1
7. I Fell for You
Daphne stared at Fabian's face. The man with red hair and blue eyes smiled cheerfully.
She simply could not understand why he would go to such lengths for her. Timid as she was, Daphne could not bring herself to argue and only looked at Fabian.
"My lady, why do you keep running away?"
"Because you keep chasing after me……."
"Is that wrong? You're the one who runs away first. I just want to talk with you."
"Talk about what……"
When Daphne stammered and turned her head away, Fabian grinned.
"If you keep dodging me, I have no choice but to keep chasing you."
"……"
"I have so many things I'm curious about when it comes to you."
When she looked at him with an expression that said she couldn't understand, Fabian grinned again. Why did he always go around smiling like that? Was the world really that happy to him? Daphne harbored slightly crooked thoughts.
"You're curious about why I have so many questions, aren't you?"
"……"
"Aren't you? You must be terribly curious."
Daphne found that slyness of his irritating. Furrowing her brow slightly, pursing her lips as if to say something, Daphne found this version of herself unfamiliar.
What is this?
Whenever she dealt with others, she always carried anxiety and resignation.
It was only natural. She never knew when these people might curse her or lash out at her. Asherad was included in that. Asherad was one of those who made Daphne the most anxious.
Which was to say, she had never had the luxury of even thinking someone was "annoying." That fact made her own emotions feel strange. Whether he knew it or not, Fabian let out a sigh.
"You're so quiet, it's boring, and there's no charm to it at all……. Ahew. Sorry."
"……"
"I suppose it's because I badmouthed that great Crown Prince, isn't it? Alright, I won't say such things anymore."
Fabian raised both hands to show he meant no attack. When Daphne looked at him, he gave a faint chuckle.
"You won't avoid me anymore, right?"
When Daphne nodded, Fabian's expression relaxed with relief. It was certainly easier to look at that man's smiling face than at Asherad's. A peace without any precariousness or fragility.
That ease, that peace, felt so strange that Daphne spoke up of her own accord.
"So then, Sir Knight, why do you keep chasing after me?"
At those words, Fabian's eyes sparkled. The young man, smiling as if Daphne's question delighted him beyond measure, said:
"The reason I chase after you is…"
"……"
"I fell for you at first sight."
At those words, Daphne's eyes went wide. It was utterly absurd. He fell for her? What did that even mean? Fabian rolled his eyes as if slightly embarrassed, then spoke.
"Yes. I fell for you."
"……"
"I like you."
What should she say in response to that? When Daphne instinctively began to turn away, Fabian hastily said:
"Don't run away again!"
"……"
"Because if you run, I won't be able to bear it. Honestly, I've been watching you since the very first time we met."
"……"
"For more than an entire season."
Someone likes me.
Daphne knew nothing about Fabian. She hadn't even fallen for him at first sight. Which meant that she did not love Fabian.
And yet, in Daphne's life, Fabian had remained deeply, profoundly in her memory.
Someone has fallen for me. Unless she misunderstood the meaning of "fell for," it meant he harbored romantic feelings.
Someone says they like someone as lowly as me.
Someone as insignificant as me.
"My lady? Why—why? Do you dislike it that much?"
Daphne felt a surge of emotion. Suppressing the tears that threatened to fall, Daphne shook her head.
Why was it, she wondered. Even though Asherad cherished her, that man's light teasing, that simple remark about falling for her at first sight, felt to her so important, so heavy.
"You won't run away?"
Nod. At Daphne's reply, Fabian very carefully placed his hand atop Daphne's head. It was such a tender gesture. Daphne ended up shedding tears after all.
Over the years she had lived, Daphne had cried many times. Pity for her circumstances, longing for her mother—she had cried from pain, from suffering.
But these tears were somehow different.
She could not tell whether they were tears of joy, tears of relief, or tears of pity for herself, who had never even received such love.
Daphne kept staring at Fabian without even wiping her flowing tears. Eventually, this man reached out his fingers and wiped her tears away.
"Um… so, what's your answer?"
Fabian said awkwardly. Daphne made a puzzled expression.
He likes me. Isn't that the end of it? Seeing Daphne's face, Fabian was silent for a long while, then spoke as if sighing.
"Alright. I understand. Understood."
"What?"
"I'll give you time to get to know me, too."
"……"
"From now on, I'll come to see you every day, as much as I can. So then, my cuckoo lady."
"……"
"You should get to know me, too."
At Fabian's words, Daphne gave a faint smile. Somehow, it felt as though a spring breeze were blowing.
* * *
"Uh, Your Highness, that is……"
Ranslot said with an awkward expression. Where Asherad was headed was the spot where Daphne and Fabian stood.
