ATPL 39

“Let me ask you straightforwardly.”

“Please, go ahead, Miss Fleur.”

“Was there any… inappropriate interaction between Your Grace and me that I shouldn’t talk about?”

Anais asked in an almost solemn tone.

“By inappropriate interaction, you mean…”

“You know… that. I can hardly bring myself to say it, but…”

“…”

“The kind of thing that, if it got out, might ruin my chances of ever getting married.”

Cesar tilted his head slightly.

“Miss Fleur, this may be slightly off-topic, but we are engaged. Albeit secretly.”

“…And?”

“If I understand what you’re implying, even if something had happened, wouldn’t it still be acceptable? Since it would’ve been with your fiancé.”

“…Count Rezaie.”

She knew he was joking. But Anais was in no mood for jokes.

Seeing how serious and desperate she looked, the mage softened his expression and answered.

“If I may share my personal feelings…”

“Don’t include your feelings, just tell me the facts!”

Anais cut him off, nearly hysterical.

Looking into her tearful green eyes, Cesar dropped his shoulders and spoke gently.

“…There weren’t any.”

“…Thank goodness…”

Anais collapsed back onto the sofa, making it shake.

“Something seems different about Miss Fleur’s personality, doesn’t it…?”

Elliot muttered to himself.

Always holding her chin high, always acting dignified and confident, always pretending to be graceful, or maybe she was graceful.

Either way, the Anais who never backed down from anything felt completely different now.

Anais fired back, her face on the verge of tears.

“When even the continent’s strongest knight was shocked, wouldn’t it be weirder if Anais stayed calm?!”

“…You have a point.”

The situation had grown so absurd that it felt like a comedy sketch.

Cesar, watching the two of them, gave a wry smile.

“Indeed. If that ‘strongest knight’ hadn’t been here, I would’ve gone on thinking Miss Fleur was just role-playing with me.”

“…”

“You see, Miss Fleur believed people like me enjoyed role-play.”

So, the mage had fallen in love with nineteen-year-old Anais or rather, Number 33.

If it could be called love at all.

More accurately, Cesar had started serving her as his ‘master’.

When he met Number 33, he realized he enjoyed being controlled and degraded by someone else.

And somehow, Number 33 figured that out and took full advantage.

Even in Reims, she had been busy hosting tea parties and business presentations to further her scam.

She probably needed connections to convert jewels into money. Anais guessed that Cesar, who was blindly devoted to her, must have been quite useful during all that.

“So… you enjoyed being used?”

“Yes.”

Cesar smiled faintly at Anais’s careful question.

“You probably think I’m strange.”

A shadow passed over his handsome face. Only then did Anais begin to understand that the mage’s cold demeanor wasn’t just surface-level.

There was a grief in him that seemed too deep for someone barely twenty.

“You see, I was always expected to take the lead.”

“…”

“Even when I didn’t want to, the moment my sister saw me hesitate, she assumed I would. That left me feeling like I had to. But I just couldn’t.”

Many people dream of being born as a king’s son.

But Cesar had never wanted that. Just as some people claim, “my life is my own,” others simply aren’t wired that way.

He only enjoyed practicing magic and expanding his guild. He didn’t even care about the fees. Cesar had more magical power than he knew what to do with.

“To the point of scattering those useless flowers…”

“Aren’t they pretty?”

Cesar smiled brightly. And that was when Elliot realized, this mage truly didn’t belong in the role of prince.

A king is expected to prioritize efficiency. Even if you call it a job assigned at birth, the role demands constant calculation to maximize benefit for the country, or for oneself.

But Cesar didn’t care about any of that. He chased things that were beautiful, lovely, and exciting. In that sense, he was a hedonist.

Rezaie didn’t discriminate between men and women in matters of succession or inheritance. As a city-state built on magic, it had different values. That’s why Cesar felt relieved that there was a First Princess.

But no one believed he didn’t want the throne. Not even his mother.

“Become king. Why don’t you want it? You have more talent than the firstborn!”

His mother grew furious at his lack of ambition, calling him broken, deficient, and strange.

His half-sister, the First Princess, also condemned him, convinced he was hiding his ambitions.

“Stop acting sly. I know what’s really in that twisted heart of yours.”

Caught between them, Cesar withered like a flower in the shadows.

And a flower that never sees sunlight can’t grow straight. He sighed.

“I don’t want anything. Being king means making endless decisions and ruling over others. But I want to be ruled. That’s why I was so happy when I met Miss Fleur.”

“But…”

“I know.”

Cesar nodded slightly as he looked at her.

“I understand that Miss Fleur, having lost her memories, is no longer my master. And through our talks, I’ve come to see you have no desire to be one again.”

“…I’m glad you understand.”

“Maybe the person who possessed you, what did you call it? A possessor? Was a deity, descending just for my sake.”

“…Are you being serious?”

Anais narrowed her eyes sharply. But Cesar only smiled as he took her hand.

“Of course, I know that the current Miss Fleur is a completely different person. You don’t need to be so wary.”

Cesar now seemed entirely composed, as if the teary-eyed mage begging “master” had never existed.

Perhaps talking things through had helped. It was similar for Anais. That embarrassingly formal title, ‘master’, no longer made her want to bury her face in shame.

More accurately, she’d already burned through the last of her shame earlier while pretending not to hear anything.

“Anyway, Lord Resaloniki.”

“Yes?”

“About this complaint, while it’s factually accurate, it’s not true that Anais Fleur exploited or abused me for personal gain. I wasn’t used. I cooperated fully of my own will.”

“…”

Elliot’s face twisted in a complicated expression. Seeing it, Cesar gave an awkward smile.

“You must think I’m… perverted. But I can’t help it.”

“Ah, no!”

Why? The moment she saw his beautiful face, touched by sorrow and emptiness, Anais couldn’t help but blurt out in denial.

“I, Anais, don’t think that at all.”

“Miss Fleur, I’m grateful for your kindness. I’m comforted by your warmth. But as I said, I know you’re no longer my master…”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Anais drew in a slow breath and chose her words carefully.

She wasn’t especially good at comforting people. But she knew which words to use in times like this.

“I grew up in Belfast. It’s a port city, lots of people come and go.”

“…”

“Naturally, you see all kinds of people. Since our family does a lot of trade, I’ve met a wide variety, even if not everyone.”

“…”

“Your Highness, you’re just a little different from others. That’s all.”

Cesar’s rose-colored eyes softened, warmth blooming in them. Then joy slowly followed.

“Miss Fleur…”

The atmosphere between them grew gentle, too gentle, considering they weren’t alone.

“Forgive me for cutting into this heartwarming moment, but I believe something still needs to be said.”

The cold voice, of course, belonged to Elliot Resaloniki. Both Cesar and Anais startled and turned toward him.

Elliot sighed, then continued:

“I’ve heard Prince Cesar Rezaie’s testimony. But there’s still an unresolved issue.”

“…What issue?”

“If what you say is true…”

“Yes?”

“The only question left is whether Your Highness was an accomplice. Did you knowingly cooperate in the thirty-three fraud cases committed by the entity possessing Anais Fleur’s body?”

Thud.

The mage’s cheerful expression drained of color.