The Sculpted Prince and the Seaweed Commander

I dragged up an old memory, feeling a sharp sense of déjà vu. The voice of the Second Prince as he threw a tantrum, the ball of fur clutched in his arms, and the sword that had grazed my neck with a cold sting. Retracing it calmly, I realized the possibility that this cat was that cat, and I immediately sharpened my senses to the surroundings.

The cat’s owner wasn’t far off. I left the cat, which was busy letting out a series of myaaas, and walked on. Passing through a trellis of arched bushes, just as my nose was growing numb to the heavy scent, there stood the Crown Prince.

The moment I spotted him, I froze. Neither my memories nor my fleeting imaginations could have truly captured the man standing before me. The sun, beginning its descent, poured over his blonde hair. In contrast to the searing color that looked like it would burn to the touch, his eyes—devoid of any warmth—soon turned toward me.

For a split second, I harbored the absurd doubt of whether he was actually a living human being. Is it not strange that he’s breathing? His face, stripped of the warmth a person should possess, was filled with aesthetic elements like a masterfully crafted sculpture. And yet, it was alive—blinking, breathing, and moving.

I’d always made a fuss about his face, but now I couldn’t tell if my memories had simply faded or if he had grown even more spectacular than before. One thing was certain: he was even more overwhelming than I remembered. It took a moment for me to regain my senses.

Normally, if one stands there without offering a greeting, a voice should fall to point out the rudeness. But the Crown Prince simply stood still. While I was standing there like a fool, lost in a daze, he too seemed to be recalling something. His pale lashes trembled ever so slightly.

Once the shock of his appearance subsided, I noticed his expression was strange. He wasn’t smiling, nor was he frowning. His brows, eyes, and lips remained largely unmoved, as they always had. And yet, I could vaguely read a negative emotion. Soon, a slight smile crept onto his lips. The way his eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled was similar to the old days, yet somehow different.

“So, you were alive.”

I had been waiting to hear what he would say, but his words were so far from my expectations that I lowered my head, struggling to parse their meaning. I had considered “It’s been a long time” or a rebuke for my insolence as candidates, but not this.

The Crown Prince’s voice was chilly. I had expected that much. However, the fact that it differed from his childhood tone was the mystery. Even back then, the Crown Prince had treated people with a cold voice despite his smile. It was an arrogant attitude, as if he had placed everything beneath him from a young age. Since no one would dare point it out, there was no reason for it to change.

Yet now, he almost seemed… offended. I couldn’t decide whether my memory of his attitude had faded just like my memory of his looks, or if he truly had changed.

As I stood there, unsure how to respond, the cat walked past me and rubbed itself against its master’s feet. The Crown Prince picked it up with practiced ease.

“I suppose I’ll have to make all sorts of excuses if I want to see your face before the commissioning ceremony.”

I couldn’t even offer an empty promise to visit him. Though I chose silence again, the Crown Prince continued, seemingly unbothered.

“I heard you did nothing but train in seclusion. It seems Sir Spellman needs to teach his disciple how to converse with people as well as swords.”

His words were quite sharp. Since they weren’t wrong, I had nothing to say back. Truly. I felt my tongue, which had moved quite well when I was young, had grown stiff. Whether it’s swords or words, you have to use them often to improve; mine had regressed since I encountered monsters more often than I conversed with humans.

If I met Annette like this, I’d surely be torn to shreds without being able to gather my bones. Even now, I was busy being pummeled by the Crown Prince’s wit.

“Shouldn’t you at least recite an excuse? Like how it was incredibly difficult for a mere noble child without a title to request an audience with a busy Royal?”

When someone hands you the answer on a silver platter like that, it’s actually more embarrassing to take it. I hesitated, trying to think of a substitute excuse for his words.

However, no matter how hard I racked my brain, nothing suitable came out, as if something were blocked. It would be much easier to just pick up a sword and fight.

“I heard you were… quite occupied… I felt it would be shameful for me to request an audience.”

“It seems I failed to account for that. I shall send an invitation to save your face, so do not be ashamed.”

I suppressed my simmering irritation and replied politely. I felt like I’d lost the battle of nerves the moment we reunited. My nose practically stung with the unfairness of it all. I resented the original author. Fallen in love? They said he acts sweet after falling in love. Is this sweetness?

The term “sweet” might suit the way he handled the cat, but it was a stretch to apply it to someone who was openly humiliating me.

If it were Erkel, he would have smiled sheepishly and said, ‘Still, isn’t Phel pretty sweet for who he is?’ To an author who writes novels about trashy leads in love, the standard for sweetness was clearly found in a landfill.

