Chapter 37. Don’t Cross the Line

2023.11.06.

Clade reached habitually toward the seat beside him.

The slightly damp fabric, a few strands of black hair, an unusually disheveled spot beneath his fingertips, and the sensation of sunlight catching on his long, drooping eyelashes—all of it brought him back to consciousness.

“……What are you doing?”

Though it was he who was startled to find someone else there upon waking, it was the small figure crouched on the floor who flinched upward in response, as if caught mid-mischief.

Yuan, her black hair neatly scattered over the pale green dress with a slightly scooped back, peeked back at him.

Clade squinted against the streaming sunlight and examined what she held in her small hands.

She was gripping a strange, greasy brush-like object.

“What are you doing? In someone else’s room.”

Yuan flinched like a guilty child, then quickly turned back and busied her hands again.

Clade’s eyebrow twitched.

His long legs emerged from beneath the folded blanket and moved toward her.

Yuan, now frantic like someone carrying out a secret mission, swiftly darted toward the door like an agile squirrel.

Clade walked over to where Yuan had been fidgeting on the floor.

“That rocking chair creaks too much, so……”

“…….”

“To be honest, I sat on it lightly this morning and was startled by how loud it was. I was afraid His Highness might wake up. So……”

Yuan had oiled Clade’s rocking chair.

Part of it was due to the influence of steward Gustav.

Whenever the rocking chair Clade leaned back in let out its grating noise, steward Gustav would always sigh, “It’s my lifelong wish to oil that rocking chair someday.”

But because Clade disliked others touching his belongings, Gustav had always been too cautious to act, especially within the bedroom.

That’s why Yuan had taken matters into her own hands.

He didn’t scold her, nor did he praise her. He simply looked down at the legs of the rocking chair she had oiled.

“I heard it was made for the late Emperor, is that true? It must be a remarkable chair for you to keep it so close.”

Yuan awkwardly smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

Receiving no response, she casually passed by him and naturally stepped toward the sunlit window.

“I wondered why everything seemed a bit restless this morning—two unfamiliar gardeners arrived. They’re all busy because there are flowers planted in winter that bloom in summer. Can you see them?”

Clade walked silently toward the window. The snow in patches across the garden had melted significantly, revealing its usual barrenness in full.

“Could I also share my thoughts about the garden with them? That is, if His Highness permits it.”

Yuan asked, gathering courage as she looked up with her dewy purple eyes.

Clade’s gaze shifted from the busy scene outside to her.

Suppressing her nervousness, she forced her lips into a relaxed expression—just as Clade’s hand reached toward her.

“!”

Instinctively hunching her shoulders and tightly closing her eyes, she soon opened them wide, as if grasping at the fleeting warmth that had gently touched her forehead without malice.

Yuan covered her forehead with both hands, where the warmth had vanished.

Her gaze naturally followed the white fingers that had lightly brushed her forehead and retreated without causing pain.

Though his hand had touched her forehead, her cheeks burned as if on fire.

For a split second, she froze as if struck by lightning.

“You can just do what you think is right. You don’t need permission for every little thing.”

His indifferent reply made her heart race inexplicably.

It’s just tension. Just tension.

Yuan casually walked to the rocking chair and stared at Clade, who had slumped back into it.

An itchy, tingling sensation ran from her spine to the tips of her ears, unbearable.

She wanted to say something.

She wanted to be certain he didn’t truly dislike her.

A suffocating urge rose within her—she wished he would just stay a little longer, confirm that there was a place for Yuan here.

“There’s a dog in the west wing that looks like a wolf.”

“…….”

“They said its name is Oliver. It’s a dog His Highness brought home and raised when you were little—”

“……Hold on.”

The peaceful, tingling atmosphere instantly turned cold.

Yuan, who had been rambling to keep the conversation going, froze mid-breath with his interruption.

Without even opening his eyes, Clade continued speaking.

“Don’t cross the line.”

His voice held no intense emotion, nor did it sound like he was scolding her too harshly.

“…….”

Yet that nearly colorless, low voice, devoid of any discernible feeling, pricked at Yuan’s tear ducts.

She had thought they’d grown a little closer.

But the moment she felt that, it was as if they had suddenly drifted far apart again.

“……Yes.”

Yuan swallowed her tears and barely managed to reply.

Thankfully—

Clade still had his eyes closed.

That man didn’t see her foolish, disappointed face, the face of someone foolishly hoping again.

Long after Yuan quietly left Clade’s bedroom,

the rocking chair he had been lounging in slowly began to move.

The chair, which had groaned for so long carrying its master, finally stopped crying.

***

Yuan fled Clade’s bedroom and locked herself in her “small study” for the entire day.

She gathered medicinal herbs growing like weeds in every corner of the garden, and occasionally, with Clade’s permission, collected more from the edge of the White Forest. Her study’s most frequent visitor was undoubtedly Hena.

“Tomorrow’s payday! I’ll pay you for all the medicine I’ve taken so far.”

“Don’t worry about it, Hena. It’s not that much.”

