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Chapter 23
“Good thing I’m not a withered, cold soul.”
Those small lips were smiling. Artorius felt a deep sense of relief, and followed her gentle pull to sit beside Anastasia.
The bed swayed noticeably, but Anastasia did not complain.
“If you hadn’t come to kill me in time, I might not be here. Right?”
“…What kind of joke is that?”
The smiling lips puffed up in protest.
“If you put it that way, I’m basically someone you stabbed with a sword.”
“That is…”
“Of course, I don’t resent you.”
Artorius tried to respond but ended up closing his mouth and nodding.
“Right.”
“And stop saying things that make my skin crawl. Seriously…”
Anastasia couldn’t finish her sentence and instead looked up at him sharply.
“Seriously… what?”
“I hate to say this, but you sound like an old man. Who even talks like that these days?”
“…That is not something I can change. However, I will try.”
“How?”
“…Do you read novels?”
Anastasia only laughed and shook her head.
“Just stay as you are.”
“You said you disliked it.”
“I didn’t say I disliked it. I said you sound old.”
His expression seemed slightly hurt. Whether it was genuine or not, Anastasia decided to give him a small concession.
“If I really disliked you for sounding old, I wouldn’t have let a man over two hundred years old into my room.”
But that did not have the intended effect.
“So you are saying you genuinely think I sound old. Including the two hundred years.”
“…That’s not…”
At this point, she was getting annoyed.
“Artorius.”
“Why do you keep calling me so sharply?”
“When did you become so good at talking?”
“From the beginning?”
Come to think of it, he had never been unable to speak properly in front of her. It was just that everything he said sounded embarrassingly sincere.
“…Forget it. Let’s stop here.”
No matter how she thought about it, it was strange.
Their relationship should not be this close. Their first meeting had begun with trying to kill each other, and the rest had not been much different.
At the top of the tower.
In a dark room.
A monster sitting on her bed, looking at her.
Anastasia forcibly looked away from feelings she could not even understand and collapsed onto the bed.
It felt somewhat safe.
Being far away from those most dangerous people in her life—her own blood relatives—also helped ease her mind.
Some said family was like a warm blanket.
But for Anastasia, it was not like that at all.
Rather than their burning rage and shouting, the cold, dry, and lifeless presence of Artorius felt far more comforting.
“Are you going to sleep already? It has not been long since sunset. It is still early, Anastasia.”
Still lying down, she looked up at him and shook her head.
“If I’m tired and want to sleep, then it is already late enough.”
“I did not know you possessed a time-altering vision.”
Artorius picked up his gauntlet from the floor and put it back on.
“Is it not uncomfortable wearing something like that all day?”
It was a simple question. She had no intention of touching his painful memories.
And Artorius knew that better than anyone—that she had no such intention.
“It is not uncomfortable. The reason is… something I would prefer not to speak of.”
“That’s sad.”
“It is not sad to me. But I fear that if I speak of it, it may cause you guilt.”
It was a long answer, but it could be summarized simply:
I don’t want to make you feel guilty by telling you my troubles.
Anastasia sat back up and stared at him.
“Tell me.”
“I already said I do not want to burden you with guilt…”
“You don’t trust me that much?”
“…That is not it.”
His troubled expression, his hesitation to come closer, displeased her.
She already knew something was wrong with her.
She demanded so much from this man—this stranger she had never shared a life with, someone from another time entirely—and relied on him far too much.
So if he did not ask or rely on her in return, she should accept it.
She should not find it strange.
Even knowing that…
“Then why won’t you tell me?”
The question slipped out again.
“Because I care for you.”
Even after hearing the answer, she was not satisfied.
“So?”
“You are the only one who came to me during my long and dark time…”
“That has nothing to do with it.”
Silence stretched between them.
Only their eyes blinked at each other, speaking where words failed.
“…I will tell you.”
“You should have said that from the start.”
As Anastasia narrowed her eyes, Artorius sighed and gently stroked her head.
