I Just Wanted to Call Off the Arranged Marriage With the Princess—Someone I Could Never Possibly Be a Match For—But for Some Reason, She Took a Liking to Me and Is Now Closing in on Me
“Oh,” I said, stepping out into the hallway to find Iris standing there. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
Being spoken to so suddenly, I almost flinched like a small animal, but I managed to hold it in and put on a calm front. I waved back at her, and Iris, who had been leaning against the wall, walked over to me.
“Huh, really?”
“……What?”
She bent down and stared me up and down. My shoulders, chest, arms. She shifted her gaze slightly downward, framing me with her fingers.
What the hell.
Just as I was thinking that, Iris grinned.
“It’s fine. It suits you.”
“Eh, oh.”
“So that’s it,” I muttered, tugging at my collar.
Just like Father, is it really that unusual for me to be wearing the academy uniform? …I guess it is. I didn’t expect to go in the first place, and it’s a look I’d never seen before.
I’ve seen my older brothers in their uniforms a few times, so the uniform itself doesn’t feel new to me.
“Father said the same thing.”
“……Huh.”
She just let out a really obvious sigh.
“I was going to be the first to compliment you, you know? What are you doing?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s your fault for not coming straight to my room to show me.”
“It’s just a uniform, big deal.”
“That’s not right.”
“…Is that so?”
“Yep.”
Is that so?
It’s weird—when she puts it like that, I start to wonder if I really am in the wrong. Even though I definitely am not.
She taps me on the chest and says, “You need to reflect on this.”
“Anyway, Iris, you’ve shown your uniform to people other than me, haven’t you?”
I point my finger at her and call her out on it.
Iris was wearing the school uniform just like me. It was pure white with indigo trim. It featured intricate detailing, giving off an air of aristocratic elegance and sophistication.
The skirt was also a uniform white, and from a distance, it looked like a dress.
Since Iris usually wears black, this looks incredibly fresh. But with her black hair and black eyes, it all harmonized perfectly—or rather, the natural grace she possesses was overflowing.
A gasp of admiration escapes me involuntarily.
“Heee.”
“What’s with that reaction?”
“Oh, I just thought you looked like a princess.”
“What do you think I am, anyway?”
“A rebellious delinquent girl.”
“…I guess that’s better than a princess.”
Is that okay?
Well, she doesn’t seem to care much about being called ‘Her Royal Highness’ or ‘Princess’—or rather, she seems annoyed by it. I suppose this is still better than the ‘correct’ image everyone associates with her.
“Also, it’s the first one. You’re the one I am showing off to.”
“……Is that so?”
Though she looked a bit displeased, Iris nodded.
Is that how it is? Ah, but then again… she was waiting in front of the office, leaning against the wall.
The fact that she came straight to me without showing it to anyone else felt childish, but at the same time, I felt a joy like finding a beautiful flower by the roadside.
“That’s my fault, then.”
“Right?”
I found myself agreeing without thinking.
So,
“You look beautiful,”
I complimented her sincerely, but for some reason, she froze like a statue. Why? As I stared at her, her skin began to redden before my eyes. Even her ears, peeking out faintly from between her black hair, were red.
“You’re not… catching a cold, are you?”
“Shut up, just be quiet for a second.”
“Okay.”
She pressed her lips tightly together.
“It’s not so much a lack of tact as it is a lack of awareness, Lucian. That was a surprise, wasn’t it?”
What was? Did I say something weird?
I thought back, thinking it was just an honest reaction… wait, did I say “beautiful”? Not that it suits her. That’s… well, I feel like it could be taken to mean something slightly different.
But even if it’s a misinterpretation, it still suits Iris.
I don’t think there’s any need to panic… but when she blushes like that, it makes me feel like I said something incredibly embarrassing, and my face starts to heat up too, so I wish she’d stop.
I look away from Iris, who’s looking up at me from below with her long lashes lowered.
