Green Ripples in the Heart
An enemy Lisianthus had struggled just to fend off, Raymon had overwhelmed in a single breath.
Had Titania and the others not been caught in the crossfire, Raymon might well have cut down the foe on the spot or torn away their mask to reveal the truth.
Never once had Lisianthus resented standing in his older brother's shadow. He knew the measure of his own vessel. Raymon was born to shoulder the mantle of this great house, while Lisianthus was merely his blade. Knowing full well the crushing burdens his brother bore, he harbored no envy—only a simple, burning desire to help. To burn away the thorns before Raymon with divine flame and clear a path with his sword.
Yet when he saw Raymon hesitate after sweeping Titania to safety—when he caught the tremor in those golden eyes, paralyzed with indecision over what to do with the battered girl in his arms—Lisianthus had shouted until his throat tore.
Damn it, Hyung!
All because he was too weak.
Just take Titania and go!
Weak enough that his brother couldn't leave with peace of mind. Weak enough that Raymon hesitated to run, even with Titania's life dangling by a thread.
“…Just hold out a little longer, Lisianthus.”
To force a man who was always the picture of cold composure to plead with him to simply survive.
‘Hah! Hold out? I’ll have them wiped out before you even know it, so hurry up and go!’
He had barked it out with all the bluster he could muster, but his stomach had churned like fire. It was the first true taste of defeat in his entire life.
“…It was a stupid idea,” Lisianthus muttered. “Trying to incinerate a few demonic beasts, and I almost roasted you to a crisp.”
He clenched his palms tight. High Priest Ilian’s healing had left them unblemished, erasing every trace of burns, but his fingernails dug so deep into his flesh they left white crescents in the skin.
“Oh, please. What was so stupid about that? If we were going to get torn apart by monsters anyway, going down swinging with a last-ditch struggle makes a lot more sense.”
Titania shrugged, her voice airy and light. Lisianthus’s head snapped up. His eyes collided with hers, clear and untroubled.
Her golden hair gleamed neatly under the sunlight, framing a pale, elegant brow. A faint blush dusted her cheeks as though someone had gently rubbed flower petals against her skin, and her green eyes held a serene calm wholly unfitting for someone who had just skirted death.
It felt as though someone had scooped out a pond in his chest and released a bright green fish into the depths. Every time their gazes locked, the fish flicked its fins, sending quiet, trembling ripples through the bottom of his heart.
Lisianthus found himself stammering in sheer fluster. “…No, listen. I couldn't control my own power. I could have burned you alive! Because I was weak!”
“If we’re going down that road, what about me? I was running around the Imperial Palace swinging a sword, shouting, ‘Look at me! Look at all these demonic beasts dropping dead!’ and then dropped my blade at the critical moment, nearly getting myself killed like a complete fool.”
“Th-that's different! You never formally trained in swordsmanship—”
“And did you have some fancy tutor teach you how to control and wield the Divine Flame? Weren't you figuring that out all on your own, too?”
“B-but that’s still not the same! This is supposed to be my duty…”
Lisianthus’s voice trailed off into a sullen mumble. Watching him deflate, Titania clicked her tongue with a long, theatrical sigh. She reached out her right hand, pinched his cheek, and gave it an unrelenting yank.
At first, Lisianthus kept his lips pressed together like a pouting child, but the sheer force behind the pinch quickly drew a sharp groan from him.
“…Ow, th-thath hurths.”
If I knew I’d sound this stupid, I should’ve just kept my mouth shut! Whining over a little pinch?! Burning with mortification, Lisianthus wanted nothing more than to bite his own tongue off.
Unmoved by his plight, Titania brought up her left hand and grabbed his other cheek, pulling both sides outward without an ounce of mercy.
“Oh my, oh dear. Could this be the legendary Sir Lisianthus Agni El Castrein? Did you slack off on your fire practice and just swing your sword around for fun while fooling around all day?”
“N… no.”
Lisianthus poured every ounce of his concentration into enunciating normally. Not that he felt any sense of accomplishment. How can someone with fingers this slender have a grip like an iron vise?! Why does this hurt so much?! Getting my cheeks pulled like a five-year-old is humiliating! But damn it, she’s telling me to do whatever I want, so who am I to act like I know better…?! His mind spun in a dizzying whirlpool of conflicting thoughts.
“Then did you follow me around thinking, ‘Ugh, Titania is such a nuisance! Debbie’s around anyway, and there are plenty of other people, so I’ll just half-ass guarding her and go goof off’?”
“…No…”
“Then you did everything you could.”
