Chapter 8: The Prince’s Hidden Depths.

Three months have passed since His Highness’s visit that day.

True to his word, he now appears at the Marquis residence every three or four days on his way back from the academy.
He seems to be carving out time from his busy schedule—there are days when Cyril arrives looking apologetic to escort him, and they hurry off again.

And today, too, the Crown Prince sits before me with a gentle expression.
The way he elegantly lifts his teacup and sips is brimming with refined grace.

“So, how have you been feeling?”

“Yes… lately, I’ve been able to stay upright for longer periods.
But my muscle strength has declined so much that sitting in a chair is still limited to about two hours at most.”

“I see. And your appetite?”

“It’s decreased compared to before.
Perhaps because I get so little exercise, rich or heavy foods now feel overwhelming.”

“Understood. I’ll do something about that.”

“…Huh?”

Do something about my meals?
I wondered what he meant, but… well, never mind.
There are many parts of His Highness’s thinking that I still can’t fully grasp.

Indeed—in my previous life, I never once conversed with him this much.
And it’s also true that the image of the ever-smiling, flawless prince has gradually begun to crack.

“By the way, Your Highness, how was the soirée the other night?
There must have been many lovely debutantes, no?”

“Ah, same as always.
This year would have been your debut season as well, after all.”

“Yes… but in this condition, I can’t participate in high society at all. It’s truly regrettable.”

“Fufu. You don’t sound regretful in the slightest.
I’m the one who’s disappointed—I won’t get to escort you in your white debutante gown.”

“Oh, come now. Surely you’ve found some other dazzling flower to admire?”

“No. To me, there is no woman more captivating than you.”

What is this?
This prince suddenly spouting such smooth, natural flattery.
I’ve never heard anything so honeyed from him before.
He used to smile politely, compliment only my dress or hair ornaments in the most neutral way possible, and completely sidestep me as a person.
And how pathetic the old me was—squealing over those half-hearted praises.

I’ve gently tried to suggest—using my frail health as the reason—that we should dissolve the engagement.
But he never takes the bait.
I’m certain the message is getting through to him.

Perhaps I should say it clearly one more time.

“Um… about our engagement—”

“Ah, what a shame. Is it about time already?
I don’t want to become a burden on you, Rachel.”

His Highness deliberately pulls a pocket watch from his breast pocket, checks the time with exaggerated slowness, and lets out a theatrical sigh.

This pattern again.
For some reason, whenever I try to bring up dissolving the engagement, he pretends not to hear.

Perhaps it’s because the Saintess hasn’t been recognized yet.
Since she’s a year below us, His Highness—who’s in a higher grade—hasn’t met her at the academy.
If that’s the case, maybe he simply doesn’t want the hassle of other women targeting him right now if the engagement were broken.

Yes… that must be it.
A convincing answer finally forms in my mind, and I nod in satisfaction.

So that means… things will stay like this until next year, when the new students’ Spirit Summoning Ceremony takes place?

That’s going to be troublesome in its own way.

Unconsciously, my brows furrow in distaste.
I’ve apparently been making all sorts of faces on my own, and His Highness has been watching with evident amusement—but I hadn’t noticed at all.

And then—

“By the way, Rachel, since you can’t attend the academy right now… what about your studies?”

“Ah, yes. Once my condition stabilizes enough that I can sit in a chair a little longer, I plan to hire a private tutor.”

“I see. In that case, allow me to arrange it.”

“No, really—there’s no need for you to go to such lengths—”

“No, no. You’re my precious fiancée, after all.”

He flashes a sweet, melting smile, and my face instantly flushes bright red.
I’m completely unused to being spoken to like this.

Ever since I was young, my personality has been sharp and my features severe—no man ever came near me, let alone tried to court me.

“Hm? Your face is red, Rachel. Are you running a fever?”

“No! My condition hasn’t changed at all, so please don’t worry!”

“I’m worried, though.
You have a tendency to run fevers that just won’t break once they start.”

You know perfectly well why my face is red.
His tone carries a teasing lilt, yet he feigns innocence.
My brows knit even deeper in response, and His Highness narrows his eyes before finally bursting into open laughter.

“I’ve never seen that expression before.”
The murmur in my heart apparently slipped out as words.
His Highness lets out a soft “Ah,” as though something has clicked into place.

“Talking with you is always interesting.
And you know how to forgive—so this is really just me being selfish.
There aren’t many people I can speak with so freely, without calculating gains and losses.”

“Gains and losses…? Do you always think that way?”

“Well… you never know where someone might try to trip you up.
This country still bears scars from the last war everywhere you look.”

“Yes, but… wasn’t that fifty years ago?”

“Indeed.
Fifty years was just enough time for us to stand on equal footing with other nations and regain prosperity.
But in truth…?”

“Is it… about the Salim District?”

His Highness’s expression turns serious.
He gives a silent nod of confirmation.

The Salim District is a taboo subject in this kingdom.
The shadowy underside of a seemingly affluent nation—the so-called slums.

Even commoners avert their eyes from it, let alone nobles.
In the great war that dealt such devastating blows, everyone was desperate to rebuild.
But the people of the Salim District—those with nowhere to go, whose futures were stolen—were crammed into that forgotten place.

“I was ten years old.
My tutors couldn’t give me answers that satisfied me.
So I slipped away from my guards and went there with Cyril to see it with my own eyes.”

“His Highness the Crown Prince… did what?!”

“Yes… looking back, it was reckless youth at its finest.”

“But why…?”

For the prince of a nation to set foot in such a dangerous area—it’s unthinkable.
Especially for someone who carries such strong royal awareness and pride.
I shiver just imagining what could have happened to the kingdom if anything had gone wrong.

His Highness seems to read my thoughts.
A self-deprecating smile curves his lips.

“I wanted to know.
No one would tell me.
Everyone wanted to pretend it didn’t exist—this darkness at the heart of our country.

And I am the one who must understand it better than anyone else.”

He speaks while looking straight into my eyes.
The face before me bears neither the perfect princely smile, nor the playful expression from earlier, nor even the face of a seventeen-year-old boy.

The man sitting here is someone who gazes unflinchingly at the future of this nation—someone in whom I can glimpse the faint but unmistakable dignity of a true king.