PB 06

Chapter 06

“Th-That won’t happen! Don’t tease me.”
“I didn’t mean to tease you.”
He gave a faint smile. It seemed he enjoyed Seren being flustered.

“I’d actually like it if you went out and found a place you like, and then told me. Maybe I’d come to like it too.”

Seren fell silent. Her face flushed and her heart raced, though for a different reason than before.

“…Is Sir Is strange? I can’t tell if you’re being kind or teasing me.”
“If I were considered kind, Lady Sonz might faint.”
“Then… are you teasing me?”
“Well… I didn’t exactly intend to.”

He muttered to himself. Seren fiddled with the lace on the cushion and then spoke again.

“Then you’re a bad man.”
“If you mean cruel, that might be true.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.”

Flustered, Seren quickly spoke and lowered her head. Even though the canopy partially hid her, she was too shy to raise her eyes. Thinking about it, it wasn’t him who was bad—it might be her own heart, captivated by his elegant appearance.

Because he was kind. And though it was a different kind of kindness than usual, she could feel he was being gentle toward her.

‘Don’t get any ideas.’
After all, once she returned, she would never see him again.

She didn’t think she was the type to fall so easily, yet her heart kept fluttering. Every night, she found herself excitedly waiting for him, unable to sleep. Being in an unfamiliar place and situation, perhaps even a little kindness could shake her heart. She thought she had heard travelers fall in love easily.

It was foolish. The saying that first love always ends in failure was famous, after all.

“Ugh.”

Suddenly, a sharp pain ripped through her chest, and Seren clutched at it. He was startled and stood up.

“Seren?”
“Ah, no… it’s nothing.”

Sweating, she forced herself to answer. The pain subsided quickly, but a lingering residue seemed to remain deep in her chest, sending shivers through her normally unaffected left ankle.

“Are you hurt? Should I call a doctor?”
He lifted the canopy with a concerned expression. Seren looked up at him, thinking how kind he was.

“I’m fine.”
“Still not in pain, then. But you’re sweating like this.”

He reached out and lightly touched her temple. Heat rose not only to her cheeks but also around her eyes, making her step back in embarrassment.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“Was it a seizure?”
“I’ll tell the doctor tomorrow.”
“Don’t forget. Your health comes first.”

His hand, as if wiping away her sweat, moved across her forehead and gently swept back her hair. She held her breath. His golden eyes looked down at her, full of concern—surely not just her imagination.

“Now, lie down. It’s too late for a patient to be awake.”
“I’m not in pain…”
“You just complained of pain, what are you saying?”

Seren smiled awkwardly and lay down on the bed. He personally pulled the sheets up to her neck.

“If the doctor says it’s fine, I’ll take you wherever you want to go tomorrow.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Even during the day?”
“Is there somewhere you want to go?”

Seren hesitated briefly. She didn’t have a particular destination in mind—she just wanted to spend more time with him during the day.

“I’ll think about it.”
“All right.”

Whether he noticed her wistfulness or not, he answered briefly and drew the canopy back down. Soon the lights went out, and darkness filled the bed. She still felt conflicted, but the darkness quickly lulled her to sleep.

The woman fell asleep.
Her colorful, gentle breathing filled the bedroom peacefully. Eisbrandt sat in the same posture as a picture, listening.

Though she acted indifferent before him, she was a little tense, chattering like a small bird, yet deep inside she felt anxious. Still, sleep came easily—perhaps because of her lingering illness. It was fascinating. She seemed like a squirrel or rabbit falling asleep atop a predator’s head.

‘It’s like holding a thin glass marble in my hand.’
Indeed, being hollow inside wasn’t much different.

The darkness and a single chiffon curtain couldn’t block his vision, so he could observe her peaceful face even as she slept.

He preferred seeing her asleep at night rather than talking to her. She would chatter endlessly when awake, as if she were waiting for him.

She was like a butterfly—innocent, unaware of her fate, laughing lightly and fluttering about. She was lovable yet annoying, and he couldn’t help but imagine tearing her apart like ripping a butterfly’s wings.

Suddenly, he sensed movement outside. He rose slowly. When he opened the door, the attendants and knights in the hallway all knelt simultaneously.

“Your Majesty.”
“I told you not to be disturbed.”

Eisbrandt spoke with a cold, expressionless voice. One attendant, trembling but polite, reported:

“Your Majesty, Wayne Rubab has just arrived at the palace.”

He furrowed his brow slightly. He had sent word for him to hurry, but now it was the middle of the night.

No, this was better. He couldn’t leave Seren in this state forever. His nerves were sharp because of her. He disliked having to change this situation.

It was a strange sensation.

Eisbrandt was naturally a man of few emotions—not because of his personality, but because the blood of dragons ran through the Anselm Empire’s royal family. He was not a cruel ruler because he thought all others were insignificant.

Yet he feared changing reality. Seren had only been in his hands for two weeks. They had spoken perhaps ten times. Still, he worried as if the nights spent with her were precious and irreplaceable.

Losing control was both sweet and uncomfortable.

[Dragons are drawn to the lost pearls of life. To regain them is to become whole. A dragon’s mate is not chosen—it is predetermined.]

This was a tale from the founding myth of the Anselm Empire.
The Winter Dragon loved a tree spirit and gave her a pearl containing his life, but the spirit wilted because she met winter. Since then, the Winter Dragon lost the ebb and flow of life, becoming immortal.
The direct royal line of Anselm is said to descend from that dragon. However, dragons that found their mates were extremely rare, and in most cases myths were used to justify politically arranged spouses.

But Eisbrandt now understood the story literally. Even before seeing Seren Rubab, he knew she was his.

This feeling flowed through his veins, not his personal emotions. He had never chosen to fall in love. Realizing he had longed desperately for a woman he had never met since before birth was unpleasant. Most unpleasant was how vividly his senses reacted—feeling the softness of lips, the scent of blood, the sweet warmth of flesh.

Of course, this discomfort didn’t influence his decisions.

“Hah.”

He clicked his tongue at himself. The frightened attendants shrank their shoulders.

“And Lady Sonz and Count Farell?”
“They are waiting in the study.”
“Call Wayne Rubab so.”

One attendant slipped away like a shadow to carry out the order. Eisbrandt strode toward the study.