“Roxenhardt is so remote—cough medicine costs several times more than in other territories, my lady.”

“It’s my choice. If you pay me, I’ll get upset.”

Hena opened her mouth as if to protest, then pressed her lips tightly together in a grimace before affectionately burying her small face against Yuan’s shoulder.

“Thank you, my lady. Thanks to the medicine you made, my siblings made it through this winter without their usual nagging illnesses. The other maids are the same too.”

Hena pulled out small tea bags her siblings made for fun and sold at the market, shaking them gently.

“It’s not fine enough for you to drink, my lady, but it’s famous around here. They call it ‘Full-Belly Tea’! My siblings insisted they had to give you something……”

“Full-Belly Tea?”

“There’s a strange weed that grows even through frozen ground in winter. When dried and made into tea bags, the tea makes you feel quite full. For poor people, there’s no better tea to survive winter. Surprisingly, it’s also rich in flavor and delicious.”

“Let me try it.”

Yuan’s gloomy face sparkled with curiosity, and Hena eagerly brewed the tea.

Sitting at the tiny tea table, the taste was indeed richer than cheap tea could suggest. The roasted, nutty aroma warmed a stomach that had skipped breakfast and lunch.

As Yuan drank contentedly, Hena carefully observed her face—then broached the subject.

“My lady, did you have a fight with the master?”

“Ah.”

Yuan’s expression darkened again.

“No. Not a fight. I just asked His Highness a rather presumptuous question.”

Yuan knew well enough that a lady of the house shouldn’t reveal marital matters to servants—it would be a loss of dignity.

But in this isolated mansion, with Yuan occupying an ambiguous position—neither noble, nor commoner, nor truly royal—her only support was the household staff.

Besides, Hena had been in this mansion since she was very young. Perhaps, just perhaps, it was okay to share this much.

“My lady, you’re the master’s wife. How could any question be presumptuous?”

Hena replied, sounding slightly angry.

Yuan looked at her, slightly surprised by her reaction.

Perhaps, if she asked Hena now about this mansion—or about Clade—she might finally hear something.

“I still don’t know much about His Highness, or about this mansion. Even about Oliver……”

“Ah.”

“It would be best to ask His Highness directly, but the situation isn’t right.”

“My lady.”

Hena’s eyes flickered intensely.

She placed the teapot she was holding onto the table and stood before Yuan, hands respectfully clasped.

“Hena?”

“I didn’t mention this earlier on purpose.”

Hena looked straight at Yuan with determined, resolute eyes, as if steeling herself.

“I am the granddaughter of Lady Margaret, who was His Highness Clade’s nursemaid.”

“What?”

“I can’t tell you everything about the master’s late wife— the steward has repeatedly warned me never to speak of it…… But now, I want to tell you about Oliver, and about this mansion.”

***

Golden hair that shimmered as if forged from molten gold. Amethyst-colored eyes like the finest craftsmanship of a renowned artisan. Features so perfect they seemed sculpted by divine hands, stroke by stroke.

The First Prince, Clade Euphris, usually wore a somewhat stern expression—but when he smiled, it was as if the entire world brightened.

“Brother, wait! Take me with you!”

“I told you to hold my hand, Apollini!”

Especially when he was with his younger sister, Princess Apollini Euphris, four years his junior.

To the Emperor and Empress—renowned for their beauty and compassionate care for the people—these two siblings were treasures beyond measure.

Clade, in particular, was exceptionally brilliant. At just seven years old, he took the Academy’s entrance exam, the Yucalorea, and ranked first, surpassing even the most promising prodigies.

Not only that—he was so naturally gifted in physique and strength that the Academy’s fencing master personally recommended early admission.

Naturally, the people adored Prince Clade Euphris.

For example, when the prince turned ten, his portrait was quietly copied by unknown artists and sold like hotcakes. The newspaper issued for the prince’s birthday celebration sold out instantly—printing presses ran all day long, yet couldn’t keep up with demand.

In those days, it was only natural for people to carry a small portrait copied by a humble artist, or a clipping of the prince’s face from the newspaper, close to their hearts.

But those brilliant, peaceful days did not last long.

“Your Highness! Your Highness!”

It was when Clade was carrying his frail sister Apollini on his back, showing her around the garden of the First Prince’s Palace.

His mother, Empress Eleonore, stood among the rare Vitochina flowers she had specially brought in to celebrate Clade’s fourteenth birthday.

Suddenly, his uncle on his mother’s side, Marquis Mosan Rev, rushed across the garden—usually so composed, now disheveled and frantic.

“What’s wrong, Uncle?”

On a snowy day, amid the blooming Tibochna Grandiflora flowers.

The day he remembered his mother embracing him, gifting him the flower known as the “Flower of Glory.”

“Your Highness, Your Highness! This is no time for that!”

“Lower your voice. Apollini has just fallen asleep.”

“The Emperor and Empress have been seriously injured!”

The treasures of the Euphris family.

First Prince Clade Euphris was about to face the greatest turning point of his life.