IYTTEPAAK Chapter 13

The handsome man's well-curved lips barely swallowed back a sigh. He tried reasoning with her, gently.

"Her Highness intends to heal my mana core."

"You never know what might happen with people."

Of course, it didn't land.

"All the more so, given how particularly Her Highness has been treating Lord Regen. I don't want to admit it, but the possibility isn't zero. I'm simply, as a loyal servant, making perfect preparations on Her Highness's behalf. Better safe than sorry."

"...I can't tell if that's thoroughness, or a serious lack of understanding of one's own master."

Regen nearly let out a hollow laugh.

Wasn't he the knight the princess had chosen, claiming he resembled her dead brother? The line between him and the princess was clear.

The principled, loyal lady-in-waiting didn't seem like someone words would reach. He decided he'd have better luck trying to talk to Hamel instead.

"Where's Miss Hamel gone off to, that young Miss Demia's been left in charge of a matter like this?"

"Lady Hamel's no good—all she's ever done is wait on our precious, dainty, elegant Highness. Rough business like this needs someone who's seen filth up close, which is me, thanks to having three older brothers."

"......"

If Hamel was in on this too, he had no choice in the matter. He said nothing and headed for the bathroom, blocking Demia from following him in.

"I can manage on my own."

"Oh, can you? More put-together than the half-wits back at my house, I see. How is it not one of the three turned out—"

"Weren't you given a vow of silence? I recall it was to last until tomorrow evening."

"I've been pardoned!"

Regen came close, just for a moment, to resenting Sasha.

He'd had no choice but to soak in the bath, leisurely to the point of tedium, until Demia decided it was enough.

The bathwater, thick with flower petals, gave him the awkward feeling of being some kind of favored consort—but with the fatigue washed out of his body, it wasn't entirely unpleasant.

Only once the scent of the bath oil had thoroughly soaked into his skin did Regen finally finish bathing.

He toweled off, put on a man's nightgown, and came out—only for Demia to start up with more nagging.

"If you receive her favor, count it as an honor for your house, and if you don't, don't be too disappointed either."

"......"

"Above all, mind your manners and don't bring shame on Her Highness, and—"

The imperial palace really did seem to have gone mad.

Before entering the princess's bedroom, Regen paused to look at himself in the mirror.

He'd once had hair as purely black as a raven's feather, but now it had gone white, even at the brows.

Whether that was from the shock to his mind, or an aftereffect of his shattered mana core, he had no way of knowing.

The white-haired man in the mirror—even to him, a stranger. That very strangeness was probably what let him keep his life. A kind of miracle.

Regen knocked lightly on the bedroom door.

"Your Highness. It's Regen."

"Come in."

Sasha was on the couch built into the bay window. She seemed absorbed in some paperwork she had to handle as princess, too occupied to look up.

"Just wait a little on the bed."

"...The bed, you mean?"

Even without Demia's insistent warnings, it was a suspicious instruction. Regen would admit he'd tensed up, just slightly.

"Is something the matter—wait, what is that get-up?"

Belatedly, Sasha got a proper look at Regen, and was startled enough to drop her papers.

"Miss Demia said better safe than sorry."

"......Ha."

A deep sigh spoke for Sasha's feelings. Regen decided his tension had, after all, been unnecessary.

"Demia. Honestly."

Judging by how much trouble the mischievous young lady-in-waiting seemed to cause, there was no shortage of affection in it either.

While Sasha rubbed her dry palms over her face in embarrassment, Regen carefully closed the front of his nightgown over his chest.

"I'm sorry. Let me apologize on her behalf."

"I know you didn't intend anything by it."

"......"

For some reason, Sasha said nothing. Just dragged her dry hands over her face again.

None of this is Demia's fault. If you trace it back, it's all the Mad Emperor's fault.

Clear water up top, or the water below never runs clean. And who is the current Emperor? A libertine. A thousand mistresses locked in his harem, and still he plucks whatever flower catches his eye, wherever he wanders.

