Chapter 11: When It Comes to being Despicable, I’m a Step Ahead

“Does Your Highness truly believe I am the sort of scoundrel who would put something unsavory in your tea?”

Hearing Celicia’s challenge, Ewan froze. He then put on the performance of a lifetime, looking so utterly heartbroken that he seemed seconds away from beating his chest, wailing at the heavens, and summoning a freaky blizzard in June to prove his innocence.

“If Your Highness insists on distrusting me so, then I have no recourse but to prove my sincerity with my actions! I shall drink first, as a testament to my honor!”

With a flourish of wounded pride, Ewan snatched his own cup of tea and prepared to drain it in one defiant gulp.

“Wait.”

Celicia’s voice cut through his theatrics.

“Lord Ewan, must you be so dramatic? I was merely making a small joke.”

“A joke…?”

Your face, which has maintained the same glacial expression all evening, does not look like it knows what a joke is!

“As your fiancée, Lord Ewan, my trust in you is, naturally, absolute.” A minuscule curve, the barest hint of a smile, touched her lips. “I was only teasing. Please do not take it to heart.”

“Is that so?”

Ewan lowered his cup, releasing an imperceptible sigh of relief. “In the future, I must implore Your Highness to refrain from such jests. They could seriously damage the precious trust between us.”

“But of course. I see the error of my ways.”

Celicia still didn’t touch her tea. She lowered her head, her gaze fixed on her own reflection in the deeply crimson liquid.

“To be honest, there was a reason for my little joke.”

“Oh?”

“You are aware, are you not, Lord Ewan, that I am actually a few months younger than you?”

“…Naturally, I was aware.”

Aware my foot! I’m completely blindsided!

Celicia, the formidable student council president of Saint Marika Academy and a full two years his senior in school, was actually younger than him? The original novel had conveniently left that little detail out! Wait a second. Does that mean the woman before me, my ‘senior’ in public, is technically my junior? My ‘little sister’, even? Given the tangled web of noble bloodlines, it wasn’t a stretch.

Could this be some legendary new variant of the ‘cold beauty who is secretly a cute kouhai’ trope?

This was bad. The mental image of the aloof and icy senpai Celicia secretly having to call him “Onii-sama” was… very, very bad. That kind of character dynamic, of gap moe, was a direct critical hit to his heart!

“I am, after all, a genius who skipped two grades. It’s not so surprising,” she continued, oblivious to his internal crisis. “But because of it, I often feel weary. I’m never around my peers. I must constantly strive to be as mature as those older than me, or even more so.”

“So,” she confessed, “when I am in private, in an environment where I feel safe, I can sometimes be a bit… childish.”

“Childish?” Ewan blinked. He never thought he’d hear that word from the lips of the Ice Witch herself.

“Yes. Just like a moment ago.” Celicia’s silvery lashes fluttered. “You are not angry with me, are you, Lord Ewan?”

“Of course not,” Ewan replied instantly, a genuine, warm smile spreading across his face. “If it is you, Your Highness, I can accept any amount of childishness. In fact, a side like that only makes you seem more approachable.”

“Truly? Oh, that’s wonderful to hear.”

Celicia suddenly looked up, her eyes locking onto his.

“Because, as it happens, I have another, extremely childish request that I need you to grant, Lord Ewan.”

“Eh?”

“Lord Ewan, your tea looks far more delicious than mine. So… would you mind if we switched?”

“Wha—?”

Ewan’s smile froze solid. He stared at her, an icy dread seeping into his very bones. Her eyes were still cold and distant, but through that surface layer of ice, he could now see it clearly: a deep, sharp glint of cunning… and pure mockery.

Damn it! I let my guard down for one second and she had me!

The whole “childish” routine was a calculated trap. She knew something was wrong with the tea! She probably didn’t suspect a drug, or he’d already be a human popsicle.

“That’s… perhaps not a good idea.”

“And why not? Did you not just say you could accept all my childish whims? Or is it—” Celicia tilted her head, her voice a silken, dangerous whisper as she enunciated each word, “—that you have something to be… afraid of, Lord… Ewan?”

“O-Of course not! Why would I be afraid? It’s not as if I’ve done anything wrong!” Ewan fumbled for a handkerchief, dabbing at the sweat on his forehead as his mind spun, desperately searching for an escape from this perfect checkmate.

“Well… there is one thing I am a bit embarrassed to admit. I… I have a terrible habit of sipping from a cup before I serve it. Yes, that’s it! I’ve already drunk from this cup!” Ewan clutched his teacup for dear life, his voice ringing with false bravado. “If Your Highness were to drink it now, that would mean… it would be an indirect kiss!”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yes! Exactly so!” Ewan glared at her, his eyes wide and pleading.

How about that, princess? You’re the Ice Goddess, the untouchable queen of purity! Surely you cannot withstand the ultimate, romance-trope power of the ‘indirect kiss’! You’re probably so pure that the mere mention of it will make you blush to the roots of your hair, just like in the anime!

“It’s fine,” Celicia said, not blushing in the slightest. “I don’t mind.”

“After all,” she continued, as she reached out and placed her soft, cool hand over his, “I am your fiancée. I believe I can accept something of this nature.”

He felt no warmth from her touch, only a deathly chill that plunged him into an abyss. She was prying his fingers open, one by one, calmly taking the cup from his grasp. It was over. There was nothing he could do but watch in silent, abject horror, as if viewing the final countdown to his own execution.

“You know, I am quite looking forward to this, the tea prepared by Lord Ewan himself.” Celicia said, her face a mask of indifference as she brought the cup—his cup—to her lips. She paused, looking at him. “Aren’t you going to drink, Lord Ewan?”

“Right. Drinking,” Ewan choked out, forcing a smile so stiff it could have been carved from wood. He raised his own cup—the one that had originally been hers—and slowly, ever so slowly, brought it to his mouth. He tried to stretch the moment into an eternity, but under Celicia’s unwavering gaze, even an eternity had to end.

Resigned, he closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and let the tea flow into his mouth.

Watching him, Celicia narrowed her eyes slightly and finally took a small, delicate sip from her own cup.

Hm? This taste… it’s still strange.

She frowned, looking down at the swirling liquid, as red and viscous as blood. Could it be…

Her head snapped up.

Ewan hadn’t said a word. He was just sitting there, smiling. It was a bizarre, unsettling smile that stretched nearly to his ears, yet his lips were sealed completely shut.

“You—!”

For the very first time, raw panic flashed in Celicia’s eyes. But it was too late. A wave of weakness was already spreading through her limbs.

And Ewan finally opened his mouth.

Ptooey!

He spat the entire mouthful of drugged tea onto the floor.