Side Story 1.2

The day that had stirred the entire nation finally came to an end.  

The torches that had brightly lit the streets well into the evening began to extinguish one by one, and the square, once filled with people, now lay silent save for the occasional drunken song.  

The Crown Prince’s Palace, the destination of the bride and groom who had married that day, was no exception.  

All the lights in the palace had been extinguished early, and the maids and attendants had tactfully withdrawn to give the Crown Prince and Crown Princess privacy on their official first night.  

Only the minimum number of guards remained outside the quiet bedchamber.  

A faint groan escaped through the crack in the door.  

“Ah… Your Highness, please… gently…”  

“Just bear with it a little longer.”  

“Ugh…”  

The sounds would have made anyone blush, but the reality unfolding inside was quite different.  

“Promise me. You’ll never jump out of a window unarmed again.”  

“…If it’s an emergency, I might have no cho—ah! Your Highness!”  

“Are you going to jump out again?”  

“I-I won’t! I won’t do it again! So please, be gentle…!”  

Having finished taping her swollen ankle, Servante loosened his grip and sighed.  

Sitting on the edge of the bed and sweating lightly, Carnier cautiously wiggled her toes.  

‘Huh…?’  

The pain in her ankle, which had throbbed with every step, had almost completely subsided.  

Her eyes widened as she flexed her foot experimentally. Servante, noticing her movements, warned her.  

“It’s just first aid, so don’t overdo it.”  

“How are you so good at this…?”  

“What do you mean by that?”  

“It’s a compliment, a compliment.”  

She had managed to endure the day thanks to the temporary taping done by her personal maid, Beth, while changing into her dress before the ceremony. But by the time the day’s events were over and she had taken off her shoes, her ankle was swollen to a pitiful state.  

Servante had immediately wanted to summon a physician, but Carnier, not wanting to invite unnecessary gossip on their wedding night, had stopped him.  

Once again yielding to her stubbornness, Servante had ended up treating her himself.  

‘It feels even better than when Beth did it…’  

Closing the first aid kit, Servante spoke.  

“Sometimes, you can’t rely on others.”  

“…That’s true.”  

While Servante had natural talent, his position required him to appear flawless beyond his abilities.  

As his fiancée, Carnier, who had also worked hard to avoid showing any weaknesses, quickly understood.  

She tried to stand, placing her foot on the floor.  

That is, until he didn’t let go of her ankle.  

“…Your Highness?”  

Still kneeling with one knee on the ground before her, Servante spoke nonchalantly.  

“How long are you going to keep calling me that?”  

“Oh.” 

Carnier muttered, her eyes darting nervously.  

After spending the entire reception addressing people formally, the title “Your Highness” had once again slipped out of habit.  

“…Servante, let go of me.”  

Consciously trying to call him by name made her feel shy, even though it had come so easily that morning.  

The situation now seemed even more embarrassing.  

‘Am I really the only bride spending her wedding night getting her ankle treated by her husband…?!’  

As she silently lamented, Carnier suddenly froze in shock.  

Servante, who had been staring at her bandaged ankle, abruptly leaned down and kissed the top of her foot.  

“W-what are you doing…?!”  

Carnier tried to pull her foot back, but his firm grip on the back of her knee prevented her from escaping.  

Warm breath fell onto the pale skin of her foot.  

“…Hah.”  

“Your Hi—no, Servante!”  

“You’ve endured well.” 

Servante murmured softly, as if he couldn’t hear her protests.  

The memory of the day flashed through his mind.  

Even after receiving temporary first aid and changing into her reception dress, Carnier had stood by his side throughout the event without resting for even a moment.  

She had maintained a composed expression, smiling gracefully at the seasoned nobles and foreign delegates.  

Everyone had admired the flawless Crown Princess, nodding in approval as if it were only natural.  

But Servante’s gaze had been heavy, having seen the hidden wound beneath the hem of her heavy dress.  

Carnier blushed and stammered in defense.  

“This sort of thing happens all the time when wearing new shoes. It’s not just me; other ladies are used to this kind of—eek?!”  

A rough, hot sensation brushed against her stiff toes.  

Too stunned to react, Carnier froze, then began to squirm.  

“Servante!”  

But he still held her firmly, his grip unyielding.  

Though she had the courage to kick mercenaries between the legs while wearing uncomfortable shoes, Carnier couldn’t bring herself to do the same to the man she loved.  

Taking advantage of her hesitation, he leisurely, yet insistently, explored her small foot.  

His warm tongue slipped between her toes before he gently nibbled them as if savoring a sweet fruit.  

Carnier shuddered, her shoulders trembling as she tried to push against his arm with her other foot.  

Of course, she had washed thoroughly before entering the bedchamber. She had, but still…!  

Unable to bear the embarrassment, Carnier finally buried her face in her hands.  

“D-don’t do that, it’s dirty…”  

“Dirty?”  

As if confused by her words, Servante frowned and pressed a kiss to her sole.  

“It’s a precious part of your body. Not dirty in the slightest.”  

“But…!”  

“Or are you going to call me dirty now too?”  

Carnier blinked through her fingers.  

Servante tilted his head slightly, still caressing one of her ankles as he asked, 

“Would you refuse to let me kiss you too?”  

“……”  

Carnier, unable to find words, opened and closed her mouth before tightly shutting her eyes. Slowly, she removed her hands from her face and reached out toward him.  

It was a gesture that spoke louder than a hundred words.  

Servante chuckled softly, willingly placing his face in her hands.  

Naturally, their lips met.  

Unlike the shy and hesitant words they had exchanged earlier, neither hesitated as their tongues entwined and their breaths mingled.  

It didn’t take long for Carnier, who had been leaning slightly backward, to feel her back touch the bed, and for Servante’s shadow to loom over her.  

The ends of his golden hair tickled her temples, and the hem of her gown, rolled up, crumpled under the pressure of his firm thighs.  

The heat that had started at their lips quickly spread throughout their bodies.  

“…You made a promise.”  

In the brief moment their lips parted, he whispered softly.  

“You said you’d do everything I told you to.”  

“What… do you want me to do?”  

Carnier swallowed nervously, knowing it was pointless to deny her earlier words.  

She worried about what he might ask for, yet her heart pounded for a completely different reason.  

The impenetrable mask of the Crown Prince had been cast aside, and he was now looking at her with the eyes of a man. Her heart couldn’t handle it.  

‘From today on, he’s truly my husband…’  

There was no reason, nor need, to hide the excitement she felt.  

Seeing her subtly flushed expression, Servante’s eyes curved gently as he smiled.  

He spoke tenderly, 

“Don’t think too much tonight.”  

“What…?”  

What does he mean by that?  

But before she could ask, she heard the faint sound of her gown’s front coming undone.  

Carnier froze as her bare chest was suddenly exposed.  

And when he untied the sash of his own gown, her thoughts came to a halt entirely.  

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this—a night where I don’t have to send you away.”  

“…Ah.”  

Carnier felt the same.  

Staring blankly at his flawless figure, illuminated even in the dim light, she forgot her earlier question, overwhelmed by his words.  

‘From now on, my place is by his side.’  

From now on, they would sleep in the same bed and wake up together every morning.  

Blushing at the heated gaze he directed toward her, she smiled shyly and surrendered herself to his hands.  

Their official first night together stretched on, far longer than she could have imagined.  

She hadn’t anticipated that their “night” wouldn’t end within the night itself.