“W-well, it’s not that the uniform looks good on you, but… I didn’t mean it wrong or anything.”
Why am I making excuses like this? I’m stumbling over my words.
“…You’re used to hearing that, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“But it’s different… since we’re kind of like fiancés.”
“That’s… well, true, I guess.”
If she’d just said “fiancée,” I could have denied it, but adding “sort of” made it suddenly much harder to deny.
What is this awkward atmosphere?
We both look away, our arms still around each other’s shoulders. That habit bothers me, so I glance over—only to lock eyes with her head-on, causing me to flusteredly look away again.
It feels ticklish, like my bare skin is being brushed by a feather duster.
The rainy season has ended, and it’s gotten hot outside, but today is especially sweltering. Sweat keeps pouring out of me.
What am I supposed to do about this awkwardness?
Just as we’re nervously sizing each other up, someone calls out “Lucian” from the side, and I let out a weird sound: “Ugh-yai!?” Iris does the same, making a noise like “Nn-gyu!?”
I know it’s coming from me, but what’s with those weird noises?
Holding my hand over my pounding heart, I peeked toward the source of the voice to find Mother frowning, looking at us both with suspicion.
“What are you two doing in the hallway, acting like suspicious sheep?”
“W-well, just the usual?”
“Indeed, you’ve always been a suspicious pair.”
I can’t accept having my words twisted to mean “I was wrong” based on that interpretation. But if I say anything unnecessary here and she asks, “Then what were you doing?” I’ll be in big trouble.
I’ll swallow my unease and thank Mother for changing the subject.
“…Please don’t suddenly make the sign of the cross at me.”
For some reason, she’s looking at me as if I were a suspicious stranger, not her son. Even though I thanked her.
And yet, she smiles gently at Iris, who’s acting just as suspiciously. Isn’t this unfair and discriminatory? I wish she’d show some kindness to her son, too.
“Her Royal Highness Princess Iris, the carriage sent to fetch you from the capital has arrived.”
“Thank you.”
Though her cheeks still held a faint blush, Iris managed to compose herself and respond. As she clasped her hands at her waist, assuming a ladylike posture, Mother glanced at me for a split second.
She immediately returned her gaze to Iris and bowed deeply.
“He is an unworthy son, but I humbly ask for your kind support.”
……First Father, and now Mother.
Why do they act so affectionate at the very last moment, as if this were a farewell for life? It’s not an engagement, nor is it a marriage. It’s just enrollment in the academy—I can’t help but think this pomp and circumstance is a bit much.
The flushing that had been fading returned, and I felt like I wanted to pour cold water over my head.
“No, I—”
Iris drew back her clear voice and returned to her usual subdued tone.
“…I’m an unworthy daughter myself, so we’re even.”
“Hehe, perhaps you’re right.”
My mother let out a smile at the casual tone and voice.
Iris scratched her cheek, looking embarrassed, and as for me—even though I’m the center of attention, the atmosphere doesn’t feel like one where I can chime in. I just want to run away from here right now. My skin’s been itching for a while now; I really hate this atmosphere.
The atmosphere that shifted when Mother arrived is also making my skin itch, and just as I was racking my brain for a way to ventilate the room, I suddenly realized that Mother was dressed in a proper dress.
“Are you going out somewhere, Mother?”
Instantly, the atmosphere grew heavy for some reason.
Oh, I have a bad feeling about this.
It was a hunch honed by years of living with her, but it was too late to run away.
Mother glared at me with a look of resentment.
“…The Queen has arrived in the carriage sent to pick you up. Apparently, she wishes to speak with me.”
“Sshh.”
I sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.
“Good luck.”
“Just remember this. When we get home, it’s going to be rough.”
I wanted to say it wasn’t my fault.
But I was certain—no, absolutely certain—that this was about me and Iris, so I made the sign of the cross over my chest once more as a gesture of apology. I was kicked hard in the shin. It hurt quite a bit.