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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 58
Chapter Title: The Flower Stag
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It was then that Sir Ark, drenched in sweat, brought coffee to Eric and Ella. With perfectly calculated timing, Ella asked Eric.
“You said they could only use one weapon, but preparing two is cheating, isn’t it? Shouldn’t you give him a warning? Knights are good at that sort of thing, aren’t they? Those public punishments they perform to ‘boost morale’? Like a hundred lashes, then stripping them naked and stringing them up somewhere…?”
Sir Ark, who had walked over awkwardly as if his lower body was still throbbing, froze, unsure of what to do. But Eric simply accepted the coffee and replied as if it were no big deal.
“I told them to use their main weapon, not that they could *only* use their main weapon.”
“...?”
Ella stared at Eric in disbelief. Eric spoke to Sir Ark.
“Thank you for the coffee.”
“Yes, sir!”
Ark quickly saluted and backed away.
Ella watched Ark’s retreating figure and shook her head.
“Isn’t that something one should follow without being told?”
“I would, but…”
Eric took a sip of his coffee. For some reason, dark circles shadowed his eyes.
“There are some who wouldn’t.”
Ella tutted.
“That’s your problem right there. You’re a man of principle who is lenient with others. An ordinary man of principle would find it difficult to be lenient with others…”
Ella frowned, noticing that Eric’s eyelids, which should have been showing boredom by now, were strangely languid.
She studied his overall dark complexion and spoke as if she’d had a realization.
“I was wondering why your good looks seemed to have faded a bit. You didn’t sleep, did you?”
Eric nodded. Ella muttered.
“As expected… of newlyweds…”
“What are you thinking?”
Eric rubbed his half-closed eyelids and spoke wearily.
“Imeline and I have a fraudulent…”
Eric stopped mid-sentence and glanced at Kai, who stood behind Ella.
*He’s not the attendant she usually has with her.*
Which meant he might not know if the man was trustworthy. Whether he was the type to hear the words “fraudulent marriage” and keep it to himself. Or not.
Eric pressed his lips together.
Of course, it wasn’t for the reason Ella was thinking, but it was true that Imeline was the reason he hadn’t slept. He had simply told the servants he was up all night replying to letters.
…Because he had to share a room with Imeline.
In truth, the mansion was full of guest rooms, so he could have slept anywhere. But if a newlywed couple, whose wedding was the talk of the capital, were to sleep in separate rooms from the very first night, the servants, who already disliked Imeline, would surely start to talk.
For that reason, Eric had tried to sleep lying next to Imeline. The bed was large, and realistically, there was no reason even their fingertips would touch just by lying next to her.
All Eric had to do was endure the sound of Imeline’s breathing, which vibrated through the bed, and her occasional sleep-talking.
‘…Mmm. Why won’t this open…? If I can just open this, that gold will be mine…’
It was just some rather pathetic sleep-talking, but what was so difficult about enduring that?
Eric had camped out while listening to the cries of magical beasts. Compared to that, Imeline’s breathing was practically a lullaby.
But an hour passed.
Then two.
Eric realized that the sound of her breathing was growing louder and louder. And as he listened, his own bewilderment grew.
*This woman… how can she sleep so soundly?*
With me right next to her.
A strange man… no, not strange. He was her husband, but still, with him right beside her, wasn't Imeline sleeping a little *too* well?
Eric ignored the underlying premise in his bewilderment: *I can’t sleep like this, so how can you?*
He turned slightly.
He wondered if Imeline was just pretending to be asleep.
If so, he wanted to exchange a few words with her.
Something like…
*Stop causing trouble, Imeline.*
*Let’s be good from now on, please.*
*You upset the butler today, so what are you planning for tomorrow?*
*…Did you enjoy your meals today?*
*Your breathing…*
*Are you breathing well now?*
Eric gazed at Imeline’s cheek, plump where it was pressed against the pillow. A steady breath flowed from her slightly parted lips.
…A stray cat.
The sense of relief that came from knowing this stray cat was not lost on the streets but lying beside him, in a soft bed, must be something like pity or compassion.
*‘Hold me…’*
Pity for a human being who had been trapped in her childhood for so long.
That was how Eric defined his own feelings.
Perhaps Eric had felt pity for Imeline from the moment he first saw her at the mansion.
*‘Being good… that’s something only the powerful can afford to be, right?’*
Pity was not a new emotion for Eric. He was, after all, a so-called powerful and strong nobleman. He didn’t think it was weak or wrong for such a nobleman to help someone out of pity.
If those who have do not share, then who will? Who would be the first to start?
While Eric normally held such thoughts as naturally as breathing and never hid them, for some reason, he didn’t want to show his pity for Imeline.
