Lyna had omitted the part about Jane, which left him curious.
As Lyna closed her mouth, Ainar also remained silent, waiting for her to continue.
But it didn’t take long before Lyna shrugged and spoke up again.
“Jane was there and she went into the forest. I had to check what she was doing.”
“If it was Jane.”
“Yes. She used to be my shadow, my successor before my regression. If I were to leave the family, she would become the head.”
Though it was not explicitly stated, even before her regression, Lyna had been sentenced to death, implying that Jane had taken over the family.
Lyna spoke with a tone reminiscent of reciting an old book, but Ainar, who had heard a rough version of her story prior to her regression, refrained from further inquiries.
Despite being her sole sympathizer and the only comrade who truly understood the wearisome fate that had plagued her entire life, he knew better than to intrude on her inner thoughts with mere curiosity or suspicion.
If necessary, Lyna would explain the complete story. If she needed him, he would be ready to lend a helping hand at any time.
Ainar swiftly changed the topic.
“You mentioned that the black tiger was docile when you first encountered it?”
“Yes.”
“But why did it suddenly go into a rampage?”
The reason for the black tiger, which had initially shown little interest in them and seemed more annoyed, to suddenly change its behavior was clear.
The arrow that bore the vivid emblem of the Third Prince, lodged in the black tiger’s body.
“The Third Prince shot the arrow.”
“What?”
Observing Ainar’s face, filled with questions about why the prince would do such a thing in that situation, a faint smile formed at the corner of Lyna’s mouth, eventually transforming into a smirk.
At the time, she hadn’t given it much thought, preoccupied as she was with the rampaging black tiger and the presence of Jane.
‘…The first arrow was shot by His Highness, the Third Prince…’
Lyna had instantly grasped Smith’s intentions from the words of a hunter while chasing the black tiger, just before returning to the safe zone.
Had she not experienced such scenarios frequently before her regression?
His tendency to create deliberate incidents to prove his own worth, involving Lyna, and attempting to resolve them with his power.
Although the circumstances this time were different, the underlying intention must have been the same.
Likely…
“He must have tried to do what you did with the black tiger.”
“Smith couldn’t bring down the black tiger in one shot, especially not with an arrow?”
Ainar, genuinely puzzled once again, tilted his head.
“No, don’t tell me he provoked the black tiger, planning not to save you by killing it but to run away alone with you?”
Lyna did not respond; she simply picked up her teacup, causing Ainar to chuckle.
“He’s shallower than a piece of paper.”
Even a passing monkey would conceal its derisive laughter upon witnessing such an incredulous expression.
“The saying that crisis is an opportunity should not be used in cases like this.”
In agreement with Ainar’s chuckle, Lyna reached for a teaspoon, attempting to pick it up but failed.
-Clatter.
The spoon slipped from her grasp, falling just out of her reach as it caught on her sleeve.
Even in such a trivial matter, luck seemed to evade her as the teaspoon remained tantalizingly beyond her outstretched hand.
In response, Lyna rose from her seat with practiced ease.
Standing up and bending over to retrieve a fallen object from the floor was an action that undermined the dignity and pride of a noble. Consequently, in the Bolsheik family, small utensils like teaspoons that Lyna used were always available in abundance, unlike in the Prince’s palace. Moreover, there were no remaining servants to fetch a replacement teaspoon.
Undeterred, Lyna stood up and promptly reached down to retrieve the spoon. When it comes to her bad luck, dignity, or anything else, they lose their meaning. Haven’t she learned this already through countless experiences?
Besides, she was with Ainar now.
Simultaneously, Ainar also stood up.
Instead of adhering to formalities, he chose to assist Lyna.
“I’ll pick it up,” he offered.
“No, I will,” she insisted.
In the moment that both of them rose simultaneously and inclined to retrieve the same item…
-Thump.
A dull collision resonated, causing a brief pause in their breaths.
Ainar found himself inches away from Lyna’s face, their noses almost touching.
Their lukewarm breaths mingled, imbuing the air with an unspoken warmth.
Locked in each other’s gaze, their lips still in contact.
Amidst the clear blue ocean of Lyna’s eyes, a flicker of ash gray appeared.
Then, Lyna’s eyes twitched ever so slightly.
