Chapter 52

“You tamed me. I don’t want to go back to a life without you. So please, don’t throw me away… Can’t you give me just one more chance?”

It would’ve been a lie to say I wasn’t swayed at all by the way his eyes shimmered so desperately.

‘No, Minuelle Karnian. People don’t change. Get a grip!’  

Just looking at the effort he put into preparing only the things I don’t eat—if I gave in after all that, I’d be a fool.

“The carriage has already left! This is ridiculous, truly!”

Let’s not forget—it was this man, no one else, who kept pushing me away every time I reached out to him.

“Well then. It’s been unpleasant, and please, let’s never see or speak to each other again.”

I turned to leave, and might’ve succeeded, if he hadn’t grabbed the hem of my dress.

“Minuelle… please.”

Why was this Prince’s knees always glued to the ground?

The sigh I meant to let out caught in my throat at the sight before me.

‘Wait. Is he—crying?’

Glistening, marble-sized tears fell from Esadien’s eyes—too big, too clear to be called crocodile tears.

“Get up. Wipe your face.”

I handed him a handkerchief, but his eyes only welled up more.

“Minuelle, Minuelle…”

“Ugh, seriously.”

He clung to me like a drowning man to a lifeline—and I just didn’t have the strength to push him off.  

I let out a long sigh and let my body go limp, and as if reassured, he gently nuzzled his face into my shoulder.

‘This man… is my dress a handkerchief to him?’

Esadien clearly had no intention of letting me go.  

There was a time I thought he was calm like a still lake—but I was wrong.  

He’d only been suppressing it. In truth, he was like a racehorse that only knew how to charge forward.

‘What am I supposed to do with him?’

I hesitated, but in the end, there was only one answer.  

I had to play the villain again.

“Esadien.”

It felt strange, saying his name for the first time in a while.  

But it worked—he stopped crying and met my eyes.

“We could keep this engagement going. Maybe we’ll even end up married someday.”

“If you’re willing, I’d marry you tomorrow.”

Would he really be fine?

‘Seriously, this man…’

I fought back the lump in my throat and continued.

“But if we keep this up, the only thing you’ll get is more pain—because your feelings won’t be returned.”

Life Is strange.  

Esadien once said the same thing to me, and now here I was, throwing it back at him.

“No. As long as I can stay by your side—”

What a stupid thing to say. I know what that feels like.

He wasn’t someone I could reason with.

I cupped his face with both hands and pulled him toward me.  

His lips, now rougher than before, brushed against mine.

He froze for a second, then—like a dam breaking—kissed me back with raw desperation.

“Minuelle… haah… Minuelle…”

Just when he held me so tight it felt like he wanted to absorb me into himself, I pulled away and looked him in the eye.

“I still feel… absolutely nothing.”

“……”

His feverish blue eyes instantly mirrored his breaking heart.

The pain spread—starting in his gaze, then to his brows, his cheeks, and his trembling lips.

“That’s okay. I’m okay with that…”

He quickly composed himself and said it like it didn’t matter—but his voice bled like an open wound.

‘You’re such a fool…’

Back at the coming-of-age banquet, making a scene felt cathartic.  

But this time… it just hurt.

 

* * *

 

“I’m not okay. So… goodbye.”

Minuelle left, cold and resolute, despite all his desperate pleas.

Even after she vanished from sight, the tears wouldn’t stop falling.

“Minuelle… what am I supposed to do…”

Left alone, Esadien pressed his lips to the glove she’d thrown at him—and cried.

It was the only thing that still held her scent.  

He sobbed harder as he stared at the worn fingertips, the frayed stitches, proof of how often she’d used it.  

And underneath… the burn scar it once covered.

“……”

Silent tears poured from him in wretched waves.  

His usually neat hair was a disheveled mess, but he didn’t even notice.

‘I’ll probably never see her again. Never…’

If he truly couldn’t have her back, he wished he could just rip out his heart and give it to her as a farewell gift—so he’d never have to feel this kind of pain again.

But the reason he couldn’t go through with it… was the faint, foolish hope that maybe, just maybe, he might see her from afar again.

Mocking himself for clinging to such hope, Esadien gave a short ring of the bell.

“Bring me wine.”

A common form of escape.

The rumor that the Third Prince had fallen into ruin spread like wildfire.  

Esadien wandered through gentlemen’s clubs and taverns without even bothering to hide his distinctive silver hair.

He didn’t talk to anyone. He just drank—like he was determined to destroy himself.

“I hear he lost his mind after getting dumped.”

“All that over a woman?”

“She was a real beauty, though.”

“Too girlish for my taste. I like ‘em more—gah!”

The drunken man making crude remarks was cut off—literally and figuratively—as he was flung backward in a single motion.

“Wasteful tongues are best cut off.”

“AAAGH!”

One kick from Esadien and the man’s shin snapped like dry wood.

He wasn’t the dead-eyed drunk everyone had grown used to.

The gleam in his eyes was manic—feral.  

