TAVBZ 4

Chapter 4

“Uben.”

“Mmph—what? But it’s weird!”

Lillia hastily clamped a hand over Uben’s mouth. The crown prince seemed about to call the boy’s name in warning, but Uben shook his head, brushed Lillia’s hand away, and continued.

“The Lady always whines about getting tired after running just a little, screams like a duck over the smallest thing—so how did she manage to get all the way here while avoiding the zombies? Aren’t you all curious?”

Everyone fell silent and turned to look at me.
The prince and the grand duke’s expressions were unreadable, but Lillia looked uncertain, as if gauging my reaction.

She gazed at me with genuine worry, almost pained.

“So how did you do it?”

“…Zombies aren’t very good at climbing high places.”

I had anticipated this sort of question and prepared an answer before coming here, so replying to Uben wasn’t difficult—
if anything, I was surprised they hadn’t asked sooner.

“And if you hide your scent, you can fool them. …As long as there’s no blood, it’s easy enough to mask your smell.”

“How?”

“By covering yourself with something else.”

They listened intently, waiting for me to finish without interrupting.

“What kind of ‘something’?”

“Like a zombie’s corpse… or a strong flower scent.”

In the novel, Lillia once used rose perfume to hide her scent and survive.

“What did you use, milady?”

“Lilies. I was lucky.”

In truth, I had rolled in a patch of blooming lilies on purpose.
It would’ve been easier to smear myself with zombie remains—but I hadn’t.
I was terrified that if the prince or the grand duke saw me drenched in blood, they might strike me down on sight.

“I see, so that’s how you tricked the zombies.”

The heroine nodded in admiration.

“So you didn’t encounter a single one? But His Highness said zombies chased him almost right to the fortress gates. He thought you must’ve died.”

Uben still frowned, unconvinced.

“I rolled down a mountain. I really almost died.”

The ankle that had been grabbed by a zombie still bore finger-shaped bruises.

I pushed my chair back and lifted my skirt just enough to show it.
All eyes around the table dropped to my ankle.

Their gazes lingered longer than I liked, sticky and probing, so I quickly let the skirt fall again.

When I looked up, the crown prince’s lips—which had been slightly parted—pressed into a hard line, and he abruptly stood. His mouth twisted faintly.

✦✦✦

Idorian Fidantre’s gaze returned to Penelope’s ankle, now hidden beneath her skirt.

The bruise had looked stark against her pale skin—skin that seemed never to have seen the sun. No wonder her gait had been slightly uneven; she must have twisted it.

Her drenched dress, her tangled hair, the pallor of exhaustion—
the woman he had assumed dead had returned in shambles, eyes darting in fear.

“You abandoned me because you wanted me to die!”

Her voice, choked with tears and grief, still echoed in his ears.

…Had he truly wanted her to die?

No—that wasn’t it. Her accusation was an exaggeration.

When she had fallen and reached for him, he had turned his back because he had to. He couldn’t risk everyone’s lives for one person. Even if he could go back, he would still choose the rational option.

So why did this heaviness in his chest refuse to fade?

“Excuse me.”

Leaving Penelope, who looked up at him, I­dorian stepped out of the dining room.

“I almost died for real.”

If she had shouted or cursed at him like she used to—blaming him outright—it would’ve been easier. But that weak, subdued voice of hers had torn at something inside him.

Her tired eyelids, trembling voice—like she might cry if touched even lightly—
they haunted him.

He told himself he bore no responsibility for her feelings, yet guilt clung stubbornly to him.

The image of her desperate, pleading eyes before he’d turned away refused to leave his mind.

She must hate me now.

Since her return, Penelope barely spoke to him. She only nodded whenever addressed, never sought him out, never hovered near him as she once did.

Whether she resented or despised him, he couldn’t fault her for it. He’d made his choice; how she felt about it was her right.

As long as she didn’t lash out at others, there was nothing he could say.

And yet—

The dining room door opened, and Penelope slowly stepped out.
She seemed surprised to see him in the hallway, her brow knitting slightly.

“Penelope.”

Even knowing she wasn’t pleased to see him, I­dorian still called out.

“Have you finished eating?”

“…I’ll eat upstairs.”

She was holding a small potato in her hand.

“My stomach doesn’t feel well.”

“…I see.”

Her eyes flicked away, signaling that she wanted to end the conversation. I­dorian had no excuse to stop her.

Even so, he found himself watching her for a long time as she walked away—
forcing her injured leg to move properly, refusing to limp, refusing to collapse.

…In that chaos, when zombies had swarmed close, Penelope had protected Lillia.
Tears had filled her wide eyes, fear had shaken her small frame, yet she’d pushed Lillia to safety first.

I­dorian had known Penelope Lloyd since she was five.
He’d always believed he understood her better than anyone.

“Penelope.”

And yet—

“Let’s walk together.”

For the first time, he couldn’t erase her from his mind.
The same moment replayed again and again, trapping him.
He couldn’t stop looking at her.

✦✦✦

“Penelope, let’s go together.”

When the crown prince said that, I wanted nothing more than to crawl back into the dining room.
If I’d known he was lingering in the hallway, I wouldn’t have come out!

“Your ankle—shouldn’t it be wrapped?”

Wrapped?

“I’m fine.”

It was only a bruise—why would I need a bandage?
More than that, I didn’t want to be around I­dorian.

He’d only nitpick and lecture, maybe even insist on watching me until I finished eating this stupid potato.

“You can’t even walk properly, and you call that fine?”

I was in the middle of regretting not grabbing a smaller potato when he spoke again, half-chiding—

“…What do you mean?”

And those few words sent my heart plummeting.

“You mean… I’m walking weird?”

Could it be? Did I move like one of those zombies out there—stumbling, dragging my legs? Was I swaying like I’d lost my balance?

“What exactly looks strange?”

“…You drag your leg a little.”

I hadn’t realized. I thought I was walking perfectly normally—but it showed.

That was bad.
If my walk gave me away, how strange must I look when eating? Or speaking? Was I even meeting his eyes properly?

Even my slower speech might seem off.
If he started to suspect… would he find out what I really was?

“Don’t worry about it.”

Just as fear began to rise, I­dorian lightly touched my shoulder and looked away.

“No one thinks it’s strange. It’s just an injury.”

Of course, his reassurance brought me no comfort at all.

After all, I didn’t even feel pain in my leg.
The reason I walked strangely wasn’t because I was hurt—
it was because I had become a zombie.

“Let’s go.”

After watching me a moment longer, I­dorian turned and began to walk ahead.