No Regression for the Victor - Chapter 16

Mikhail had lived his whole life believing that rough manners and appearances were the norm. Even after suddenly being revealed as a prince and subjected to the strict education of the imperial family, which at least allowed him to eat properly like a civilized person, it still felt unfamiliar to him.

The Duke’s touch—just the way he turned the pages—was more elegant than that of Chief Attendant Glanen, who had taught Mikhail not to grip his fork like a spear and stab meat before gulping it down. It was as if he demonstrated, through action alone, what true, overwhelming dignity was.

The moment the Duke glanced at him and let out a brief, wry smile, Mikhail felt as if time had stopped. Every second of that process, as the Duke’s stubborn and solemn face softened, was vividly imprinted in Mikhail’s mind.

***

As Mikhail lay rolling about, his head under the covers and his face blank with infatuation, Marcel, having finished his rounds for the day, opened the door and came in.

“What’s going on?”

What’s with this kid? Did he eat something wrong? Sensing something was off, Marcel asked, only for Mikhail to throw off the blanket and shout,

“I’ll be right back, just for a bit!”

“What?”

“If you follow me, I’ll tell the palace about every training session you skipped when we get back!”

“What—?! Hey, wait a second!”

“I’m not joking—if you follow me, that’s it!”

Before Marcel could stop him, Mikhail had dashed off toward the study. For some reason, he felt an overwhelming urge to see the Duke’s face again, right now. He had to see with his own eyes whether what he’d just imagined was fantasy or reality.

“Oh.”

Unfortunately, when Mikhail flung open the door to the study, there was no one there. Of course, when he’d left earlier, the sun was still high, but now dusk was settling in, and it was only natural the Duke wouldn’t be in the study all day.

Trying to cool his flushed cheeks with his hand, Mikhail cautiously stepped inside. The vintage-feeling study was empty, and the only thing that greeted him was a grand decoration shaped like a giant bird. On the desk Mikhail approached carefully, there were piles of books about agriculture and crops, just as he had seen earlier.

[All the Plants of the North: Focusing on Cultivated Crops]

[Northern Ecology Encyclopedia]

[When the Pumpkin Blossoms Bloom]

[Ecology and Breeding History of Native Bees from Frigid Mountains]

It was hard to believe these were the books he’d seen the Duke reading with such elegant posture, but Mikhail had overheard that the Duke had recently become obsessed with farmwork. Why? Why all of a sudden? As Mikhail puzzled over this, he heard a pounding sound coming from outside the window.

“……?”

Approaching the window cautiously and peering down, he saw, unmistakably, the Duke—struggling, in a rather awkward and peculiar posture, to till the field.

‘Am I seeing things…?’

He rubbed his eyes hard and looked again, but nothing had changed.

‘He’ll hurt himself at this rate…’

The Duke was working the farming tools purely with brute strength, struggling with something that should have been easy to lift with proper technique, like someone who’d never held a tool in his life. The average person wouldn’t even be able to pick it up.

Clearly, the curse had made him weak, but his original body must have been quite strong, since he was managing by sheer force what required skill.

Mikhail hurriedly ran down the stairs and dashed out to the field. Then he snatched the awkwardly held plow from the Duke’s hands.

“That’s not how you hold it.”

Just as he said. The Duke’s palms were already red and on the verge of blistering.

“Hold this part with your left hand, and here with your right—then you can lift it easily.”

Of course, for Mikhail, who possessed the brute strength to lift even a wild buffalo, most things in the world felt light, but since he’d grown up with many siblings, he could at least judge the standard for an ordinary person.

The Duke looked briefly flustered but then, following Mikhail’s instructions, slowly accepted the tool and took up the correct posture. Clearly, it took less effort than before, and he let out a brief word of admiration.

“Indeed. It does feel noticeably easier.”