Chapter 29
“That… must have been at least five or six hours…”
Ria’s mouth dropped open. That meant Zen had waited in the sitting room for five or six hours.
“You should have woken him up!”
“W-what are you saying, Milady!”
Isabelle’s eyebrows drooped. She looked wronged.
Ria let out a sigh and quickly left her room, picking up her pace. In the early-morning ducal residence, no one was in the hallways except the butlers on duty.
But when she reached the door to the sitting room, Ria hesitated. Coming face-to-face with Zen again after leaving the banquet hall without looking back felt awkward.
Maybe he had come to scold her in anger. Isabelle tended to interpret situations in the best possible way. It was hard to fully trust her claim that Zen looked concerned.
Considering Zen’s personality, it wasn’t entirely impossible. Ria bit her lip and gave Isabelle an order.
“Isabelle, you stay in your room.”
“Huh? But Milady, we still need to prepare refreshments, and… being alone together—”
“What does it matter? We’re engaged.”
At Ria’s firm words, Isabelle covered her mouth.
“Oh my.”
“Hurry.”
“Ah, yes, Milady.”
Isabelle scurried off, somehow looking excited as she disappeared.
“Phew…”
Ria blinked, took a deep breath, and slowly turned the doorknob. Creak. The metallic sound was unusually loud.
She tiptoed in cautiously, only to find Zen lying on the long sofa in the middle of the room, eyes closed.
“…Asleep?”
Feeling her tension ease, Ria trudged toward the sofa. It was made of blue velvet, and Zen’s scattered silver hair looked perfect against it.
She crouched in front of him, staring. He really seemed to be asleep, eyes tightly shut and unmoving.
“…He is handsome.”
His pale eyelashes cast long shadows, and below them were a high nose and moderately full lips.
Why is he sleeping here? He should’ve just requested a room.
Ria frowned. His usually crisp shirt was wrinkled, and his face looked tired. He was supporting his face with his right hand and had his knees pulled up, curled awkwardly on the sofa. It wasn’t the proper size for someone of Zen’s stature.
Ria rested her chin on her hand and began observing.
He’s the Crown Prince, yet his hands are so rough.
Small cuts marked the back of his hands, and the palms looked hardened, as if calloused. Yet his nails were neatly trimmed—a touch of care even in rough hands.
She leaned closer, examining the stray hairs on his forehead, the soft fuzz on his cheeks, and the tiny scratches along his nose. Seeing these details made her certain—Zen was a real person, not a character or fictional figure.
She had to admit it. All along, she had treated his potential death as a necessary plot device for the original story, yet she had unconsciously believed that Zen standing before her would not die.
Ria felt guilty. Somewhere deep down, she had thought that even if she stopped Grand Duke Corend, Zen’s death was inevitable—just natural, just fate.
“Don’t die, Zen…”
She whispered quietly. It was an unintentional, heartfelt plea. At that moment, Zen’s eyes snapped open.
“Done sightseeing?”
“Ah!”
Ria was so startled that she fell backward onto her backside. Zen laughed, shaking his head a few times as he got up from the sofa.
His eyes showed no trace of sleep, as if he had been awake all along.
“Suddenly, you were scared and ran home, and now you’re telling me not to die… How should I take that?”
He reached out to Ria. Taking his hand, she rose to her feet and adjusted the shawl on her shoulders, pretending nonchalance.
Seeing her flustered, Zen shifted the topic as if to let it pass.
“…Are you okay?”
“Y-yeah… I, about Her Majesty…”
“My mother is relatively understanding, but I doubt she’d like a Crown Princess who runs away on their first meeting.”
Ria stayed silent, knowing she could offer no excuse for her earlier actions.
“Just kidding, not laughing?”
“How is that a joke!”
Zen let out a soft chuckle and turned his body.
“Looks like you’re okay. I’ll leave then.”
“Already?”
Ria unconsciously grabbed his clothing. Zen’s eyes widened briefly, then curved into a crescent.
