The Second Prince's Seclusion (6)
Iriel Yustia hadn't been able to sleep properly since the entrance ceremony.
Those words he spat at her with a cold, piercing glare.
Iriel clawed at her hair and shook her head.
Exhausted, she would stuff bread into her mouth and barely drift off to sleep—that had become her routine.
'Is there something in this bread? It always makes me feel a bit better.'
With her mood somewhat lifted, Iriel finally fell asleep.
And every time she did, she dreamed of her childhood.
“Father!!”
“Ah, Iriel. What brings you here?”
“Who's that?”
She pointed straight at the boy.
“Someone insignificant. You needn't concern yourself.”
Her father dismissed him as worthless but never revealed the boy's identity.
Iriel begged a few more times after that, but he only told her to mind her own business.
'Hmph! Think that'll make me give up!?'
But Iriel Yustia was the wildest tomboy ever born to House Yustia.
She couldn't contain her curiosity.
Whenever her father went out alone, Iriel would wait under the covers until night fell, then peek out the door.
To avoid the patrolling guards at night, she made full use of her small frame, darting from shadow to shadow.
'Last time, I definitely saw him head underground...'
There were always two guards posted at the basement entrance.
Iriel hid behind a statue, stifling yawns as she waited.
“Hey, shift change is soon.”
“Yeah. I nearly dozed off.”
“Yawn. Hey, I gotta take a piss.”
“Hold it. I need to go too. I'll go first—you wait.”
“Screw it, let's go together. The family head's out today anyway. We'll be quick, and the relief guards are coming soon.”
With the two guards gone from the entrance, Iriel wrinkled her nose at the dark basement stairs looming before her.
The atmosphere was foreboding, like the maw of a monstrous beast. Her father had forbidden anyone from entering the mansion's basement.
She had never been down there.
But not even that order could quench Iriel's burning curiosity.
She scampered down the stairs into a narrow corridor lined with doors on both sides, like a prison. Flickering candles were spaced far apart, casting an eerie gloom.
At the end, darkness swallowed everything.
'Scawy. Whine, and there are so many doors... Which one is it?'
Iriel hesitated, imagining some weirdo bursting out if she picked the wrong door. As she stood there with arms crossed, a faint nutty aroma tickled her nose.
Soon, she spotted breadcrumbs scattered under a nearby door.
“Oh! Bread!”
She cried out and rushed over, scooping up the crumbs from the floor and popping them straight into her mouth.
Crunch—
The rough texture was nothing like the bread she usually ate.
Ptooey! Ptooey!
She spat out the crumbs immediately.
“Eww—tastes awful.”
“Who's there?”
Creeeak—
The door right in front of her swung open, revealing the boy. He looked down at the tiny girl before him with an expressionless face. His gaze lingered on her red hair, and his eyes widened slightly.
“L-Lady Iriel Yustia?”
“Yup! I'm Iriel!”
“Shh! Quiet. How did you get here so late at night...”
“Came to play!”
Without waiting for permission, Iriel barged right into the room.
A single candle illuminated the boy's sparse chamber.
The walls were bare, the grayish space holding only a bed. It was drab and depressing.
Iriel plopped onto the lone bed with a bounce, then pouted at the lumpy feel.
“Hmm, you live in a place like this?”
“...”
“Must be boring with nothing here. My room's full of fun stuff.”
“...Please leave. If the family head finds out, I'll be punished.”
“The bed sucks too. Mine's so pretty and fluffy.”
“...Please leave.”
“Hehe, no way~ Beeeh~”
Iriel winked with one eye and stuck out her tongue.
Haa...
The boy let out a deep sigh. Then his face suddenly hardened.
“Iriel Yustia. Get lost.”
Gasp—!
Iriel bolted upright in bed. Her heart pounded wildly, her back slick with cold sweat.
That nightmare again.
No, it wasn't a nightmare.
It couldn't be a bad memory—the precious recollection of her childhood with Zeke.
She just couldn't believe it was real.
“Idiot... You promised you'd protect me...”
Iriel hugged her knees and muttered.
Crunch.
'Zeke, did you really fall for that flower-headed bimbo...!?'
Unable to believe the gossip, Iriel ended up tailing him herself. What she witnessed was an unbelievable—no, unthinkable—sight.
Zeke was carrying Serena in his arms like something precious.
'No. Zeke. Not her. You're mine!!!'
