TINOT 27

Chapter: 27

After finishing the meal quickly and pulling the cord, a maid cautiously entered the room.

When her eyes met Lisithea’s, Lisithea raised a finger to her lips.

The maid widened her eyes and glanced around before spotting the sleeping Diamud. She nodded vigorously.

Tiptoeing silently, she carefully cleared the dishes, then whispered as though sharing a secret.

“Actually, His Highness didn’t sleep a wink last night. He stayed here all night.”

At the maid’s words, Lisithea finally understood why he looked so unusually exhausted.

“Did the meal suit your taste?”

“Yes. The chef is very skilled. Please tell him it was delicious.”

“Lady Simpson will be so happy!”

The maid smiled brightly while lifting the empty soup bowl, bowed deeply, and quickly left.

It seemed she had been told not to disturb her.

It felt as though she had fallen into a strange world.

A world like a fairy tale, where only kind and gentle people lived.

How could this be?

As a royal oppressed by the Emperor, his situation was no better than hers.

And yet, the world surrounding him was this warm.

She knew.

It wasn’t because he was someone blessed with special luck.

This world was something he himself had built and accumulated.

A fairy-tale world born from his kindness.

Even if people experienced similar misfortunes, they did not all reach the same ending.

Some, crushed by misfortune, became villains and destroyed themselves, while others overcame it and grew into heroes.

Yes—someone like him should be the protagonist of this world.

The man who deserved to be its protagonist opened his eyes.

Blinking several times to chase away the remaining drowsiness, he sat up.

“I must’ve dozed off. Maybe because I finally felt at ease.”

As if loosening his stiff body, he stretched his shoulders and arms.

The maid’s whispered words came back to Lisithea.

“Did you stay awake all night… worrying about me?”

What kind of expression had he worn, watching over her from there all night?

She wanted to trace even the faintest trace of it.

Sitting on the bed, he brushed his fingers gently across Lisithea’s forehead and the tip of her nose.

“Wouldn’t I, when I might miss you sleeping?”

His tone made it sound obvious.

There was no embarrassment at being found out, no pride in his devotion.

Still, this had to be enough for just once.

If her attacks continued as they would, they would surely exhaust him.

“…Even if Your Highness chooses such hardship, it won’t improve my condition. It wasn’t a rational decision.”

He stared at her in shock, then lightly tapped her nose, speaking in a mock-scolding tone.

“My, my. To think there’s now a disciple in this house who worships reason and logic. No, that won’t do. You must always be on my side.”

Even his forced sulking felt sweet.

“What about Your Highness?”

“Didn’t you know? I’m already on your side.”

“But I’m a disciple who worships reason and logic. How could Your Highness and I be on the same side?”

“Then I suppose I must become a disciple too. Emotion and intuition are relics of a bygone era. We’re advancing into the age of reason and logic.”

Diamud, having completely switched stances and even risen to the leader of the disciples, began passionately preaching the virtues of logic and reason.

Listening to his melodic voice, her eyes kept drooping.

He laid her back down and pulled the blanket over her.

“You can rest a little more. I’ve already taken care of the urgent matters.”

As he stroked her hair, Diamud briefly told her what he had handled.

It seemed to mean she should sleep without worry.

“Count Dilton knows your health isn’t good. If you need help, tell him. He’s capable and trustworthy.”

Ah, so that was why he had deliberately come to greet her.

She had found it strange that someone of Count Dilton’s status would personally bring her a meal…

“The physician of the Grand Ducal residence might feel uncomfortable, so I had Marie call your personal doctor. You should continue receiving treatment from him.”

Her personal doctor?

Did she even have one?

With her foggy mind, Lisithea recalled the blind physician who had once declared her terminal.

And how Marie had been the one to track him down.

“…Where is Marie?”

“She poured out all her concerns about you, then took a sedative and fell asleep. She’s probably in a deep sleep now. Should I wake her and bring her here? Were you such a cruel master?”

Half-asleep, Lisithea weakly shook her head.

“Good. Then don’t worry about anything and sleep.”

His hand brushing through her hair gradually pulled her consciousness downward.

“One more day of rest won’t turn the world upside down.”

