#23. Not How I See It
At that, the man’s face turned beet red. Ophelia, who had never seen a person flush that deeply before, asked,
“Your… face, why is it like that?”
“D-Don’t you have any shame? How could you say something like that out loud…”
And before she could say another word, Idren turned and stepped out of the carriage.
Bang.
The door slammed harder than expected, making Ophelia flinch. Apparently, the same went for the other party, as the door reopened and then gently closed again with a soft click.
As the sound of quickening footsteps faded, Ophelia leaned slightly toward the carriage door. Through the window, she could see the back of the man walking away in long strides.
“…Why is he angry all by himself?”
Seriously, he was more sensitive than a rare orchid.
Muttering under her breath, Ophelia turned her body back to its original position and leaned against the backrest, closing her eyes. She hadn’t slept well the night before and was a bit tired.
But just as she was about to drift off, there was a knock at the door.
The unwelcome noise made her furrow her brows.
She was about to snap, thinking it was Idren, but on second thought, it seemed like someone else. That prideful man wouldn’t come storming back after running off like that.
Just as she was about to ask with a slightly gentler tone, a calm voice came through.
“Your Highness, we’ve arrived at the canal.”
“…Ah.”
Realizing the carriage had stopped because they had reached the canal, Ophelia opened the door.
The first thing she saw was a head of black hair. It looked quite similar to a man she knew well, but Ophelia didn’t mistake him—the eyes below that hair were a pale green.
And green happened to be one of her favorite eye colors. Ophelia silently stared at the knight smiling politely at her.
“I’m Fenrel Soer, a knight serving your future husband. Please feel free to call me Fenrel.”
“‘Soer’ will do.”
That’s when she remembered that he was the knight who always accompanied her husband. Since none of his knights were particularly close to her, it was easier that way.
The knight gave a small nod at her response and extended his hand.
“I’ll assist you as you get down from the carriage.”
It seemed he had been sent in place of the man who had run off after putting her in the carriage.
Ophelia took his hand and stepped down. The carriage, though hastily arranged, was quite luxurious and tall enough that assistance was needed to get in and out.
The knight escorted her to the dock and helped her board the boat.
The boat was decorated with soft silk and flowers and had two plush chairs prepared—one for her and one for Idren. Ophelia chose the left seat, the one farther from Reden.
After confirming she was settled, the knight excused himself for other duties. As he disembarked rather hurriedly, he added a final excuse for his master.
“His Highness hasn’t gone far. He’ll return shortly.”
She gave a half-hearted nod and closed her eyes. The warm sunlight poured over her body.
When Idren boarded the boat, the first thing he saw was Ophelia fast asleep.
She sat quietly, leaning against the chair, looking almost identical to the peaceful figure he remembered from the last time he saw her.
His heart dropped, and without realizing it, Idren reached out and covered her face with his hand. Thankfully, he could feel the soft breath of life.
Relieved, Idren also felt a sense of injustice.
Even in situations like this, Ophelia played with his emotions. She was masterful at it. He tightened his grip on the candy bag he was holding.
But that wasn’t the only reason he felt wronged.
How could she say something like that without batting an eye?
“Of course, I know you like my looks.”
He never imagined she’d say something like that, and so as soon as he heard it, his face had turned crimson.
Of course, Ophelia was beautiful. Idren knew he tended to interpret her in the most favorable light possible, but even objectively, she was striking.
Still, thinking that in private and hearing her say it outright were entirely different matters.
In the end, all he could do was stumble out of the carriage in shock.
He couldn’t even remember what she had said after that. His head had been filled with a single, burning thought: I have to hide this stupidly red face.
Fenrel seemed startled when the fiancé he was supposed to assist suddenly bolted.
While the knight went to manage the situation with Ophelia, Idren walked in circles around the carriage, trying to cool his face.
And that’s when he happened to spot a candy cart.
The vendor sold colorful candies in glass jars—exactly at an angle where Ophelia might see it from the carriage window.
Before he knew it, he’d already bought the candies.
It wasn’t until the bag was in his hand that Idren realized how foolish he’d been. He wasn’t even sure if she had seen the cart.
And even if she had, would street candy really suit a princess raised in the palace?
Before he could overthink it further, Fenrel approached.
“Her Highness has boarded the boat.”
Then the knight looked at the bag in his hand with disbelief.
“…Did Her Highness say she wanted candy?”
“…No.”
Fenrel stared at him silently. His pale green eyes seemed to ask: Then why?
Idren didn’t answer. No explanation would sound convincing.
An awkward silence fell. After a pause, the knight said with a stiff voice,
“Well, it is possible, I suppose.”
“…”
“His Highness has never eaten candy before, but I think it’s possible. After all, people don’t live solely for food.”
Idren shook his head at the knight, who clearly didn’t know what he was talking about.
“You don’t need to say anything more.”
“…Yes, Your Highness.”
The knight lowered his eyes.
Before the silence grew heavier, Idren reached into his chest. He needed to hand Fenrel the signet ring for an errand.
But his fingers found nothing.
Frowning, he asked, “Fenrel, did I give you my ring?”
“I have a replica, if that’s what you mean.”
Royal rings had several copies due to their importance.
But Idren was referring to the genuine one.
With a deep scowl, he tried to remember the last time he had seen it. But no matter how hard he searched his memory, the last clear moment was before he reset time—when it fell into the well.
Wait. Wasn’t it always on a cord around his neck?
Whenever he left the royal palace, he wore the ring that way.
And the cord around his neck was still intact.
As panic began to creep in, Fenrel asked,
“…Is something wrong, Your Highness?”
“Ah, the ring…”
Then Idren froze.
The ring wasn’t around his neck, but the cord hadn’t broken.
More importantly, he was certain he hadn’t lost it since returning. He hadn’t taken it off once.
He always had the royal ring. Even after Fenrel’s death. Even after Ophelia’s…
By the time he realized the ring’s disappearance might be related to the strange events between him and Ophelia, Idren had already decided—he would keep this to himself.
Even if the other person was Fenrel, who had stood beside him for half his life.
Idren relaxed his stiff lips and replied,
“No, it’s nothing.”
“…”
“When we return with the Reden royal procession, use the replica.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“And there’s something you must do while staying behind.”
This was the real reason he’d left Fenrel in Reden.
Staring at his loyal knight, Idren said,
“Find out how Ophelia was raised in the Reden royal family.”
“You mean Her Highness the Princess?”
“Yes. Prince Mahanas said he cherished his sister, but… that’s not how I see it.”
The truth was, Idren had already begun to suspect something back when he discovered what Ophelia had done in her past life to bring down Reden.
But for now, that truth was shared by only the two of them.
The knight bowed deeply in understanding. Idren added,
“Make sure no one finds out.”
Especially not the Reden king or prince. And definitely not Ophelia—she wouldn’t be pleased.
Fenrel bowed even deeper.
Leaving the knight behind, Idren boarded the boat where Ophelia waited. He hurried slightly, worried that any more delay might raise suspicion.
But that haste was unnecessary.
Ophelia was already asleep when he arrived.
Idren, observing her perfect sleeping face, was about to sigh and turn away—when Ophelia opened her eyes.