“Want me to stay longer?”
Ria quickly withdrew her hand. Maybe it was because she thought he might die, or because it was still early morning and he had just woken up—she hadn’t realized she was being sentimental. Blushing slightly, she said,
“N-no, go ahead.”
“…But I feel like I don’t want to leave yet…”
“Then go!”
Zen laughed at her flushed face.
“You do look fine. I’d like to stay longer, but I have work to do.”
“Go! Quickly!”
Ria pushed Zen’s back. Begrudgingly, he shuffled forward, muttering in a way she could hear clearly:
“Don’t worry. I won’t die… this time.”
After seeing Zen off, Ria resolved to save him—no longer for herself, but to prevent his death for Zen’s sake.
From now on, I’ll truly find a way to save Zen.
With this determination, she came to her recovery magic class, which was resuming today. She attended with Ciclaen, and since she had always been interested in this field, she entered the classroom excitedly.
“Professor Hafel’s health has worsened, so class has been postponed until a replacement is found.”
Ria nodded at Ciclaen, who was murmuring this information with a cute expression.
“I see.”
Unlike the sparkling curiosity in Ciclaen’s eyes about the new professor, Ria nonchalantly flipped through the book she had already previewed. The change of professor was not important. The fact that the recovery magic professor had retired for health reasons was slightly amusing, though.
Whoever the teacher is, as long as they teach properly, that’s enough.
Recovery magic would surely be useful if learned well. A vision of Zen being stabbed flashed through Ria’s mind, and she shook her head to dismiss it.
Yes, maybe even in emergencies…
The identity of the new professor didn’t matter—until a man entered the classroom, radiating authority. Ria immediately reconsidered her thoughts.
Why is he here?
Ria dropped her book without realizing it. Ciclaen looked back in confusion, but Ria had no time to explain or pick it up.
The man holding the book labeled “Beginner Recovery Magic” and smiling was none other than Corend Widia.
The one who killed Zen… and the one who will kill him.
Ria’s mind flashed again with the image of a bloodied Zen, which quickly vanished.
“Ria, are you okay?”
Ciclaen asked as she picked up the fallen book. Ria had no words to respond.
Like at the banquet hall, Corend had long hair reaching his shoulders, wore a monocle, and had a genial smile. Even then, he had a scholar-like appearance, perfectly fitting the classroom and the book in his hands.
Standing at the podium, he introduced himself:
“I am Corend Rium, and I will be teaching beginner recovery magic this term.”
Corend Rium?
Ria’s eyebrows twitched. Corend winked at her, as if he had known she would be there all along.
“I have worked for many years as a recovery magician at the royal palace. Though I may not match Professor Hafel, I will teach diligently.”
He bowed, and a few students applauded. Ria recalled that he had mentioned working at the palace when they first met.
“He’s really handsome, isn’t he, Ria?”
Ciclaen asked brightly. Outside a few nobles, few had seen Corend’s face. In the original story, he was usually holed up in the mage tower, absorbed in research.
Two hours of class passed in an instant. Ria became so absorbed in recovery magic that she almost forgot that he might kill Zen.
Corend, frustratingly, was talented at teaching. He was, after all, the empire’s foremost archmage.
After just one class, Ria had already learned magic capable of stopping minor bleeding and removing scars. Compared to basic magic like creating fire or levitating objects, this had far more practical use.
“This won’t help with major wounds, though.”
Ria muttered bitterly.
Learning how to help Zen from the person who might kill him…
Throughout the recovery magic lessons, she had to consciously avoid imagining Zen’s death.
She left the classroom with Ciclaen. Lunch had become a regular, unspoken routine between them.
Maybe Ciclaen thinks of me as a pretty close friend now.
Just then:
“Ria Cavlik, student.”
Tap.
Someone lightly tapped her shoulder. Ria instinctively frowned. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was—she had heard that voice countless times over the two-hour class.
