🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 24
Yevgenia rubbed the burning area near her collarbone and let out a sigh.
“Milady, do you regret it?”
“A little?”
She reached for a cookie, but realizing that a dry lump of flour wouldn’t do much to ease the unpleasant taste in her mouth, she put it down and picked up her teacup instead.
After wetting her lips, she put it back down—the lukewarm temperature didn’t please her at all.
Yulan, who had been quietly watching her, took a small pellet from his pocket and held it to her lips.
Even though it had barely touched her mouth, a refreshing scent seeped in.
As if mesmerized, she opened her mouth, and the round pellet slipped inside.
“…What is this?”
“A cleanser and stimulant… though I doubt you’d believe that.”
“Right, so it’s a stimulant.”
He called it a stimulant, but to her it tasted more like an unsweetened mint candy.
Since this world had no such thing as mint candy, they probably only used it as a stimulant without considering how pleasant it could be.
Rolling the pellet around in her mouth, Yevgenia suddenly asked:
“This thing… what if you cut back on the stimulant part and coat it in sugar or chocolate, then sell it as a dessert to eat after meals? It’d be perfect for getting rid of that unpleasant aftertaste.”
“…Milady might actually have a talent for business.”
“Success is born from coincidence. If I hadn’t had this unpleasant experience, I’d never have thought of it.”
Her pointed jab made Yulan burst into laughter.
He laughed aloud—“hahaha”—but it didn’t sound cheerful.
If anything, it felt like he agreed with her calling it an “unpleasant experience.”
When his laughter tapered off, an awkward heaviness filled the air.
Tapping the sofa armrest with his finger—tok, tok—he spoke.
“From now on, schedule appointments through the madam. If what you wrote in that letter is true, it’s dangerous for you to keep visiting the guild.”
“Mm. My father can be… persistent. Best to nip small sprouts early.”
“Limit contact to at least once a month. You can’t be tailoring dresses every day.”
Not knowing women—more precisely, noble ladies of this era—at all, Yevgenia stared at him with her mouth slightly open.
Her expression was 80% dumbfounded, 19% amazed, and 1% pity for a man who clearly had never kept a noblewoman at his side.
“Your Highness, when you eventually take a Crown Princess, never say anything that stupid.”
“…What?”
“Telling a woman who has tea parties after tea parties, banquets after banquets, balls after balls, that she shouldn’t get dresses made daily… that’s basically saying she’s insufficient.”
She shook her fingers in a perfect little circle.
Only then did Yulan realize his mistake. His lips snapped shut.
Finally able to smile a bit, she continued:
“Well, I do agree we don’t need to meet too often. Frankly, sharing bodies is better than this…”
“Hm? I thought you were enjoying it—your lips were trembling with focus.”
“You’re insane…!”
She knew it was a joke, but irritation flared so fast she punched his shoulder without thinking.
Only her hand stung.
“…Did you tie a rock to your shoulder? Why is it so hard?”
“If anyone heard that, they’d think I’m purposely trying to injure you. You’re just excessively weak and fragile, that’s all.”
She couldn’t refute that.
A noble lady in this world had only dancing, walking, and holding teacups as forms of exercise.
Being called weak was unavoidable.
Still annoyed, she kicked him in the knee this time.
“Agh!”
“I may be weak, but my shoes aren’t.”
“I… suppose.”
Seeing Yulan massage his knee with a slight grimace gave her some relief.
Narrowing her eyes, she asked quietly:
“So… was this a one-time thing? Or do we have to do this again…?”
“Well. For now, I’ve only taken one step toward proving my hypothesis.”
His uncertain tone made her want to argue immediately, but she held herself back.
Setting emotions aside, his reasoning had been fairly sound.
In other words: the moment she found a flaw in that reasoning, she would pounce.
Her eyes narrowed further.
Whether he noticed or not, Yulan continued in his own world.
“The first time we slept together, you said you felt no pain at all, right?”
“Mm. It was… uncomfortable or overwhelming at times, but nothing like the pain I felt when erasing a Name raw.”
Her face heated at the explicit phrasing.
But Yulan didn’t seem bothered and kept arranging his thoughts.
“And today?”
“Today too… my throat and the back of my tongue hurt, but not the other kind of pain.”
At the time, she’d been too distracted to think about it deeply.
Even afterward, she’d been too focused on the discomfort and disgust of the act—never once recalling the bone-deep agony she’d experienced the first time.
Realizing this only now, thanks to him pointing it out, shocked her.
Then came a wave of questions:
“…So what happened? What mechanism would cause all this…?”
“Let’s meet again on this same day next month—if you don’t already have a prior engagement. I need to test another method.”
Next month, on this day.
She mentally flipped through her calendar and then let out a short, stunned laugh.
“Why? Are you busy that day?”
She stared at him, deeply, silently.
His rare green eyes looked strangely lonely today.
After hesitating, she finally spoke.
“That day is the Crown Prince’s birthday banquet.”
“…Ah.”
A reaction that showed he truly hadn’t expected it at all.
At least he didn’t seem particularly upset by it.
‘…Why should he be upset anyway? What’s that got to do with me?’
Compared to her, whose only family was her father, Duke Martyr,
he had an older brother—the Crown Prince.
Whatever their relationship was, having even one person of shared blood was reassuring.
Especially if that one person was the Empire’s highest successor.
Though Yevgenia knew things weren’t that simple for the one actually living that reality…
She asked cautiously:
“So you’re not attending this year either?”
“Ah… well, probably not.”
“Why would you—… no, I guess you have your own reasons.”
She changed the subject clumsily.
“When’s your birthday, then? I’ve never heard of a separate banquet for the Second Prince.”
“The 7th of next month.”
“The 7th—… my god.”
Her eyes widened.
The Crown Prince’s birthday was the 8th.
And the Crown Prince and second prince—Yulan—were known to be born a year apart.
Which meant—
‘The empire must be cursed. To have a Crown Prince and then, three months later—good grief, that mad Emperor!’
Yevgenia grew pale.
Yulan watched her quietly, then smirked and exposed her thoughts:
“You’re thinking our Emperor is a real bastard, aren’t you?”
“Y-You can’t say that…!”
Pale as a sheet, she stammered.
Even while knowing no one was around, she anxiously glanced about.
It was rather funny.
Half-lying on the sofa, Yulan snickered.
“What does it matter? I’m insulting my own father.”
Despite his laughter, he somehow looked angry.
His mouth smiled, but his eyes flickered with hostility he couldn’t quite hide.
