Chapter 29
“I’m not sure. Maybe it’s because I got up a bit earlier today.”
Actually, when Tamarin’s foot had bumped into her earlier, she had felt some pain, though she hadn’t thought much of it.
Marcella took out a handkerchief and wiped the blood. It wasn’t a serious injury; the handkerchief didn’t even get completely soaked.
“Blood just from getting up early?”
Nel tilted her head.
“You must be quite frail.”
“That’s right, Your Majesty! Since the young lady’s body is so weak that even a nosebleed occurs, I’m sure you must be worried. Perhaps the finest tonic from the East should be prepared for her…”
Arthur glanced at Marcella and smiled. Marcella gasped, clutching the handkerchief over her nose, shaking her head.
“I’m not weak!”
This was because she had been accidentally hit while trying to stop your divine beasts from fighting—not because her body was frail.
Marcella was frustrated, but Nel nodded in agreement with Arthur’s words.
“Very well, then.”
“Your Majesty!”
“Then we shall prepare it. Now, shall we be on our way? If we keep the meeting waiting any longer, those without patience will start wailing.”
“Sir Digory! I’m perfectly fine! I don’t need a tonic!”
Marcella shouted, but Arthur Digory just smiled softly. He knew what he was doing—he was doing this on purpose! He wanted to make me feel uncomfortable!
Marcella was certain of it and followed them.
“Really, I’m fine!”
A tonic from the East of the highest quality… how much would that cost? Probably the same as a debutante dress, at least.
Yet she would receive it even though she wasn’t weak—or even if she were, it would be burdensome.
Arthur Digory, as if sensing Marcella’s thoughts, grinned broadly at her.
“Oh? The young lady will be attending the meeting as well? How wonderful. They were already quite curious about you. Why don’t we take this opportunity to greet them together?”
Marcella froze at Arthur Digory’s words.
“That would be fine by me. Young lady, what do you say?”
Seeing Arthur Digory’s smiling face sent a shiver down Marcella’s spine.
Marcella shook her head vigorously, and Phoenix landed on her shoulder. The little creature rubbed its head against her cheek, showing affection.
Tamarin, who had been biting Nel’s ankle, relaxed his jaw and spat on the floor.
“Tamarin, Phoenix, since the young lady’s nose bled and she’s unwell, don’t torment her behind the emperor’s back.”
—Shut up, Arthur.
—Yeah. Shut up, Arthur. Why would I torment Marcella?
Phoenix flared briefly with fire before rubbing her head against Marcella’s cheek again.
“If you look at the young lady’s expression right now, you should probably question whether you’re actually tormenting her.”
—Shut up and move, Arthur. Or should I tear you apart right here so you can’t follow?
“Now, Your Majesty, let’s hurry.”
Arthur turned without looking back, urging Nel forward.
Nel glanced at them, faintly smiling, then walked on.
Arthur Digory hesitated for a moment, then followed silently, making a peculiar face. Behind them, the attendants followed as well.
Marcella was left behind, unsure how to vent her frustration.
Once Phoenix realized Marcella wasn’t hot, she pressed herself firmly against Marcella’s shoulder, acting as if it were her rightful place.
Marcella didn’t push her off—she wasn’t heavy. If she asked her to move away, she would flare up like a blazing red fireball.
Still, Phoenix was somewhat helpful.
Unlike Tamarin, who only teased her, Phoenix guided Marcella out of the main palace and knew the way elsewhere.
—Marcella, why are you collecting sticks? Are you going to throw them at Tami?
Marcella had thrown all the sticks she’d collected earlier at Tamarin in surprise, but originally, that wasn’t her plan.
She shook her head and began gathering sticks again.
—Idiot, I’m not throwing them at you, I’m going to Tami.
—Why?
—Because you’re being annoying.
—You’re the one being annoying, Tami. It’s your fault Marcella got a nosebleed.
—That’s because she’s a weakling.
Tamarin scoffed. Phoenix flapped her wings threateningly at him.
—Marcella, did you hear that? He called you a weakling and doesn’t even know it’s his own fault.
“…Phoenix, your wing is hitting my face.”
—Oh my.
Phoenix transformed into a human form with a pop, peering at Marcella’s face.
“How dare you! You scratched me!”
The red-haired girl fussed dramatically, examining Marcella’s face seriously.
“Tamarin!”
“You’re the one who did it, yet you’re angry at me?”
