“It would be a waste to cut out your tongue, wouldn’t it?”

“…….”

Cyrene pressed her lips together tightly, suppressing the shiver that ran through her.

“There are so many pleasant things we could do later. It would be a shame if you didn’t have a tongue for them.”

He laughed loudly, as if he had just told a hilarious joke. Cyrene jumped, but quickly forced a smile to match the Crown Prince’s expression. She couldn’t quite understand what he meant, but she understood enough to know that Areos had no intention of cutting out her tongue.

“There’s not much time left, and I don’t like others laying their hands on what’s mine. You will behave, won’t you?”

His hand brushed lightly across her back, causing her entire body to jump. Cyrene hesitated, her lips parting slightly, before asking cautiously:

“Your Highness, what do you mean by ‘not much time left’?”

“Your birthday.”

Birthday. The word echoed in her head.

It was a day she had never celebrated as anything special. Occasionally, when the thought crossed his mind, Areos would give her various gifts, but only when he was in a good mood and happened to remember her birthday.

Even on days that weren’t her birthday, he often sent her jewellery, clothes and other nice things. Her birthday was just a day when those gifts were marked “birthday present”.

So what was different this time?

Cyrené just nodded.

She never questioned anything Areos said. Even when she had doubts, she simply accepted them. Silently, she followed him as he pulled her hand. The sticky feeling of blood on her hand made her skin crawl.

What had happened to that man?

His name was already slipping from her memory. She had to forget it. She couldn’t allow herself to think about it. Cyrene tried desperately to erase the image of him being dragged away, but it lingered in her mind.

She scrubbed her cheeks and lips hard with her sleeve, as if to remove any trace of her guilt. She thought she had done something wrong. As Areos had said, she shouldn’t have spoken without permission. She shouldn’t have let herself be touched.

No, she shouldn’t have let him touch her at all.

Cyrené stared blankly at the small bloodstains on her dress. If Areos had intended to show her the consequences of her actions, his method had been highly effective.

She felt like throwing up. The sound of the screams stuck in her ears, refusing to go away.

“Ah…”

Before she knew it, they had entered the room. The Crown Prince pulled her br*ast free of her clothes, his blood-stained hand gripping her tightly. The dark, crimson blood, which hadn’t dried yet, smeared sticky on her skin.

“Ugh…”

A sound escaped her lips – whether it was a moan or a sob, she couldn’t tell. Despite the terrible day she had endured, her body, conditioned by Areos’ relentless touch, responded instinctively, heat rising against her will.

“Ah… ha…”

The realisation of her own reaction filled her with even deeper disgust. Cyrene closed her eyes, a quivering moan escaping her lips. Yet there was no one else in her confined world but Areos.

***

No one ever mentioned the gardener again. It was as if the events of that day had never happened.

Cyrené stared blankly at the spot where the blood had gathered. The green leaves glistened with fresh dew, as if each blade of grass had been meticulously washed.

The feeling of what she had been forced to do came back to her and her shoulders trembled slightly. For a moment she thought of running – but the thought faded just as quickly.

Where would she go?

She knew nothing of the world outside the Crown Prince’s palace. Where could she run to?

The long leash around her neck was impossibly strong, no matter how hard she tried to cut it. More than anything, it was the outside world that frightened her. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what lay beyond.

“Cyrene.”

A relaxed voice came and a hand rested on her shoulder. She didn’t need to turn to know who it was. There was only one person in the whole world who spoke to her and touched her.

“Your Highness.”

The hand on her shoulder tightened painfully, sending a sharp pain through her body.

“What are you doing?”

“Just… enjoying the nice weather.”

Cyrené shifted slightly, but the grip on her shoulder didn’t loosen. A faint hint of displeasure tugged at the corners of his lips. It was ironic. While everyone else acted as if nothing had happened, the Crown Prince alone carried the memory of that day. Somehow she found it a bit amusing.

He stared intently at her face, a slightly twisted smile curling his lips as he tilted her chin upwards.

“Something on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

She couldn’t even remember his name. As if to confirm her words, his golden eyes scanned her face slowly, as if searching for the faintest trace of memory. Areos, seemingly mollified, grinned and pressed his thumb firmly against her lips.

