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Chapter 68
All at once, I felt every gaze in the hall turn toward me.
Sirua locked eyes with the one who held her gaze and studied them intently.
Confusion. Surprise. Wariness. And… faint fear.
It was the first time anyone had ever looked at her that way. The novelty of it pulled at her interest.
“They’re looking at me as if I might kill them.”
Sirua’s smile deepened.
Even as she felt the sharp sting of her elder brother’s piercing glare from across the way, she had no desire to leave her spot. That, in itself, was a strange feeling.
“It was worth it.”
For once, her stubborn persistence had paid off.
“…?”
Meeting those questioning eyes, Sirua curved her lips into a laugh.
“Sirua.”
“Yes, Mother.”
In the awkward atmosphere caused by Sirua’s sudden outburst, the tea party finally began in earnest.
“Sirua.”
Pession’s face was tight, his gaze sharp as he glared at his younger sister.
“What?”
Sirua only smiled sweetly, deliberately needling him.
“Can’t I look a little? What, will it wear off? Do you think I’ll bite? Why are you acting like this? You should’ve just let me see when I asked before. Because you kept shielding her, I can only look properly in a place like this. It’s not like I’ll hurt her, so why be so sensitive?”
“Your very existence is harmful.”
“How hurtful, Brother.”
“You only call me that at times like this.”
The growling Pession and the ever-smirking Sirua were too much for Empress Azeny, who rubbed her forehead.
“That’s enough.”
The siblings, who had looked ready to devour each other, reluctantly quieted down. The Empress turned to her daughter.
“Sirua, it would be best if you stayed away from Lady Arellin.”
“Mother.”
“Sirua.”
Her mother’s cold reprimand struck.
“You should’ve held back.”
Sirua pressed her lips shut.
“There would’ve been plenty of natural opportunities.”
“But she was right in front of me. I thought I’d go mad with curiosity. And I knew the moment I saw her. Brother couldn’t take his eyes off her.”
Pession’s face twisted into a grimace.
“Don’t touch her.”
“What did I do?”
“Don’t approach her.”
“Why phrase it like that? As if I’d do something bad? That’s absurd.”
“Arellin is different from you—gentle, delicate, and fragile. If you hurt her, I won’t forgive you.”
Didn’t he realize? That the more he tried to protect her, the more it piqued her interest?
“Lady Arellin, do you dislike animals?”
“Sirua.”
The Empress’s stern gaze cut in again, making Sirua falter slightly.
“But the more Brother acts like this, the more intriguing she becomes. What can I do?”
“Sirua.”
“You were the one who said I needed friends, Mother.”
The odd daughter who never left the royal residence, having cast off every companion given to her, smiled faintly.
“I’ll make a friend.”
“Sirua.”
“For the first time, there’s someone I actually want as a friend. Will you oppose me?”
The Empress fell silent, unable to answer. But Pession’s eyes widened furiously.
“Absolutely not.”
“And who are you to forbid it?”
“Arellin is my friend.”
“And what does that have to do with me? If she’s your friend, why can’t she be mine too?”
“Because—it’s strange.”
“What’s strange? Are you jealous, Brother?”
Pession’s eyebrow twitched. Sirua’s smile deepened.
“With that kind of narrow heart, you’ll never be popular with women.”
“…As if Arellin could ever like someone like you.”
“What? Did you actually just say that to me?”
For once, Sirua was genuinely delighted.
Pession, who usually ignored her with a detached look or humored her half-heartedly, was finally reacting.
“Is he serious?”
Her eyes glittered with amusement as she watched him.
“Mother!”
Pession resorted to the ultimate weapon—running to their mother.
“Mother!”
Sirua wasn’t about to back down either.
“Settle this yourselves, and don’t fight,” Empress Azeny sighed, giving up on mediation.
Her refusal to intervene only fueled the siblings’ competitive fire.
Pession spoke first.