The only thing that saved the room from utter chaos was the arrival of the Imperial Royal Guard.

“That’s enough, Your Highness. Let’s return.”

“Let me guess… sent by my sister again.”

Neither the Emperor nor the Crown Princess had tried to stop him.  

They knew the quiet, restrained Esadien was now enduring his first great heartbreak.  

They simply waited, believing that once the storm passed, he would return.

But Esadien betrayed that hope—and vanished without a trace.

“Where could he be? Prince Esadien? Your Highness!”

Esadien groaned irritably, eyes fluttering open.  

He’d come back to the palace the night before and drunk himself stupid—his head now throbbed violently, and the servant’s shouting made it worse.

‘Are they doing this on purpose?’

Were even the servants now disregarding him?  

Yelling right in front of him and still not noticing his presence—it made no sense.

“Damn it…”

Between the headache and rising irritation, a curse slipped from his mouth—  

Or, it would have… had what came out not been a sharp, animal-like huff.

“…?!”

It wasn’t even a human breath. It sounded more like a beast’s.

His foggy eyes flew open.

As he flinched, the blanket draped over his body rustled—something the servant standing nearby clearly noticed.

“Huh…?”

The servant whipped the blanket off him with a dramatic flourish.  

Esadien was instantly even more displeased.

‘How dare you—’

He was about to bark at the servant when the man suddenly screamed in shock.

“AAAAH?! A cat?!”

At first, Esadien looked around, wondering what cat he meant.

But the servant’s eyes were fixed directly on him.

‘Is he insane?’

That’s what Esadien thought—until he felt something strange: his ears twitched upright.

Twitch?

Human ears don’t twitch like that. Like… animal ears do.

He fumbled to touch his ears—but instead of reaching to the sides of his head, his paws went up toward the top.

It wasn’t even like lifting a hand. It felt more like… clumsily pressing something blunt against his head.  

Then he looked down at his paw—and saw the dark, rounded pads of an unmistakable animal’s foot.

“……!”

Startled, he stiffened, instinctively raising his ears and tail like a frightened beast.  

The servant tilted his head at the sight.

“Huh… is that really a cat?”

He wasn’t particularly fond of cats, but this one was different.  

It didn’t quite look like any cat he’d seen before.

That went for Esadien as well.  

He remembered someone saying cats couldn’t see certain colors, but he was seeing the world the same as always.

…Well, his field of view had widened slightly.

“Alright, up we go. Were you brought here by His Highness? Where is he, anyway?”

But there was no point denying reality any longer.

The servant picked him up easily in both hands—and the reflection in his eyes made it undeniable.  

He was looking at a feline. A cat. A member of the feline family.

‘Put me down, damn it!’

He didn’t mean to, but as he flailed—no, pawed—at the servant, his claws extended reflexively.

There wasn’t even time to gasp.  

The sharp claws slashed deep into the servant’s arm.

“AAAGH!”

Startled, the servant dropped him.  

Esadien landed neatly on his feet, shock and guilt rushing over him as he saw blood trickling down the servant’s arm.

But the guilt didn’t last long.

“Get over here, you little—!”

The servant lunged, trying to throw a blanket over him and trap him like some wild animal.  

Infuriated, Esadien left another parting scratch and bolted.

‘Haah…’

What the hell was going on?

He padded over to a garden pond and lapped at the water, then stared at his reflection as the ripples slowly faded.

At first, moving on four legs had been awkward.  

He’d tripped and rolled several times while trying to flee.

It had taken time to even figure out a natural gait.  

Then he’d struggled with the humiliation of drinking pond water—like some alley cat.

‘Is this some kind of curse?’

Just then, a memory flashed through his mind.

The night before—when that disgustingly offensive gift had arrived.

It had come from the Second Prince.

[I hear you’ve taken a liking to drink lately. I’ll be coming back to the Empire soon—let’s share a glass.]

Along with the short note came a bottle of liquor—famed for its strength, brewed in the distant region of Chitrum.

“Ha…”

Even if Esadien had become a wreck of a man, he still had some pride.  

No way was he going to drink that.

He’d thrown the bottle against the wall, watching the blood-red liquid stain the wallpaper like a murder scene.  

Then he turned to his own stash—and drank and drank.

“Ugh… out again.”

He staggered toward the cabinet.  

But he tripped, and the remaining bottles all fell and shattered.

All that was left… was a small glass vial that fit in the palm of his hand.

He remembered what it was immediately.

“This is where I put it…”

A strange old woman from a northern magic shop had given it to him.  

A so-called “love potion.”

“Take one drop a day for one hundred days, and your love will be returned.”

He’d scoffed at it, of course—but he’d still brought it back.

When he’d shown it to the royal magicians, they couldn’t detect any magical energy from it at all.  

One even asked if it was truly a magic item.

‘I figured it was nonsense and forgot about it…’

And yet… here it was again.  

Back in his hands—at this exact moment.

As if someone had planned it.