AWIC 8

Chapter 8

The Saint’s attire?

Why was she taking a walk at such a late hour, in this dark, distant place?

And alone?

Alesto had no intention of interrogating her.

The reason was clear.

Whatever he asked, she would obviously lie.

She had obviously attempted to escape, yet now claimed to be on a walk? And she even got into the carriage obediently—it was absurd.

“Clumsy enough to not hide her embarrassment, yet shameless.”

Alesto didn’t want to ask questions that would embarrass the Saint, nor did he want to hear her lies.

So, for now, he let her attempted escape pass as a mere walk.

However…

Not questioning her and letting her off lightly was different from giving her a warning.

Thus, he spoke in a casual, joking tone.

“A walk, huh? Good. For a moment, I thought you were trying to escape.”

The Saint flinched as if struck in a sensitive spot, but quickly controlled her expression and denied his words.

“R-really? I had no intention of escaping at all… haha.”

Alesto nodded gently.

“I just meant that it crossed your mind for a moment. Of course, you wouldn’t actually try to run away. You told me yourself when we first met that I could confine you until you felt trust. And yet, running away? That makes no sense.”

Asha realized she was in a tight spot.

‘Isn’t this basically a statement about confining me?’

Whether it was imperial confinement or not, she was on the verge of being trapped by a future tyrant.

Shivering from the chill, she subtly pulled a blanket around her like a cloak and opened it in front.

“Are you cold?”

“Yes… a little. Maybe I walked too long.”

At that moment, the Crown Prince reacted oddly.

He moved his hands a few times before cautiously asking,

“May I adjust it for you?”

Asha’s eyes widened.

She had wrapped the blanket to hide her maid uniform and knew she should refuse, but the atmosphere made it hard to say no.

“Uh… yes.”

Her mouth answered on its own. Not entirely on its own—it was just that refusing felt difficult. Perhaps it would look suspicious, or maybe he’d notice a weakness. Either way, she couldn’t decline.

As soon as she spoke, a surprisingly warm scent came from him.

She didn’t know why, but it felt very unexpected.

Then his touch followed, careful not to brush too much against her body, and his slow movements felt unexpectedly tender.

For a moment, she almost forgot he was a future tyrant.

Her heart thumped.

‘Thump? What’s this thumping?’

He unfolded the blanket around her neck, secured it in front with his pin brooch so it wouldn’t come undone, and stepped back without hesitation.

Asha blinked rapidly, trying to quell her embarrassment.

Why was he suddenly acting so tender?

Then she realized his demeanor hadn’t changed at all from the start.

‘He’s always been kind and polite to me. And… even tender?’

Right. He had bought her meat when she was hungry—kindness.

But why was it tender?

A future tyrant, after all.

At that moment, a voice replayed in her mind.

“I see Asha as a romantic prospect. She appeals to me.”

Asha had an epiphany.

‘This is like a cliché: [cold and blunt tyrant, but warm to only my woman].’

In the original story, the heroine married Cedric, so Alesto’s character wasn’t fully revealed. But if his character were set up as a “tyrant who’s only tender to his woman,” it was plausible.

‘But am I really the Crown Prince’s “woman”?’

The original Crown Prince had no lover, and there was no guarantee it would be her. She had no way of knowing.

Meanwhile, Alesto was also slightly flustered.

Offering to adjust the Saint’s cloak was a completely impulsive act.

‘Why did I do that?’

Perhaps because she looked pitiful—small, shivering cheeks, shabby maid uniform, faded makeup, messy hair, weak voice, and desperate eyes wanting to get into the carriage.

Up close, her tiny frame seemed even smaller, like dust on the ground. Her hands fumbled with the blanket awkwardly.

Impulsively adjusting the cloak, he felt a strange sensation.

Her obedient posture under his touch, her face up close—it made him want to care for her while simultaneously feeling slight irritation.

‘No, she’s not my ideal type. I only made a small instinctive move because she’s a bit troublesome.’

His ideal type was undoubtedly a rare, destined person.

He calmly organized his momentary disturbance.

Meanwhile, Asha interpreted the situation as a cliché and mentally noted keywords.

Alesto was clearly a “tyrant tender only to his woman,” and his caring attitude implied she was that “woman.”

Objectively, the situation wasn’t bad at all.

Since knowing this world was a novel, her goal had been to preserve her body, survive, live comfortably, and grow old—nothing more.

She had chosen to live under Cedric’s confinement because he was the male protagonist and depicted as a kind, romantic man in certain ways.

What she truly needed was a safe home, leisure, and security—not Cedric himself.

In short, the person providing imperial confinement had changed from Cedric to Alesto, but the situation hadn’t worsened.

‘Surprisingly simple.’

Moreover, Alesto was extremely, overwhelmingly handsome.

Before coming to this world, she would never have had a chance to speak to someone like him. And he was the Crown Prince.

Money, power, beauty, and tenderness reserved for “my woman”—flawless in every aspect.

He harbored no intent to harm her, was polite, kind, and even considered her a romantic prospect.

With all that…

‘No need to run away at all.’

While Asha and Alesto organized their thoughts, the carriage steadily made its way to Blossom Palace.

Alesto escorted Asha to the palace chambers.

“You must be tired from walking so far. Please rest early tonight.”

His voice was gentle, like speaking to a child.

‘How long has it been since I heard such a night-time greeting?’

Curiously, she wondered what time it was here.

“What time is it now?”

Alesto glanced at her, took a pocket watch from his pocket, and checked.

“Usually around ten, but we’ve already passed that. How about sleeping until eleven tonight?”

Asha checked the wall clock in her room and nodded without hesitation.

Apparently, time in this world was not too different from the modern concept.

“Hmm, usually ten, right? Alright. Good night.”

With a light nod, the bedroom door closed.

Alesto remained for a moment in the dim hallway.

Perhaps… had the Saint’s “early” bedtime been ten because of him?

‘…’

His stomach felt strangely unsettled, though perhaps it was just his imagination.

As for the marriage contract, he decided to keep quiet for the time being.

After all, his goal was to win the Saint’s love, and it was better if she thought their relationship was a love match.

He would save the contract for the very end—only revealing it if he failed to win her heart or if she tried to leave.

That would be the moment to make sure she could never leave.