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Chapter 18
A Märchen for Villains
“Hook’s Watch.”
The moment Isabelle heard those words, her eyes widened.
“Could it be… that strange watch I kept seeing every time I went back in time?”
Her hands, folded neatly on her lap, began trembling even more.
“So the reason my body kept shaking was… because of the theft?”
How honest her body was. If she’d done it, she could at least have pretended otherwise.
And if it was Hook’s watch… could it really mean Captain Hook?
“Why does this ridiculous mash-up of fairy tales have so many characters?!”
Her mind was in chaos.
“Even if your memory doesn’t remember, your body sure does, Princess Thief.”
“Just give it back,” she said. Cheimon reached out his hand.
“I don’t have the watch.”
It was true. The watch had only briefly appeared when she revived—it had dispersed like mist.
“That can’t be. There was definitely a unique wave from the watch earlier.”
Cheimon leaned toward her, staring intently.
“Was he always this tall?”
He hadn’t seemed so imposing when with the Duke, but the closer she got, the more clearly she realized he was very much a man.
His face was now right in front of her.
A sweet natural scent, not perfume, wafted from him. It had a peculiar ability to lower defenses.
Just as her gaze got caught by his long eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings…
“Oh, it’s true. You really don’t have the watch.”
He smiled at her directly.
“But you know, Princess…”
Cheimon’s eyes traveled down her delicate neckline toward her chest, stopping near her heart.
He sprinkled crushed magic stones nearby.
As the fine gray powder floated in the air, a brief golden light shimmered from Isabelle’s heart before vanishing.
“See this? Why would the energy of the watch come out from the princess’s heart?”
He licked his lower lip slowly, smiling.
His red eyes glinted, demanding the truth from her.
“As I said before, I don’t know anything about it.”
Isabelle crossed her arms over her chest to block his gaze.
She felt uncomfortable with his eyes on her.
“Ah, my apologies.”
Cheimon offered a dry apology, as if women didn’t interest him in the first place.
“Well, that’s not the only proof that the princess stole something.”
Cheimon tapped the buttons of his changpao, retrieving a flat pouch hidden inside.
Through the slits of the coat, her collarbone and lean muscles were visible, but he didn’t seem interested in adjusting his attire.
He opened the pouch, and magically, a pair of red shoes—far too large for the pouch—appeared.
“Those…!”
The red shoes Isabelle had left on the beach when she first met Snow in the Dejar Kingdom.
“So they really were the princess’s.”
“How did the mage get them?”
“They looked familiar, so I picked them up.”
Cheimon explained that he had placed anti-theft tracking magic near the laboratory where the watch had been.
“But they ended up here.”
He shook the red shoes with a sly smile.
“Ah, I can’t deny it now.”
Isabelle admitted to the theft she barely remembered.
Strangely, her body stopped trembling once she admitted it. How absurd.
“What on earth was I doing before I possessed this body?”
Why would a princess even steal? She subtly avoided Cheimon’s gaze.
No excuses would work—she hadn’t really committed the act herself.
“Good, you admit it willingly. As a reward, I’ll return this to Princess Thief.”
Cheimon stood and approached Isabelle, placing the shoes in front of her.
He perched on the low tea table, leaning forward, eyes fixed on the pale green shoes peeking from under her skirt, placing the red pair beside them.
“Want to try them on?”
“No.”
Red shoes were ominous.
In a world of jumbled fairy tales, red shoes immediately reminded her of that tragic story where a girl couldn’t stop dancing until her ankles were cut off.
“Why not?”
“I’d just end up dancing endlessly if I wore magical shoes.”
Isabelle glared at Cheimon and shook her head.
He wasn’t offended, only surprised.
“…You can sense the magic?”
“No, it’s just a feeling.”
“Oh, like a beast,” he said.
Not an insult. A compliment for intuition.
Cheimon scratched his chin and grinned.
“Sadly, these shoes don’t make you a better dancer. They only have teleportation magic.”
Three taps of the heels would transport the wearer directly to the mage tower.
“Like something out of The Wizard of Oz.”
Isabelle pushed the shoes aside.
“I’ll pass.”
“Should I put them on for you? I’m curious if they fit.”
His fingers brushed her ankle.
“I said no!”
Isabelle shouted.
At that moment, the reception room door burst open.
