Chapter 5. Bang! The Blanket Rustling...
"Your Highness, why on earth did you take this book?"
Luna's voice was colder than the eternal snows of the North. North Saga: Winter Night's Heat—that glorious piece of human cultural heritage—dangled precariously between her slender fingers, freshly pried from my body.
"Luna, please... This is a precious treasure I found in this freezing, grueling North!"
"This is confiscated. And strictly speaking, it's the property of the ducal house. I'll show it to the lady and ask how to dispose of it."
"No! Please! Luna! Lady Luna! Spare me just this once!"
Forget imperial prince dignity—I flung myself flat on the floor, ready to grab the hem of her skirt and beg.
"Luna, the moment you take this to Betty—no, the lady—I'll be branded a pervert prince and dumped in ugly disgrace in the middle of these northern mountains."
"Your Highness, let go! For a prince to act like this on the street...!"
Confusion flickered across Luna's icy face for the first time. I was live-streaming the downfall of the capital's refined prince image, after all. Squeezing out every drop of pitiful tears, I clung desperately.
"I'm not letting go until you promise! Luna, a kind-hearted maid like you wouldn't throw a poor, pretty young thing like me to the wolves, right?"
"Haa... Fine. Please, just get up. I'll keep it secret this one time."
As expected, groveling worked on Luna.
"Really?! Luna, you're an angel! No, the saintess of the North!"
I sprang up, dusted myself off, and tenderly tucked away the treasure she handed back. This time, wedged tight between my shirt and pants, belted secure—safe as houses.
Luna shook her head in disbelief at my antics and led me to the dining hall.
Beatrice was already seated when we entered. She glanced at me indifferently, propping her chin on her hand.
"You're late, Your Highness. Enjoying the Winterfell library that much?"
"Ah, yes. Very... educational books there."
I shot Luna a wry glance and smile, then slammed my head down and inhaled the food like a storm.
Thick but slightly fishy smoked meat, dry rye bread without enough butter, thick but flavorless soup. Chomp chomp. Normally I'd pick at it, but right now? Like cup ramen after a brutal march—no breaks.
"......Your Highness?"
Betty's fork froze mid-air. She stared like I'd become a starving beast. The maids couldn't hide their shock as I demolished two plates including the meat and gulped the soup.
"Anyone would think I starved you for days. Does northern food suit you that well?"
"Ahaha, turns out northern grub fits my body better than palace fare. Plus, I'm still 18—growing boy. Gotta eat big."
Truth was, the library power drain had sapped me, but I flashed Betty a grin.
She muttered in disbelief, dropping a sugar cube into her coffee. "Good to hear northern food agrees. Eat up. You'll need energy to meet the knights tomorrow."
"Knights? Tomorrow's the knight order visit?"
"Yes. With you here, we need to show Winterfell's might, and the knights are curious about you. Rest quietly in your room this afternoon."
Her words carried a clear "don't wander" vibe.
As if I'm some accident magnet with no chill.
Anyway, I planned to practice my new healing power privately, so I smiled. "Got it. I'll behave and rest in my room this afternoon."
Back in my room after lunch, I told Luna not to disturb me until dinner, locked the door. She gave me a pitiful look but nodded and left.
First, stash this treasure.
I pulled it from between my clothes, hid it under the pillow. Army life taught me: valuables like two-packs go under the pillow, closest to you. Who knows? Sleeping on it might summon dreams.
After sleep, keep it on me—no body search finds it.
Mind eased, I finally practiced the healing power from the library. In case someone smashed the door, I burrowed under the blanket, palm out, focusing every nerve.
A soft platinum glow shimmered clearer than before. Warmth flowed through my palm as I moved it.
"Hng... hng..."
For hours, I tensed and relaxed my body, memorizing the odd sensation.
Won't save my neck in two years, but handy in a pinch.
As I shoved off the blanket, the treasure lay by my hand.
Thrashed around a lot, huh? Rolled from under the pillow. Time to tidy and rest.
I grabbed it to put away, flung off the blanket. Fresh air felt great after hours inside.
"Haa... Body aches from overdoing it. Gotta pace myself..."
Thud!
My head snapped to the window noise. Opened the door—nothing.
"Crow kamikaze? Anyway, starving for dinner."
Meanwhile, in the lady's office.
Beatrice waged war on endless papers, eyes weary.
"Out with it. Luna? Or Karin?"
"As you wish, Mistress."
Before her sat the flushed leader of Winterfell's assassination and intel org—disguised as Rian's maid Luna, sometimes Karin, always watching him.
"Karin, report day's not till later. Did the prince show his true colors already?"
Her fatigue vanished; red eyes sharpened.
"No. But he seems like a mad pervert."
"...What?"
"First, day one: alone in his room, posing in the mirror saying, 'This body's buffer than I thought?'"
"...Right."
Beatrice shrugged it off—she'd pegged him mad for the nickname push. But Karin, solemn, continued.
"Worse: after lunch today, he told me not to disturb him. For two hours straight, that..."
Her grave face cracked; ears red, eyes shaky.
"Karin, don't test me. I hate wasting talent."
"He masturbated under the blanket for two hours!"
Silence crashed like a bomb.
"......Masturbated?"
Her quill hit the floor. Northern chill eyes trembled in first-time cognitive dissonance.
"What... Karin, do you grasp what you're saying? The empire's prince, in my castle, broad daylight?"
"Yes. I checked from the window. Blanket over him, grunting 'hng, hng,' heavy breaths. And..."
Karin bowed her head, speechless. She'd seen horrors as intel chief, but a prince? Unprecedented.
"When he lifted the blanket, he held that lewd illustrated book from the library—'borrowed.' Sweaty, satisfied grin."
"......!"
Beatrice's pale cheeks blazed—not pink, blood-red like her eyes or a ripe apple.
That pervert bastard, in my castle, same floor as my bedroom...!
Unwanted images flooded: breakfast, his sly "You're extra beautiful today."
Was that smile hiding filthy thoughts?
"Filth..."
She gripped the desk edge, hands shaking.
"Filthy beast. Worse than animals... How does the imperial house raise kids?"
"Mistress, burn that book now? Or his...?"
Karin mimed throat-slit, but Beatrice shook her head. The sugar bowl he'd pushed lingered.
His soft voice: 'When something's on your mind, the whole world looks crooked.'
That gentle tone while doing that!
She shot up, ears burning.
Swallowing, she added, "What content kept him at it two hours...? Sneak that book when he leaves."
"Pardon? You'll read it?"
"No! To grasp his tastes, find weaknesses! Do I look curious about filth?!"
Her roar made Karin bow hastily. But Betty's heart thumped like war drums.
Rian... What are you?
"This treasure never gets old. But why's my ear itching? Someone cursing me?"
Rian tenderly re-hid his 'treasure' under the pillow, dreaming of blissful northern life ahead.
Reality had other plans.