Chapter 3
maylily
The Crown Prince — that damned Cheodorn — looked back and forth between my foster father and me with eyes sparkling with excitement.
My knees were about to give out. I immediately hurried over, knelt beside my foster father, and grabbed his arm to help him up.
“Ah, no. Don’t do that, Ena. Go inside the mansion.”
His face was utterly white. A silent despair devoured every trace of expression. No kind of despair could be deeper than that.
I stared at him for a moment before turning to Cheodorn. He stood with his arms crossed, shrugging his shoulders as if he couldn’t understand the situation.
“What?”
“Say something already.”
“E-Ena! That’s no way to speak to His Highness, Prince Reynold.”
My foster father looked completely flustered. I glared sharply at Cheodorn instead. Maybe if I looked angry enough, I could intimidate him a bit.
“Father’s misunderstanding you.”
“How’s that my fault? I didn’t do anything.”
“You said something bound to be misunderstood. Anyway, since Father misunderstood—”
“Then that’s the fault of the one who misunderstood, isn’t it?”
I let go of Father’s arm and stood up with a deep sigh. For some reason, his unfamiliar face suddenly overlapped with the face of my old boss — PD Cha Do-hyuk — who used to scold me endlessly. My irritation surged.
Sorry, but I need to deal with my father first. I helped him inside the mansion, then turned back to face Cha Do-hyuk — or Cheodorn, whatever he was now.
“Can’t you just once let something slide and say, ‘Fine, I get it’? Even back then, how could you always be so cold about everything?”
“You want to talk about the past? I was your boss — it was my job to say no when things were wrong. What, should I have just said yes to everything? If so, you should’ve handed your paycheck back.”
I sighed again. He wasn’t wrong. But that wasn’t the point.
“You were too… rigid. Too obsessed with work. It’s great to be rational, but wouldn’t it be nice if you cared about the people around you once in a while?”
Cheodorn tilted his head, clearly not following.
“Why would that be necessary? We were paid to work. Emotional bonding isn’t part of the job. Results matter, that’s all.”
“People aren’t machines! How can you work like that, without any feelings?”
Sure, being good at your job is important. But it’s not like you’re doing it alone!
It’s called teamwork!
“God, you haven’t changed at all. We’re just incompatible. Incompatible!”
And for some reason, when I muttered that last part, Cheodorn’s face lit up with pure delight.
“Mouseball. You really haven’t changed either. You’re exactly the same. Thank you for that.”
With a smile bright as sunlight, he looked at me. For a moment, I just stared back at him — and suddenly thought, well, he’s not my boss anymore, so why should I censor myself?
“Since we’re on the topic — I’ve always wanted to ask. Calling me ‘Mouseball,’ fine, whatever. But why did you always single me out during work? Some staff said it was like only you and I existed on set! Even the cast ended up calling for me because you wouldn’t shut up about ‘Mouseball’!”
My voice rose as I spoke, anger bubbling up again.
“Even an old elementary school classmate I hadn’t spoken to since graduation contacted me! Said they saw the broadcast — asking if that ‘Writer Mouseball’ was me! Sure, it’s a weird name, but still!”
I exhaled sharply and jabbed a finger at him.
“I told you I hate being on camera! I have a disease where I literally die if people pay attention to me!”
“What kind of disease is that?”
Cheodorn asked calmly, but that wasn’t the point right now.
“It’s called death by embarrassment! Anyway, thanks to you, even after you died, my whole world was still about you! Everyone who saw me kept asking about you…”
My words faltered. The emotions I’d buried deep since his death suddenly surged up again, leaving the last part of my sentence sounding more like a bitter murmur.
I’d gotten too emotional and blurted out something I shouldn’t have. When I finally looked up again, Cheodorn was staring at me — his face unreadable, lips curved in an ambiguous smile that was neither fond nor cold.
“It all feels so real now. Seeing you angry like this… I love it. You have no idea how much I missed you.”
Though his expression didn’t show it, his voice trembled with emotion. He opened his mouth again, but closed it, and then simply shut his eyes.
“I thought I’d go mad missing you.”
Then, calm once more, he stepped closer and gently placed his hands on my shoulders. His brows were furrowed in pain, his eyes slightly red.
“Maybe the reason I’ve lived this long was just to see you again.”
And with that, he suddenly pulled me into his arms, burying his face against my shoulder and exhaling a long, relieved sigh.
Wait, hold on. Why are you— I can’t breathe—
I could understand his joy at seeing me again — I’d been happy too. But still, for a man who’s lived twenty-six years in a different world, greeting a former subordinate this intensely was… odd.
What kind of life had Cheodorn been living here?
