IWAPUF 47

He offered me another Arak fruit, but I grimaced and shook my head. The oily, nauseating taste
was too much to stomach beyond a single piece. Seeing my expression, he chuckled and withdrew
his hand.
Without hesitation, he tossed the remaining cores into his mouth, chewing them as if the taste
didn’t faze him. He didn’t so much as flinch while eating, suggesting either he’d grown
accustomed to the flavor through sheer repetition or he possessed an oddly indiscriminate palate.
“Well, you’re not entirely wrong,” he said, poking at the fire with a branch. The flames flared,
sending a wave of warmth to my chilled body.
“The role of Crown Prince is one of being coddled and revered, after all,” he added with a wry,
almost bitter smile, a look I’d never seen on him before.
“It sounds like you’re saying you’re no spoiled child, Your Highness,” I replied.
“There are plenty of wolves circling, waiting for a chance to tear out my throat,” he said, his voice
light but edged with cynicism. “Remaining a naive fool would be inconvenient, wouldn’t it?”
He raised a hand, mimicking a claw at his throat. Despite the sardonic expression, his golden eyes
burned with a fiery intensity, as if the flames of the fire had sparked within them.
It didn’t take much to understand his meaning. Before his birth, the First Prince had been raised as
the heir apparent, basking in the same adulation. The First Imperial Consort, with her son as her
banner, must have lorded her position over the childless Empress with palpable arrogance. I could
imagine it vividly without having seen it.
How much of a thorn in their side must the late-born Crown Prince have been? Even with the
Emperor’s favor, closing the sixteen-year gap between him and the First Prince couldn’t have been
easy. Those who already held power and privilege wouldn’t have relinquished it willingly. And
while the Crown Prince fought to bridge that gap, it was unlikely the First Prince and his mother
sat idly by, twiddling their thumbs.
“Have you faced threats to your life?” I asked.
“What do you think?” he replied, his gaze locking onto mine across the fire. His face was
unreadable, a mask of neutrality.
*“The Crown Prince is a lonely man,”* Isabella’s words echoed suddenly in my mind. I didn’t
know why they surfaced now, but as I looked at his expressionless face, I began to wonder if she
was right—perhaps he was lonelier than I’d realized.
He was always surrounded by people, his status and striking appearance earning him adoration
from many. I’d never considered that he might feel isolated amidst the crowds.
*Why didn’t I ever try to see things from his perspective back then?*
If I had, even once, perhaps my end wouldn’t have been so tragic. On the surface, his life might
seem charmed, but he was fighting battles in the shadows. His surprising skill in survival tasks, so
at odds with his royal status, was proof of that. He’d learned things no noble, let alone a prince,
would typically bother with, honing them through experience to ensure his survival.
My gaze drifted to his hands, calloused and scarred in a way that spoke of a life far rougher than
that of a pampered royal. The faint marks, easily overlooked without close inspection, told a story
of hardship.
“It can’t have been an easy path,” I said quietly.
He let out a soft laugh, tossing a handful of Arak husks into the fire. The flames surged, casting
deep shadows across his face, which looked weary in the flickering light.
I offered what advice I could. “Do you have immunity to poisons? I’ve heard gradually exposing
yourself to small doses can build resistance. Of course, misjudge the amount, and you might end
up dead by accident, but if you’re careful, it could protect you from poisoning.”
“…What?” he said, startled.
“Hiring a group of skilled assassins could also be useful,” I continued. “The best ones come at a
steep price, but if you have the funds, it’s a straightforward solution.”
“Ha?” His eyes widened.
“Gathering loyal, intelligent allies is another good strategy. It takes time and effort to cultivate
trustworthy people, but it’s a worthwhile investment for the future.”
“Hahaha!” He burst into laughter, doubling over and clutching his sides, heedless of the muddy,
rain-soaked ground—or the fact that animal droppings had been there not long ago.
“You’re really something…” he said, wiping tears from his eyes as he sat up, still chuckling
intermittently.
“Where did you even hear such things?” he asked.
“I didn’t hear them anywhere,” I replied.
“Then they’re your ideas?”
“They’re just lessons from history—stories of those who craved power.”
He propped his chin on his hand, studying me with a lingering smile. His eyes softened, crinkling
at the corners. “You have a maddening sort of charm, you know.”
“Do I?” I said, trying to sound nonchalant despite the way my heart pounded under his warm gaze.
“How far do you plan to make me fall for you?” he asked, his voice low.
My heart thudded again, sinking heavily. His face, even now, was devastating to my composure.
While I looked like a drenched rat, his features seemed to glow in the firelight. His silver hair,
damp and clinging to his face, his golden eyes smoldering with heat, and his lips, flushed red from
the fire’s warmth, were impossibly alluring.
He brushed back a strand of wet hair that had been tickling his cheek, revealing his smooth
forehead. The change in his hairstyle made him look a few years older, accentuating his rugged
masculinity.
