“But if it would ease your heart…”

“I told you to shut up.”

“Your words are getting harsher.”

“Must be your imagination.”

No, it was not my imagination. He had just told me to shut up – in front of a royal. I shot him a look, but Zetak met my gaze with a defiant expression as if daring me to do something about it. I wasn’t sure what exactly had provoked his anger, but it seemed wise to keep my mouth shut. Anything I said now would only serve to further fuel his temper.

The exchange between Zetak and I was far from resembling a lovers’ conversation. Yet the noble onlookers glanced in our direction with curious eyes, clearly mistaking our interaction for something more intimate. Their whispers reached me – ‘They must be exchanging sweet nothings. But can monsters love?’- but neither I nor Zetak paid any attention. He seemed as indifferent to gossip as I was at this point.

Each time I dropped the pen, Zetak effortlessly caught it in mid-air, always ready to return it to my hand. As he prepared to return the pen for the sixth time, the sound of a chair scraping across the floor broke the moment. I turned to see Bapharos, who had been sitting by the window, coming towards us.

No, not toward me—he was heading straight for Zetak.

“Hand over the pen,”

Bapharos demanded, holding out his hand to Zetak. His sudden action drew the attention of the professor and the nobles, but Zetak remained unmoved. Instead of complying, his grip on the pen tightened.

“Zetak.”

I called softly, sensing the tension building between them. Zetak’s brow furrowed at my voice, his pupils narrowing slightly. He had been unusually irritable all day, and now his frustration was showing again. But what could I do? Bapharos was a royalty and Zetak was my servant. To disobey in front of all those nobles would undoubtedly lead to trouble later.

After a tense moment, Zetak must have realized the same. Without a word, he reluctantly handed the pen to Bapharos. His movements were calm, but I could sense the resentment simmering just below the surface.

After taking the pen, Bapharos sat down beside me and placed it in my hand, then covered my hand with his own. The only sound in the room was the soft scratching of the pen against the paper. I wasn’t the one writing; it was Bapharos guiding my hand, forcing the words onto the page.

The room was completely silent as if no one were there. Somewhere, a murmur echoed: ‘As expected from Prince Bapharos…’ The unspoken message in their eyes was clear: ‘This is what a crown prince should be like.’

“Proceed with the lesson,” Bapharos said, his voice calm as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

The Professor looked at Bapharos with a sense of pride, while the other students looked at him with admiration and respect.

‘Despite their past, he protects him now.’

The impression of Bapharos as a compassionate and noble prince had only grown stronger in the minds of the nobles. It was clear to me now why Bapharos had acted as he had.

“You’re using me, even here?”

I murmured, so low that only he could hear. He let out a soft chuckle.

“I won’t deny that I use you. But I also can’t deny that I really care about my little brother.”

When Bapharos squeezed my hand too hard, a sharp pain shot through my fingers and made me jump. He quickly withdrew his hand, feigning surprise.

“My apologies. Does it hurt much?” he asked, taking my hand again and gently massaging it with both of his. I knew then – he had done it on purpose. It was all part of the act, playing the concerned older brother for the benefit of the watching nobles.

“You must be desperate for a good reputation to go this far.”

He didn’t stop massaging my hand, but the corner of his mouth twitched slightly as if acknowledging the truth in my words. He was acting, and I was his unwilling prop in this carefully crafted display of brotherly concern.

“There’s no need to lie to me – eh!”

I winced as his grip on my hand tightened slightly, cutting me off before I could finish.

“Well, with the position of Crown Prince vacant, it’s not entirely a lie that I’m worried about you. I think it’s unfortunate that you lost your arm. I have a fondness for capable people.”

“It sounds as if you’ve left something out. Shouldn’t it be that you enjoy using people?”

He chuckled softly at my answer. He had changed quite a bit since our earlier encounters; whether he wanted to use me or not, there was no longer any hostility in his demeanor.

“It’s not a paramecium, it’s a centipede. It was a bit hard to tell because I drew it with my left hand.”

