Chapter 27
I had only meant to explain why I remembered his face so clearly, but instead Herace let out a dazed, almost foolish sound—something that didn’t suit him at all. Then suddenly, his sharp red gaze seemed to vanish.
Thinking he hadn’t heard me, I carefully repeated myself.
“What I mean is… Whisler’s looks may be pleasing, but I find more enjoyment in looking at you, Herace. Your face is like a statue displayed in a museum—it’s unforgettable.”
The hand that had been holding me loosened, as if he couldn’t process what I’d just said. His whole body seemed to stiffen.
Not sure how else to explain it, I reached out toward his face.
“Focus, Herace.”
Of course, I couldn’t just touch him recklessly—dirty hands shouldn’t smudge perfect skin. Instead, I traced the air in front of him, as though brushing over his features from a respectful distance. My finger hovered first above his hair.
“Your hair—gold like sunlight. It shines. Gold is far better than silver.”
Then his nose.
“The perfect nose, lifted at just the right angle—forty degrees. The textbook definition of a sculpture.”
And his eyes.
“Your red eyes are intense… but different from Whisler’s. His were like neon lights, glaring and flashy. Yours carry depth, like they’re holding light inside.”
Finally, his lips.
“Herace, your Cupid’s bow is sharp. Both your upper and lower lips are full—”
Before I could finish, Herace lightly caught my wrist and pushed it away. Instead of letting go, though, he lifted my other hand.
His fingers gently cupped my chin, and then he lifted my hand toward his lips. Like I had done to him earlier, but closer—so close his mouth brushed the spot just above my knuckles.
There was no real touch, just the ghost of one—like a caress that never landed.
I blinked, puzzled.
“…Herace, you didn’t wash your hands either, did you?”
That had to be it. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be hesitating like this. Normally, he would’ve already stolen a kiss without hesitation.
As if I’d caught him, Herace stepped back and ducked his head. His shoulders shook, trembling as though he was struggling to hold back laughter.
“No, honestly, Philena—”
He couldn’t finish. A low, rich laugh burst from him, rumbling in my chest like a pleasant vibration.
***
Before making any big plans, we first exchanged updates. Since I’d already written to him, Herace started.
He said he’d been busy helping his parents, and that it wasn’t just this once—things like that would keep happening from time to time.
“As for the Saintess—you don’t need to worry.”
“Really?”
Herace’s reply was calm, confident.
“After what you told me, I checked her recent movements. Nothing suspicious.”
He shifted on the sofa, turning fully toward me, his elbow resting casually as he pressed his temple.
“My clever girlfriend… you worried a lot, didn’t you?”
“Not too much. Just enough. But you don’t need to worry about me worrying.”
I added proudly, to reassure him:
“I may lack quick responses, but I learn fast. I’ll be more careful next time.”
“Well said. You’re right—it’s best not to provoke the Saintess unnecessarily.”
He reached for my hand resting on the sofa. His warmth pressed against me, but this time I didn’t flinch. A huge improvement.
“Here’s something to know in advance—our noble Gray bloodline’s representative, Whisler of the Gass family, is likely to become the Saintess’s official protector.”
“The Gass family?”
I opened my mouth in feigned surprise. Herace’s eyes narrowed, sharp.
“Philena. You already knew.”
So much for my acting skills. Enough to fool Whisler, perhaps, but not Herace. His perception was too keen. I softened the truth.
“Just a little. She’s the Saintess, after all. And the Gass family is of Gray blood. It made sense to imagine they might protect her.”
It sounded reasonable enough that he didn’t press further.
The Saintess, after her ceremony, would receive the blessing of light. From then until around age twenty to twenty-five, her magical power would surge.
Between the Saintess ceremony and the first Prophecy Day, many noble families would submit requests to the temple, offering to guard her. The temple would review them, and the Saintess’s opinion also mattered in choosing.
It was meant to reassure the Empire’s people. After all, sometimes the Saintess came from a lesser noble family—or, rarely, even a commoner.
In the remake timeline, I had been protected. But in the original story, Mille was guarded by Whisler.
“By the way, Philena…”
Herace leaned closer, a sly smile curling on his lips. But his eyes weren’t smiling at all.
“How was your meeting with Whisler?”
“…Didn’t you get my letter? I wrote down everything we talked about in detail.”
“I got it. But you didn’t write how you felt. And that’s what I want to know.”
Then he dropped a line I couldn’t ignore.
“Don’t be boring.”
“…How I felt? Give me a second.”
I shut my eyes, combing through the memory. Honestly, analyzing my emotions wasn’t something I usually did, so it was harder than I thought.
Herace’s voice purred lazily:
“Tell me—did you like being with him more, or being with me?”
“…It’s hard to compare. With Whisler, there was the thrill of revenge—that was enjoyable. But with you, Herace, I feel excitement for what’s coming next. That’s enjoyable too.”
Herace’s expression was unreadable, hard to tell if he was satisfied. Then he leaned over and set his head on my shoulder, tapping the back of my hand.
“…That’s not the answer I want.”
“Then what answer do you want?”
He didn’t move, just stayed still, silence hanging between us. Finally, after thinking hard, I offered another.
“…The revenge was satisfying, but still—I like being with you more, Herace.”
Because really, he was the one who made me look forward to tomorrow. In that sense, Whisler and Herace couldn’t even be compared.
“My girlfriend knows lying gets punished, right?”
His tone suddenly lightened, almost teasing. Like a roller coaster. I had to steady myself to keep from getting swept along.
“That’s why I told the truth. I like being with you more than Whisler.”
“Then… should we kiss?”
“…What?”
My eyes went wide. For a moment, I was speechless.
Up until now, our only physical contact had been holding hands and him kissing the back of mine. But suddenly—he was suggesting a kiss?
Too fast. My heart raced wildly, far louder than before.
“Philena. Will you let me?”
Leaning back against the sofa, he looked up at me, his gaze blazing. He guided my hand toward him, and then with strong arms pulled me close by the waist.
In a swift motion, his face tilted, angling as though to claim my lips—
But instead, his mouth brushed past, grazing the spot just behind my ear.
I choked back a laugh. A small sound escaped anyway.
Then Herace collapsed against my side, bursting into loud laughter.
“Really now—what, did you think I was going to devour you? My girlfriend, if you freeze up that much, what am I supposed to do?”