Perhaps because I’d acknowledged my love for him, I could no longer remain indifferent to his
presence. My eyes were drawn to the glimpse of his throat visible through his loosened shirt, a
detail that held my gaze far longer than it should have.
My body may have been that of a young woman who had only just come of age, but my mind was
that of a mature woman, well-versed in matters of passion and intimacy. I was far from naive
enough to be unaware of the implications of a man and a woman alone together in such a confined
space.
Heat rose to my cheeks unbidden, and my lips felt parched. The laws of the Empire were
unforgiving toward an unmarried woman’s indiscretions. If a husband discovered his wife was not
a virgin after marriage, he could demand a divorce and a substantial sum in compensation from
her family.
Yet, I knew the Crown Prince, more familiar with imperial law than anyone, would not act
recklessly. He was too mindful of the gossip that would follow our safe return to do anything
improper.
Still, seeing him sit there with such serene composure, as if untouched by any hint of desire,
sparked a sudden surge of irritation in me. Here I was, my emotions in turmoil, while he remained
maddeningly calm. I wanted to shake that tranquility.
I turned my gaze away and slipped off his coat, which I’d been wearing. The fire’s warmth had
chased away the chill, but my dress was still soaked from the rain. Even with the fire burning,
wearing wet clothes until morning was unwise—especially for him, given his injuries. Leaving
him in damp clothes all night would do him no good. An idea struck me: I could unsettle him and
dry our clothes at the same time.
I wrung out his coat with force, like squeezing laundry, and a stream of water poured out. My
dress, no doubt, held even more. I began unfastening the buttons of my gown, one by one.
“Wh-what—” he stammered, leaping to his feet. The cave’s low ceiling offered little room, and his
head collided with it with a dull thud.
“Are you alright?” I asked, suppressing a smile.
“No, I’m not alright!” he snapped, clutching his head. “What are you doing?”
His flustered outburst, so unlike his usual composure, drew a smirk from me. I barely managed to
stifle a laugh, responding with feigned indifference. “What do you think I’m doing?”
“You—you—” He fumbled for words, pointing at my dress, his face a mix of shock and
embarrassment.
Like most noblewomen’s attire, my dress had buttons down the back, designed to require a maid’s
assistance. But I could manage on my own. I continued unbuttoning, reaching my waist. The
loosened bodice slipped, baring my pale shoulders. He let out a sound akin to a scream.
“Stop that right now!”
I ignored him, tugging the bodice down further as the last buttons came undone.
“Gah!” He squeezed his eyes shut, his face flushing a vivid red. In that moment, with his eyes
tightly closed and his expression so endearingly flustered, he was the most adorable I’d ever seen
him.
“Put it back on,” he pleaded, still not looking.
“No,” I replied simply.
“Beonne!” he called out, his voice strained, his fingers digging into the dirt floor. The force of his
grip left shallow gouges in the earth, his knuckles whitening. Seeing the tension in his hands, I
began to feel I might have pushed too far.
“Alright, I’ll stop teasing,” I said.
His eyes snapped open, wide with uncertainty. Whatever he’d imagined, it wasn’t what he saw
now. Beneath my outer dress, I wasn’t wearing the usual petticoat meant to shape the figure and
enhance a gown’s silhouette. Instead, my dress was a double-layered design, crafted for ease of
movement at events like the hunting tournament. The inner skirt, slightly puffed, and the
lightweight outer layer were the work of Madame Miela, Luia’sha’s head designer. Stripped of the
outer layer, I was left in a top dress suitable even for a formal party, with my neck and arms
exposed but nothing scandalous revealed.
He stared at me, dazed, before letting out a sigh. “That was a joke?”
“Was it not entertaining?” I asked, tilting my head.
“Haa,” he exhaled, his tension easing. “If you pull that stunt two more times, I won’t live to see
my next birthday.”
His golden eyes fixed on me, their intensity making my cheeks flush again. To shake off the
feeling, I grabbed the discarded outer dress and wrung it out. Water streamed from the fabric, and
once I was satisfied it was as dry as I could manage, I draped it over a pile of Arak fruit husks to
dry. He watched every move, his gaze unwavering.
“You should dry your clothes too, Your Highness,” I said, breaking the awkward silence.
He didn’t respond, only propped his chin on his hand, continuing to stare.
“Your Highness?” I prompted.
“You do realize I’m a man, don’t you?” he said, his voice low.
“I’m aware,” I replied.
“And yet you provoke me like this?” One corner of his red lips quirked upward, his usual
composure returning. I felt a pang of regret; his flustered, red-faced expression had been a rare
sight, one I’d rather enjoyed.
“If I provoke you, will you give in?” I challenged, raising an eyebrow.
“Ha!” He burst out laughing, caught off guard. I met his gaze with a cool, haughty expression.
Conversations with him always sparked a competitive streak in me, an urge to never let him have
the last word. He responded with a sweet, disarming smile.
“Can’t you see I’m already hopelessly caught in your snare?” he said softly.