“Not even that… even when your arm was intact, your drawings were still…”

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then shook his head with a small laugh. Glancing behind me, he shrugged his shoulders.

“Someone seems ready to murder me with his gaze. It seems your little lover thinks I’m oppressing you.”

“That’s only half true, isn’t it? You deliberately pressed down on my injured fingers, so that counts as oppression.”

“Well, let’s leave it at that. I don’t quite understand why you’re clinging to this servant, but I hope you don’t take your remaining arm so lightly.”

“Did you hear that?”

I asked, a hint of disbelief creeping into my voice.

The fact that Bapharos brought it up meant that he must have overheard my conversation with Zetak. The other nobles probably didn’t hear our whispers, but Bapharos, as an expert in sword energy, had senses far beyond those of the average human. He must have overheard my comments about giving away my left arm, which explains his remarks.

I could feel Zetak’s strange gaze behind me. When I turned to look, he appeared quite displeased. It seemed he didn’t like that I had spoken to Bapharos so openly, and I could understand why. It wasn’t quite fair to say he’d been listening, but someone who could wield energy naturally had heightened senses. No matter how much he tried to ignore it, he had probably heard every word.

“Don’t give up on your rehabilitation so easily. Look at you—you’re managing to hold onto the pen without dropping it for ten letters now.”

Bapharos said in a teasing tone as if he believed I was writing. If only I could take credit for the words on the paper. I didn’t want to continue this unproductive banter, especially since Zetak’s mood had soured since Bapharos had come to sit beside me.

I knew that Bapharos could crush my arm like a twig if he wanted to. If he set his mind to it, he could easily break my skull too. Of course, I wouldn’t act so recklessly, but it wouldn’t hurt to be cautious. I subtly gestured to Zetak, trying to signal him to be careful, but he only furrowed his brow in response, clearly annoyed.

“Isn’t he the one who caused your arm to be like that? Are you not going to cast him aside?”

Zetak was now openly showing his discomfort. His expression remained neutral, but there was a flicker of malice in his eyes. Bapharos, however, showed no reaction to this hostility directed at him. Then again, it was easy to miss unless one looked directly into Zetak’s eyes.

For the time being, Zetak had hidden his intention to kill perfectly, so it was understandable that Bapharos was unaware of the danger. This only made the situation more precarious. When a monster reveals its intention to kill, it serves as a warning; when it conceals it, it means that an attack is imminent.

“Just get rid of that narrowed look.”

I signaled him with a glance. At my command, Zetak finally looked away.

“Surely he’s not your lover, as rumored.”

“He is my lover.”

After all, I had already admitted it when I was dragged into the temple. Making it clear now would solidify Zetak’s protection in the future. No matter how tainted by the demon realm, the title of the Prince’s favorite would mean he couldn’t be treated lightly. I could feel Zetak’s eyes watching me from behind, but what could I do? I had made my decision.

“It doesn’t seem very credible. Everyone seems too caught up in the juicy rumors to notice. I haven’t heard anything about the dormitory maids changing your sheets separately. Is it possible for two lovers at such a passionate age to share a bed every day?”

“It is possible. I let him do his laundry. In fact, just this morning he was complaining that having to do it nine times a day was too much”.

“It is possible. I have him wash the sheets himself. He complained about it just this morning, saying that doing laundry nine times a day was excessive.”

I wasn’t sure how many times a human does this on average, but I figured it would be less than a monster. So I half the number just in case. That should keep things under control. I could feel piercing stares at my back, but I ignored them.

What could I say? You were the servant and I was the prince. If you felt wronged, perhaps you should be reborn as a prince in your next life. I muttered to myself, ignoring Zetak’s gaze. Bapharos repeated, “Nine times…” and chuckled to himself, clearly amused.

“At one point, I thought you were just an arrogant brat living off his privilege… but you’re just a bit stupid, aren’t you? Fine, let’s just say he’s your lover. But between the two of you, who’s the dominant?”

Bapharos asked, his eyes gleaming with malice. It was clear he was hoping I would be confused or ask what he meant, hoping to use my reaction to stir up trouble and question the validity of my relationship.