Chapter 18
She felt even less inclined to meet him now, but since she’d already agreed in front of Helmen, she had no other choice.
She’d meet him briefly, and if he turned out to be some weirdo, she’d just immediately run away.
“Um, Elinne.”
“Huh?”
Having made up her mind, she answered distractedly.
She was busy cleaning up her cooking utensils. She paused as she felt a gentle tug at her sleeve.
Paris was cautiously gripping her sleeve.
“Linne…”
She was about to tease him about stretching her clothes, but swallowed her words at the sight of his pale, anxious face.
“What’s wrong?”
“…Are you really going?”
Paris asked hesitantly.
The uneasy expression, completely unlike his usual self, made her feel odd.
How should I put it? He looked like someone watching a family member being sold off.
“Menelaon… You’re really going to meet him?”
“I have to. He said he’d come find me himself if I didn’t.”
“…Right. Of course.”
With a forlorn expression, Paris let go of her sleeve.
He seemed reluctant, but perhaps sensing her suspicious gaze, he didn’t press further.
Instead, he stayed quietly by her side, helping her clean up the cooking utensils without another word.
“Um, Linne!”
Paris called out to her again just as she was about to leave.
“What is it now?”
He gazed at her mournfully, looking like a sad ghost haunted by unfinished business.
“…No, never mind.”
“What is it?”
She asked again, bothered, but he merely shook his hands hesitantly.
“…It’s nothing.”
“Again? Seriously, are you going to keep doing this?”
When this repeated several more times, she finally lost her patience and snapped.
“If you have something to say, just spit it out!”
“…D-don’t trust Menelaon!”
Clasping his hands together nervously, Paris squeezed his eyes shut and blurted it out as if he’d finally gathered his courage.
“Appearances aren’t everything, Elinne. Please, remember my words.”
At his unexpected remark, she just blinked.
She wondered what he meant, but seeing his face looking as if he were about to cry, she shrugged lightly.
“Don’t worry. I’m not the type to trust people easily anyway.”
She hadn’t even fully trusted any god in the first place.
Since becoming part of Metis, it was already a miracle that she regularly prayed to Nerva.
“…Really?”
“Yeah.”
Hearing that, Paris’s grim expression brightened a bit.
“So actually, what you said wasn’t so…”
“No! You can trust me, Linne! I mean it!”
Seeing him flustered, she flashed a teasing grin and turned away.
For some reason, something still felt wrong.
Though she hadn’t known Paris for long, he had a genuinely kind heart.
Weak, hopeless with tasks, naive to worldly matters. Characteristics of a typical idiot prince. But also so good-natured it was almost foolish.
He certainly wasn’t the type to speak ill of anyone.
Yet, Paris had warned her against trusting Menelaon.
Especially someone who claimed to be her ‘fiancé’.
* * *
The Laurel Garden was literally filled with laurel trees.
From neatly trimmed bushes and hedges to majestic, towering trees.
Everything shimmered in vibrant green.
“—Excuse me.”
It wasn’t difficult to spot his flaming red hair amid all that greenery.
“…Menelaon?”
At her uncertain call, a man who had been lazily brushing his fingers over carefully pruned leaves turned slowly around.
“…That voice. How long has it been?”
The moment she saw his face, Elinne’s eyes widened.
“It’s been a long time, my fiancée.”
To put it simply, he was handsome beyond even the word extraordinary.
Most Metisian soldiers had tanned skin from constant exposure to the harsh sunlight on the training grounds and battlefields.
Menelaon, however, had skin as pale and flawless as white jade, almost making her doubt whether he was truly a hero from Metis.
Moreover, his blazing red hair reminiscent of the sun, sharp features, and relaxed smile gave the impression that if the God of Beauty were male, he’d look exactly like this.
If someone held him next to flowers and asked which was prettier, she might actually choose Menelaon.
…Whose family did he belong to, looking like that?
Curious, she quickly glanced toward the archives.
But the information was strange.
【Detailed information is unavailable.】
Unavailable?
The archive was practically a reflection of Nerva’s own knowledge.
If even the archives had no information, that meant even the God of Wisdom, who could see through everything, didn’t fully know who this man was.
‘How could Nerva not know about him, when he lives in Metis?’
She tilted her head in confusion.
“You’re beautiful even when lost in thought.”
A raspy voice interrupted her train of thought.
“I’ve missed you, my Linne.”
Surprised by his sudden intimacy, she looked up sharply, only to see Menelaon grinning broadly.
“I won’t bother asking if you’ve been well. After all, without me around, how could you have been?”
His fiery-red eyebrows matching his hair color rose cockily.
“Does seeing my gorgeous face finally bring you back to life? Oh, no need to answer. I already know it does.”
…What the heck?
She fought hard to suppress an expression as if she’d just bitten into an unripe fruit.
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