IWAPUF 39

Isabella, seated across from me, leaned forward, half-rising from her seat to draw closer.
“There’s nothing better than loving the person you’ll share your life with,” she said, her voice
soft but fervent.
“Love doesn’t happen just because one person desires it,” I replied.
Unrequited love brings pain—not only to me but to the one I love. I’d learned that truth through a
heart ripped apart, the agony carved into my very bones. Perhaps this time could be different. The
Crown Prince now seemed a changed man compared to before. But his transformation and my
feelings were separate matters.
I still didn’t know my own heart when it came to him. And until I was certain, I had no intention
of moving from where I stood.
“Do you dislike him?” Isabella asked, her eyes flickering with unease, unlike the calm curiosity
when she’d asked if I loved him.
“No,” I answered plainly.
I didn’t dislike the Crown Prince. Lately, he’d even struck me as a genuinely decent person. At
my response, Isabella took my hand, her grip gentle yet steady.
“Even if it’s not love, that’s alright,” she said. “You can start as good friends.”
Her hand, slightly rough for a countess, bore the marks of practical work—cooking, sewing,
running a household. It was a hand that knew labor.
“The Crown Prince is a lonely man,” she said, her voice tinged with melancholy. A shadow of
bitterness crossed her face, which had remained unclouded even when speaking of her mother’s
death.
“Crowned heir at birth, his place was already taken by the First Prince. No matter the Emperor’s
protection, carving out his own space was never easy.”
Her eyes glimmered with pity, and I realized the Crown Prince’s position was more precarious
than I’d thought. He’d never shown weakness outwardly, but even back then, after ascending to
his role, he’d never relaxed, not for a moment. His tension was so palpable that even I, consumed
by my yearning for his love and blind to much else, had sensed his unease at times.
It was true then, and nothing had changed now. If anything, the delay of our marriage might have
weakened his standing further.
“I’m not trying to force you,” Isabella said, her tone soft but resolute. “I only ask that you don’
t push him away. He cares for you, Beonne, far more than you might realize.”
She gently brushed her hand over mine. Unlike the cool, smooth glide of silk, her calloused touch
carried a comforting warmth.
“Did you know his recent letters to me are filled with talk of you?” she said, catching me off
guard with the sudden shift.
I frowned slightly, and she offered a warm, almost maternal smile in return.
“That’s why I was so eager to meet you,” she continued. “The woman who’s found a place
in that lonely boy’s heart.”
Her eyes, fixed on mine, brimmed with affection. I swallowed a sigh, holding it back before it
could escape. I understood her feelings. She hadn’t even noticed she’d called the Crown Prince a
“boy,” a slip that revealed how deeply she saw him as her own child.
From her perspective, it was only natural to feel warmly toward me, the woman destined to be his
partner—especially since he held me in such regard. If I loved him, her kindness would have been
a gift to cherish. But I wasn’t ready to embrace it, not yet.
“What lively conversation has you so engrossed that you didn’t notice the carriage has
stopped?” a voice broke in.
The carriage door swung open, revealing the Crown Prince. Sunlight flooded the interior,
obscuring his expression, but his silver hair gleamed dazzlingly in the light.
“Interrupting a private conversation between ladies? That’s hardly proper,” Isabella teased, her
tone light and playful.
“My apologies, dear sister,” he replied with a mischievous grin. “But when the carriage has
been stopped for ages and neither of you ladies shows any sign of stepping out, a man gets
impatient.”
He offered his hand to Isabella, who took it with a warm smile. As he helped her down, he guided
her gently to stand behind him.
“Baran!” Isabella exclaimed.
A tall, robust man appeared behind the Crown Prince. At the sight of him, Isabella’s face lit up,
and she darted into his arms with the light, graceful movement of a butterfly.
“Bee.”
The Crown Prince turned to me, extending his hand. I placed mine atop his palm.
“Oh!”
Contrary to my assumption that it would be a simple escort, as he’d done for Isabella, his fingers
swiftly intertwined with mine the moment they touched. In one fluid motion, he pulled me into his
arms. Before I could even gasp, the cool, sweet scent of spearmint tickled my nose.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
“We can’t let them outdo us,” he replied, his voice laced with mischief.
His sudden action and cryptic words left me bewildered. With a low chuckle, he tilted his head
toward the scene behind him. There, Isabella and Count Seyt were locked in a passionate kiss.
“I’d rather lose this one,” I muttered, a sigh mingling with my words.
He chuckled again, his arms wrapping around my waist. In a single motion, he lifted me off the
ground, aligning our eyes at the same level.
“Weren’t you watching them with envy?” he teased, my reflection creased with irritation in his
golden eyes.
“No!” I protested.
“It certainly looked like there was a hint of jealousy in the way you gazed at them,” he said, a
playful glint dancing across his face.
His impish expression drew an involuntary sigh from me. “You’re mistaken.”
“Is that so? What a shame,” he said, his voice dripping with mock disappointment as he
loosened his hold. My feet, briefly suspended, settled back onto the ground. Though he’d eased
his grip, his arms still encircled my waist.
