IYTTEPAAK Chapter 27

"I beg your pardon?"

Even as she asked him to repeat himself, Domynick pressed the handkerchief into her hand and turned away.

"Use it well, Your Highness. And do be sure to return it."

"......"

He was obviously scheming. Using the handkerchief as an excuse to make contact again—and Sasha mocked him for it, silently.

She unfolded the handkerchief and wiped her neck with deliberately careless motions. Her plan was to use it just enough to justify losing it, then claim exactly that.

It was a good plan. What she hadn't known was that Regen was watching her do it, quiet and unhurried, his eyes not moving away.

Meanwhile, at one edge of the banquet hall, the princesses were exchanging brief farewells with the knights bound directly for the Embossed Column punishment.

Sasha murmured to herself.

"I ought to repay a small kindness."

She stepped out of the hall first. Before long, she spotted Julis being led away under escort, separated from Lilliana.

"Wait."

She stopped him where he stood.

"I'll return this to you."

"......"

What she held out was Julis's handkerchief, still damp with wine. He opened his mouth on reflex to refuse it—then stopped.

There was something tucked beneath the cloth.

"......"

"......"

Their eyes met. Julis gave a small, silent bow and took the handkerchief back from her.

His retreating back grew smaller down the corridor. Only then did Sasha let out a long breath, as if some tension in her had finally loosened.

It felt as though an exhausting day had, at last, come to its end.

Regen drew close beside her and asked,

"What did you give him?"

"Something that puts a man to sleep the way a bear sleeps through winter. It should help him last the five days."

It was one of the medicines she'd carried in, concealed within her ring.

For a handkerchief lent out of nothing more than courtesy, the favor Julis had received in return was considerable. Somehow Regen felt uncomfortable, and the words came out before thought.

"Where is my handkerchief?"

"That's still—"

"Give it back."

"......"

This was the first time Regen had seen the princess's eyes go round like that.

Had he said something so surprising? She hesitated, as if unwilling to be robbed of something, and only after a long while did she return the handkerchief to him.

"Here."

Without a single drop of wine on it, it looked new.

Regen's brow drew tight again. Rather than tuck the handkerchief away, he began wiping her face with it himself.

It was nothing, really—such a small gesture—and yet everywhere his hand touched, Sasha's senses clamored at once.

Siblings do this. We're siblings—so this much, surely—She tried to steady herself with the thought, but it didn't come easily.

Without meaning to, she drew in a sharp breath, and then spoke.

"I— I thought you were angry."

"How could a knight dare be angry at his liege?"

"...... You're angry right now."

"......"

He fell silent and changed the subject.

"The contest is over. You should go back and bathe."

"All right."

Sasha reached out casually, meaning to take the handkerchief back from him. But he misread the gesture, and was faster—he caught her hand in his own and held it as though escorting her.

The princess's disappointment, her quiet regret, became a secret known only to the moonlight.

She walked back to her chambers beside a knight who, without the faintest idea of her feelings, was simply, courteously, seeing her home.

I must have dozed off in the bath at the end of the long day. By the time I had washed thoroughly and dried my hair, the night had grown deep.

Every night, treating Regen's mana core had become the fixed order of the day. The appointed hour was nearly here—and tonight, rather than summon Regen to my bedroom, I meant to go to his chamber myself.

Even setting the treatment aside, I wanted to talk with him about what had happened at the banquet.

I prepared a good bottle of wine, two glasses, and a plate of pretty, appetizing canapés. I told Hamel and Demia they could retire for the night, then carried the tray myself.

Three rooms down the corridor from my own lay Regen's chamber. The late evening had darkened the halls, but the light of the scented candle set on the tray served, more or less, as a lantern.

Trusting my eyes to the wavering candlelight, I arrived at his door.

"Sir Regen?"

I knocked, but there was no answer from within.

Asleep, maybe?

While I was still deciding what to do, the latch—perhaps not properly caught—gave slightly under a draft of air, and the door swung open a little.

It opened just wide enough for me to slip through, and I couldn't resist the temptation.

No—I already know it was all excuse. I simply wanted Regen. Even just his sleeping face, I wanted that.

I let the candle play over the dark room. Everything was tidy, well-ordered—a match, I thought, for the man who lived here—and then I laughed quietly at myself for it.

It was a room I myself had arranged for him. And yet, only because he was the one staying in it, I was reading meaning into every corner, holding it up against him—a little foolish of me, when I stopped to think about it.

The handkerchief, now that I considered it, was the same. A plain, palace-issued handkerchief, nothing more. And yet, over that—what was it, even?—did I really act that way just because I wanted that one thing?

"Ah."

A gust of wind blew in through the doorway, snuffed the candle, and slammed the door shut with a thud.

Startled, I found the dark had fallen thick over everything in an instant. So black I couldn't see my own hand in front of my face.

I thought there'd been a table nearby. With the hand not holding the tray, I felt through the darkness, but found nothing to catch hold of.

A little further, maybe? I took another step—and misfortune struck. My toe caught the corner of a carpet.

"......!"

I lost my balance completely. Braced for a fall I couldn't stop, I shut my eyes—and then a large hand pulled me in from ahead, and we went down together.

It didn't hurt at all. That was thanks to the person pinned beneath me, who'd taken the whole impact himself.

I planted my arms and raised myself up. I still couldn't see a thing, but I called his name carefully, all the same.

"Sir Regen......?"

"......Yes."

His voice was pitched far lower than usual. Perhaps he'd been woken from sleep.

Just then, the clouds outside parted and moonlight poured in through the window, and my sight found something to hold onto.

A handsome man lay on the floor, hair mussed, looking up at me. And I—I was the one looking down, having caged him within both my arms.

"......"

"......"

It was, it seemed, a fairly provocative position we'd landed in.

"My apologies."

I managed a composed reply and rose off of him.

Once we'd both stood, it was as if nothing had happened at all. Everything I'd carried in on the tray had come through undisturbed, thanks to Regen catching it and keeping it safe.

It was an overcast night. The clouds threatened to hide the moon again, and Regen gently pressed my shoulder and guided me toward the bed.

"Please, sit here."

While he lit the candle, I offered an explanation, as if I needed one.

"It's time for your mana core treatment. I thought I'd come to you first, this once."

"If you would permit it, I would rather rest tonight."

"That's fine. Let's talk instead, then."

He seemed reluctant, but he indulged me all the same, quietly drawing a chair over to sit across from me.

A knight, through and through, courtesy toward a lady worked into his very body and soul.

I picked up the wine bottle I'd brought. When he moved to pour for me, I waved him off and filled the glass myself, handing it to him.

"Shall we have a drink first, before we talk? To celebrate coming through the contest safely."

"......"

He ran his thumb along the rim of the glass before bringing it to his lips. The red wine slid past them, and his throat—visibly—moved, rising and falling.

It was only the simple act of drinking something, and still my eyes couldn't look away, finding him beautiful for it.

We each emptied a glass. I was still weighing how best to open the conversation when, before I could, he spoke first.

"Do you know something?"

"What is it?"

"You, Your Highness—always give the order first. Only after, do you wish to talk."

"......"

Guess that's fair.

More than that, though—I didn't like how he addressed me.

"It's only the two of us here right now."

"Yes, Your Highness."

He hadn't called me Sasha.

I chose to take it well. Better this—him bringing his feelings out honestly to meet mine head-on—than him hiding them away.

The first step to solving a problem is bringing it up to the surface, after all.

I spoke plainly, without preamble.