It felt like losing her last cherished slice of bread, or a prized jewel, snatched away before her eyes.
Serena Yohayden smirking slyly as she claimed Zeke.
'Where did I go wrong?'
Was it because she'd been such a brat all this time...?
No. He wouldn't change over something like that...
Or maybe... She couldn't be sure.
The five years since he left the mansion.
The five years in the military without meeting.
Ten years apart had planted seeds of anxiety in Iriel.
When she heard he was in the army, she wrote letters begging to see him—but only rejections came back.
She applied to the academy, searching for any way to pull him out.
Then she suddenly recalled his old words.
Because of that, she'd worried he might vanish—and in her panic, handed all his money to the army.
She'd meant to give it all back.
The unwavering loyalty she'd never once doubted crumbled in an instant.
Iriel finally realized how naturally she'd assumed Zeke was hers.
'It's suffocating.'
Thud. Thud.
She pounded her chest, but the tightness wouldn't fade. Her room was a mess.
A half-eaten baguette lay on the floor from last night.
Iriel silently got out of bed and picked up the crumbs from the corner.
Crunch—
***
In a luxurious restaurant, an emergency alarm rang out even before the dinner rush.
“Hurry! Hurry up and make it! Priority over all other orders!!”
“What? Why? What's the big deal?”
“The Second Prince, Yohayden, and Yustia showed up!”
“What!?”
The chefs poured every ounce of strength into the food, more frantically than usual, with lifelong effort.
Dissatisfying even one of them could mean closing shop for good.
“Th-this is steak from young heifers... Grazed on pastures with fine music...”
“And this cheese, aged three years in the snowy mountains...”
The server, forcing a smile, explained each dish in a trembling voice.
The table filled quickly, but no one spoke.
'Why the hell did this guy follow us here!'
Rosnante ground his teeth.
If he was an instructor, shouldn't he at least read the room?
After the First Prince visited his room that day,
Rosnante, lost in despair, had reignited his ambitions.
Of course, the current situation was the worst.
His supporters doubted him, and even his prized swordsmanship had been outmatched.
'A-and the piss...'
Rosnante shoved the shameful memory deep down.
But those present were two ducal ladies,
the First Prince's countess daughter,
and a commoner girl.
The commoner was whatever, but this was the perfect chance to rebuild his faction.
No—even surpass the First Prince.
'Yeah, this is where I start over. They're all girls anyway. I'll stand out the most.'
Rosnante gulped down his daydreams like kimchi soup.
That's why he'd suggested dinner,
but Zeke Clayman ruined it all.
Yet he was too terrifying to complain.
Once all the food arrived, Zeke finally spoke.
“Let's eat first.”
The students picked up forks and knives and began eating. Soy Spoon, with no experience in such places, stole glances at the others and mimicked them.
The quiet meal began, and Iriel spoke up.
“Zeke... What's that?”
“?”
He looked at her quizzically, and she pointed at what he held with her knife.
“That.”
Iriel was pointing at a small wooden fork.
“You used to be super sensitive about those.”
'Ah, this body's habits. No wonder it keeps messing up my plans—must be the original owner's quirks.'
Iriel eyed Zeke suspiciously, but he brushed it off casually.
“Everyone uses these in the military. Can't exactly demand otherwise just because I'm stubborn.”
“R-right... Ten years. It's been ten years...”
Iriel forced a smile, but her eyes trembled.
Then.
“Iriel Yustia. Why are you speaking casually to him?”
Rosnante butted in from the side.
'This clueless bastard. I'm finally getting some intel on this body.'
Zeke glared at Rosnante.
“Zeke, do you want me to use formal speech with you too?”
Iriel ignored the Second Prince entirely, addressing only Zeke. He sighed.
“Fine. To avoid standing out among students, use formal speech in the academy.”
“Yes, got it.”
Iriel obeyed Zeke without hesitation.
Meanwhile, Serena's heart burned with jealousy.
'What the hell! Why's she looking at Instructor so moistly! What happened between them!?'
Serena knew Zeke had amnesia.
So she didn't know what relationship he'd had with Iriel Yustia.
Glancing around, Serena took stock.
'Not just Iriel... How did the gender ratio end up like this...'
Her eyes swept over them one by one.
Commoner girl. Countess's daughter. Iriel Yustia. And herself.
All of them stunning, like paintings!
