**Stalker Duchess Episode 7**
A cool breeze brushed against me, making my eyes grow heavy with sleep.
Just as I was about to drift off, I heard footsteps approaching from behind. Too lazy to open my eyes, I perked up my ears and focused on the sound.
The person who spotted me froze in surprise, halting their steps.
I figured they'd leave soon, but the owner of those footsteps stood rooted to the spot like they'd seen a ghost.
I'm so sleepy—don't pick a fight, just go away.
Contrary to my wish, the footsteps remained still for a long while before slowly drawing closer.
They stopped right by my head.
Then, I felt a piercing gaze looking down at me from above.
It was such an intense stare that my face tingled like it was being pricked.
Probably someone who hated me a lot.
Given how despised I was, there were too many suspects.
Feeling intense killing intent—like I might get murdered—I cautiously opened my eyes.
"......"
"......"
What? It's the Crown Prince.
No wonder the presence felt extraordinary.
As our eyes met, his golden eyes widened in surprise against the sky backdrop.
We'd had that awkward exchange yesterday where I'd joked and gotten kicked out, so facing each other was still uncomfortable.
But why was he staring so intently at my sleeping face?
As I blinked in confusion, the Crown Prince seemed to snap out of it, flinching and reflexively stepping back. He then eyed me warily.
He probably assumed I'd do something to him.
I hadn't followed him here—strictly speaking, he was the one who'd arrived late.
I understood his reflexive caution after what he'd been through, but getting suspected out of nowhere made even me feel aggrieved.
Since I neither lunged at him like usual nor even looked his way, he cautiously lowered his guard.
...Like a small animal.
His reaction left me oddly exasperated.
This little guy was so suspicious. What did he think I was going to do to him?
He hesitated before muttering in a small voice.
"...I thought you were dead."
Today, I'm hearing "corpse-like" more than once.
Or maybe it was the Crown Prince's wish slipping out—that he'd prefer if I were dead.
To my cynical ears, his "I thought you were dead" sounded less like concern and more like "Who’s going to clean up your body if you die here?"
But unfortunately, I had no intention of fulfilling his wish.
I stared blankly ahead without even glancing at the distrustful Crown Prince and replied.
"A day of fasting... won't kill a person......"
"What? ...Ah."
At my words, he shot back as if I'd spouted nonsense, then recalled yesterday with a small gasp.
After furrowing his brow in thought for a long while, the Crown Prince cautiously spoke.
"...So you really were doing something so pointless."
His face was much softer than when I'd last seen him.
He seemed to genuinely consider, if only for a moment, the possibility that I was worried about him.
"......"
But after shaking his head as if dismissing the thought, he quickly hardened his expression again.
The answer was already decided in the Crown Prince's mind anyway.
His distrust of me wasn't a wall that could crumble so easily.
Even I would suspect some ulterior motive if I were him.
Assuming he had no more business with me, I thought he'd leave soon and closed my eyes again.
Even after a long time, I heard no footsteps departing.
Curious, I opened my eyes to find him still standing there, arms crossed, looking down at me.
He wore an uncomfortable expression, like his clothes didn't fit.
I sighed inwardly. What had upset this kid now...?
"I heard you got spare uniforms from Damian. I didn't think you'd actually wear them."
"I said I'd correct it."
At his out-of-the-blue remark, I replied with a slightly dissatisfied look.
He'd nagged me nonstop about wearing dresses in the military, so what was bothering him now?
But as I looked at him for the first time, a faint smile tugged at his lips.
What? Why's he like that?
"Not long ago, you said a noble like you couldn't possibly wear such shabby clothes. That they didn't meet your aesthetic standards. Why the sudden change?"
"......"
Sensing the conversation might drag on, I slowly rose from the training grounds floor.
If my feeling from earlier was right, the Crown Prince was picking a fight.
Until now, he'd despised Duchess Serabi but consistently ignored her—never starting pointless arguments like this without reason.
It was a wise choice, realizing that engaging would only stress him out.
So why the sudden attitude shift? I couldn't figure it out.
Did being ignored make him want to poke instead?
I'd only followed his order to correct it. I hadn't even expected praise, but this felt like a stingy boss nitpicking good work.
No one here would laugh along if he insulted me, so he gained nothing. The more we talked, the worse his mood would get.
Yet he was saying this... It could only be the Crown Prince venting his anger.
He seemed driven more by emotion than reason—an uncharacteristic move for someone hailed as wise and cold.
I couldn't read his exact thoughts, but picking a fight with someone minding their own business felt like a kid craving attention.
There was no benefit in fighting, so I'd tried ignoring his hostility, but with him being this blatant, I couldn't just brush it off anymore.
"What exactly is your problem?"
"My problem?"
At my question, he tilted his head innocently, as if truly clueless.
He didn't seem to realize how petty he was being. Or maybe even enjoying it a bit—at least, that's how it looked.
He probably wanted no personal entanglement with me even more. So why carve out busy time to pick on me, when there was nothing left to criticize? I was curious about his intentions.
"You never cared about my attire before."
The novel described how the Crown Prince never spared Duchess Serabi a cold glance, beautiful or not.
That said, as a guy, exposure usually draws more eyes, but somehow, my fully covered look now seemed to hold his attention more.
Kids his age should be brimming with curiosity—how did this happen? Was he not interested in women? Or maybe too young to know.
Instead of answering, he shot back as if frustrated with me.
"You've never once minded me or acted with my feelings in consideration. You never even pretended to listen to what I said......"
"......"
"Now you pretend to listen, pretend to worry—spouting fake lies. You suddenly change completely and claim no ulterior motives? Just tell me what dirty scheme you're plotting."
He started calmly, but grew angrier, ending with gritted teeth.
He seemed more furious now than when recounting her bedroom intrusion.
"Scheme? What scheme? I'm not plotting anything. What misunderstanding is this?"
At my indignant reply, he snapped back.
"Really no scheme? So you're saying you just suddenly wanted to cook and entered a kitchen you'd never set foot in your life, and suddenly craved uniforms despite never wearing anything but dresses?"
"Yes. I suddenly changed my mind."
"......"
At my answer, he froze mid-retort, mouth agape in disbelief.
It was a bit brazen, but I had nothing else to say.
Telling him my soul from another world swapped in overnight? He wouldn't believe it—and if he did, I'd end up in the Mage Tower as a lab rat.
I wasn't clever enough to spin a convincing lie on the spot either.
Besides, he was itching to catch me in a contradiction. He'd pounce on any slip.
So the simplest answer—no room for nitpicking—was that I'd changed my mind.
And why shouldn't I consider his gaze?
Even his subordinates inevitably watched his mood, no matter how informally he treated them.
I added toward the still-dazed Crown Prince.
"...And it's only natural for me to mind Raven. I want to look good to Your Highness, after all."
I had my own reasons for currying favor, but Duchess Serabi was ardently smitten with him.
