#32. Even for a Moment.
Isaac felt cold sweat trickling down his back as he narrowed his fox-like eyes and smiled. This man was on a whole different level compared to those knights out there fussing about the martial arts tournament. Maybe it was family tradition, but Isaac’s survival instinct was stronger than anyone’s. And that instinct was shouting: catch that man.
He folded his fox eyes again and smiled politely.
“I’m Isaac, Isaac Akendel.”
But Cryer, leaning sideways against a pillar, only stared at him silently. It was an incredibly rude response—completely ignoring Isaac, who had just greeted first. Still, Isaac did not flush red with humiliation or get angry. Instead, he simply said something unexpected.
“I now understand why Her Highness the Princess is holding such a large-scale martial arts tournament.”
Backing away slowly one step from Cryer, he added,
“Because that day, your name will echo throughout the entire empire.”
To anyone except Olivia who knew Cryer, this would sound ridiculous—even a passing monkey would scoff at the idea that a knight from a trivial kingdom relying on his looks would make a name at a martial arts tournament. Cryer looked at Isaac’s fox-eyed smile without any trace of sarcasm or mockery. Compared to those boar-like fools who had blindly shown hostility without knowing where they stood, maybe he had proper eyes after all.
Finishing that thought, Cryer brushed past Isaac’s shoulder.
“Don’t mingle with night prowlers.”
As his languid whisper slipped into Isaac’s ear, goosebumps instantly broke out down Isaac’s back. At the same time, he realized: this man was the very one who had dealt with the night prowler guests who had come looking for the princess. Even now, he must have shown himself after hearing Isaac’s careless words about “sneaking in at night.”
Isaac stared not at Cryer’s retreating shadow but at his unwavering back.
After warning Isaac, Cryer forgot his name and presence within just a few steps. His mind was filled with only one person.
Silently, he opened the door to the princess’s study. The sight before his eyes was now familiar.
Rustle, rustle rustle. Mountains of paperwork, the scratching of a pen weaving across paper beyond the piles, and the soft scent of ink.
Skillfully, he pushed aside the confidential documents and found the small head continuously moving the pen. Between strands of red hair shaken up and down by the pen’s movement, the tips of ears showed a faint reddish tint. Likely the cheeks and the skin around the eyes were similarly flushed.
Cryer came up close to Olivia.
“You must know that rest is the cure. Are you deliberately making yourself worse?”
Olivia slowly lifted her head at the low voice just above her.
“Ahem… cough cough cough.”
As soon as she spoke, a dry throat cracked and a harsh cough burst out. Cryer quietly observed her shaking rounded shoulders before speaking.
“If you’re going to ask when I arrived—it was just now. More importantly…”
He left the rest unsaid, but Olivia knew the meaning without hearing it.
“Cough ahem. I’m not stupid enough to purposely worsen my illness. Our ancestors said that strength is national power, after all.”
She cleared her throat, placed the final period on the documents, and added,
“I’ll just look at one more and then rest.”
“You’ve been saying that for days.”
“That’s because there are several documents piled up that I have to check… gasp!”
Before she finished speaking, her chair’s armrest was gripped tightly as the view suddenly rose. She was used to Cryer suddenly lifting her up with one arm, raising her line of sight.
“Rest now.”
“This chair—you do realize how heavy it is, right?”
This was the first time he had lifted her along with the chair.
“It’s heavier than anything else.”
After Cryer put down Olivia and the chair far from the desk in one go, Olivia was stunned.
“The study chair is made to resist assassination attempts, so even five or six strong men couldn’t move it.”
“Assuming those strong men are weak.”
“That’s not something to brush off so easily! Well… maybe you could do it lightly.”
Clearly, her fever was making her lose sense of reality. Cryer, who had once cut down the empire’s fortress walls with a single sword strike, wouldn’t be fazed by a heavy chair.
“You could even stack two or three chairs on your arms and spin around…”
Her pale lips babbled freely until a large hand covered them. Whether his hand was cold or her face was hot, she wasn’t sure.
“Your fever has gone up.”
Hearing his tongue-clicking remark, she realized her face was probably burning. Feeling warm breath from his palm, Cryer removed the hand covering her mouth and lifted the restless Olivia from the chair.
In his arms, she muttered with the pen still in hand,
“But… I really have to finish this much.”
