ITMFYWCLBU 13

“Ah—then would you help me instead? The pots are rather heavy.”

At Wiejeny’s voice from behind him, Alexis nearly let out a weary sigh.

Ever since the incident in the greenhouse, he knew Clarisse was frightened.

And Alexis, too, was painfully aware that he had failed to restrain himself—aware that he had made Clarisse afraid.

—I can’t marry you.

The instant those unmistakable words of rejection left Clarisse’s lips that night, Alexis had felt as though his heart were being dyed black.

That darkened heart could not forgive Clarisse for trying to slip away from him.

He loved her this much. He adored her. So why wouldn’t it reach her?

Why did Clarisse try to run from him?

He felt certain there was still affection in her eyes when she looked at him—yet perhaps that was only an illusion his own yearning painted for him, and the truth was what he feared most: that she had found another man.

His emotions turned thicker and murkier by the second, gaining a sticky viscosity that clung to him, corroding him from within.

Because he loved her, he couldn’t forgive her. And if she would flee him, then he should simply seize her—forcefully—his blackened heart whispered.

If she meant to run, then he only had to make it impossible for her to run at all.

Driven by that urge, he had tried to steal her mouth with brute force.

A mouth so unlovely as to speak of breaking up—he should have silenced it, taken it for himself.

He knew she would show fear. He knew, and yet he couldn’t stop.

If Joanne’s maid hadn’t come then—if he hadn’t heard the noise—he wouldn’t have let Clarisse go, no matter how she cried.

Perhaps he ought to be grateful that the maid appeared at that moment.

But to drag the maid away, he had to leave Clarisse’s side, and they never managed to make up then and there.

Clarisse might now be on guard, afraid Alexis would force himself on her again.

Even in the carriage during her rides to and from the castle, she kept her small body rigid, head bowed, curled in on herself.

It looked like refusal written into every inch of her.

And even Alexis couldn’t bring himself to touch her like that.

…Hah.

He had thought that with other attendants present today, Clarisse wouldn’t be quite so afraid. He’d planned to help with the work and, in the flow of it, offer an apology for that day.

Cursing his luck, he pasted a smile onto his face and turned.

“Of course. What would you like me to carry?”

She was a princess. Having offered Clarisse help, he couldn’t exactly refuse a royal request.

“That blue pot—please move it to the center.”

“Certainly.”

He started to move as instructed—and for some reason, Wiejeny slid her hand lightly onto his arm.

It made them look as though he were escorting her.

But to shake her off would be an insult.

I can’t read what this princess is thinking.

Lately, she had been closing the distance in ways that felt… deliberate.

On the surface she plays along, but she and His Highness aren’t truly close. So why…?

Wiejeny maintained the appearance of a harmonious brother-and-sister bond with Gracian, but in her heart she found him troublesome.

Both Gracian and Alexis had noticed. That was why they were careful not to approach her unnecessarily.

Yet recently, it was Wiejeny who kept approaching Alexis.

What exactly did she intend to do by drawing near to the crown prince’s aide?

Since Alexis couldn’t discern her aim, he couldn’t reject her outright.

If her purpose was to use his attitude as grounds to frame Gracian, then a careless refusal would only hand her a pretext to criticize the crown prince.

So for now, the safest course was to remain outwardly cordial.

Clarisse had turned her back to him, working on decorations with her fellow attendant, Bruette.

At this point, Alexis wouldn’t be able to find an opening to speak to Clarisse.

When Clarisse glanced back over her shoulder, her back looked—at least to Alexis—as though it were rejecting him.

“Alexis.”

Gracian called him.

Even Wiejeny couldn’t hold Alexis back when the crown prince summoned him. Alexis was, after all, Gracian’s aide.

Wiejeny’s expression flickered with displeasure—only for her to put on a smile the next instant.

“Sorry to borrow you,” she said with demure graciousness, sending him off toward Gracian.

Alexis all but fled, striding quickly to Gracian’s side.

Gracian greeted him with an exasperated look.

“What are you doing? Weren’t you supposed to make up with Clarisse?”

Gracian lowered his voice to a murmur.

He knew Alexis and Clarisse were at odds. With a crown prince so sensitive to emotional undercurrents—and so skilled at coaxing truths from people—there was no hiding anything from him.

When they were alone, it felt lately as though all they did was discuss romance.

The crown prince, who was both Alexis’s superior and friend, seemed unable to stop worrying about Alexis’s love life.

“In front of your fiancée, you cozy up to another woman. Are you an idiot?”

“Even if you say that…”

If Wiejeny weren’t a princess, Alexis could have refused. But with her, a mere knight had no way out.

“Even if you help, keep your distance. Or is this some plan to make Clarisse jealous?” Gracian’s eyes narrowed. “Let me warn you—with things the way they are now, that’s a terrible move.”

“I wasn’t trying to do anything like that.”

“Then go make up with her already.”

“…She looks busy right now.”

“Hah…”

Gracian shook his head, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like pathetic.

“The old you wouldn’t have cared whether she was busy or not. You’d have strolled right over and helped anyway.”

That might be true.

But Alexis couldn’t do it now.

He and Clarisse had quarreled before, but he had never frightened her like that.

Because he knew he was at fault, he couldn’t bring himself to approach her carelessly while she was wary.

“Lately,” Alexis admitted, “I’ve stopped understanding what’s in a woman’s heart.”

It wasn’t women in general, really.

It was Clarisse.

Gracian snorted.

“If anyone understood that, the world would be a much easier place. Women’s feelings are an eternal mystery.”

And perhaps that was precisely why words existed, he added, waving a hand as though tossing the whole problem away.