“You’re beautiful today, as always, my Bee,” he murmured.
In the fleeting moment of a blink, soft and tender, his lips brushed my forehead before pulling
away.
“I’d love to kiss those sweet lips of yours, but we’ve got too many eyes on us today,” he said,
his eyes softening into a gentle curve. He pulled me closer, his lips grazing my ear as he
whispered, “Good thing your shoes are fit for a hike.”
“What—”
His low murmur was cut off as he nipped my earlobe lightly. Startled, I shoved against his chest.
He laughed aloud, easily releasing his hold on my waist.
“What’s going on?”
My sharp cry drew the attention of Isabella and Count Seyt. Heat flooded my face, a burning flush
spreading across my cheeks. The Crown Prince watched me, his expression brimming with
amusement. In that moment, glaring at him was the only retaliation I could muster, and it
frustrated me to no end.
“Seems Bee was jealous of you and the Count’s little display,” he said, his tone sly.
“That’s not true!” I shot back reflexively.
Isabella’s eyes widened at my vehement response, her surprise evident. My face felt like it was
burning up.
“Oh my!”
After a moment of confusion, Isabella’s expression shifted as if she’d realized something, letting
out a soft exclamation. Her lips curved into a rounded, knowing smile.
“I suppose I’ve meddled unnecessarily,” she said.
“What do you mean?” Count Seyt asked.
She turned to him, her smile widening. “One shouldn’t interfere in matters of the heart, but
seeing how close they are, it seems I’ve been a bit too nosy.”
Count Seyt nodded, wrapping an arm around Isabella’s shoulders. She leaned into him naturally,
her body fitting against his.
“If you’re ready, I’ve been ready for a while,” the Crown Prince said with a grin, patting his
shoulder. The playful spark in his eyes hadn’t faded.
I exhaled slowly, the heat in my face gradually subsiding.
I placed my hand on the Crown Prince’s shoulder. At my sudden touch, his eyes flickered with a
faint tremor. Isabella’s gasp of admiration sounded nearby, but my gaze remained locked on his,
unwavering.
Slowly, my fingers traced down his shoulder. His expression barely shifted, but I could feel his
body tense beneath my touch. The corner of my lips curled upward. In his golden eyes, wide with
surprise, my own bright smile reflected vividly.
Raising my other hand, I gripped his shoulder, then let both hands glide slowly from his shoulders
to his neck, and from his neck to his cheeks, as if mapping the contours of his form. His usually
composed expression crumbled under my deliberate touch.
With a clear, radiant smile, I stepped closer, positioning myself between his legs. A faint flush
crept across his cheeks at my boldness. Finally, I took hold of his ear, gently tugging it downward.
He yielded to my touch, lowering his head as if unsure of what I might do next. Leaning in, I
whispered softly into his ear.
“What do you think would happen if I raised my knee a little higher?”
My knee, hidden beneath my skirt, was already slightly lifted. I tapped his thigh lightly with it,
and his face blanched in an instant.
“You may not know this, Your Highness, but when I’m angry, I don’t hold back,” I said.
My fingernail grazed the edge of his earlobe, the same spot where he’d once bitten mine. His eyes
winced at the sensation, a subtle flinch.
“This is your only warning.”
I patted his cheek gently, a gesture laced with warning, though to Isabella or Count Seyt, it might
have looked like a lover’s caress.
“Haa.”
As I stepped back, a heavy sigh escaped him. He looked at me, his face a storm of emotions—
confusion, anxiety, and a hint of resentment swirling in his eyes.
“You…” he muttered, his voice low, laced with a curse as he raked a hand through his hair. His
silver locks danced wildly under his rough touch.
“Your Highness?” Isabella called, concern lacing her voice as she moved toward us.
Count Seyt caught her hand, gently holding her back. She glanced at him, her expression puzzled,
but he shook his head. Though curiosity brimmed in her eyes, she didn’t protest and stayed put.
Count Seyt’s gaze then shifted to me, his expression unreadable, tinged with something
inscrutable.
“Please take care of Bee,” the Crown Prince said abruptly, then vanished in a flash.
His sudden departure startled not only Isabella but me as well. I’d never physically acted on such
a threat before, but I knew that spot was a man’s critical weakness. It was merely a warning, with
no real contact. I hadn’t expected a mere threat to shake him so deeply. I stared blankly at the spot
where he’d disappeared.
“Poor man,” Count Seyt remarked.
“Baran?” Isabella questioned, turning to him.
His words reminded me that he was a knight. Knights possessed physical abilities far superior to
ordinary people, including heightened hearing. Count Seyt was an exceptional knight—it was
likely he’d overheard my entire exchange with the Crown Prince. My face flushed hot with
embarrassment.
“What on earth happened?” Isabella asked, her voice brimming with curiosity.
“It’s something the lady might find awkward to discuss here,” Count Seyt replied, his tone
measured, sparing me further discomfort.