* * *

At that, the Fourth Prince lowered his hands, showed his palms in a gesture of surrender, and then bowed deeply, as if apologizing.

“My joke was in poor taste. Please forgive my rudeness, O Great One.”

…How much of this was a joke, and how much wasn’t? As I hesitated, he smirked faintly.

“Surely the Tower Master wouldn’t have involved himself with a lowly, insignificant prince like me. I only said that because you mentioned losing your memories.”

“Involved with…?”

The phrasing was deliberately inappropriate, clearly chosen for effect.

He continued without missing a beat.

“But there’s always the possibility, isn’t there? Anyway, the title ‘Fourth Prince’ feels a bit distant. Please, call me Ateol.”

“…”

I was in no position to refuse.

Of course, there were probably multiple ways I could avoid death.

One of them involved getting rid of the Fourth Prince quietly before things escalated.

But would that really change my future?

Somewhere, the real Tower Master existed.

What if someone suddenly brought him back?

Like a dethroned crown prince grasping for power, or someone else entirely unexpected.

For instance, the Northern Grand Duke with a claim to the throne.

Following the guidance of the system seemed like the wisest choice.

I had decided to trust this path—to form a connection, however tenuous, with my mortal enemy, Ateol. Resolute, I gave my answer.

“Fine… Ateol.”

“Yes, Tower Master.”

The Fourth Prince—no, Ateol—grinned slyly. He seemed pleased that I’d used his name. His true intentions were inscrutable.

Still, it was a relief, in a way. He didn’t seem suspicious of my plea for help. Instead, he appeared to see it as an opportunity.

Releasing the pillar he had been leaning against, he took a step back.

I felt a moment of relief, thinking he’d withdraw completely.

But no—he knelt down before me, one knee on the ground.

That alone was startling enough, but it didn’t stop there.

Ateol took my hand gently, pulling it toward him.

Before I could react, his lips brushed the back of my hand.

A shiver ran up my arm.

Reflexively, I tried to jerk my hand away, but his grip tightened.

Keeping his lips on the back of my hand, he raised his eyes to meet mine.

Through the strands of hair falling over his forehead, his piercing red eyes locked onto mine.

A strange sensation—unlike anything I could describe—coursed through me, like an electric current shooting down my spine.

Perhaps it was fear, pushed to its absolute limit.

Ateol finally released my hand with a soft sound, his lips parting from my skin.

He stood slowly, his movements deliberate.

I glanced down, half-hoping to see a telltale stain of grass on his knee that might remind me he was still human.

But his pristine black attire showed no such flaws.

He chuckled quietly.

“What are you looking at?”

“…”

No! It was a misunderstanding, a total misunderstanding.

I wasn’t looking there.

But it felt absurd to sputter and deny it, so I just gaped silently. Ateol, still smirking, said casually:

“I’ll escort you to the tower.”

No. Absolutely not.

“I can go alone.”

“No need to decline.”

“Ugh…”

It wasn’t declining; I really could go on my own.

As long as I returned to the ballroom, a carriage was waiting to safely take me to the tower.

Even without a carriage, I could easily make the journey myself.

But Ateol’s “No need to decline” carried the same tone as a mob boss saying, “Join me for dinner—I insist.”

It was subtly intimidating.

Reluctantly, I turned and shuffled forward.

My footsteps awkwardly pressed into the grass, the blades springing back as I moved.

Ateol followed behind with leisurely confidence.

By the time we reached the garden entrance near the ballroom, I glanced back at him hesitantly.

“My carriage is here. You really don’t have to accompany me.”

“Then I’d be honored to ride with the Tower Master.”

Why hadn’t I thought this through sooner?

Wasn’t this guy just impossibly difficult to deal with?

Or had I become too easy to manipulate?

After all, I had lost my memories and had no allies to rely on.

He probably thought I was desperate enough to make a deal with him.

Or maybe he was still probing my true intentions.

In the end, I allowed his company.

By the carriage, my steward, Cloden, momentarily froze, as though unable to comprehend what he was seeing.

Slowly, he removed his glasses, cleaned them, and put them back on.

Even when I’d eaten with my hands, he hadn’t looked so utterly flabbergasted.

The Fourth Prince’s unexpected presence must have been a significant shock.

After a brief hesitation, Cloden turned to me, his gaze steady as he spoke.

“He’ll be joining us to the tower.”

“Understood.”

Cloden, ever the composed head steward, quickly regained his composure and bowed.

Opening the carriage door for us, he waited until we climbed in before closing it carefully and heading to his seat beside the coachman.

Sertha, another of my attendants, also seemed visibly startled but remained silent, riding alongside the carriage on horseback.

Before long, the carriage began to move.

The sound of hooves and wheels rolling over the palace’s marble pathways filled the air.

Ateol, after briefly scanning the carriage interior with apparent interest, settled his gaze on me.

His unrelenting stare was so intense it burned.

Unable to endure it any longer, I finally asked:

“Is there something on my face?”

“Who knows?”

What did “Who knows?” mean?

Worried, I brushed the edge of my hood, wondering if something really was out of place.

Ateol tilted his head, smirking.

“Melancholy.”

“….”

My hand, which had been moving to check, dropped limply.

What did he mean by melancholy?

It sounded poetic, but in the end, it just meant I looked gloomy.

Sure, I was gloomy.

But saying it outright was too much.

When he saw the irritation in my eyes, Ateol quickly bowed his head.

“Your face was so full of melancholy that I couldn’t help but stare. My apologies. If you wish… I’ll pluck my eyes out as penance.”

“This is just how my face looks. And is snide commentary the only thing you know how to do?”

“Ah, well.”

You’re wearing a hood that covers everything—what is there to even see?

I snapped back at him, not bothering to hide my irritation, and Ateol grimaced, looking pitiful.

“I’m just an uneducated, useless remnant of the imperial family. Seems my heart’s all twisted up. Please allow me the chance to learn from someone as noble as you.”

“….”

I decided to keep my mouth shut.

No one in their right mind would constantly make sarcastic comments to someone of higher rank unless they were insane.

It was clear Ateol hadn’t accepted my proposal yet.

The way he deliberately spewed nonsense like this was just a test.

I didn’t like it, obviously, but what could I do?

He seemed to be my only lifeline.

To confirm, I glanced at my status window.

The gauge hadn’t decreased at all.

‘…! Wha… What the…!’

I was so taken aback and agitated that I had to make a supreme effort not to let it show.

Luckily, I managed to fake composure by turning my head aside and sighing as if in annoyance.

Otherwise, I might have leapt onto the roof of the carriage.

Why? Because the status window was glowing.

For the first time in days, it emitted a brilliant radiance.

It was as though it wanted to scream, ‘YES! You’re doing the right thing! Go, you!’

The border shimmered in gold, the entire window alight with dazzling colors like it was a special effect in a game.

‘This… this is correct? This?’

Alright. Calm down.

* * *