Just like that, I watch her, admiring her.
Ahh…
My leg's practically shimring now, glistening with too much oil.
But honestly?
I don't care.
If it ans I get to watch Morvena like this, then she can keep oiling my leg like a chef glazing a roast for the midwinter banquet. Over and over. Endlessly.
There's sothing oddly soothing about it… and deeply dangerous too.
——————————
The truth is… I've always been drawn to beautiful won.
And I've never been bothered to pretend otherwise. Not once. Not when the whispers began, not when the rumors spread like wildfire, not even when the clergy muttered about how it must be the demon blood corrupting , twisting , staining my soul, flipping my sense of right and wrong.
Still, I let them whisper, I let them say what they will.
Yes, I like won.
So what?
Which is why, over the years, I watched the very sa people who scorned offer their daughters like wrapped gifts—smiling too wide, speaking too sweet, hoping that behind closed doors I would reach for one of them, that I would choose a pretty, empty thing and crown her with favor.
They wanted power, status.
Every single one of them, desired a shortcut to the throne.
So girls were bold, so were clever.
So were… heartbreakingly beautiful.
But of course, I rejected every single one.
Because I knew, that none of them love . They don't see . Not really.
They all smile to my face and shiver under my gaze—but behind closed doors? They spit my na like venom. They curse the blood that runs through my veins. They mock my birth. They fear , despise … pity .
And so I learned early... that romance is a weakness, that falling in love is equal to falling into death.
Like a dagger with a gilded handle, you think you're grasping warmth, but it only takes one slip before it guts you open.
After all, love clouds judgnt.
It lures you into vulnerability, it makes fools of even the strongest rulers.
And I—Felicia Aurelia di Ventaria—cannot afford to be a fool.
No. Not with this crown. Not with this blood.
So I hardened.
I locked the doors to my heart and cast the key into the deepest part of the sea, swearing never to look for it again.
And thus, for the longest ti, I told myself that real love didn't exist.
Not for people like , not for cursed princesses born with blood that twists the world around them.
Lovers. Soulmates. Holding hands, sitting on rooftops, gazing upon the stars under the moonlit sky...
All of it felt like so cruel fairytale I wasn't allowed to believe in.
Because after all... who could ever look past the title, the curse, the tainted blood that whispers of demons and madness?
Who would ever… truly see ?
But then—
She ca…and changed everything.
Flipped my entire world upside down.
...
Now, as I glance down at her now—kneeling so earnestly before , eyes lowered in reverence, her hands working so gently against my skin—it happens.
My heart swells, and with that swell… sothing shifts.
Just slightly, just enough.
Like a crack forming in the walls I thought would never break, like the faint flicker of a fla I thought had long burned out.
Could it really be…?
Could she be the one?
If so, then fate has handed a treasure beyond imagining.
A one-in-a-million soul.
No—a billion.
A trillion!!!
She's not just beautiful—though gods know she is.
No, it's more than that.
She bears the sa curse I do. She's felt the sa whispers, the sa weight, the sa cold judgnt from a world that refuses to understand.
She doesn't flinch.
She doesn't fear.
She understands.
And gods… I want to reach for her right now.
To pull her close, to feel her warmth, not just on my skin, but in my soul.
But now…
BA-DUMP!
My heart is screaming, screeching.
Because… Damn it, I'm afraid.
Truly afraid.
Terrified.
What if… she doesn't feel the sa?
What if… she just sees … as a princess… and nothing else?
What if this connection—the one that feels like lifeblood to — can only ever remain one-sided?
Just the thought of it cuts deeper than any blade.
Damn it… it hurts more than I want to admit.
But even so… this might be my one chance.
I have to take it.
If what Irene said is true…
Then…
I want to hear it from her own lips.
—————
Slop slop....
The foot massage goes waaaaaay longer than expected. One leg—already over an hour!
Still… I don't mind.
I have all the ti in the world.
So I just sit there and wait, pretending to be relaxed, pretending to be distant, while secretly watching her every move. My eyes track the soft rhythm of her fingers, the way her hands glide reverently across my skin. There's sothing hypnotic about it. The rise and fall of her shoulders, the way her brows furrow in concentration…
I bite my lip, trying to hold back the ss of feelings twisting inside —joy, nervousness, longing… fear.
A soundless giggle flutters in my throat, fragile as a moth's wings.
And I shake—just a little.
Does she notice?
Gods, I hope not.
No—wait, I do.
No… I don't.
I can't decide which terrifies more.
