I Just Wanted to Call Off the Arranged Marriage With the PrincessโSomeone I Could Never Possibly Be a Match ForโBut for Some Reason, She Took a Liking to Me and Is Now Closing in on Me
After returning to the mansion from the brothel, I was reading a book in my room.
Iโd already finished the royal romance novel Iโd borrowed from the Queen. Assuming she must be busy, Iโd returned it via a servant with a note attached, but it was sent back along with a new book and a note saying, โNext time, please tell me your thoughts in person.โ
A book club with the Queenโฆ Itโs not even a matter of feeling intimidated anymore; I just donโt get it. What kind of circumstances would lead to me becoming a book buddy with Her Majesty? Even if I trace the clues back to the very beginning, I still donโt get it. And a romance novel, of all things.
โโฆThis one is a romance between a princess and a viscountโs son.โ
Somehow, my hand feels heavy as I turn the pages.
Itโs the kind of book Iโd never pick up myself. I want to throw it away, but this is the Queenโs personal property. I canโt very well refuse to read it, so Iโm struggling through the text, drowning in agony.
โFound True Loveโ? It makes me shudder.
โLuciaan!โ
Suddenly, Iris barges in without knocking. I instinctively throw the book. โCrap,โ I think, but it lands on the bed, and I breathe a sigh of relief. After checking that there arenโt any creases, I shoot a glare at Iris, who walked into my room without warning.
โKnock first!โ
โHuh?โ
Seeing me hurriedly pick up the book, Iris smirks.
โWhat? Was it a steamy scene?โ
โNo, it wasnโt.โ
โThereโs a lot of that kind of stuff, isnโt there?โ
โNo, itโs notโI borrowed it from Her Majesty the Queen.โ
โThe Queen used โitโs literatureโ as her excuse, didnโt she?โ
Well, then itโs literature, right? Thatโs fine. Donโt call it an excuse.
Seriously.
Not wanting her to figure out what was inside, I quickly stashed it in a desk drawer. She gave me a suspicious look, but that was all; Iris strode over and plopped down on my bed.
โโฆโฆโฆโฆโ
โWhat?โ
โNothing.โ
Itโs been proven that thereโs no point in saying anything. Being defenseless, or a guyโs roomโฆ Sheโd probably just snort derisively and thatโd be the end of it.
โIโm glad Iโm a gentleman.โ
โโฆHmph.โ
She shot me a contemptuous look and, in the end, snorted at me.
Why do I have to get mocked just for declaring that Iโm a harmless sheep? And whatโs with that attitude, barging into someoneโs room like that in the first place?
Me? Am I the one at fault? No way.
โReally Lucian.โ
โCould you please stop using peopleโs names like theyโre synonyms for โidiotโ?โ
More importantly, donโt fall asleep.
โWhy is your hair wet?โ
โI took a bath.โ
I know that, but thatโs not the point.
Iโm asking why you came to my room like that. You seem to have brought a towel to dry your hair, but the point is, you shouldโve dried it first.
โฆNo, actually, just donโt come here.
โYouโre going to get the bed wet.โ
โThen wipe it.โ
โWhy should Iโโ splutter
A towel flew right into my face.
Is that the scent of soap? A refreshing fragrance fills my nose. Slightly flustered by the sweet scent mixed in, I yank the towel away. Iris was still lying down, with her back turned toward me.
Looks like she wants me to wipe it off.
Should I just throw it back at her?
But if I ignore her, sheโll probably just camp out here. Staying in the same room for too long with a girl whose skin is flushed from a bath isnโt good for my health.
โGuess I have no choice.โ
As I moved from the chair to the bed, Iris sat up with a start.
She turned her back to me.
I had a ton of thoughts about her โgo aheadโ attitude, but then I remembered sheโs a princess and swallowed them down. She shouldnโt have to do this herself. No, she should have a maid do it.
โIโm gonna touch you.โ
โโฆThatโs kind of lewd.โ
โHehehe, Iโm gonna touch you.โ
โKyaa!โ
Ignoring her wooden scream, I touched her black hair.
Irisโs hair is short.
Many noble young ladies prefer long hair. Partly because itโs feminine, but well-groomed long hair alone signified high social status. You donโt see hair cut to shoulder length very often.
The reason for thatโฆ well, itโs probably because her hair is black.
Iโm not very clued in to the ways of the world, but from what Iโve seen of life in Elisaโs townโthough I wouldnโt say I know everythingโI can make some guesses. I donโt think thereโs no reason for it. In Irisโs case, though, Iโd be convinced even if it were simply because itโs a hassle to maintain.
In fact, look at her nowโsheโs leaving it all to others.
Iโve never dried a girlโs hair before, so what am I supposed to do?
Since I didnโt know, I wiped it vigorously, only to be told it was โsloppy.โ I donโt get it. So what am I supposed to do, then?
โHave the maid do it.โ
โDo it carefully.โ
Apparently, Iโm supposed to keep going.
Sheโs such a spoiled princess, really.
Even though I donโt know what Iโm doing, I wipe the water droplets from her hair as carefully as I can. Her wet hair feels a little heavier, and it looks shinier than usual. Itโs as delicate as silk, shining like a black gem.
Itโs beautiful, isnโt it?
Iโm so moved by it that I find myself thinking Iโd like to see her hair grown out long.
โYou shouldnโt just let a man touch a womanโs hair so easily.โ
It was so beautiful that a scolding-like sentiment slipped out.
Itโs a girlโs treasure, her very life.
I couldnโt bring myself to think it was okay for a careless man to touch it. That was all it was, but suddenly Iris stood up straight.
โIris?โ
โโฆโฆโฆโฆโ
When I called out to her, she snatched the cloth away from me.
Whatโs going on?
As I blinked in surprise at her sudden change in attitude, she threw the cloth at me with a sharp slap.
โโDo you think itโs that simple?!โ
She shouted, then stormed out with a clatter of footsteps.
โโฆโฆโฆโฆโ
Just before she threw the cloth at me.
For a split second, I caught a glimpse of Irisโs faceโit was bright red.
โโฆโฆDo you have any sense of shame?โ
I caught myself thinking something a bit off-the-mark.
ใใโใโใโ
โWe have a visitor.
The maid we employโwell, to be precise, itโs Iris who employs her, not meโsent word of this.
It was a late afternoon with no classes.
I was in the kitchen looking at the leftover ingredients, thinking I might bake some sweets today, when the sudden visit brought a sense of annoyance to the surface.
Who is it, showing up without warning?
I wanted to voice that complaint, but I couldnโt completely rule out the possibility that His Majesty might casually stroll in with a wave, saying โYo,โ so I managed to push the words back down my throat.
โWho is it?โ
I asked, but the maid replied curtly, โIโve been instructed not to give out the visitorโs name.โ Technically, Iโm treated as the master of the house, but if thereโs someone who takes precedence over thatโฆ it must be him, His Majesty. Or perhaps the Queen.
Thinking, โUgh, this is such a hassle,โ I went to the entrance to greet themโand then closed the door as soon as I opened it.
โHey, son. What kind of attitude is that toward your father, whoโs come to see you for the first time in ages?โ
โThis is such a pain in the ass.โ
I let out the curse Iโd been holding back in my stomach, making sure he heard every word.
My father, who had come to visit, grimaced and muttered under his breath, โThis kidโฆโ