A momentary, searing pain surged from their collided lips.
But neither of them flinched.
It was an unforeseen accident, impossible to predict.
Yet, unlike most individuals who would typically blush or recoil in embarrassment, they did not.
They simply stared at each other, a vacant expression on their faces.
Eventually, Lyna blinked slowly and began to retreat.
True to the phrase ‘smacked lips,’ a darker shade of blood began to well up within her crimson lips, as if bursting from within.
The woman, whose eyes remained eerily calm even without a gust of wind, parted her lips.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
Ainar responded with few words.
“No, it’s my fault.”
His reply was akin to two hands inadvertently colliding while reaching out…
“There’s blood on your lips,” Ainar observed.
Upon hearing his words, Lyna bit her lower lip.
The pain made it abundantly clear that the accident they had just experienced was more than a mere brush of hands.
Lyna, her gaze fixed on Ainar’s lips, which appeared perfectly unharmed compared to her own, posed a question.
“Is this also a matter of luck?”
Her inquiry came out of nowhere, but Ainar accepted it naturally.
“It’s more a matter of resilience, or perhaps the angle of the collision.”
Lyna furrowed her brow.
Angle? She distinctly felt his lips collide with her teeth.
“Can lips be trained as well?” she asked, her frown deepening.
In response, Ainar shook his head and shrugged.
As Lyna’s brow furrowed even further, Ainar chuckled and gestured with his hand.
“No, um. I’ve never heard of lip training before.”
“Well, I suppose I’m the first person you’ve had a lip collision with.”
In that moment, Ainar tilted his head as if a realization had struck him, his expression subtly changing.
“I don’t think the conversation was meant to go like this.”
Although it was another statement out of context, Lyna accepted it without hesitation.
“Did you expect me to blush and say, ‘Oh my! Our lips touched!’ or ‘Uh… our lips brushed!’?”
Despite the realistic scenario she presented, Ainar chuckled, shaking his head.
“I didn’t anticipate such an exaggerated reaction, but I thought you might be momentarily flustered at least.”
Lyna let out a light sigh and shook her head.
“If I were flustered by every incident or accident, I wouldn’t be able to sit here.”
“A wise response to a silly question.”
As the Second Prince and the heir to the dukedom, it was their role to remain composed and evaluate the situation regardless of what occurred.
“When those in power are flustered and indecisive…”
“…the lower ranks descend into chaos.”
Indeed. If those in authority are in disarray when an accident takes place, it would inevitably plunge those waiting for their decisions into a state of anxiety and confusion.
“And,” Lyna interjected, prompting Ainar to inquire further.
“And?”
“I was quite surprised myself.”
Despite her expression and voice showing no signs of surprise, Ainar nodded in agreement.
“Me too.”
As if on cue, both of them released a soft sigh and burst into laughter.
Once the laughter subsided, Lyna hesitated as she moved to touch her lips, only for Ainar to take hold of her hand and gently lower it.
“It seems the blood has welled up from the inside.”
“We should apply some ointment to prevent bruising.”
Without beating around the bush, Lyna voiced her thoughts as they came to her.
“The rumor of the Bolsheik Princess leaving the Second Prince’s palace with swollen lips would be an unpleasant sound to my ears, even without actually hearing it.”
“Especially when it’s just the two of us in the room.”
With a smirk, Lyna responded to Ainar’s remark.
“That rumor might circulate, but the rumors about your bad habits will spread even further.”
“Oh.”
“The hunting tournament is over, so not only the Third Prince, but also the First Prince will begin to make their moves. And…”
Lyna lightly shook her hand, withdrawing it from Ainar’s grasp.
“Shall we stand now? My legs…”
As her legs began to grow numb, she lightly tapped them and suddenly her field of vision rose.
Caught off balance, she staggered for a moment before steadying herself against a solid shoulder.
“Aina…”
-Knock, knock, knock.
Before she could even finish uttering his name, the sound of a knock and the voice of a servant echoed.
“Your Highness, I apologize, but the Emperor is seeking your presence.”
“The Emperor at this hour?”
“Yes, he has requested your immediate audience. And…”
After a brief pause, the servant added,
“He has commanded the presence of the Bolsheik Princess as well.”