“You seem to have a lot of spare time.”

What could she possibly have to occupy her time? After all, her only role was to serve as his ornament or to strip and gasp for him.

Cyrené lowered her eyes. The sunlight that fell on her platinum lashes was blindingly bright.

Areos grabbed her wrist and pulled her with him. The door closed quietly behind them.

Cyrené stared blankly at the maids, who seemed a little different than usual. The day, which had begun as usual with a cup of tea, had become unexpectedly busy. The maids brought her a new dress and, as they helped her into it, told her it was a “birthday present”.

Only then did she realise it was her birthday. Cyrené looked at the woman in the mirror. For a moment, she thought she saw faint traces of her mother’s face superimposed on her own, but then again, maybe not. Slowly she ran a hand through her pale platinum hair.

Am I beautiful?

Ever since she was young, Areos had spoken to her as if he were casting a spell, telling her she would grow up to be beautiful. Only later did she realise that his words about her resembling her mother were half compliment and half mockery.

After all, her mother was the kind of woman who had borne the Emperor’s bastard child.

Cyrené lowered her head, tilting it back and forth as she studied her reflection in the mirror. The gardener’s words, calling her so beautiful that he was bewitched, flashed through her mind.

“Tell me… am I beautiful?”

At her words, the maids paused for a moment, looking a little flustered. They looked at each other, exchanging uncertain glances before nodding hesitantly.

“Of course, you are beautiful.”

Her tone was clipped and definitive, and they quickly resumed their work. Cyrené kept staring at her reflection.

Her birthday.

She turned eighteen today, became an adult. Wasn’t that the day Areos had been waiting for? No matter how much she thought about it, she couldn’t understand why.

The people in the palace were behaving as usual, and apart from wearing a new dress, her own day was no different.

“His Highness, the Crown Prince, is waiting for you.”

The word ‘waiting’ sounded strange to her ears. She tilted her head as she stared blankly into the mirror, but the maid offered no further explanation.

Today felt both strange and ordinary. As soon as Cyrené was ready, the maid accompanying her moved with unusual speed. It wasn’t long before Cyrené realised they were heading for the bedroom – a place she usually only visited late at night.

“Aren’t we going into the study?”

“…”

There was no reply. The maid remained silent, as if her only task was to see this through. She stopped at the door and urged Cyrené to enter. Hesitantly, Cyrené stepped inside, as if drawn by the maid’s insistence.

The bedroom looked very different in the morning than it did at night. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, casting a brilliant glow over the room. Even Areos, dressed more casually than usual, seemed unfamiliar.

“Your Highness.”

“Come here.”

He gestured with his hand. Leaning back lazily on the bed, he shifted to sit on the edge. Cyrené stood before him, her gaze falling to the floor.

Had she ever looked down at Areos? Should she kneel?

When she hesitated in confusion, he spoke briefly and took her hand.

“Kneel.”

Without even a hint of questioning, Cyrené knelt obediently before him. The new dress she was wearing for the first time today crinkled noisily as it bunched beneath her. Areos placed both hands on her cheeks.

“You’ve grown beautifully.”

“Th-thank you.”

“It would have been nice if Creusa had lived.”

He chuckled softly. His fingers brushed her ear, then deliberately tousled the neatly braided hair she had styled earlier. A pin clattered on the floor as her hair fell down her back.

Cyrené looked up at him cautiously. His golden eyes sparkled with amusement and the silky sound of her hair slipping through his long fingers filled the air.

“He probably thought you were more beautiful than her.”

“…”

“Ah. If that were the case, you might have ended up in Father’s chambers today.”

She didn’t quite understand his words, but decided not to ask.

“A man like him wouldn’t care about a bastard. He probably doesn’t even remember that you exist.”

She could tell he meant the Emperor.

Had the Emperor forgotten her?

She thought it might be true. After all, she had never seen the Emperor’s face since she had arrived at the Crown Prince’s palace. Cyrené stared at Areos’ face, which was lit by a pleasant smile, and then smiled faintly herself.