I’d heard the rumors — that Crown Prince Reynold’s reputation wasn’t exactly stellar. Maybe that’s what made him so desperate.
I raised my head, lost in thought.
It was noon. The sun stood high, and the sky was clear without a single cloud. The weather was so refreshing it seemed to wash my cluttered thoughts clean.
“There are so many people.”
One of the nobles sitting behind me murmured, and he was right — the place was packed.
I looked around the imperial training grounds. Even though the event was supposed to be for high-ranking nobles only, there were quite a lot of attendees.
And among them were plenty of eyes on me. Though it had been five years since I was officially accepted into the Alpine Empire’s noble society, I was still an exotic novelty to them.
A gust of wind rustled through, scattering elm leaves in a flurry. The whispering rustle of leaves was far more beautiful than the hollow chatter of humans.
Closing my eyes, I let the wind’s pure sound drown out the weight of everyone’s stares.
“What’s wrong?”
My foster father leaned toward me.
I opened my eyes to his gentle smile.
“Nothing. It’s just… fascinating. This is my first time attending an imperial event.”
He chuckled softly, patting my head affectionately.
Today was the Imperial Guard’s entrance examination and the knighting ceremony for newly appointed guards. I’d never attended before, but since Rioel was transferring from the First Knights to the Imperial Guard, Father and I had come to watch.
“I hope it’s as exciting as you expect.”
At his warm tone, I placed my hand over my chest and nodded eagerly.
“The Guard’s trials are impressive — you’ll enjoy it.”
That came from Rioel, sitting on my left. He wasn’t taking the entrance test himself, so he’d joined us in the stands. His expression carried quiet pride for his new position.
With that handsome, confident smile, he looked like a hero straight out of a romance drama. No wonder he was popular.
“What are you staring at?”
He raised an eyebrow, and I shook my head quickly. Like I’d actually say what I was thinking.
“Nothing.”
He turned away, unimpressed. My gaze drifted toward the central stands, where the Emperor, Prince Verdi, and Lady Mason — Verdi’s mother — sat together.
That was the issue. Lady Mason wasn’t the Empress. Though she’d borne the Emperor’s child, she’d refused to live as a concubine, so the Emperor had given her the title of “Countess Mason.” But in truth, that’s what she was — a concubine. Prince Verdi wasn’t the crown prince, nor even the Emperor’s eldest son.
So… where was Cheodorn?
As I was wondering that, a man stepped into the center of the arena. His crimson cloak fluttered grandly in the wind. Dressed in a pristine white uniform, he swung his sword once — sharp and sure.
The sight was arresting. The audience erupted in cheers.
The sheer force of his presence made the other knights hesitate. I gaped down at the arena, then turned to Father, puzzled.
“Isn’t that His Highness, Reynold?”
Father clicked his tongue in disbelief.
“So it seems. The Crown Prince himself is choosing the new guards.”
Rioel ruffled his hair with a groan.
“His Majesty loves pushing His Highness to the brink.”
He folded his arms, speaking like he’d seen it all before. Father nodded grimly.
“Is Her Majesty not attending today?” I asked.
Rioel glanced toward Countess Mason.
“Not that she wouldn’t attend — she can’t. She’s avoiding someone’s eyes, clearly.”
“Rioel.”
Father gave him a sharp look. Rioel sighed and shut his mouth.
Then, a whistle blew — signaling the start of the duels.
Usually, the commander or vice commander of the Guard oversaw the final evaluation duel, but this time, Cheodorn himself was stepping in.
“Boooo—”
Jeers rang out. It wasn’t clear whether they were aimed at Cheodorn or his opponent. He ignored them all, lifting his sword again.
The blade caught the sunlight, flashing brilliantly — and that was all I saw. The match was over in an instant.
I blinked, stunned.
Already?
“As expected of His Highness Reynold,” Father said, unsurprised. Rioel chuckled.
“Poor recruits. Of all days, to have the Crown Prince as their examiner.”
He clicked his tongue. Before I could even process that, the second challenger went flying across the arena.
Typically, this final duel served not to determine victory but to measure a knight’s true ability. That was why it was usually done by a high-ranking commander.
Was Cheodorn’s swordsmanship really that powerful? Powerful enough to replace the Guard Captain himself?
“Hey. You might want to close your eyes.”
Rioel’s tone suddenly turned uneasy.
“Huh? Why?”
Before I could react, he cursed under his breath and covered my eyes with his large hand.
Gasps and cries broke out all around us. Something had clearly gone wrong.
I pried his hand away and looked down—
Blood spattered the dirt. A knight was being carried out on a stretcher, his condition so bad I couldn’t tell if he was unconscious… or dead.
What the hell just happened?