Finally—finally—Morvena reaches for the towel. She begins to dab away the excess oil from my foot, slow and delicate. Most of the magic has long since soaked into my skin, leaving behind only warmth and a subtle glow.
Ba-dump.
Ba-dump!!
BA-DUMP!!!
My heart races, thunderous and wild, thudding in my ears so loudly it muffles the rest of the world. My throat tightens, nausea curling in my chest like smoke. I grip the edge of the couch to ground myself. Gods, I feel dizzy, sick.
But I keep my composure.
Barely.
Now, it's ti…
"…Morvena," I murmur, quieter than before. Almost breathless. "Do you recognize this?"
I reach over to the table.
My fingers tremble as they close around a small notebook. The soft leather cover is warm under my touch—or maybe that's just my hand, slick with sweat.
I raise it. Show it to her.
The second her eyes land on it, I see it happen.
Her breath hitches.
Her body jerks.
Her tail stiffens like a whip.
"Y-Y-Your Highness…?! I-Is that… what I think it is?"
"Yes." My voice stays soft, even as my pulse screams. "Your diary."
The instant I say that, her face turns pale.
She recoils instinctively, folding in on herself like she's bracing for so divine punishnt to strike her down. Her shoulders shrink, her ears flatten, and for a heartbeat, I see fear flicker behind her eyes.
And I hate it.
Even though Irene read it—told there was sothing inside I needed to see—I never opened it. Not even once.
I couldn't.
Because a diary isn't just ink and paper. It's a heart, laid bare. A soul, stripped down and left trembling on the page. To read it without permission would be like plunging a blade into soone's chest and calling it curiosity.
If I pry too deeply, if I force her to share sothing she's not ready to share, I might shatter the fragile thread of trust we've only just begun to weave. I could ruin everything before it even begins.
So I speak.
As gently as I can.
"I haven't read it," I say quickly, almost in a breath. "But… will you allow to?"
Ba-dump.
Ba-dump.
She parts her lips—about to say sothing.
But the words never make it out.
She swallows them down like sothing too sharp to speak.
And then…
Silence.
Heavy. Awkward. Suffocating.
It stretches between us like the edge of a guillotine, waiting to fall.
My hands sweat more. I grip the diary tighter, the leather cover slick beneath my fingers. My knuckles pale.
Gods, I'm shaking now.
Damn it, Morvena…
Please say yes.
Please say no.
Please… just say sothing!!!
And then—
"I-If… Your Highness wishes… then… please feel free to read it."
Her voice is so quiet, so thin, I almost don't hear it at first.
And as those words settle between us, my heart sinks—deep and sharp.
Because I know what that answer truly is.
It's not consent.
It's not trust.
It's submission.
She doesn't want to read it. Not really. She's just… letting .
Because I'm the princess.
Because she thinks she has no choice.
And in that mont, for the first ti in my life—
I hate my title.
I hate it like it's now a sword pressed to my throat.
So I ask again.
Softer, but firr.
My eyes narrow slightly, scanning her face.
"Are you sure?" I ask. "You don't need to force yourself. I won't read it if you truly don't want to."
She closes her eyes.
Takes a breath so deep it trembles in her chest.
"No… I'm sure," she whispers at last. But her voice is shaky, and her hands—clasped tightly in her lap—are trembling. "The truth is… I do have secrets. But as your knight… it wouldn't feel right to keep them from you."
…
Fuck...
That answer…
It isn't any better.
Not the answer I wanted. Not the one I needed.
It's still her duty speaking. Not her heart.
I draw a breath, steadying myself, before lifting the diary higher in front of .
"Last chance," I say. "If you say no, I'll shred this into a million pieces. I won't be angry. Everyone has their secrets, I understand. And as long as they don't pose a threat to or this kingdom, I won't punish you for having them."
Still, even after I say that, she hesitates, again.
And my heart—
Ba-dump.
Ba-dump.
It thunders so loud I can barely hear anything else.
"…It's fine," she murmurs. "You can read it."
Then she looks away. Instantly. Her fists clenched so tightly, her knuckles turn white. Her entire body folds inward, like she's bracing herself for a blow.
…
I stare at her.
"Tch…"
I click my tongue.
And then… I smile.
I give up.
Because now I know, this isn't going to go anywhere. Not like this.
Even though I desperately want an answer, even though my chest aches, screaming to know what's inside that book.
I shouldn't.
Thus, only one thing left to do.
I toss the diary into the air, and with a sharp flick of my wrist—
SLASH!
A clean arc of magic cuts through the air.
The notebook splits, its pages fluttering like feathers before disintegrating into pieces.
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