“Want to spar?”
“That wouldn’t be fair. Obviously, I’d lose.”
“Sirua, what will it take for you to stay away from Arellin?”
“That depends on how you act.”
The Empress deliberately turned away from her bickering son and daughter, choosing instead to stroke the youngest child, who was busy devouring dessert.
At least one of her children was normal. Thank goodness for small mercies.
“Yum! So good!”
But Pession and Sirua’s quarrel couldn’t last long.
One was the Crown Prince of the empire, the other the eccentric ruler who never left the palace. Both drew far too much attention. The crowd refused to leave them alone.
“Hah… ha-ha.”
Sirua was forced to plaster a smile on her face until it hurt.
“When will these pests finally disappear?”
She had forgotten that wherever Arellin went, others would trail after her. For the first time, she regretted her plan.
“Why are they all so interested in me?! Isn’t Pession the Crown Prince? Shouldn’t they be crowding around him?! I can’t even get near the Halbern table because of them!”
Her replies grew curt and half-hearted, but still the nobles’ curiosity refused to wane.
“Our Lesley would be such a good match with Your Highness the Lord. Oh-ho-ho.”
“Ah, yes.”
“If my daughter could be your friend, it would make me so happy. Isn’t that right, Lesley?”
“Yes, Your Highness!”
Friendship? Not interested.
Even with her blatant boredom, the Marchioness of Belfart and her daughter only smiled all the brighter.
Their patience was impressive. Sirua had to admire it inwardly. Perhaps only with such persistence could one achieve ambition.
Not that I care.
Wondering how long it would take before they finally left, she glanced around for Pession.
He had already moved to the Muivisk table.
“Master Quayon, I have such respect for you!”
“Haha.”
To her surprise, the Muivisk table was almost as popular as the royal one.
Perhaps it was because they were an austere family of knights, far less social than the Speroms, but every guest clustered there was a knight.
Watching them heap unrestrained admiration on Quayon, Sirua wondered if this was really a tea party or a training ground.
“Master, you’re so popular.”
“Well, not as much as you, Your Highness.”
Pession turned to glance at Harun. The taciturn genius of swordsmanship sat quietly beside his brother, sipping not tea but something sweet.
“At least eat some dessert.”
“…”
At his urging, Harun picked up a scone and offered it to his brother Johan. Johan only looked at him with clear eyes before shaking his head. Harun quietly took a bite himself and lapsed into silence.
“…”
Pession gave up trying to understand the Muivisk brothers. Perhaps they had some uncanny gift for silent communication.
“There’s no such gift,” Quayon muttered.
“Don’t read my mind, Master.”
“Anyway, what brought you here?”
“I saw Arellin. What did you think?”
The Duke of Muivisk stroked his chin. As a member of the Arellin Health Council, he had once made great contributions with his theories on ‘muscle’ and ‘diet.’
But…
She looked so frail. Thin to the point of weakness. Though she still had a trace of baby fat, her arms were like brittle twigs. Could she even lift anything at all?
“She looks like she needs exercise.”
“That is after exercise.”
“Ugh…”
The Duke could hardly believe it.
“That’s her looking healthier than before.”
“…!”
Pession shook his head. It was the truth.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
He had thought nothing could surprise him anymore.
But Quayon, the Sword Saint and a Grandmaster, was now faced with a challenge he had never encountered before—
After training countless hardy men who could survive any ordeal, he now had to figure out how to make a fragile girl, who might shatter at the slightest misstep, truly healthy.
“Ugh… this is too difficult.”
“It is.”
“It really is…”
This wasn’t training. It was closer to rehabilitation… or resuscitation.
Their eyes all turned toward the Halbern table.
“What should we start her on?”
A chill ran down my spine.
I shuddered involuntarily.
“What’s wrong?”
I rubbed at my arm, where goosebumps had sprung up.
“Just now… I felt genuine fear for my life.”
“What?”