That day, the Crown Prince had turned and vanished shortly after. I replayed the situation in my head several times, but that was really it. If he had looked at me with eyes dripping with honey and thrown out some weird flirting like when the original story first triggered, I could at least understand why the rumors grew.

When I grumbled that I couldn’t understand it at all, Elliot let out a sigh.

“You don’t need to understand them, but you can’t ignore them either. You never know when rumors will turn malicious. For now, they seem to be talking about how ‘cute’ it is—some sort of fresh, youthful affection.”

“Fresh affection, my ass.”

Unless all fresh affection in the world had died out. I snorted, but I nearly lost my temper at his next words.

“At this rate, it wouldn’t be a stretch for the story to evolve into you being His Highness’s mistress.”

“Mi—f*cking hell.”

The word alone made my skin crawl. Mistress. If I were actually dating the Crown Prince, I wouldn’t feel this wronged. No, even if we were dating, I’d still be pissed. It was too blunt and negative a term to attach to a couple. To have a scandal with someone I had no real relationship with… I wonder if the Crown Prince even knows about this mess.

I grimaced, denying that ridiculous hypothesis.

“I’m only saying this because it’s you, but I don’t want to be defined by any kind of relationship with His Highness.”

“I know. That’s why I’m telling you to at least pay attention to who your partner is for the Oath of the Lady at the ceremony.”

At Elliot’s dry response, I asked back.

“Not my partner for the debutante ball?”

“Your brothers are probably already working themselves to death looking for that. Judging by your face, you were planning to take a family member. It would be better to choose someone who can draw the most attention.”

A knight’s commissioning ceremony consists of two oaths. One is the covenant of loyalty to one’s liege, and the other is the Oath to a Lady. While it’s often simplified or skipped these days, families that value formality still treat it as a major event.

The covenant hosted by the Imperial Family has a complex procedure, but the content is ultimately simple. The Crown Prince, acting on behalf of the bedridden Emperor, will come forward to recognize the knight’s qualifications and personally bestow the sword. It was an important enough occasion that his presence alone signaled his near-certainty as the next Emperor.

However, the part that draws more attention is the Oath to the Lady.

Strictly speaking, the “Oath” is the core of it, so the recipient doesn’t necessarily have to be a lady. Since it superficially carries the meaning of consideration and respect for the weak, it could be anyone who isn’t a knight. But because it can only be done once in a lifetime, it traditionally holds a romantic significance.

Usually, it’s done for a lover, or if one doesn’t have a suitable partner, they ask a high-ranking noblewoman. Lately, many do it for family, relatives, or friends. I had thought it would be better to ask one of my brothers rather than throwing bait to the gossips, but…

If rumors like that are circulating about the Crown Prince, it seemed wise to nip them in the bud early, just as Elliot advised.

The problem was that no suitable candidate came to mind.

I didn’t know how to break it to my brothers, who were currently acting as if they’d already been chosen just because I’d casually asked if one of them could do it. Furthermore, the thought of the fuss they’d make—scouring every noble in the capital just like they did for my debut partner—made my stomach ache.

“How about you do it instead?”

“Not me.”

I offered just in case, but Elliot refused flatly.

“Pick a woman if you can. If you ask a man and a rumor spreads that you like men, it’ll be worse than just taking a family member. Leave as little room for doubt as possible.”

That was a kind of rumor I absolutely wanted to avoid. I clutched my head, which had been throbbing frequently of late.

As I stood up, saying I’d think it over, Elliot threw out a suggestion.

“If you’re having trouble finding a partner, why not look at the Academy this time?”

At first, it sounded a bit odd, but the more I chewed on it, the more it seemed like a solid alternative. The Academy, which used to be seen as a necessity only for the bourgeoisie, had recently become a trend among the capital’s nobility. Especially for our generation, after Erkel—an Imperial Prince—headed to the Academy, nobles flocked to enroll. It wasn’t that there was no precedent for royalty entering the Academy, but it meant something different for a direct prince to go. Especially so for Erkel, who was drawing attention at the time as a rising star of the salons.

Since it was a gathering of peers, the pool was wider than the list of nobles currently in the capital, and most of the people I was actually close to were still there.

It wouldn’t exactly be a one-sided request for help either. The partner would also receive quite a bit of attention the moment they arrived in the capital, so it was a win-win situation. According to the invitation, the graduation festival would start in fifteen days and last for a week. I’d have to prepare in a bit of a rush, but it wasn’t entirely impossible.