“I was wrong.”
“…Yes.”
“There is no particular reason. I simply became accustomed to it.”
“Accustomed…?”
“The fortress of Aquila was abandoned for a long time. It was filled with abyss-tainted monsters and grotesquely twisted beasts.”
He stood up and picked up his sacred sword, placing it into her arms.
“Only heavy swords and suffocating armor protected me. And though the corruption whispered to my soul through the cracks in the walls and mind, I did not wish to embrace it… only endure it slowly.”
“…You had no choice but to get used to it.”
“Indeed.”
Anastasia ran her fingers over the worn leather of the sword’s sheath and nodded.
“I had no choice but to become accustomed to it. I slept leaning against walls, holding my sword, helmet still on.”
Now she took his hand instead of the sword.
“…You do not need to feel sorry.”
“I didn’t say I was sorry.”
“…Right.”
“And fix that stiff way of speaking. You sound like your soul is shaped like a perfect square.”
Artorius’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. Anastasia pressed her finger against his forehead.
“Go to sleep now.”
“…Very well.”
Anastasia pulled the blanket over herself, feeling his blue gaze linger on her.
Her ankles felt slightly cold. The blanket was a bit short.
Probably something she had used as a child.
She closed her eyes.
“…Anastasia?”
“What is it?”
Without opening her eyes, she answered—and suddenly felt warmth around her ankles.
She opened her eyes out of curiosity.
“My cloak. Your ankles looked cold.”
“Mm. Thank you.”
Her deep blue eyes blinked once.
Then she closed them again, sinking slowly into darkness.
Sleep came quickly.
“Is anyone there?”
Hector Valtres, chief attendant to the prince, found himself in a difficult situation. He checked his pocket watch repeatedly, pacing anxiously.
It was still before sunrise—5:30 in the morning.
But he had urgent news.
Just as he was about to knock again, a voice came from inside.
“Who is it?”
A deep male voice.
Hector Valtres stiffened slightly.
“…Is that the knight assigned to the princess?”
It was odd. Even the most diligent knight would normally be asleep at this hour.
Usually, only household stewards or maids would be awake now.
“Chief attendant Hector Valtres of Prince Louis Yanpots. I have urgent information.”
“…Come in. It is cold outside.”
The heavy wooden door opened immediately.
“Thank you.”
Though he maintained his composure, Hector Valtres was internally shaken.
Ignoring the silver gleam of the armor was impossible. Nor the intricate craftsmanship that seemed worthy of royalty itself.
What shocked him most was the fact that the knight was fully armored at this hour of dawn.
While Artorius stoked the fireplace and prepared warm tea, Hector looked around.
There was no one else.
“Sir… I was told palace staff were assigned to guard this annex overnight. Where are they?”
The knight’s gaze sharpened as he handed over the tea. His appearance was striking—like a beautiful devil hardened by countless storms of time. The old attendant briefly feared for his life.
“Unnecessary.”
“But… if they were here, you would not need to do all this yourself…”
“It is a blessing.”
“…A blessing, you say?”
The tone was strange.
Each word carried an archaic weight, as though spoken by kings of a bygone era. Yet at the same time, it felt like someone unused to speaking at all.
“That only my hand remains beside my most precious golden osmanthus.”
Golden osmanthus clearly referred to Princess Anastasia.
“…I came regarding that princess.”
Hector took a sip of steaming tea and continued.
“Prince Louis requests to have breakfast together with her. Could you relay the message?”
“So that is why you came at this hour.”
The attendant nodded.
“Yes. Preparing noble ladies takes time and many attendants.”
“I will pass it on.”
But at that moment, Hector felt a chill in the knight’s eyes.
Even the fire in the fireplace seemed to falter, as though struck by something unseen.
A shiver ran down his spine, like winter snow settling on his shoulders and arms.
“I… I should take my leave…”
“Do so.”
Hector left without finishing his tea, practically fleeing the annex.
And Artorius did not wake Anastasia.
