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Chapter 9
The prince’s face was suddenly too close—filled with worry.
Every time his hands checked her here and there, her heart beat so loudly she felt dizzy. Heat rushed up to her neck, and she could only open and close her mouth soundlessly.
He smiled knowingly, then gently touched his forehead to hers.
“It seems I’m the one who made your face hurt again.”
Ezra shook her head vigorously, unable to form proper words, but Hippolotes replied calmly as if he understood anyway.
“I’ll believe you. Here, drink some water first.”
Avoiding his languid tone, she accepted the water with trembling hands and drank.
Only after the cold liquid passed her throat did her mind begin to clear—and she finally took in her surroundings.
The neat, orderly room seemed to be one of many within his residence, Labyrinthos.
Ezra noticed three men watching her and quickly straightened her posture.
“Oh, don’t be surprised. These are knights who came with me to Titen. There’s no need to be nervous. They won’t hurt you.”
Won’t hurt me…
At that, Demoleon frowned deeply.
Hippolotes, ignoring Ezra’s nervous glances toward him, smiled brightly.
“Let me introduce them. That scary-looking man is Demoleon. He’s strong, so feel free to make him do physical work.”
“Eh? Wh-what?”
Demoleon raised a hand awkwardly, though no one paid attention.
A slender man stepped forward next.
“My name is Kakos, Princess. If anything is inconvenient during your stay, please tell me.”
Ezra recognized him—the man who had sat beside Hippolotes at the banquet. She bowed repeatedly in response.
“I am Zenon.”
Another man, precise and rigid in posture, gave a brief greeting.
Ezra waved her hands in confusion.
“I… I don’t deserve such respect…”
Her voice grew smaller and smaller.
Before she knew it, a hand gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“It’s alright. It’s just a greeting. Exchanged between people.”
“Ah…”
“I’m Zenon.”
He repeated his introduction.
For the first time, Ezra made proper eye contact with someone other than Hippolotes.
Black hair. Black eyes.
She hesitated, then replied like a child learning speech.
“I… I’m Ezra.”
A simple exchange—but it felt unbearably heavy.
Hippolotes glanced between the two of them and changed the subject.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“No… not really.”
She couldn’t afford to be rude. She was not fully recovered, but she wasn’t weak enough to remain in bed.
Just as she tried to stand, he placed both hands on her shoulders.
“You’re leaving already? In this condition?”
Ezra looked down.
Her body was covered in bandages and ointments, faint medicinal smell lingering.
Even a clean tunic had been provided.
She bowed deeply.
“Thank you very much for treating me, Lord Hippolotes.”
Before she could say she needed to return to the tower, he suddenly took her hand.
Warmth.
Her eyes widened.
“I won’t let you go back to a place like that.”
The tone was gentle, but firm.
Ezra slowly pulled her hand away, shaking her head.
“I want to go back. I’m sorry.”
That answer was not in the script he expected.
Hippolotes stared at her, momentarily speechless.
She quietly released his hand and walked to the door.
His hand fell empty.
Hippolotes slowly clenched his fist.
“…Does it hurt?”
“…No.”
A lie.
“Really?”
His usually gentle crimson eyes suddenly darkened.
“I’m fine with just this.”
Hippolotes tilted his head slightly.
Watching her back, still refusing to turn around, he let out a faint laugh.
Zenon opened the door for her.
Ezra did not look back.
She ran.
As if fleeing.
Labyrinthos disappeared behind her, and she returned to the stone tower in a single breath.
Everything felt unreal, like waves crashing too fast to comprehend.
But one thing was certain.
This place—this narrow, rough, suffocating stone room—
was still her place.
The bed that creaked with every movement, the cracked window, the unnamed seeds carried by the wind…
All of it belonged to her.
She sat on the worn mattress, gripping the torn blanket, replaying his last words over and over.
“Does it hurt?”
It wasn’t a pure question.
It felt like he was waiting for her to say it hurts.
As if he wanted her pain to exist.
Days later.
“Um…”
“Yes?”
Ezra finally stopped a passing maid.
The maid froze awkwardly, then turned back.
Silence stretched between them.
Ezra gathered courage.
“The food is different from usual… was it switched?”
“No, Princess. That is your meal.”
The maid looked terrified, glancing at the door as if desperate to escape.
Unlike before, the servants now avoided her.
Fear had replaced contempt.
“Lord Hippolotes sends your meals every time. We only deliver them as instructed.”
Ezra froze.
Everything.
The new bedding.
The warm food.
Clean clothes.
Even the sudden disappearance of the cruel maids.
It all connected.
Her heart dropped.
“Princess… may I go now?”
She nodded slowly.
The maid ran out immediately.
Ezra sat on the cold stone floor, staring at the untouched food.
There was nowhere left where she could push him away.
That realization crushed her.
Matari arrived after she had skipped three meals.
“Princess. I heard you have not been eating.”
Ezra spoke quietly.
“This… is not something I can eat.”
Her fist tightened until blood seeped from her palm.
Matari glanced between her and the untouched food, then turned away.
“The maid.”
She walked to the corner, straightening a crumpled blanket.
“The maid who said these were gifts from Lord Hippolotes.”
Ezra looked up.
Matari met her eyes.
“She had her tongue cut out. As an example.”
“…What?”
Ezra’s breath caught.
“That was not Lord Hippolotes’ order,” Matari said calmly. “It was done among the servants. You need not concern yourself.”
But Ezra could barely breathe.
Trembling hands.
Blood.
Fear.
Everything overlapped.
“Then… I should just accept everything…?”
Matari leaned closer.
Her voice was flat.
“So you should.”
