Chapter 36
Damian, who had been spacing out for a while, finally spoke.
“…Did it really respond?”
“Yes. It shone. Definitely.”
His green eyes looked down at the sword again.
The light from earlier was already gone. But the lingering reaction seemed to excite Damian, and he couldn’t hide it.
“…That’s strange.”
“What is?”
“It was just for a moment.”
He lifted the sword and examined it carefully.
“It felt like the sword… was speaking to me.”
The sacred sword was a divine weapon with a soul. It was said to only speak to the one it recognized as its master.
It wasn’t full synchronization yet, but it had begun.
“That’s a good sign.”
Damian put the sword down and looked at me. His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out.
“……”
An awkward silence stretched. Damian cleared his throat.
“…Um.”
“Yes?”
“…I think it’s thanks to you.”
“Huh?”
“Your Highness, the princess.”
Damian’s gaze shifted to the side. He couldn’t look at me directly.
“The words you said… not to wait to be chosen, but to choose for myself.”
His ears were slightly red.
“It helped.”
He barely added that one sentence before turning his head again.
‘…Wow, he really has a cute side.’
“Is saying thank you really that hard?” I thought. How much did he struggle to open that stiff mouth?
I almost laughed but held it in. If I laughed here, he’d probably get sulky again.
Instead, I picked up the water jug next to me.
“Do you want some water?”
“…Huh?”
“You must be thirsty. You’ve sweated a lot.”
Damian froze for a moment, looking surprised. A reaction of “water as a thanks?” or maybe he expected something more dramatic. Too bad, there wasn’t.
I smiled and held the jug out further.
“Here. If you don’t drink, you’ll get dehydrated.”
Damian looked at me quietly. His gaze was strange.
After staring for a while, he let out a small sigh.
“…Thank you.”
He took the jug and drank quickly. Watching him, I felt quietly proud.
‘It’s going well.’
The sacred sword had started reacting. Not fully, but it was only a matter of time.
Before the regression, it took a year. But now, it would be faster. No more losing sight like before.
‘Not much left until the first goal is achieved.’
I bit into an apple happily. Crunch. Sweet.
“…Princess.”
“Hm?”
“Will you come again?”
Damian asked while putting the jug down. His tone was blunt, but his eyes had a hint of expectation.
“Of course. I have nothing else to do anyway.”
“…I see.”
Damian turned his head. His mouth almost smiled—or maybe not. I tilted my head, shrugged. I didn’t know. Anyway, he’d see me today and tomorrow.
A few days later.
It was the day to bring refined stones. I woke up early and rolled up my sleeves.
The inner side of my arm was exposed. Old and new scars overlapped. Self-treated wounds were rough and uneven. Healed skin was bumpy, older scars white.
I took out a dagger to make a new cut. Hardly any clean spots left. In the end, I cut next to an unfinished wound. Blood flowed.
“Ugh.”
Familiar pain came. I endured it, collected the blood on my palm, poured my energy into it, and red light surged as the refined stone formed.
I roughly treated the wound and wrapped it with a bandage. Covered it with long sleeves. Secretly.
I carried a small box to Carlos’ office. Knocked.
“Come in.”
I entered. Carlos sat at his desk. Sunlight poured in, lighting his side profile.
He looked up from his papers.
“Here already?”
“Yes. I brought the refined stones.”
I placed the box on the desk. Carlos opened it, checked the stones glowing faint red, then silently closed it. Since I first hid the source of the stones, he hadn’t asked a single thing.
An awkward silence filled the office. Actually, only I felt awkward. Carlos didn’t care if I lingered or not.
“The archduke’s sacred sword has started reacting. Weakly, but it has.”
“Is that so?”
Carlos’ answer was short. He seemed uninterested. But I knew how much he worried about his son.
Even if he acted cold, after losing his wife and daughter, all his attention went to Damian.
‘Back then, I laughed at their father-son antics. Now… it hurts remembering.’
“I hope the archduke gets healthier too.”
I said it sincerely. Even if I didn’t accomplish all other goals, as long as Carlos survived, it would be enough.
He shifted slightly, as if wanting to say something, then closed his mouth tightly.
“…Leave.”
A cold voice.
“Yes?”
“If you’re done talking, leave. How long do you plan to occupy my office, princess?”
His tone was sharp, different from before. Honestly, I was slightly taken aback by the sudden change, but now I was used to his occasional hostility.
‘It’s natural for him to hate me.’
“…Yes, then rest.”
I bowed and left. The door closed heavily behind me.
Alone, the office was quiet. Carlos looked out the window. The child who had just left lingered in his mind—the small figure walking down the hallway, the glance back at the door.
“I hope the archduke gets healthier too.”
The voice was innocent, sincere. But Carlos didn’t take it at face value. The princess was the emperor’s child—enough reason to be cautious, enough reason to hate.
Cookies from Loreah to Mia sat on a tray, untouched for days. He ignored everything the princess brought.
Yet strangely, despite being pushed away and treated coldly, she persisted. Every time with refined stones, asking after him, worrying about his health.
‘What’s gotten into her?’
Even avoiding the emperor’s attention, it didn’t explain everything. Why did she say these things knowing she was just being used?
“…Annoying.”
Carlos, tired, rubbed his eyes, then slowly opened a drawer.