Tamarin also turned into human form. She showed Phoenix where to look, but even after frowning and examining it carefully, there was no scratch.
“Where did I scratch you?”
“Phoenix, I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt anywhere.”
“Here! Here! Even if you carry your hair like an ornament, you should keep your eyes open!”
“Phoenix, really, it’s fine.”
Marcella repeated, but Phoenix didn’t hear and continued scolding Tamarin.
Marcella instinctively tensed when Phoenix grabbed her cheek.
“You see, that’s why everyone hates you for being inconsiderate.”
“So you’re considered weak but kind-hearted and get treated like a pushover?”
“It hurts, Phoenix.”
“When have I ever been treated like a pushover?”
“Can you honestly say no?”
“Phoenix!”
Marcella shouted loudly, and both Tamarin and Phoenix’s eyes, which had been fighting, simultaneously turned to her.
For a moment, their eyes glowed dangerously like beasts, then softened when they looked at her.
Phoenix inhaled sharply, and the heat that had risen inside her entered Marcella’s mouth.
She removed her hand, trembling and fidgeting.
“I’m sorry, Marcella. I didn’t realize I was using so much force.”
Phoenix’s hand shook.
In human form, Phoenix had seemed taller than Marcella, but now their eyes met perfectly.
Yet she seemed much younger—maybe only as old as Tela.
“Everything’s fine now.”
Marcella reassured her, and Phoenix smiled brightly, reminiscent of Tela.
Tamarin looked at Marcella’s profile, then touched her nose and fiddled with it.
“What are you doing?”
“Hasn’t your nose gotten lower? I think it’s lower than mine now.”
Was he implying that his nose was high but hers was low?
“My nose has always been like this.”
“No, it seems lower. Because of what happened earlier.”
Tamarin pinched her nose like shaping sand. That wouldn’t actually make it higher, though.
Marcella frowned, glaring at Tamarin, but he ignored her and continued fiddling.
“Does that make your nose higher? You’re dumb, Tami?”
“I heard before that if the king touches it, it might get higher. Maybe if you pull it?”
Tamarin stretched Marcella’s nose gently.
“Wait, it hurts!”
“Was I not supposed to pull it?”
He stopped pulling and just poked it gently.
“My nose is fine as it is! Leave it alone!”
Marcella pushed his hands away angrily. Tamarin put his hands up and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“Did the king lie? He talks nonsense so often, I can’t be sure.”
“Did His Majesty really say that?”
Tamarin shrugged without answering.
“So what about the sticks?”
Phoenix asked. The conversation returned to the beginning.
Marcella sighed, realizing how exhausting it was to pick up just one stick.
“I’m trying to make something.”
“Something big with sticks?”
“Nothing big.”
Marcella answered Tamarin primly, picking up sticks again.
Phoenix followed, picking out a suitable stick and offering it to Marcella, looking for praise. She really did resemble Tela.
Marcella wondered how old she might be.
She had heard that summoned beasts’ mental age was usually around 5–8 years old, unless they were special. But Phoenix was a divine beast—maybe different. What exactly was a divine beast?
“Thank you.”
Phoenix flared up with fire.
She turned to Tamarin proudly, lifting her chin. Tamarin crossed his arms and smirked.
With a cracking sound, Marcella turned to see Tamarin breaking a large branch still attached to a tree.
Tamarin lifted the broken branch and smiled at Phoenix, who gritted her teeth.
“Wait, what are you doing?!”
Simultaneously, they attacked the tree, breaking every branch they could reach.
Marcella spread her arms, shaking, and ran toward them.
“Stop! Stop!”
Sweat began forming on her forehead.
“All the sticks are gone!”
Marcella held her face in disbelief. The tree, stripped of its branches, looked pitiful.
She turned into a small beast and scolded them.
—But Marcella, you said thank you.
Phoenix protested, and Marcella widened her eyes.
“That was for the sticks that fell naturally. I was just picking up branches that had fallen, not breaking them!”
—Marcella, we’re sort of like nature. What we broke is similar to what would naturally fall…
Phoenix started to explain, but then bowed her head at Marcella’s gaze. She pecked Tamarin’s side and whispered.
—Marcella is really scary when she’s angry.
“What am I supposed to say if anyone finds out this tree is ruined?”
The palace tree ruined like this—it was giving her a headache. Suddenly, a gust of wind seemed to blow only on this tree. Her mind reeled at the ridiculousness of the excuse.
