Previously
Irenia notices the poor hygiene in the palace and attempts to clean the dust-covered Caesar, who responds with unexpected playfulness by giving her a pillow. The moment breaks Irenia's internal despair, though she remains overwhelmed by her perceived low status and the palace's hostility.
Although it was framed as accompanying the Prince while he bathed, there was little for me to actually do. The servants brought two chairs for Mercedes and me, then set up a fabric screen between us to block our view.
“Ah…!”
The problem, however, lay with Caesar. He had followed us this far, but the moment he heard the clatter of the bath utensils, his tension became obvious.
Bathing… that magical ritual washing away the burdens of body and soul. For me, a bath had always been a pure delight. Hot water was no ordinary thing; it was a costly luxury. Back when I wandered the streets without a roof over my head, the mere thought of washing my body seemed like an unattainable indulgence. That was why it never crossed my mind that someone could actually hate bathing.
One of the servants stepped forward hesitatingly, carrying a bucket brimming with water.
“Noooo!”
A sharp, grating sound suddenly tore through the room.
Caesar snapped violently, cleaving the wooden bucket in two with his ferocious left claws. The solid wood did nothing to check his swing, and the stone wall behind it was raked with claw marks. The servant holding the bucket naturally took the brunt of it, blood immediately seeping through his sleeve.
“Damn it! You wretched bastard…!”
The servant cursed aloud, entirely heedless of our presence, raising his hand toward Caesar as if about to strike back.
At that moment, Mercedes shot up in anger and cried out.
“That is enough!”
Her voice was laden with sharp distress and fury, and she swung round to face me at once.
“Do you see now?”
“…Excuse me?”
I could not fathom what she meant, but she muttered passionately before I could press further.
“He refuses so vehemently… We cannot force him like this.”
A sudden unease crept over me. Looking at her face, I saw she was pale and flustered.
She moved briskly, took up a linen cloth, and stepped past the screen toward Caesar.
“Ah…”
She spoke to him in an exceedingly gentle voice, like an affectionate whisper, before wrapping the white linen around his body.
“Come now, Your Highness, let us return to the playroom. We can be done with this, can’t we?”
Done with this? But he had not even washed yet! His body was still caked in dust… How could it end like this?
“Wait a moment, please.”
I called out to her in haste. She stopped and narrowed her eyes at me.
“What is it?”
“We cannot leave him like this.”
A heavy silence fell between us. Then I saw her lips tremble with anger.
“Yet… the Prince refuses so completely.”
Her trembling hand still gripped the linen cloth. She murmured passionately, her voice choked with emotion.
“Are you truly serious?”
The edge in her tone made my breath hitch.
She whispered tenderly into Caesar’s ear.
“He despises it so… How dare you force him?”
The steam from the water hazed my sight. Behind the misty haze, their silhouettes blurred together, and an unsettling sensation crept into the room.
“Do you truly wish to force him when he hates this so intensely?”
Mercedes’s eyes gleamed with a strange light—an expression of sheer determination, or perhaps even resentment. It carried a force that was difficult to resist, yet it was not enough to frighten me.
I steadied my gaze, took a slow breath, and spoke in a firm voice.
“Caesar.”
His red eyes shifted through the steam and settled on me.
“…Prince Caesar?”
Mercedes’s voice quavered, as though something inside her had shattered. But in that moment, I understood.
She loved him. It was an extreme, clinging love, tight enough to suffocate.
Without question, she offered him the unconditional love a mother gives her child. When everyone else cast him aside, she was the only one who embraced him. Even so, it was impossible to say whether that brand of love had truly done him any good.
Perhaps it was the very thing keeping him from growing, from moving forward.
That was why I said, unwavering,
“Come to me.”
He pulled away from her embrace at once and ran to my side. I saw deep agony flash across her eyes.
“What do you intend to do?”
I answered her,
“I gave my word to Her Majesty the Empress. I will make a proper human being out of Caesar.”
“And what does that mean?”
To be human. At the very least, not like this. I had to remain firm.
Even setting aside my promise, he needed to change if he wished to live as a person. This was not his true form.
So I could not yield to Mercedes’s insistence.
“What Caesar needs right now… is this.”
A flurry of emotions passed over her face: anger, grief, shock… Then she sighed and spoke.
“…Do as you wish.”
She turned her back and walked out of the bath. The servants followed after her, one by one.
Her final expression left a heavy pang in my chest. She had been the only one in this palace to reach out and help me.
All the same, I was grateful. Had she dug her heels in, I could never have stood my ground against her.
Mercedes had cared for him all this time. The bond between them was not easily breached. Perhaps she felt threatened by my sudden intrusion into his life.
Yet she had stepped back in the end, and for that, I felt indebted to her.
Even with everything that had happened, though… a person still needed to bathe, didn't they?
In the end, only Caesar and I remained in the spacious bathhouse.
“Well, here we are…”
I shook my head, trying to gather my focus. I had to start with the basics.
I walked over to where he sat tucked into a corner, clutching the cloth around himself.
“Why don’t you like taking a bath?”
He shook his head vigorously.
I understood that he was refusing, though not the precise reason for it.
“Bathing feels wonderful. It leaves you warm, refreshed, and smelling so nice.”
“Ah…”
His brow remained furrowed. It seemed he still was not fond of the idea.
Still, I kept trying to coax him.
“See? When you sink into the warm water, your body relaxes… Doesn’t that sound nice?”
I dipped my hand into the water and swirled it gently, watching his eyes track the movement. He seemed interested, if only a little.
“Do you hate having the servants help you wash?”
“Yes.”
The answer came at once.
It came as no surprise. The very servants who had mistreated him before were the ones trying to put their hands on him now. Just moments ago, one had nearly raised a hand against him right before our eyes.
They had likely harassed him during his baths as well.
“If you don’t want anyone touching you, then you’ll have to learn how to wash yourself.”
“Mmm…”
Bathing would always be a part of his life, so this chaos could not happen every time.
Teaching him to do it on his own was clearly the best solution.
They say it is better to teach someone how to fish than to hand them one. So I would teach him. I had no idea whether I would do a decent job of it, but…
I rolled up my sleeves. I had to try.
“I can’t keep bathing with you every single time, can I?”
“Mm.”
“From now on, we’ll work toward you washing on your own… Deal?”
“Mhm.”
He kept answering obediently, but why did I feel so uneasy? Would he truly be able to manage this, Caesar?
My plan was to start by having him step into the tub, but that was where the trouble began.
“Don't want to.”
The esteemed Prince dug his heels in, flatly refusing to enter the water.
“Still, we have to get in here before we can start anything, don’t we?”
When it came to refusals, he made his feelings abundantly clear. The violent shake of his head drove home just how stubborn he was. He was proving to be an exceptionally difficult handful.
I had to switch tactics. First, I would get him used to the water.
Carefully, I scooped up some water with my hand and poured it gently over his forearm.
“How does that feel?”
“Mhm.”
The moment the water brushed his skin, his whole frame flinched, and what stunned me was the sight of his left hand spreading wide. That dark hand, coated in hard scales like a reptile's hide.
The fingers were a full knuckle longer than those on his other hand, looking grotesque and frightening.
Knowing all too well how dangerous it was sent a shiver down my spine. Hadn't a servant just been injured by those very claws a moment ago?
‘Now that I think about it, he didn’t react at all to that man’s blood.’
I had assumed he would lose control at the mere sight of blood, but evidently that was not the case.
Was it simply because he loathed that servant? Or was there another reason…?
FADE OUT