To suit the Mad Emperor's appetite for stimulation, the imperial court's social gatherings had grown correspondingly filthy—lewd, openly so. The palace's discipline had been slack in this particular direction for a very long time.

I lowered the hand I'd used to hide my eyes, pretending it was just a wipe of the face, and took my eyes off him.

Ordinarily, his body was kept ascetically confined behind layer upon layer of uniform, as though standing guard like a fortress wall. But right now, he wore nothing but a single garment, its fabric gleaming like flowing light.

Through the wide-open front of the nightgown, his firm chest was plainly visible. The muscle, the bone, everything else on display—all of it was masculine, and sensuous.

Uselessly—right in the middle of all this—the Mad Emperor's words went buzzing through my head.

'You may treat him as a plaything to warm your bed, if it pleases you.'

"Sasha?"

I needed to take action, quickly.

"Go to the bed. Sit down."

My voice came out lower than usual, which startled me, but he didn't seem to find it strange and simply followed the instruction.

The instant he sat on the edge of the bed, I yanked the curtain shut. He was cut off from my sight, reduced to a silhouette.

"This will be better."

For my sake.

If I kept looking, I was going to end up running my eyes over his entire body.

No—even that's fine. What's not fine is if I try to enthrall him with my power, and it spirals out of my control.

I'd never once done anything so low. But blood of the Mad Emperor ran through my body, and I ought to be careful in every regard.

I pulled up a stool and sat, explaining myself.

"Let me say this now—there's no other meaning behind calling you to the bed. During treatment, both of us will be unguarded, so I judged it best to have the safest possible time and place."

"I trust Sasha."

Too much trust, for someone like me.

I supposed I ought to knock that trust down a little—say something disappointing.

"I have a confession, Lord Regen."

"Please, speak."

"The truth is, I've never actually healed a mana core before."

He was, after all, my very first knight. The fifth tier of dominion power—core-restoration—was only possible within a binding already sealed.

"Then why did you promise you could heal it?"

"You can gauge an opponent's skill just from measuring them up before a fight, can't you? I judged that if I'm at least as strong as that man, then whatever he can do, I ought to be able to do too."

"You mean to say—watching the Mad Emperor, you felt you could do the same?"

"Yes."

"......I feel as though I've just heard something rather extraordinary."

He turned his head without thinking, and through the gap in the curtain, our eyes met.

I closed the gap with my hand, like pinching it shut with a pair of tongs.

"Let's move past that. It isn't important."

"Yes."

His plain, uncomplaining answer was exactly like him.

"Do you know the method of treatment?"

"I've seen the Mad Emperor perform it. I've also been told how it's done."

I'd dug up the information gradually, back when he was in a good mood.

"They say that once you enter a knight's mental realm, there's a single tree standing there. That tree is the shape the mana core takes, given form—and the higher a knight's level of mastery, the larger and more vibrant it looks. You look over the tree's condition, and heal it accordingly."

"How curious. How does one enter this mental realm?"

"Through contact. The Mad Emperor took hold of the other person's head with his hand. Everyone around called it a sacred baptism, but to my eyes, it looked violent."

"I see. Understood."

Suddenly, a large hand parted the curtain and reached through, throwing my field of vision wide open. The visual barrier that had been guarding me was stripped away.

Without any time to prepare myself, seeing him again like this made my heart pound—and then, right in front of me, as if to make a point of it, he dropped to one knee on the floor.

"What are you doing?"

"So that it will be easier for you to place your hand on my head—"

"It isn't my hand and your head. We use something else as the medium."

"Ah."

I understood the eagerness. Of course he'd want his mana core fixed as quickly as possible.

I pulled him back up and had him sit on the bed again, and settled myself down on the stool.

"Then where is it we need to make contact?"

So this question had to come, in the end.

"Lips."

"......"

I saw his golden eyes flicker, thrown off balance.

"Lips, meaning—"

He needed something more concrete than that, it seemed.

"Whose lips? Your Highness's? Or mine?"

"......"

"Don't tell me—both?"

The tremor in his eyes only grew wilder.