Chapter 15

“Oh, is that person from earlier?”

Magnus, who had pushed through the crowd of people to approach, stared at the princess of Kepet with wide-eyed wonder.

“My uncle told me about her before. They say Princess Nephitia of Kepet is called a demigoddess.”

Magnus whispered, tugging on Arkin’s shoulder. Because of the surrounding noise, he had to practically shout for his words to be barely audible.

“In Kepet’s matriarchal society, Princess Nephitia is practically the direct descendant of the Sun God. Being an existence like that, they must be guarding her like absolute treasure. Well, a millennium? Anyway, they received a prophecy that the favor of the Sun God would look down upon her after hundreds of years. Pretty amazing, right?”

Instead of replying, Arkin stared intently at Nephitia atop the palanquin. He did not pull away his gaze for quite a while, watching her shine from a dizzyingly high place as she passed through the sanctuary entrance and vanished far away.

“Trying to follow right behind a grand procession like that really kills the mood.”

Magnus grumbled. Arkin simply walked in silence without giving much of a response. Yet ever since he had looked up at Nephitia’s palanquin just moments ago, something began to churn uncomfortably in his stomach. A cold sweat seemed to break out, followed by a light bout of dizziness. Arkin simply dismissed it as the fault of Credo’s sweltering weather. It was only natural since he had climbed the hill dressed in thick garments.

It took ages just to pass through the large arch-shaped entrance and reach the courtyard of the white marble building. The cause was the extravagant procession of the Kepet princess, and Magnus scowled upon finally seeing the princess stepping down from her palanquin.

“Good grief. She got in ages ago, and they’re only getting off now?”

With her waist held in an elegant posture, the princess solemnly nodded her head as she looked down at half a dozen young men gathered in front of her palanquin. Arkin, watching her, pressed hard against his temple and frowned. His headache was growing worse.

The broad-shouldered young men willingly and unhesitatingly bowed their bodies flat beneath the princess’s feet. Princess Nephitia gracefully stepped down onto the ground, using the young men’s solid shoulders and fully exposed backs as stepping stones. The moment the princess planted her feet on the earth, the young men made an exaggerated deep bow and began clearing a path for her to pass.

“…Doing all sorts of nonsense.”

Arkin clicked his tongue with a scowl. Magnus nodded in agreement.

“It’s certainly something you could never even imagine in Solinar. Shall we head over that way?”

Yet why was that? As he tried to follow Magnus, Arkin realized he could no longer control his own body at will. It felt as though glue had been smeared onto the soles of his feet, refusing to let his steps lift.

What is this?

Startled, Arkin tried to move his legs, but his body remained frozen like a bronze statue, fixed entirely on watching Nephitia. Suddenly, every single sensation he had felt during their first encounter in the forest violently revived and rushed over him in a massive wave. What is this, why… why is this happening again…?

Could symptoms like this reappear even when he wasn’t touching Nephitia’s body?

Swamped by the sensations vividly reviving along his burning-hot skin, Arkin found himself unable to leave the spot, staring fixedly in the direction of the princess.

Nephitia’s golden eyes kept flashing in his mind. The pure curiosity and attraction in those eyes whenever she looked at him. As though the sun were illuminating the forest…

‘…What on earth are you saying? She’s a lunatic princess! Do you want to get eaten alive by her like that?’

Another Arkin laughed at him in self-deprecating mockery.

It felt as though his soul had split into two. Space-time warped, and his vision distorted and bent.

Those piercing, vivid golden eyes and dense black eyelashes. The hot, cold, sweet, bitter, and stinging bizarre sensations from when they held hands flashed past in a blur.

Has he truly lost his mind?

Arkin desperately grabbed hold of and restrained another part of himself that kept trying to wander over in that direction.

Thank goodness, he still possessed a shred of reason. Another Arkin, rejecting this bizarre situation, began beating up the out-of-his-mind Arkin with a wooden club.

‘You insane fool! Snap out of it, will you? Is this really the time for you to be acting like this?’

“Prince, are you alright?”

Magnus’s voice rang buzzingly in his ears. He gave a rough nod, but he was still short of breath and his chest felt constricted.