Her voice was muffled and her eyes were reddened by the fever. Cryer laid her on the sofa and brushed down from her round forehead. As his touch soothed her, Olivia closed her eyes, and a familiar voice, mixed with a faint sigh, drifted into her ear.
“Even for a moment.”
Before Cryer finished speaking, Olivia’s tense shoulders relaxed completely. The warmth from him was cool, his hand over her eyes rough, blocking out everything but pitch-black darkness. Somehow… it was comfortable.
Realizing this, Olivia let out a faint, silly smile. To find Cryer comfortable—something she never could have imagined until now. Was it because this man, like a natural disaster no one could stop, was by her side?
“You must have a fever. Your hand is cool.”
“I’ve had a fever for several days.”
“Well… how about the wound on the other hand?”
Olivia turned the subject awkwardly, but Cryer answered willingly.
“It’s healed.”
“Already?”
“Somewhat.”
Her laughter deflated like a punctured balloon.
“That’s too careless. Get proper treatment.”
“It doesn’t interfere with my swordsmanship.”
“Regardless, how long will you keep the palm of your hand pierced? It hurts. Take care of your body. You have to take care of yourself.”
Her voice was quietly mixed with Cryer’s low voice.
“I want to return those words as they are.”
Olivia, lost for words, playfully tapped and scratched the knuckles of Cryer’s hand covering her eyes like a child. Soon, her hand relaxed, and complete silence followed. Cryer quietly listened to Olivia’s even, shallow breathing as she fell asleep as if fainting.
Watching her defenselessly sleeping with eyes closed, Cryer slowly withdrew his hand. Stroking the flushed, hot area around her eyes, Olivia instinctively wriggled and rubbed her face against his cold hand. At that moment, an unguarded smile appeared on Cryer’s lips, unnoticed even by himself.
After covering Olivia with a large blanket, he settled beside her and opened a book. With Olivia’s soft breathing and faint scent nearby, Cryer slowly drifted to sleep.
That night.
Isaac, entering the reception room where knights gathered amid the cool night air, stopped just as he picked up a glass.
“This is not the way…”
Because one knight was surrounded by others, preparing various things. Isaac approached a nearby knight and naturally handed over his glass, nodding toward the busy, smooth-faced knight.
“Are you really planning to go night prowling tonight?”
“That’s what they say.”
Isaac tilted his head as he looked at the solemn knight preparing as if for an inescapable battle. Well, no one who went night prowling had ever returned, so of course he would be solemn.
Pulling his gaze away from the knight he might never see again, Isaac asked casually,
“Isn’t the martial arts tournament happening?”
The knight, already half-drunk after taking Isaac’s glass, frowned.
“The tournament will be held, but not for that kind of thing…”
Though he trailed off, everyone knew what that meant. That smooth-faced knight would be crushed in seconds at the tournament, never catching even a glimpse of the princess’s hair, let alone her attention.
As Isaac reached for another glass, someone suddenly cut in and spoke.
“Why do you insist on courting danger like that?”
A weary-faced knight clicked his tongue and shook his head.
“You could just return to the homeland.”
He looked at the knights going night prowling, or rather, going to die, in disbelief.
“What else?”
“Hm?”
“Nothing, they probably have some reason.”
Isaac gave a vague answer and shut his mouth but internally thought a different answer: they just want to change their fate overnight. Unlike the weary-faced knights who only think of survival because the present is so harsh, the smooth-faced knight had ambition. In other words, he was dreaming of tomorrow, the future.
Despite the weary knight’s words, that knight’s return home would not be a rosy future either. Though he might not be a boiled hunting dog after the hunt, he would not be treated well. He was someone who had failed his assigned task. Even with talents like natural looks and wit, reality was not so kind as to give another chance to a failure.
Watching the knight repeatedly tracing the path on the princess’s court map, Isaac put down the untouched glass. Night prowling, huh? From the moment Isaac set foot in this empire, he had planned to attach himself to a decent noble among the princess’s court nobles. So, he had no interest from the start in rumors from non-knight knights about “taking the princess’s side” or “catching the princess’s eye for a moment of social climb.”
But…
“Don’t mingle with night prowlers.”
That night, the low voice that brushed past him still rang vividly in Isaac’s ears, and he instinctively rubbed his ear.
