The scars covering his body were the kind that would unsettle anyone who saw them. These were not simple injuries from a fall or training wounds.

They were the marks of a whip brought down with malice, and for the Crown Prince of the empire, they were a weakness that could never be allowed to come to light.

“My lady, I’ve brought the ointment.”

“Leave it within reach and go.”

Dager set the ointment down near Adelaide’s hand and carefully slipped out. Adelaide scooped up a generous amount and slathered it thickly over Cyril’s arm, then wrapped it in bandages.

“Truly a reckless young lady. I suppose you’ve beaten people and patched them up afterward, too?”

“What would hitting someone with my own hands accomplish besides hurting them? If the sight of someone bothers you, you throw them out. Why would you go and damage your own body?”

Cyril looked down quietly at Adelaide, who was blowing warm breath on each scar despite none of them hurting anymore, her rough words at odds with her actions.

“All done.”

At last, the curse had lifted. Adelaide rose to her feet with a light heart and rolled her shoulders.

“Your Highness, let’s not meet privately again going forward.”

What was the point of being the Crown Prince of the empire if he was going to show a more pitiful sight than Lionel? Adelaide wanted to strike her past self from a few hours ago, the self who had thought the Crown Prince would be a safe choice.

“You’ll have to come back to check whether the scars have faded, my lady.”

“It’s an imperial ointment, so I’m sure it works well. With your permission, I’ll take my leave now and promise never to meet Your Highness in a private setting again.”

Cyril had no intention of letting Adelaide go, not when she had stirred up his heart and was now trying to slip away on her own.

“Sit down, my lady.”

“Your Highness. Are you aware that this was an uncomfortable situation for both of us?”

“These wounds are the love Her Majesty the Empress has bestowed upon me.”

“Your Highness!”

“Shall I say more?”

Adelaide had no choice but to stomp back over and sit down. Cyril lowered his head for a moment, smiled, and then brought up a light topic as though nothing had happened at all.

His right arm, wrapped in bandages, still tingled as though Adelaide’s breath lingered on it.

Cyril found it deeply ironic that the arm which had never received proper treatment when the wounds were fresh now had scar-reducing ointment applied and bandages wrapped around it, all this time later.

The Empress had been displeased even then when Cyril, already Crown Prince at the time, tried to treat his wounds.

Young as he was, Cyril had many occasions to show his face around the empire as Crown Prince, and so he naturally took to wearing long sleeves that covered his entire body even in the blazing heat of midsummer.

Thanks to that, rumors even spread that the Crown Prince had a compulsive aversion to cleanliness and disliked being touched by people.

‘That wasn’t entirely off the mark.’

Cyril did not have a compulsive aversion to cleanliness, but he disliked the touch of human hands. All he had ever wanted was his mother’s affection, yet what was given to him was only pain through contact.

The Emperor knew and turned a blind eye, and under his silence, the Empress’s *buse grew worse with each passing day.

It was only after Cyril received the Crown Prince’s palace and moved out on his own that he was able to break free from that cycle of suffering.

“You’re the first person to see my bare skin, my lady.”

“Bare skin! You rolled up one arm, Your Highness. Just one arm!”

“Aside from Dager, no one has seen my bare body. You knew I valued purity and still came at me. I think I can take that as a firm declaration that you intend to take responsibility for me, can’t I?”

“One arm, Your Highness! Not both arms, just the one right arm, and you’re going on about purity and taking responsibility. You’re nothing short of a con artist!”

Dager, startled by Adelaide’s insolence, drew a sharp breath and dropped to his knees. Cyril was not a cruel master, but inside the imperial palace, even the smallest whisper had a way of spreading with enormous reach.

“Dager, would anyone even be surprised that the reckless young lady acted recklessly? No need to stand there on edge. Go on and see to your duties.”

“You’ve been casually throwing around ‘reckless young lady’ for a while now, but didn’t you say you weren’t thick-skinned enough to call someone by a disparaging name to their face?”

Adelaide always leapt clean over whatever line the other person had drawn. But since her counterpart was the Crown Prince, she had been forcing herself to hold back her simmering frustration, until the talk of bare skin and taking responsibility finally blew the lid off like a pot of stew left on the heat too long.

“We’ve already seen everything there is to see of each other. A nickname should be the least of our concerns.”

Dager shuddered at Cyril’s joke and closed the door behind him.

‘Surely he doesn’t mean that seriously.’

Cyril’s ease with Adelaide must simply be because there was no need to stand on ceremony with her.

Dager had no desire to be blessed with the honor of serving Lady Adelaide Charlotte Berthier as the Crown Princess.

“Speaking out of both sides of your mouth will make horns grow on your backside, Your Highness.”

“So now you’re after that part of me too, my lady?”

“Your Highness!”

“The whole empire knows I’m the Crown Prince. No need to shout it.”

Adelaide was on the verge of jumping out of her skin. If not for the thin thread of reason she was still holding onto, she would have long since gone wild and flipped the table over.

“I’m joking. If I push any further, I’ll have to watch a young lady explode, so I’ll stop here.”

