/
Radis felt quite sorry towards him, so she picked up some firewood with the intention of adding them to the fire.
“Your Highness.”
So lost in thought that he didn’t even notice that Radis had approached him, Olivier looked up blankly.
And he was met with the sight of a woman, wearing a fluttery lace nightgown and a cute pink robe atop it, while also hugging firewood in her arms.
Olivier nearly burst into laughter at the absurdity of this scene.
A little embarrassed, Radis explained.
“Rina chose this nightwear for me.”
Radis pushed the wood blocks into the fire familiarly, piling them atop the embers.
“Aren’t you cold? This should make you warm.”
“Mm-hmm, thank you.”
“By any chance, does your throat hurt? Would you like me to bring you some warm tea?”
“That’s alright.”
“Your voice doesn’t sound okay. You must not be used to the cold air we were met with earlier today.”
Misunderstanding Olivier’s strained voice—which was only really due to him holding back his laughter—Radis went to the kitchen and brought back a pot of tea.
“It’s lavender tea. It’ll help you sleep soundly.”
“…Thank you.”
They sat side by side in front of the fireplace, holding their warm teacups and watching the flames burning.
Absent-minded for a moment, something suddenly came to mind.
“Your Highness.”
“Yes?”
“I wanted to bring it up earlier, but I didn’t have the chance. May I ask you something?”
Olivier turned his head and looked at Radis.
Unlike just a moment ago, his face looked warm now, basking under the color of the fire.
Radis gulped.
‘Your Highness, towards me, do you…’
But at that very moment, her rationality hit the back of her head like a sledgehammer.
‘A-A-Are you crazy? How could you ask that!’
Radis dropped her head, her lips opening and closing silently.
Then, Olivier spoke.
“…I don’t think I can answer what you’d like to ask me now.”
Radis hardened like ice.
“What…?”
“The person who wants me dead.”
Olivier smiled brightly as he saw Radis staring back at him, her mouth agape.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to die that easily.”
Contrary to the weight of his words, his tone was infinitely gentle, as if he was soothing a child.
Seeing his kind gaze upon her, Radis realized.
‘He’s trying to reassure me. Even though he’s the one who’s suffering under all this.’
The tumult she had felt just now soon subsided, and her heart ached as if someone was squeezing her heart.
While he was trying to hide his pain like this, she couldn’t help but feel emotional.
The tip of her nose started to sting.
But she didn’t want to look weak.
She couldn’t do that in front of him, when he was doing his best to hide his wounds for her sake.
To hide the pain that she was also feeling, Radis likewise smiled ambiguously.
Was it because of the flames of the fireplace?
The atmosphere surrounding them began to feel exceptionally hot.
Olivier’s violet eyes, which had always looked cool, also turned red as if they were heating up.
The heat from his eyes radiated towards Radis’ face.
His gaze was exceedingly warm, and his breath trembled ever so softly.
Radis was surprised by this discovery.
How did he ever look like a cold statue before? Like a doll?
She felt a faint shudder run down her spine.
Radis was seized with the urge to reach out and touch his face.
His cheeks looked so warm and soft, deeply flushed by the flames in front of them, rather than seeming like the texture of a cold pearl.
But no. She couldn’t do that.
This man was the Third Imperial Prince of the Empire. Touching him was not as easy as petting a kitten.
Once more, Radis realized something.
Like breathing and like mana, emotions were similar.
No one knows what kind of emotions someone else is holding within their heart until they are uttered.
She turned away from him, taking in a slow inhale of the cold air.
Then, Olivier opened his lips to speak.
“Did God… send you to me?”
At that, Radis’ eyes went wide as she looked at him once more.
“What?”
Olivier smiled shyly.
“It feels as if God has sent you to end my suffering.”
‘Your Highness, what are you talking about?’
Radis wanted to ask.
However, the lingering heat in Olivier’s eyes was stopping her lips from moving.
Radis had no choice but to stay silent once more.
“That day, during my birthday celebration at the Marquis’ estate, such agony shook me.”
“……?”
Radis recalled how he had been back then.
That day, Olivier carried himself with an icy, but beautiful air to him, like a sharp disk made entirely out of silver. He looked perfect.
Was he suffering, even at that very moment?
Olivier swept a lock of his hair back.
Hair that was like silver thread, sparkling in the red light.
He took a deep breath before speaking again.
“My birthday is the day I look forward to the least.”
Somehow, it felt as if he was confessing a secret.
After saying so, Olivier let out a long, drawn-out sigh.
It was the kind of sigh that sounded as if a tangled line was coming undone in his heart.