'Why did this happen. Why...'
Despite the grueling training ahead, four girls and this absurd setup. Serena sighed inwardly.
Rosnante was forgotten once more.
*
As the meal continued,
the tense Soy Spoon overdid it while cutting her steak.
Splat!
Sauce splattered toward Zeke's clothes.
“Eek! S-sorry!”
“It's fine, Elise.”
Soy squeezed her eyes shut in apology.
“Still, I'll clean up quick. Keep eating.”
Zeke rose from his chair.
With him gone, silence fell again.
Serena and Iriel, at odds like sworn enemies.
Soy Spoon, shrinking among the powerhouses.
The ever-silent Yuri Gilbert.
And the Second Prince, crushed by Zeke into silence.
'Finally!! Commoner!! You've got guts!'
Rosnante cheered inwardly. Without Zeke, he transformed, opening his mouth.
“We're all academy students in the same year and class. We'll see each other for four years. How about we all drop the formalities?”
To recruit them to his faction, Rosnante offered magnanimity.
The commoner speaking casually to him irked him a bit, but he granted special leeway for her role in chasing Zeke off.
It would've been empty words before, but now it was sincere.
'Yeah, I've changed.'
“...Sure.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“G-g-good!”
Nod.
But despite his grace, everyone except the girl Elise took it nonchalantly.
A mere prince—not even Crown Prince—held no real sway over ducal ladies. Their minds were full of Zeke anyway.
'Hm, at least the commoner knows her place.'
Rosnante turned to Soy Spoon.
“Elise, right?”
“Y-yes!? N-no, uh, yeah!”
Soy's flustered nonsense made Rosnante chuckle.
Without Zeke, the mood loosened nicely.
'That guy's only good at swinging a sword. No talent for conversation.'
'I'll take the lead here.'
“What food do you all like best?”
“...Baguette bread.”
“...Bread.”
Iriel and Soy answered reflexively. Their eyes met.
“You like bread?”
Iriel asked first.
“Yeah! My family just opened a bakery here. Tried it?”
“Where? I've tried most places.”
“Hilais Bakery!”
“!”
Iriel's eyes widened. All her recent bread came from Hilais Bakery.
And its maker was right here!
She'd been thinking of praising the owner personally. With talk turning to her favorite topic,
her Zeke-induced turmoil eased a bit.
“You make that bread?”
“Yeah! Some mine, some Mom's or sister's. Little bro hasn't started yet.”
“Hm, I'll give praise. Keep making tasty bread.”
“Thanks for enjoying it!”
As the two dove into bread talk, the others felt awkward.
'Th-this isn't it!'
Rosnante's eyes darted.
“So who makes the morning bread? One batch was especially good.”
“Morning?”
“Yeah.”
“Rock-paper-scissors.”
Then Rosnante's desperate pun landed—with full force!
“So, who's 'Rock-Paper'? Is that a famous lady?”
Rock-paper-scissors...
Rock-paper-scis...
Rock-paper-pussy...
The girls, initially confused, pondered—then their eyes filled with contempt.
The briefly warmed atmosphere chilled instantly.
If not for his Second Prince status,
they would've stormed out.
'Huh? This kills with noble kids, usually—wait, what!?'
Rosnante broke into a cold sweat.
*
Zeke returned after wiping his clothes with water and cloth, expecting some bonding.
Instead, the other students stared at Rosnante like trash.
'What happened?'
Asking the Second Prince seemed pointless.
He eyed Serena for answers, but she shook her head. Same with Iriel.
'Soy Spoon... No good.'
She was already tense among nobles; even if Rosnante did something, she wouldn't speak up.
Zeke turned to the black-haired, black-eyed girl, Yuri Gilbert.
“What happened?”
Yuri sighed deeply, approached, and whispered the full story in his ear.
Zeke squeezed his eyes shut.
'What kinda moron... Pulling a sex joke not even for drunk pepper field parties. And this is a romance novel ML candidate?'
How do you write a romance novel without getting flak for making this guy the lead?
'Soy Spoon? Was this your type?'
Glancing at her, he saw undisguised contempt. Not her either.
The author must be insanely skilled—or have unbreakable mental fortitude.
“Rosnante.”
Zeke called in a cold voice.
“Y-yes!”
“Don't speak in my classes anymore if you can help it. You make people's ears hurt.”
Everyone's faces lit up with satisfaction.