Cyril relaxed the arm he had been holding primly over his chest. Adelaide paced in furious circles along the carpet of the parlor.

“My lady. You’re making my head spin.”

“Bear with it. Unless you’d rather not have to think about where to hide my exploded corpse.”

Adelaide paced for a good while, then opened the large window without asking permission. A bird had apparently landed on a nearby tree, and its chirping drifted in.

Cyril watched Adelaide perch on the windowsill and fan herself repeatedly with her hand.

“You’re quite something, my lady.”

“Your Highness is quite strange yourself.”

“I believe ‘quite something’ and ‘quite strange’ are distinctly different expressions.”

“I see. Your Highness is quite strange.”

Cyril laughed without a sound. Adelaide sitting still and quiet was lovely, like a painting. But he thought she looked far better when she was throwing a fit, shouting, and stamping her feet in helpless frustration.

“Her Majesty the Empress despises me.”

“Your Highness.”

“I’m talking to myself. I close my eyes and I can’t see you either, my lady.”

“Your Highness, declaring that something doesn’t exist simply because you can’t see it with your eyes closed is a stage of development you should have outgrown at age four.”

Adelaide shot back cheekily, but she drew closer to Cyril’s side as she did. Cyril hesitated for a moment, then made room for her on one end of the long seat.

“Just because I treated your arm doesn’t mean I’m someone you can trust.”

“Good people always say things like that.”

“No, I’m telling you this because I truly am not a good person.”

“That only makes the misunderstanding worse, my lady.”

Cyril closed his eyes and felt the sunlight. He couldn’t tell whether the warmth spreading through his body came from the sun or from Adelaide’s body heat beside him, but he found he didn’t particularly mind either way.

“If you’d rather not talk about that, we can talk about something else, my lady.”

“I’d be grateful if instead of something else, you simply let me go.”

“This is a rare moment of rest. Don’t go ruining it.”

“Rest is for resting, not enjoying, Your Highness.”

“My lady. Shall we talk about Her Majesty the Empress’s love?”

“Let’s talk about something else.”

Adelaide ground her teeth as she answered. Cyril noticed she kept glancing at his right arm. He briefly considered rolling up his left sleeve as well, then decided against it. It seemed too childish.

“Duke Berthier seems to care for you quite a bit. Why do you dislike him?”

“Did I not pretend not to know about Your Highness’s private matters?”

“I had every intention of opening up without needing you to pretend otherwise.”

“I dislike him because of a mistake he hasn’t committed yet.”

Cyril opened his eyes. Adelaide flinched at the unguarded gaze that met hers.

His shimmering golden hair caught the sunlight and swayed like a golden thread that some girl in a fairy tale had spent all night spinning.

“A mistake he hasn’t committed yet.”

“He hasn’t done it yet, but I remember it, and that is why I dislike the Duke.”

Cyril did not dismiss Adelaide as mad. Whether it had truly happened was unclear, but Cyril also had memories that lingered in a haze.

From a very early age, a cold touch from a man who was not the emperor he now called father, and a woman who was not the Empress.

“His Majesty doesn’t hold me particularly dear. Sometimes it seems as though he searches my face for the shadow of someone who isn’t me.”

Adelaide had no desire to know anything about the tangled secrets of the imperial family.

“Perhaps I’m not even His Majesty’s biological child…”

“Your Highness.”

Adelaide pressed her fingertips to Cyril’s lips. Cyril startled and, seeing the frightened look on Adelaide’s face, came back to his senses.

Adelaide wore no gloves, so her hand was bare. Cyril pushed her away and bent forward.

“Ugh…!”

“Your Highness?”

Without lifting his head, Cyril groped across the table and rang the bell. Dager entered. In a swift motion, he brought over a basin and held it in front of Cyril.

“My lady, it would be best if you headed home now.”

Adelaide watched Cyril, who was too preoccupied with dry heaving to pay attention to anything else, then slowly made her way out of the parlor. Dager was too occupied to spare a thought for her, and she didn’t come across any other servant who might have shown her out of the Crown Prince’s palace.

After struggling to retrace the way she had come, Adelaide finally reached the main gate where her carriage was waiting.

“My lady. Are you heading back?”

“Oh, Karan. Sir Etro.”

“I would be honored if you called me Karan.”

“Karan.”

Karan looked at Adelaide with concern. Unlike when she had gone in, Adelaide looked dazed.

“My lady, are you all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Good timing, actually. When do you have free time, Karan?”

“Pardon?”

“You haven’t already forgotten about agreeing to rattle the old man at my house, have you? The sooner the better. If I’m free to do as I please, I’ll send a letter soon, at a time when the old man will be home.”

Adelaide got ahead of Karan before she could notice anything was off.

Just as Adelaide intended, the sudden request for swordsmanship training had Karan pulling out a notebook and busily checking her duty roster. Adelaide didn’t wait for Karan’s answer.

“I’ll let the steward know, so you’ll be able to see me right away when you arrive. See you soon, Sir Karan Etro.”

“Safe travels, Lady Berthier.”