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Chapter 12
Is That a Sign of Permission
<I know very well that our Charlotte is lacking in many ways. I also know that as an imperfect princess, it may be difficult for her to fulfill her duties as a supporter by your side. I ask this as a mother—please, Marquess Spencer.>
“Our Prince Adrian has a thick neck, you say? Isn’t that a bit too harsh a way to talk?”
<Please make sure Charlotte arrives safely in the Empire of Ishtar.>
“Your Highness, may I remind you once again that I once saved His Highness Crown Prince Adrian during the monster subjugation? Had I been even a moment later, he would have died before ever meeting you.”
“All right. I’d prefer if you stopped bringing that up. Just how long are you planning to milk that story?”
“I’m curious myself—how long do you think I’ll keep milking it?”
“Now that you mention it, I’m curious too.”
“Well, you’ll see. The carriage may shake a lot, Your Highness.”
“I understand. Please take care of me on the journey to the Ishtar Empire, Marquess Spencer.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Teyshar smiled faintly, then swept his eyes over the armed knights following behind the carriage. All their faces were grim and determined.
“Everyone, move out for the Empire of Ishtar.”
He let out a sigh that barely escaped his lips. He should have been back at his marquisate by now.
But for the past few days, the appearance of monsters had been increasing at an alarming rate—just like it had twenty years ago when the monsters first began multiplying. Starting that April, monster sightings suddenly spiked, and soon the creatures were descending into villages, causing immense loss of life and property.
The Empires of Polloyd and Ishtar, separated by a high mountain range, had both mobilized massive armies to block the threat. Faced with danger, the two empires formed a pact to jointly subjugate the monsters. They built border villages and trade routes on their outer frontiers to hold them back.
But the monsters didn’t decrease—they multiplied.
Expeditions were dispatched to investigate where they were coming from, but even now, no one had uncovered the cause.
Teyshar couldn’t shake one thing from his mind: his father’s words.
Unbelievable as it sounded now, his father, Magus, had once said that twenty years ago, monsters were almost nonexistent. It had been natural for there to be none.
<If only we could find the Child of the Goddess Ella… then the monsters would quiet down.>
A sharp light flashed deep within Teyshar’s eyes. Who was this Goddess Ella that his father had obsessed over? And who was the so-called child of that goddess? He didn’t know, but his father was still searching.
He’d always assumed the obsession came from grief—after all, his mother had died suddenly.
<Father, is there truly a way to find the Child of the Goddess Ella?>
<Of course. The child can be identified by the red eyes inherited through the blood of the Spencer line—the eyes of the serpent.>
The Spencer family’s crest indeed bore a serpent. And all Spencer men were born with red eyes, so he hadn’t thought much of it.
<You mean we can recognize them just by sight?>
<Anyone of the Spencer line would know instantly, without needing to be told. In fact, one might even fall in love at first sight upon meeting the child. But remember—we are serpents. Be careful not to swallow the unripe fruit before it matures.>
Their family’s symbol was a serpent, but what connection it had to the Goddess Ella’s child, Teyshar had never understood. Whenever he said so, his father would only repeat that he would understand once he met the child in person.
Remembering his father’s words now, Teyshar felt a strange stirring in his chest—his heart raced uncontrollably, and excitement swelled within him.
When he had inherited the marquisate, his father had entrusted him with a jeweled box, saying it must be returned to the Child of the Goddess Ella when he met them. Inside were only fragments of a shattered violet amethyst.
<Perhaps they’ve already died…>
“Marquess Spencer, why do you look so grim?”
Lost in memory, Teyshar turned toward the voice that had addressed him—and immediately frowned when he saw who it was.
It was Carlos, commander of the Imperial Knights—a bronzed, golden-haired man, third son of the noble Roild family, one of the three great ducal houses of Polloyd. Handsome, wild-looking, and charismatic, he was popular with men and women alike—and talkative to a fault.
<Marquess Spencer, I know a fine young lady—shall I introduce her to you? What’s your type?>
“I have a feeling you’ll meet a good match in the Empire of Ishtar. Don’t you think so, Marquess?”
Teyshar said nothing, but his expression clearly showed he had no interest in replying. Carlos grinned wider.
“My lord, if you make that annoyed face at me, I’ll be deeply wounded.”
“We don’t know when monsters might appear on the road, Commander Carlos.”
Ignoring him, Teyshar tugged on the reins and spurred his horse ahead.
Lorençia awoke from her sleep.
“What kind of dream was that?”
<Lady Lorençia, do you know why flowers always face the sun?>
“Why was Marquess Spencer in my dream?”
His neatly combed black hair and strong, masculine features had carried a faint trace of boyishness. His pomegranate-red eyes had been gentle and warm, framed by sharply defined brows.
In the dream, Lorençia had tilted her head back to look up at him—Teyshar Spencer.
