FSW Chapter 5

Red

The moment their eyes met, he lowered his gaze so quickly she couldn't be certain—but she was probably right.

She pursued his lost eyes relentlessly beneath those long lashes. Even went so far as to bow her own head to meet his gaze. When their eyes connected a second time, he flinched noticeably and turned his head away.

Such determined avoidance stirred something stubborn in her. True, few people could maintain eye contact with royalty during conversation, but this had nothing to do with rank. This man would act the same way in front of anyone who wasn't royalty.

More importantly, Nishina had no interest in learning from the top of her instructor's head. Communication and conversation, after all, required eye contact.

Dissatisfied, Nishina moved in the direction he'd turned his head and caught his eyes again. When he startled and turned the other way, she followed, stubbornly meeting his gaze. After several repetitions of this dance, he seemed to realize avoidance was futile and stopped turning his head. Instead, he simply closed his eyes entirely.

Nishina barely swallowed the sigh rising in her throat before finally speaking.

"Look, couldn't you talk to me while making eye contact?"

"...Wouldn't that make you uncomfortable?"

Concern threaded through his subdued voice. She didn't need to ask why the ordinary act of meeting someone's eyes had become something to worry about. Your eyes bring misfortune to people—he'd been condemned with such words for so long, told to keep his gaze lowered at all times.

Eye color was simply iris pigmentation. Not common knowledge within the Empire, perhaps, but anyone who'd studied physiology would certainly know this. Yet no one had ever told him so.

Being persecuted simply because his irises happened to be a particular color was unjust. If anything, such a rare and beautiful shade deserved praise.

"Uncomfortable? They're pretty, like camellia blossoms."

The vivid red stood out against his colorless hair—truly beautiful. Perhaps people called it a demonic color precisely because it was too beautiful. The thought came to her with genuine seriousness.

"When I first saw them, they were so pretty the words just tumbled out."

"You might have heard me say it."

Only when she spoke with a smile did his head finally lift. He seemed to forget his habitual reflex, meeting her eyes with a dazed expression. She didn't miss the wavering in those red eyes, watching them intently. They reminded her of her own camellias swaying in the wind, and the thought pleased her somehow.

Under Nishina's leisurely but persistent gaze, he eventually lowered his eyes again. This time, though, what pressed down on his head wasn't resignation born of habit—it was bewilderment.

He pressed his lips together firmly and turned away abruptly.

"...I'll demonstrate first."

Running doesn't really require a demonstration, though. Between the strands of his shining hair, she caught a glimpse of his reddened ears.

Nishina smiled soundlessly and followed him slowly. Red really did suit him remarkably well.

She'd thought gravity was proportional to mass, but perhaps that wasn't quite right after all.

Feeling as though gravity might crush her into the floor, Nishina collapsed weakly onto her bed. Her entire body was a mess of dirt and sweat, but she couldn't even summon the energy to move.

Joy would scold her for lying down without washing. Knowing this full well, Nishina still buried her face in the sheets, and right on cue, Joy began her lecture.

"Your Highness! You need to wash before lying down! Doesn't it feel awful?"

"Ah, Joy. Just—just a moment. Right now the ground is pulling me down with ten times its normal force. If I try to stand, I might flatten completely."

"Good heavens, was training really that difficult?"

"...I thought I was going to die."

Her leisurely pursuit of him had lasted only briefly—the moment she completed one lap around the training grounds, Nishina realized the truth. Ten laps were absolutely impossible, even if it killed her.

Not wanting to disappoint her instructor on the very first day, she'd tried her best, but two laps were her limit. When he belatedly noticed Nishina nearly dying behind him, he'd stopped in alarm. Seeing her unable to even breathe properly, he'd hastily called off the training, but Nishina's body was already ruined.

Even now, she could almost hear her body screaming in protest beyond her pounding heart.

"If you soak in warm water, you'll feel better. Come now, up you get."

"Ugh, fine..."

At Joy's urging, Nishina crawled toward the bathroom. She peeled off her sticky, clinging clothes and sank into the prepared bath. Rose petals floated on the surface, though she had no energy to appreciate them.

A groan escaped unbidden at the languid sensation enveloping her body. The accumulated fatigue seemed to melt away like ice cream. However, her muscles—shocked by the sudden exercise—remained stubbornly stiff. With this much tension, muscle soreness was inevitable. She kneaded her calves with strengthless hands, groaning, before giving up quickly. Even moving one hand felt impossibly difficult.

"Joy, can you raise the water temperature a bit?"

"Won't it be too hot?"

"Yeah, please."

Joy poured an appropriate amount of heated water into the tub. In lieu of massage, the hot water seemed to relax her tense muscles.

How many minutes had she leaned there? The water was definitely hotter than usual—her pale skin had flushed a rosy hue.

Staring blankly down at the reddish color, a similarly red man suddenly came to mind.

The man who'd sliced through her neck without hesitation, utterly merciless.

Those cool eyes and firmly closed lips matched the original novel's description quite well, but the eyes that couldn't hide their wavering and those reddened ears were far removed from the book's image. Moreover, before the lesson ended, when she'd offered him the madeleines she'd brought as thanks for the lesson, he'd made an odd expression but hadn't refused.