“…I’m fine. I am…”

Let’s regain our reason. This was something abnormal. In times like this, he needed to use Solinar’s traditional mental training methods. If he imagined the stillness of a deep forest and slowly regulated his breath as though inhaling cold winter air…

“Hoo.”

He inflated his chest several times and inhaled deeply.

The forest. The winter forest. Think of the forest…

Yet, putting the prince’s best efforts to shame, this was not a winter forest flowing with cold, crisp air, and right before Princess Nephitia, an unfamiliar man had leisurely made his appearance.

“Ah, Prince. Look over there. Isn’t that Prince Igninov?”

Led by attendants on either side, the person approaching Princess Nephitia was a young man wearing a short piece of armor over a white tunic. Seeing hair as fiery red as a flame mixed with patches of orange, his wits finally returned to him in a flash.

The Prince of Igninov, Draconis.

A few years ago, when attending the summer festival of the Lake Kingdom of Lakelium, he had caught a fleeting glimpse of him. Though they had barely managed even an exchange of greetings, Arkin had instantly grown to dislike him, and right now, he felt he could probably hate him even more.

His arrogant and punchable gaze remained as consistently insufferable as ever. Not to mention the attitude of clinging to women and spilling smooth-sounding words…

With a slick smile, Draconis approached Nephitia, spread both arms toward the princess, and spoke to her. Arkin glared at Draconis with displeased eyes. Why on earth would someone dress up practically like a warlord when coming to a training tournament ostensibly meant for promoting peace and mutual friendship?

With Draconis’s back turned, he couldn’t see what kind of expression he was wearing. However, Nephitia’s face was clearly visible. A wary expression was cast across Nephitia’s face as she stared at Draconis.

…Wary, you say.

Arkin unconsciously felt a sense of relief. If Nephitia had smiled, his mood would have turned beyond wretched.

At the same time, on the other hand, it felt unfamiliar to see her wearing that kind of look and guarding against someone. Funnily enough, he had only met Nephitia once—and even then, for only a very brief moment—so why on earth was he feeling this way?

“From Prince Igninov’s perspective, I suppose they’d want to stay on friendly terms. A combination of the Kepet Kingdom and Igninov—both are great powers with warlike tendencies, after all. From our perspective, though, it’s a threat and a nuisance.”

Magnus grumbled and added his two cents.

“Anyway, Prince, let’s head over now. We need to deposit our tribute.”

Though his attendant said they needed to go deliver the tribute to the priests right about now, Arkin, for some reason continually bothered by those two individuals, ultimately made up his mind to send Magnus ahead first.

“Go on ahead, Magnus.”

Pardon? Looking bewildered, Magnus hesitated for a moment before stepping away. Arkin kept his guard up against Draconis and watched the two of them.

Draconis dropped to one knee before Nephitia with exaggerated movements. After chattering away at length as if eagerly explaining something, he suddenly grabbed hold of Nephitia’s hand and pulled it toward himself. His red head lowered slowly, and his lips brushed gently against the back of her hand. At that exact same moment, an uncomfortable sensation, like stepping on a sharp pebble, suddenly flared up from a corner of Arkin’s chest.

What if Nephitia felt that ‘special feeling’ from Draconis as well? What if that sensation which had felt exclusively special only to him was actually something anyone could experience?

Without realizing it, Arkin took a step forward. Draconis still hadn’t let go of Nephitia’s hand, toying with the princess’s hand as if drawing something with his fingers. On the other hand, Nephitia’s expression as she looked down at him was ambiguous, making her thoughts unreadable.

…His stomach felt uncomfortable and his head ached. Arkin knitted his brows at the feeling of the back of his neck growing hot. He wanted to get away from the spot, yet he also wanted to linger and watch further. A swirling, uncomfortably warm sensation. But why on earth? Why couldn’t he shake off a sensation like this?

Just as Arkin stood stock-still as if his feet had been nailed to the ground.

“Presenting Her Highness, Princess Amalfi of Floria!”

Once more, the sound of boisterous music echoed through the venue. It was music brighter and more cheerful than Kepet’s tune. Preceded by the sound of trumpets, a gigantic flower-cart rushed over noisily, instantly blocking the pathway and cutting off Arkin’s line of sight.