They were once again talking about something. Daphne was wearing a soft expression.
"Why?"
Asherad said to Ranslot as he watched them.
"I'm sorry! It's my fault for the training I……"
"No."
Asherad raised a hand to cut off Ranslot's excuses.
"There's no need to stop them anymore."
Asherad gave a slight smile. He turned his back and walked away. Brilliant white sunlight hung over Daphne's face.
Asherad turned away as if it were of no concern to him whatsoever. Ranslot made an expression of sheer disbelief. Wasn't he the Crown Prince who had so hated seeing her grow close to anyone?
Why on earth was he acting this way?
In any case, as long as Fabian alone wasn't dangerous, it would be fine. Ranslot looked back.
A warm warmth lingered between the two of them.
* * *
"Congratulations on your official engagement, Aunt."
Asherad approached the woman who looked utterly bored. The woman, her gold hair tinged with red twisted into a bun, sat in the waiting room with a listless expression.
Even that made her look beautiful as a painting. She gave a sorrowful smile.
A banquet celebrating the engagement of Thalassa's youngest princess and the Emperor. Asherad smiled even more radiantly as he watched the woman despairing over her tragic engagement.
"Welcome, Asherad."
"Ah, should I be calling you Mother now?"
At those words, tears welled up in Callista's eyes. The maids and servants scrambled in alarm to stop her, but Callista showed no intention of stopping her tears.
"Everyone, step back for a moment."
Asherad dismissed all the subordinates and approached Callista.
"You look as though you're struggling, Mother."
"Do not call me Mother!"
At that sharp remark, Asherad withdrew the hand he had extended toward her.
"I was deceived. I was completely deceived!"
"……Are you not happy? You will become the Empress of the Empire, Aunt."
"How could I possibly be happy, branded as an old man's bride?"
Callista shot a glare at Asherad with reddened tears. Asherad looked at it indifferently, then soon lowered his voice.
"His Majesty will be arriving here soon. Please wipe your tears."
Asherad took out a handkerchief from his coat and wiped Callista's tears for her.
"The mere thought of an old man's hands touching me makes me sick with disgust!"
She shook her head as if shuddering. Asherad grasped Callista's shoulders.
"Aunt. Do you know how foolish an act it is to say such things to me right now?"
"What?"
"I am His Majesty's son. If I were to report this to him, what do you intend to do about it?"
Callista flinched. She looked at Asherad with a frightened face.
"If you intend to bare your emotions so recklessly to everyone and throw such tantrums, stop it at once."
"You—you!"
Callista raised her hand to strike Asherad's cheek. But she could not bring herself to do it.
"The reason you cannot strike me is because I am speaking the truth, is it not?"
When Asherad asked coldly, Callista bit her lip. Asherad raised his hand and caressed the lips painted with pink rouge.
Lifting her carelessly placed gloved hand, Asherad spoke.
"Callista."
For a moment, her heart pounded. He smoothly slipped off the silk glove she wore. It felt dizzying, as if he were undressing her.
Asherad's bare hand overlaid that bare skin. It burned as though scorched by fire. To the noblewoman staring at him with a tear-streaked face, Asherad said:
"I will help you."
He wore a devil's smile and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. When Callista flinched at that, he gave a cool smile.
"That 'old man' will never lay a hand on you."
The face looking up at him from where he knelt wore a confident smile. The kiss on the back of her hand was achingly sweet, as if a devil were tempting her.
But she was no priestess or saint who would resist temptation.
The corners of Callista's mouth lifted. The woman tempted by the devil gave in to it with a shy smile.
* * *
The following spring, the marriage between the Emperor and Callista proceeded smoothly. Perhaps something had changed within her, but Callista no longer defied the Emperor's words.
Her temper, which occasionally flared up, was something the Emperor could sufficiently overlook as endearing.
The Kingdom of Thalassa provided an enormous dowry and saltpeter, while the Empire sent cannons crafted by skilled artisans. It was a satisfying trade between the two nations.
A young and beautiful bride. Scarce resources. Abundant gold. All of it.
Though the bride, the very item of the trade, wore the expression of a dying corpse.
Callista, her red-tinged gold hair twisted up, displayed her purity with fresh white flowers. She had applied her makeup as modestly as possible, but her ornate features only stood out all the more.
Standing beside the aged Emperor, Callista looked almost like his daughter. Yet not a single noble mentioned it.
Asherad congratulated the two on their "beautiful union." For an instant, a faint smile crossed Callista's face, then vanished.
Meanwhile, the Emperor's gaze was directed elsewhere—not at his Empress. At a maid carrying plates. The Emperor was watching that golden hair. The Crown Prince glanced at it briefly.
And so, that precarious family was complete.