If she kept trying like this, couldn't she eventually earn his sympathy? Though the possibility of him killing her apologetically seemed a hundred times more likely than him sparing her out of sympathy. Anyway.

Tomorrow she should request almond cookies. She didn't know how effective it would be, but she planned to go with the 'no one who gives you food is a bad person!' strategy. If she also showed herself to be a diligent and excellent student, perhaps that would add more weight to the former possibility.

Of course, to do that, she'd need to do something about this cursed body of hers.

Clicking her tongue at her terrible stamina, Nishina yawned deeply. Her vision blurred, her thoughts growing hazy with it. She needed to formulate a more concrete plan, but with her brain melted to mush, further thinking proved impossible.

She surrendered her body quietly to hands that carefully lathered soap as though handling glass. She couldn't be certain of anything, but one thing was sure—tonight, at least, she would sleep soundly.

'Should I have asked Joy for a massage, warm water or not?'

Swallowing an "Eek!" Nishina staggered forward like a newborn foal. Was this the agony the little mermaid endured when she walked on two legs? The magnitude of pain probably wasn't much different. Only the scope differed.

Where the mermaid's feet had felt torn apart, Nishina's entire lower body felt shredded. Every step produced an involuntary groan of pain. On the physician's advice that muscle soreness improved faster with movement, she'd even refused Sir Hilton's support. Though her precarious gait made Sir Hilton anxiously hover, she walked stubbornly onward.

Her Imperial Studies tutor, Carlos, was strict as they came and despised tardiness above all else.

'I'm already on his bad side—no point making it worse.'

Arriving at the personal study designated for lessons, Nishina pushed the door open forcefully.

One minute before class started.

Barely safe.

Feeling proud of her diligent walking, she took her seat. Contrary to Nishina's satisfied expression, Carlos looked distinctly displeased.

His already upturned eyes grew even sharper, making even his words sound pointed.

"What an occasion, that you arrive on time today."

"Oh, if being late was acceptable, could I rest a bit more and come back? I exercised for the first time in ages yesterday and now I'm sore all over..."

"Your Highness!"

"It's a joke, a joke."

It wasn't a joke at all, but she retracted her words for Carlos's sake—his face had turned alternately red and purple. Belatedly embarrassed at having raised his voice, he cleared his throat with an awkward "Ahem" and hastily opened his book.

"Today we'll continue the lesson on The Prince that we didn't finish last time."

"Ah..."

She'd expected this, but still—a lesson on The Prince. She disliked the headache-inducing lessons on The Wealth of Nations too, but among the books he taught, The Prince was the worst.

Though Nishina's brow furrowed visibly, Carlos pressed on with the lesson undeterred.

"A prince need not follow what people consider virtuous behavior. A strong state requires a strong prince, and a strong prince must act contrary to compassion in order to assert dominion."

"...But isn't compassion one of the virtues a good ruler should possess?"

"What's needed isn't compassion itself, but the appearance of compassion. What a prince requires isn't mercy, fairness, or restraint—it's calculation and a sense of reality."

At Carlos's resolute words, Nishina's mouth closed tightly.

She harbored no illusions about those in power. But every time calculation was demanded of her, she realized anew: she was utterly unsuited for the position of ruler.

Carlos said a prince must not forgive easily, must not readily extend sympathy. All things impossible for Nishina. From a very young age, she'd easily empathized with others' pain and sorrow. No matter how coldly she tried to judge, the moment she understood them, she forgave them. Sympathized with them.

Even knowing the future where Aiden would kill her, she couldn't hate him in the slightest—for precisely this reason. Because she understood the wounds he'd received, she couldn't resent him even if he hated her, stole everything from her, and ultimately killed her.

The same held true for that man. If she hadn't known his circumstances, she might have cunningly sought his sympathy. But having read the original story—knowing better than anyone how much he'd suffered—she couldn't help but sympathize with him.

Even if he should sever her neck with those very hands.

She who wished happiness for both Aiden—who would order her death—and Sir Russell—who would therefore kill her—could never become a ruler.

Paradoxically, while learning how to become a ruler, Nishina realized once again that she lacked the makings of one.

"Your Highness, perhaps you should rest today..."

"I can't."

"But..."

"I'm going to training like this, so stop following me."

Speaking firmly, Nishina pushed away Hilton, who'd been following with a worried expression. Even as he reluctantly withdrew, he kept glancing back anxiously. She waved him away with a "Shoo" gesture before he finally turned around dejectedly.

Only when his figure disappeared did Nishina leave as well. Her destination was the training grounds. Though she was in no condition to train—even the walk to the training grounds felt arduous—she couldn't be absent.

She could meet with him for only one hour each afternoon. Woefully insufficient time to build rapport. She couldn't simply waste such precious time. Besides, making a bad impression would be disastrous. Missing class after attending just one day might make him think her lazy.

Despite moving diligently, she was several times slower than usual and ended up late anyway. Nishina hurried toward the silver-haired man standing tall in the training grounds.