As her awareness faded, the words she had barely been holding back spilled out.

“D–different… don’t say those words… say something else…”

Not those words—there are other things you want to say to me.

But her consciousness was too blurred, and the words came out fragmented and meaningless.

“What other words? Is there something else you want to ask?”

She wanted to know the thoughts that had kept him awake all night.

“And something you want to hear from me.”

She wondered what he had thought, what he had wanted to say once she woke.

Right now, she felt she could offer him gentle words.

Words that might comfort the night of turmoil he had endured.

But she knew that if she fell asleep, the fragile courage she had gathered would vanish without a trace.

Though she told herself she must not sleep, Lisithea helplessly sank into slumber beneath his steady, soothing touch.

***

Perhaps because she had slept all day, she could not fall asleep at night.

In the early dawn, unable to sleep, Lisithea spent her time polishing her newly acquired sword.

Since she had barely escaped from the Aster Marquisate, she had brought none of her belongings.

When told to ask for anything she needed, she had suggested going out—only to be met with Count Dilton’s storm of scolding.

Until her physician approved it, he seemed determined not to let her take a single step outside.

However, her request for a weapon for self-defense was easily accepted.

Not only did Diamud open the armory of the Grand Ducal residence, but he also sent several of his personal collection.

This longsword was one of the items he had gifted her.

Among the artisan-crafted weapons, this one stood out for its unusually rough appearance.

Yet when she held it, she found it to be an excellent sword—simply lacking excessive ornamentation.

Its balance was superb, and the blade was flawless.

Lisithea lightly swung it a few times, familiarizing herself with the grip. She had a feeling it would become a favorite.

After finishing, she spun the sword halfway as if to sheath it—then suddenly thrust forward.

The sharp tip stopped just short of an intruder’s throat.

With both hands raised in surrender, Scylla cautiously stepped sideways.

“H-Hey, let’s talk this out. After all these years, you go straight for my neck?”

He tried to laugh it off, but Lisithea was unmoved.

Keeping the blade trained on him, she stepped behind Scylla and kicked the back of his knee, forcing him down.

“I warned you. If you want to keep working as a mercenary under the name Scylla, you’d better succeed in this mission.”

“Hey, that’s—”

As Scylla reflexively tried to rise, Lisithea brutally pressed down on his shoulder, forcing him back to his knees.

“Were you planning to kill everyone, then steal my Cullinan?”

Had showing him the Cullinan in advance as payment been a mistake?

Lisithea sneered.

“When you think about it, it’s not impossible. After all, theft is what you do best.”

That was how their relationship had begun.

Three years ago, Scylla had snuck into the Aster Marquisate to steal the Cullinan—and had been caught red-handed by Lisithea.

“That’s not fair! I finally opened a route for trading Cullinans! It’s way more profitable to stay on your good side!”

“And yet you botched the job like that?”

Lisithea hissed coldly, pressing the blade closer.

The sharpened edge dug into the back of Scylla’s neck.

“H-Hear me out! I had my reasons!”

From her temperament, he knew she would not hesitate to kill him.

Panicking, Scylla clasped his hands together and begged.

“Speak. I’ll listen—think of it as your last words.”

“The contract was to lure monsters into the Aster Marquisate on the fifteenth at midnight and turn the place into chaos, right?”

“You didn’t even stick to the date. You shoved in a basilisk-class monster. And you expect me to believe you weren’t trying to kill me?”

“I got screwed too! I was only doing a rehearsal with a few low-level monsters! Then suddenly, a group of knights chased me like mad—one of them was a fire mage!”

Scylla flailed indignantly.

“Now that I think about it, it makes me furious! If they had guards like that, you should’ve told me!”

“…Is that true?”

“Hey, look at this! I almost got roasted alive! If anything, I should be the one demanding hazard pay!”

Scylla shoved forward his robe, charred and tattered by flames.

Kicking him away, Lisithea muttered to herself.

“…So knights really were protecting me? And one was a fire mage?”

“Yeah! Your amazing new fiancé! The knights he assigned to you! The ones who scorched my back!”

If Scylla was telling the truth, then the Grand Ducal knights saving Lisithea’s life had not been a coincidence.