The Price of Saving a Vicious Beast - Chapter 5

“I did it.”

The answer was so unexpected that Killian’s thoughts slowed. He had heard it. But the meaning didn’t quite get into his head.

“…What?”

“I did it. I hit you because I didn’t like you pressuring the young master.”

“…Ha. You really.”

Killian twisted one corner of his lips, staring at her in disbelief.

“So you don’t care what happens to your adoption?”

“It was never a place meant for me to begin with. So it’s fine. Just say it was my fault.”

Adelaide didn’t hesitate for even a second. Her gaze was steady, clear, unwavering. At some point, the fear she’d shown him earlier had completely vanished, leaving not even a trace.

A girl who stood straight, who didn’t watch his reactions, who said exactly what she wanted.

For the first time in his life, it was Killian who found himself at a loss for words.

“‘It’s fine’? A parentless commoner like you—throwing away the chance to be adopted into a count’s family, and you’re saying it’s fine? Hey. Don’t act tough where it doesn’t suit you.”

“You’re the one who asked first. I just answered. You said you’d go tell the adults exactly what I said, didn’t you? So go on. Leave. Go tell them I hit you.”

Killian looked her up and down.

She was dressed well enough. But it seemed a few months weren’t enough to completely wash away the rustic awkwardness.

The dress didn’t suit her at all, like a maid who had secretly stolen her mistress’s clothes.
And her body was so thin it looked less like she was wearing the dress, and more like the dress was hanging off her.

And yet those eyes. Large, double-lidded, a deep green that gleamed like stars embedded within them.

There had been many types before.

Those who fawned over him.
Those who bristled with resentment at his arrogance.
Those who instinctively feared him and shrank away.

But this was new.

“…You’ve got some nerve.”

The gaze made him uncomfortable. Without thinking, Killian lifted his hand and covered her eyes.

Her lashes fluttered softly against his palm. The faint ticklish sensation lingered, and at the same time, something tight and irritating stirred deep in his chest.

* * *

The door burst open without a knock.

Count Eport, who had been speaking with Bertholdt in the reception room, turned toward the entrance.

It was the boy, the one introduced as Bertholdt’s nephew.

For a brief moment, the count was simply confused.

The boy who had stepped out of the carriage so impeccably now had a bruised cheek, already darkening with color.

It would have been understandable if Bertholdt were displeased that his nephew had been injured within the estate. But he reacted far more strongly than expected, abruptly getting up from his seat.

“What is the meaning of this…! Your Highness, are you alright?”

The count blinked slowly.

Your Highness? Did that man just say—Your Highness?

“I will summon a doctor at once.”

“Forget it. It’s nothing worth calling a doctor over.”

Killian waved him off. Without hesitation, Bertholdt offered up the seat he had been occupying, the place of honor.

As if it were only natural, Killian sat down.

Count Eport’s mind failed to keep up with what was unfolding before him. He stared blankly for a few seconds, then suddenly jolted, dropping to the floor in a deep bow.

There was only one person in the empire permitted to be addressed as Your Highness.

Crown Prince Killian Nachtmann.

“Y-Your Highness! I greet the Crown Prince!”

As the count pressed his forehead to the ground, the sound of the boy casually propping his legs onto the table echoed above him.

“Rise, Count Eport.”

The count slowly stood with Killian’s command

His hands trembled violently, as though he had just been struck at the back of the head with a hammer.

Cold sweat streamed down his face. Inevitably, his gaze drifted to Killian’s bruised cheek. The discoloration had already deepened into a vivid blue.

The count’s vision darkened.

It had to be Roem.

Then, how was he supposed to resolve this?

Reading his thoughts, Bertholdt spoke gravely.

“Your Highness. How did you come by that injury? Could it be that the young count—”

“Oh, this? I did it myself.”

“…Pardon?”

“Everyone kept nagging me, so I thought if I showed up injured, they might finally drop this whole ridiculous business. Anyway, that’s not important. Count?”

“Y-Yes, Your Highness. P-please speak.”

“You’re quite fortunate. You’ve picked up something rather interesting.”

Killian exhaled softly as he inspected his nails.