The Duke glared at Cheimon, gripping the doorknob as if to break it.
“What are you doing, Cheimon?”
“I was presenting shoes as a gift…”
Cheimon lowered his gaze toward the area the Duke was staring at.
Her flesh visible through the open changpao, the princess so close, and now his hand near her ankle…
“Hmm, perfect for a misunderstanding.”
Cheimon discreetly withdrew his hand and adjusted his clothing.
“Whatever you imagine, Duke, it’s not what it looks like.”
“Step away from the princess immediately.”
The Duke advanced behind the sofa, hands braced on the backrest, exuding the territorial intensity of a wild beast.
Isabelle relaxed, leaning slightly toward him. Her tension melted.
“Yes, yes, business concluded, so I’ll be on my way.”
“Oh, my knees…” Cheimon struggled to rise.
“Oh, by the way, Duke.”
He whispered as he left the room.
“It seems the ‘watch’ you were looking for has been delivered properly after all.”
Nebelland Empire, Southern Continent.
The current emperor, Peter von Zehik, had expelled his cousin Munkin White to seize the throne.
He secretly brought a few noble items from the heavens to aid his usurpation.
In the process, he killed celestial beings and became cursed.
As emperor, Peter tried to lift the curse by stealing Hook’s watch—the legendary pocket watch that could reverse time.
However, misusing it reverted only his mind to that of a child.
The royal family, calling it a cursed watch, destroyed it and threw it into the sea.
The Duke later brought the broken watch to the mage tower.
“This might help me lift my curse.”
Following the Duke’s request, Cheimon began repairing and studying it.
Just as the repairs finished, Princess Isabelle skillfully stole the watch.
“Interesting.”
Cheimon murmured while walking the corridor.
The passing servants gave him strange looks, but he ignored them.
“I wonder why she forgot me.”
He thought of Isabelle, smiling slyly.
The shivers that ran through him whenever curiosity struck were exhilarating.
“I wonder how the power of the watch seeped into the princess.”
How it slowly purified the Duke’s curse.
How she discerned the magic in the shoes.
He was curious. He wanted to know.
As he hummed while walking, his insubordinate apprentice blocked his path.
“What has you so curious again, Master?”
“Your magic skills are a mess.”
Cheimon frowned.
“Thanks to you, I suppose.”
“Why are you here, then?”
“That’s also because of you, Master.”
Snow rolled up a letter and handed it to him.
“Tomorrow the prince arrives at the Duke’s estate. You should leave soon.”
“Why is that greedy brat coming here? Did the crown prince assassination fail, and now he’s venting?”
“Who knows.”
“I’m not going. My work isn’t done.”
He pouted like a child, claiming he hadn’t gotten the Duke’s blood for his experiment.
“If you don’t go, the Empress will hear you’ve arrived in the empire.”
Sigh… need something sweet.
Cheimon groaned, and Snow, out of habit, put a date into his mouth.
Cheimon chewed while being carried on Snow’s back.
“What’s this, Master?”
“Carry me, apprentice. Just hearing the Empress’s name drains my strength.”
“You only recognize me as your apprentice at times like this, huh?”
“Everything takes the name it needs in a given situation.”
To my room, then.
Thus, Cheimon returned to his room on Snow’s back.
A count’s garden, thick with trees.
Prince Edwin hummed while fastening his belt, noticing a stain on his black shoes and chuckling.
“What’s so amusing?”
The countess smoothed her skirts.
“Tomorrow, I’ll arrive at Duke Bashke’s estate.”
“Hm?”
“Karl said he’d host a banquet for me.”
The prince said the Duke’s name casually, curling one side of his mouth into a smile.
“Even though the crown prince is unwell, he accepted? The Empress would be furious.”
Rumors of the emperor’s insanity had long circulated among the nobles.
The real power of the royal family was now Empress Gwendolyn.
The countess tightly held the prince’s arm.
“A mother without feelings wouldn’t be angry. Though she may punish for breaking protocol.”
“Do you think that Duke would blink if punished?”
“If he lost a bride as punishment, he might even look pleased.”
Prince Edwin grinned, revealing perfect teeth.
His slightly drooping eyes, blue irises, flawless skin, and elegant demeanor…
Aside from his messy private life, he looked exactly like a prince from a storybook.