*‘You hate strong, big men!’*
He didn’t want Imeline to hate him.
This feeling was what was newer than pity.
He didn't want her to find out that he was an Aura Knight, or that he had lent money to Helena.
Why? Why all of a sudden?
Because that question remained unanswered, his sleeplessness continued.
And so, having given up on sleep, he had packed his things and come to the palace at dawn.
“…”
He broke from his reverie and looked at the princess across from him, who had been silent for some time.
The princess was staring intently in one direction. It was only then that he realized the reason for her silence was that she was admiring the shirtless torsos of the knights in training.
Eric spoke to the princess firmly.
“Don’t get any strange ideas.”
“Strange ideas? What? That I want to **** those knights over there, make them ****, and then **** them senseless?”
Behind her, Kai turned his head and cleared his throat.
Eric, no longer surprised, said flatly.
“They are knights who have sworn an oath of chastity.”
“Exactly. I wonder who they’ve been saving all that chastity for?”
“You’ll get into serious trouble, really.”
Eric furrowed his brow.
He wanted to quickly change the subject, get to the point, and end this conversation.
“Lady Margaret has given us a month and a half.”
“I heard. You sent a carrier pigeon, didn’t you?”
Ella leaned back in her chair, looking tired.
Eric spoke apologetically.
“I didn’t expect the Duke of Orleans to go that far. Nor did I know the temple would move so easily at the Duke’s word.”
The Duke.
Not his father.
Ella tapped her finger against the condensation on her coffee cup.
“Who would have known… Anyway, about that mana stone quarry contract. Doesn’t your family have a quarry? Can’t we make a contract with that one?”
“Surely you don’t mean Blueoak?”
Blueoak was a land owned by the Orleans family, and the rights to its use were held by an elder named Oscar. Eric had been in the knighthood at the time, but even he had heard the stories of how long Oscar had crawled at his father’s feet to obtain those rights, and it had been enough to make him shudder.
“Do you think the Duke would stand by and do nothing? You can assume the entire Orleans family shares the Duke’s sentiment.”
“…Still, couldn’t we do something behind his back, secretly, you know?”
Ella crossed her legs and sat arrogantly, tapping the table.
“…”
“…”
*Hah. What am I expecting from a man so rigid he’d put his principles before his own father?*
Ella swept her hair back.
“I’m a fool for expecting something like that from you. Just look for another place. I’ll look into it as well.”
“How so?”
Eric frowned. Ella snorted as if he’d asked the obvious.
“How else? By using my connections. My birthday is in two weeks, isn’t it?”
“Ah…”
Eric let out an exclamation with a strange expression. Ella waved her hand as she drank her coffee.
“No need to make that face. Sure, I’ve lived my whole life hearing that I was cursed for being born on the day of the Queen’s death, or that I’m bad luck, but I have no regrets about my birthday.”
Whether she truly had no regrets, or if she did.
Eric sometimes found it difficult to distinguish whether his liege’s words were a joke or the truth.
“It’s just a bit of a dilemma. Whether I should wear mourning clothes for the anniversary of my mother’s death, or a glamorous dress for my own birthday.”
Eric felt the lingering emotion that clung to the end of Ella’s sentence.
It seemed Eric wasn’t the only one who felt it, as the attendant standing behind Ella also wore a stiff expression.
*So it’s a lie that she has no regrets.*
Most people, excluding Imeline, showed signs like this when they lied.
Imeline, on the other hand, showed signs when she was telling the truth.
Fidgeting with her fingers, being unable to stay still, or a faint blush rising on her cheeks…
Eric unknowingly pictured Imeline’s face, along with the feeling of holding her small hand.
“You’re smiling?”
“…?”
Ella had suddenly brought her finger close to Eric’s face.
She twirled it in a circle and said.
“Look at that. You’re smiling. Your body is all burly and muscular, yet you’re smiling like a delicate flower stag? And you’re doing it all alone, out of context, while I’m talking about the serious matter of what clothes to wear on the anniversary of my mother’s death.”
“Ah, no. I was just…”
Eric started to make an excuse but stopped. It was true that he had been rude.
“I apologize. I was lost in another thought for a moment…”
“Hmph… Thinking about the red-haired young lady?”
“No.”
“…Then?”
Under Ella’s gaze, Eric frowned.
He hesitated, looking into the air.
*‘You hate strong, big men! A slender, flower-stag-like man is your ideal type!’*
“Thoughts about a… flower-stag-like man…?”
After speaking, Eric unknowingly grimaced.
He was wondering what kind of expression Imeline would wear in front of a man like that.
