* * *
“…”
“Tower Master?”
A number, 22%, briefly hovered above Ateol’s head before disappearing.
There was much to unpack here.
Why did his affection suddenly rise after a forehead kiss?
And if the status window is going to inform me, why leave parts censored in those black squares?
Damn you, status window.
Ateol, who had previously been labeled in my mind as an inscrutable guy, was now downgraded to “the guy whose affection went up after a forehead kiss.”
This guy is sneakily shameless…
No, wait.
The tip from the status window—
…It did mention that physical contact was a fast way to raise affection.
The shameless one wasn’t Ateol (though Ateol was certainly no saint either); it was my status window!
My role was simply to scatter flowers and bestow blessings, so after completing that, I clumsily descended from the balcony.
Now that I think about it, would receiving blessings from someone as gloomy as me even be a good thing?
Well, no one seemed to care as long as they enjoyed it.
The flowers weren’t tagged with who gave them, anyway.
ꔚ
As the carriage began to move, Ateol broke the silence.
“You didn’t seem like someone who’s lost their memories earlier. No one around you bothered to explain the annual ceremony, did they?”
“I read about it in a book.”
In my previous life, that is.
Cloden had dressed me in a newly made outfit, casually remarking, ‘You’ll do as well as ever…’ which killed any chance to ask for details, so I had to scour the archives.
The books I found weren’t entirely sufficient.
The tower’s library was, unsurprisingly, full of texts praising the Tower Master, and for today’s event, there was even an oversized picture book.
Flipping through its newspaper-sized pages, I found an illustrated guide, from ascending the balcony to kissing the royal participant’s forehead, all rendered in meticulous color.
I also unearthed an older book, where the Tower Masters were depicted wearing deeply hooded cloaks every year.
Gloominess seemed almost like the Tower Master’s signature trait.
My “I read about it in a book” explanation seemed to satisfy Ateol after a moment’s thought.
To be fair, he still didn’t fully believe my earlier claim that I chose him because he seemed the most desperate.
After losing my memories and assessing the imperial court’s dynamics, I picked the Fourth Prince—the one who seemed most desperate—and asked for his help.
On the surface, it made sense, but upon deeper reflection, it was a dubious story.
Honestly, at the time, I just said the first thing that came to mind.
It had felt ingenious while I was saying it, but in hindsight, it raised a lot of red flags.
Most notably, why would the Fourth Prince even care about the throne enough to feel desperate?
I knew nothing about him at the time.
“How did you know?”
“Someone like me can tell such things.”
Yeah, what a flimsy excuse.
I considered investigating if he was secretly plotting a rebellion, but that would likely end with me being assassinated—or him using his immense power to prematurely summon the real Yuri.
“Ateol.”
I decided to change tactics.
“Yes?”
“The truth is, I couldn’t trust anyone else.”
“…”
“In a situation where I didn’t know who to rely on, you stood out to me.”
Ateol tilted his head slightly to the side, looking at me.
His demeanor was borderline insolent.
“You must’ve done quite a bit of research on your surroundings after losing your memory.”
“Yes.”
“Then surely, you’d have learned that I’m a scoundrel. You seemed well aware of that at the ball. Even if you didn’t, showing up before the Emperor with a bloody wolf’s head would have made it clear to anyone that I’m insane.”
“…”
It was hard to argue with the facts.
The memory of that bloody stench came rushing back, making me flinch.
Suddenly, his presence loomed closer.
Ateol had risen from his seat and was now right in front of me, with one knee resting on my chair.
The proximity was overwhelming.
The scent of his cologne—a sophisticated blend with a hint of roses—wafted over me.
It was a delicate fragrance, but it suited Ateol’s wild demeanor perfectly.
“Why me?”
“Back off…”
“Answer that, and I swear I’ll never doubt you again.”
“You already swore to protect me!”
I snapped, raising my voice, and Ateol’s handsome eyebrows knitted together as he gave me a look of pity.
“Have you forgotten how meaningless oaths can be?”
I couldn’t fathom what he was thinking.
Or rather, he was deliberately making himself inscrutable, just as I was to him.
The fake Tower Master could glean every detail from a few lines of text, yet unfortunately, that intellect only worked selectively when it came to interpreting Ateol’s thoughts.
I had no clue what to say to convince him to trust me completely.
Then, a thought struck me.
Affection!
Maybe his affection was too low for my words to have any impact.
His current affection level was a mere 22%.
If someone with a 22% affection level toward me started talking, how much would I believe them?
If they said beans grow from bean sprouts, sure.
But if they claimed they could brew soy sauce from strawberries, I’d call it nonsense.
In other words, Ateol likely saw my words as utter nonsense.
To make him believe me, I needed to raise his affection level.
But how?
Physical contact?
Was I supposed to kiss his forehead again? Ridiculous.
I lowered my head in frustration.
But without raising his affection, nothing would work.
After deliberating, the only words I could muster were:
“Gi… Give it time… You’ll understand how I feel.”
“Hm.”
Ateol made an ambiguous sound, studying me for a moment longer before stepping back.
Even then, my heart was pounding wildly.
With time, his affection would grow.
And when it did, maybe he’d believe me even if I said, ‘Watch as I turn this gold into iron with alchemy!’
That level of trust would be necessary if I were to entrust him with my life.
‘Wait… That’s not it, is it?’
Ah, I made a mistake. It wasn’t Atel who entrusted their life to me, but rather the other way around. The condition Atel agreed to was merely to receive my support and ensure my survival until the end.
For Ateol, this was a win-win deal. So why is he being so uptight about it?
“You… don’t have anything to lose in this, do you? Then why are you acting so suspiciously?”
For a moment, I almost blurted out, ‘You’re being annoying.’
While “suspicious” was also a negative word, it was far less offensive than “annoying.”
“Things that seem too good to be true are often the most dangerous, wouldn’t you agree?”
He had a point—nothing in life is truly free.
But is that really an answer to my question?
It feels slightly off.
I stared at Ateol, who shrugged nonchalantly.
“You’re correct about the reason you think. I’m testing how far you’ll go for me.”
“…”
‘Annoying as hell.’
Testing how far I’ll go?
As long as you don’t kill me, I’ll endure anything.
But what does “■■■ ■■■■” mean?
Judging by my status screen, which says everything’s fine, it’s not something negative.
Maybe I should’ve thrown caution to the wind and stolen a kiss earlier when we were close.
If his favorability had skyrocketed from that, I might’ve been even more conflicted.
* * *