Because she tossed the words out so casually, a surge of indignant frustration flared in Lisianthus’s chest. Why did she always treat her own life so lightly?! She was an imperial princess! In the past, knights who failed to properly guard royalty had their heads lopped off for dereliction of duty!
“The bottom line is, I failed to protect y—Aaaagh! Ow, ow, ow!”
His righteous fury was cut short before he could even finish venting. Titania raised her voice, sounding exactly like a stern schoolmaster scolding an unruly pupil.
“Is it this mouth spouting such nonsense? Is it?!”
“Not my lips! Don’t pinch my lips!”
Utterly horrified by the sudden assault on his mouth, Lisianthus let out a panicked yelp.
“This naughty mouth! This mouth right here! Take that, and that!”
“Agh, damn it, a man’s trying to be serious here, what are y—mmph-bb-bbph!”
Subjected to a rapid-fire combo of cheek-tugging and lip-pinching for the first time in his life, Lisianthus felt his mind short-circuit.
Yes, literally the first time in his life.
The Castrein household had never been a place of affectionate physical contact. While things had softened considerably after Bibi joined them—with everyone gladly showering the little girl with endless doting—a bunch of rough, hulking men certainly never touched one another like this! Sure, someone might have patted his cheek when he was an infant, but having his lips pinched? His lips?!
Watching him thrash in bewildered panic, Titania clicked her tongue and barked out orders like a commander on the field.
“Debbie, seize the prisoner’s arms!”
“Right away, Your Imperial Highness!”
“Barbara, grab the waist of this brooding fool!”
Lisianthus’s voice caught in his throat as both maids advanced without a second of hesitation. Under normal circumstances, Barbara would have at least made a polite show of attempting to maintain the dignity of a Castrein noble. Instead, she locked her arms around Lisianthus’s waist with chilling efficiency. Beside her, Debbie beamed with an unnervingly radiant smile—her eyes screaming, ‘Oh boy! This looks like fun! What a show!’—as she clamped down on his forearms.
Pinned down like a captured criminal about to be dragged off to the dungeons, Lisianthus stammered in terror.
“Wh-what are you doing?!”
“The court hereby sentences the prisoner to tickling and pinching!”
“Waaaaagh!”
Like a cat toying with a cornered mouse, Titania deftly attacked Lisianthus’s ribs, tickling and pinching in relentless bursts. His cheeks flared into a furious, brilliant crimson.
Ordinarily, he wasn’t particularly ticklish. He rarely felt the heat or the cold—which was why he had a habit of wandering around with his shirt wide open—and he hated stifling formal attire, vastly preferring loose, comfortable clothes. Whenever his father or Raymon dropped hints along the lines of, ‘You should at least try to keep yourself presentable,’ he had brushed them off with an easy grin, thinking nothing of it.
Dressing up was only necessary for truly important occasions. When swinging a sword, one was bound to end up covered in dirt and soot anyway. Comfort was king!
…Or so he had always believed. But now, as Titania’s delicate, slender hands—what on earth did she even eat to have fingers that looked like they might snap at the slightest breeze?—mercilessly pinched and brushed against the bare skin exposed beneath his gaping shirt, it was a completely different story. Even knowing it was all in jest, the sensation was excruciatingly embarrassing. And being so painfully aware of her touch made him feel… entirely unhinged.
…Oh, no.
A sudden wave of dread struck Lisianthus like a hammer blow.
“Hmph. Good. Does the prisoner who was uselessly digging his own emotional grave finally understand his crime?”
Seeing him fall quiet, Titania smoothly let go of him, dusting her hands with a smug, teasing grin.
“…Y-yes. Yes. I… I was wrong, Lady Titania.”
“Hmm. Truly?”
“Yes, absolutely…”
“Do you genuinely reflect upon your folly?”
“I do…”
To Lisianthus, who was now thoroughly deflated like a pile of laundry beaten with a wash-paddle and dumped in ice water, Titania made a majestic proclamation.
“Then as a token of your remorse, you shall present me with dessert! The fruit here is delicious! And the ice cream!”
“……Didn’t I explicitly tell you that your sweets were finished with that chocolate earlier?”
“Eep. Barbara, you see…”
Confronted by Barbara’s razor-sharp glare, Titania shrank in an instant, turning into a trembling mouse before a predatory cat.
“Just a tiny bit so my stomach doesn't hurt. Please? Just a bite! The food and sweets here are heavenly! If I go back to the Imperial Palace without having more, I’ll regret it forever!”
“……Only a very small portion, then.”
“Barbara is the greatest!”
Watching her cheer as if she had just conquered the entire world over a mere morsel of dessert, Lisianthus was struck by a terrifying revelation.
Ah. I really, truly like her.
I’m doomed.