<The reason I keep looking at you, Lady Lorençia, is because my heart is like that of a flower.>
The flower needs the sun, just as a person needs food—it made a strange sort of sense.
But why on earth had Teyshar been in the Count of Heredian’s mansion in her dream? No matter how she thought about it, it didn’t make sense.
She gripped her amethyst necklace tightly, then shook her head and let go. Maybe because she had been thinking about him so much—using the amethyst’s power to try to meet him? That could be it.
“No, that’s ridiculous. There’s no way he’d come here. It was just a dream.”
Thinking it was nothing, Lorençia lay back down and closed her eyes.
“…I’m losing it.”
But when she fell asleep again, she woke up with a start.
“Why was Marquess Spencer leaning on me like Leo does—and why was I stroking his hair?”
<Sometimes, you don’t confirm each other’s true feelings with words alone.>
“Meow.”
Leo, now awake, mewed irritably at her noise.
“Sorry, Leo. It was just a ridiculous dream.”
“Meow!”
When she’d brushed Teyshar’s hair aside in the dream, his red eyes had softened, filled with emotion—and then suddenly turned burning and masculine.
<Is that… your permission?>
His head had tilted back, and she’d felt his breath so vividly as he leaned over her—the pounding of his heart in those crimson eyes.
Lorençia jolted awake, face blazing.
The Teyshar she knew was cold and composed. But in her dream, he had desired her—his presence a dizzying mix of shame and pleasure.
If she hadn’t woken, their lips would have met.
“Why am I dreaming things like this?”
Her heart thumped wildly like a runaway drum, her face hot.
“This dream is ridiculous. I can’t even go back to sleep.”
By morning, she hadn’t slept a wink.
Anne summoned her early, clicking her tongue in annoyance at Lorençia’s haggard, sleepless face.
“I called you because there’s something to say.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve found a young nobleman to escort you and dance with you at your debut.”
In her previous life, that partner had been the second son of a baron who’d also taught her ballroom dance.
“Yes.”
“It’s Lord Rorilols of the Stofu family. He’ll personally teach you social dancing. Just do exactly as he says.”
Anne looked at her with open disdain. Lorençia bowed silently.
“I have one question.”
“Yes.”
“How did you drive Julie away?”
“I didn’t drive her away.”
“The maids said you whispered something to her, and she went pale and quit her post like she’d seen a ghost. What did you say to her?”
“I told her I’d let her live.”
Anne’s face hardened, eyes narrowing sharply. Julie—her favorite maid—had quit suddenly while she’d been away.
“Julie probably left because she thinks I’m a monster,” Lorençia said lightly.
“What?”
“Everyone here at the Count’s mansion calls me a monster, don’t they?”
“So you’re saying Julie ran away out of fear of you?”
“I think so. If everyone keeps saying I’m a monster, would she really want to stay? Better to run before the monster eats her.”
Anne laughed sharply, though the sound was forced. Then, without warning, she stood, approached Lorençia, and slapped her across the face. The sound cracked through the room.
“Do you find your little jokes amusing?”
Her brows furrowed deeply.
“I don’t know what weakness of Julie’s you used to drive her out, but remember this—there are plenty of others here who’ll make your life miserable even without her. Lord Rorilols will be here soon. If you embarrass me in any way, you’ll go without food for two days.”
“…Understood.”
Lord Rorilols of the Stofu family arrived soon after.
After a brief chat with Anne, he was led by the butler Arden to meet Lorençia.
Arden walked briskly through the hall.
“Mr. Butler, could you please slow down a little?”
“My apologies. Ha-ha…”
Arden forced a smile, fighting the urge to gag. The man reeked of alcohol, and his breath was foul. The phrase ‘acts just like he looks’ fit him perfectly.
All Arden wanted was to drop him off and get away.
“Here we are.”
He opened the parlor door and gestured for Rorilols to enter.
The man’s eyes roved over Lorençia, seated on the sofa, from head to toe.
“Not bad.”
Rorilols’ eyes widened as he took her in—frail, petite, her delicate neck and ankles looking as if they could snap with a touch. Her violet eyes shimmered with strange allure.
“Lord Rorilols of the Stofu family.”
“Lorençia of the Count Heredian family.”
“Have you ever danced before?”
“No.”
“I’ll teach you.”
He kept licking his lips, heart racing. A bastard child, yes—but this was the first noblewoman he’d been allowed to “embrace.”
He remembered Anne’s words as she’d handed him a heavy purse.
<What is it you want from me?>
<Lorençia. I want that monster to be the most miserable person in the world.>
<And what do I need to do?>
<Just… show her a little affection.>
“Let me show you what dancing is.”
Every time Lorençia looked up at him, Rorilols’ grin widened. Her thin frame, her hollow cheeks—she could become beautiful with a little softness. It felt like finding an uncut diamond in the mud.
“Then, I’ll be in your care, Lord Rorilols.”
