Hezette people.
“Get it away from me!”
Crash. The third gesture of goodwill she offered shattered miserably.
Something inside her head snapped.
“…This is seriously…!”
Ariletti charged like a bull and rammed into the boy.
Early the next morning.
Bang bang bang bang.
Glen, who had been sound asleep, jolted awake at the pounding on his door.
“Who’s… there?”
The sun hadn’t even risen yet. And there weren’t many people who would knock on the young lord’s bedroom door so mercilessly.
Still in his pajamas, Glen shuffled out of bed. Yawning lazily, he opened the door.
“Who’s knocking at this hour? It’s not even four yet… Aril?”
The nightcap perched crookedly on his head slid down.
A little girl in cute pajamas stood there, tears brimming in her eyes.
His sleep vanished instantly.
“What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Are you hurt? Do you have a fever?”
“My Lord, I hate that thing…!”
“Huh?”
Ariletti ran in and clung tightly to his thigh, burying her face against him. Tears and snot soaked into his checkered pajama pants.
Glen followed her gaze down the hallway.
Rasian stood there with his hair in complete disarray, eyes blazing.
“Your Highness?”
Looking closer, Ariletti’s hair was sticking out in every direction too.
“Oh dear.”
Glen let out a quiet sigh.
They must have spent the whole night pulling each other’s hair and fighting.
She wasn’t crying because she was hurt or sad.
She was crying out of sheer frustration.
