TOPWL 52

Yudit. A name that softened the heart just by pronouncing it.

Their first meeting had been strange from the start. Though he was a prince, he mingled among the servants. Even at Reginald’s banquet, he hadn’t been invited, instead watching them from a neighboring building until he was discovered. Huyan had thought him an assassin, or at least a spy of Adanauer—but he turned out to be a prince of Adanauer. He didn’t seem to be treated like a prince, though.

When Huyan learned he had held a blade to the prince’s neck, he prepared himself for death. He only hoped that his rudeness wouldn’t cause trouble for the envoys. But Yudit forgave him with surprising grace.

“Are there any foods the envoy members can’t eat?”

“…Foods we can’t eat, Your Highness?”

“Oh, and if you could tell me what you do like, that would help. That’ll be enough to repay the debt.”

“…”

“…Am I not allowed to ask two questions?”

A prince who, instead of collecting a life debt, asked about the envoy’s food preferences. Perhaps that was when the curiosity began.

The next day, the prince was still there. Throughout the four-hour banquet, he stood in that spot, quietly watching the people. Wadiram opened a window for him.

“Oh, please don’t close it. I opened it because it was hot.”

“Understood.”

Wadiram said this to the servant who had moved to shut the window.

“He’s kind of cute, isn’t he? The way he tries.”

Wadiram chuckled as he spoke. Was he really cute, that prince? All Huyan remembered were his pale, thin hands. When he moved them, it reminded one of a slow-moving white spider. He was overall frail and dry-looking, but the throbbing pulse at his throat when the blade was pressed against it, and the wide, violet eyes—those stood out vividly.

“Huyan, what are you doing?”

As Wadiram approached, Huyan quickly hid something in his arms.

“Were you just tucking away that bread? That’s not even to your taste.”

That pale, soft bread was certainly not to Huyan’s taste. But the prince might like it. His cheeks even looked like that kind of bread.

“It’s been nearly four hours already. He must be hungry if he hasn’t eaten anything.”

“Then I’ll come too.”

Wadiram grabbed a ripe apple and followed after him.

“Then I’ll just eat the apple. I couldn’t possibly take your night snack.”

But the prince, saying he couldn’t take someone’s night snack, only accepted the apple. Wadiram, who had pretended not to notice, eventually burst out laughing.

“Puhaha! That bread, he really did bring it for Your Highness. He’s been worried this whole time—said it looks like you haven’t eaten a thing in four hours.”

Only after hearing that did the prince take a bite of the bread. The sight of the prince with his mouth full of bread was, in a way, endearing. Huyan thought to himself that he was glad he brought it.

Their strange connection continued into the third day.

“Hey, doesn’t His Highness look kind of cute in those clothes?”

“Uh… well…”

This time, Huyan couldn’t deny it. Dressed in the envoy’s uniform, the prince really was cute. How could someone look so endearing with their nose and mouth covered? Whether he was leading the way or eating yogurt—every little thing he did was unbearably adorable. Huyan even felt an urge to pinch the prince’s cheeks.

He had thought the prince chewing food with puffed cheeks was the cutest thing—but when the prince smiled wide and said thank you, that was even cuter. Every time he saw the prince smile, something in his chest ached strangely. It must have been guilt—guilt for pointing a blade at his throat during their first meeting. If the chance came, Huyan resolved to properly apologize.

He had thought the prince was merely cute, but the banquet he organized was far beyond expectations. He had accomplished what the previous three princes had not—uniting Adanauer and Herut.

The Empire, at its core, was prideful. Even the people of Adanauer often thought of the Herutians merely as desert nomads. Despite all the years they had declared nationhood and taken root in the sands. But the prince alone treated Herut as equal to Adanauer. Every member of the envoy recognized this.

“I thought he’d just take the meat out, but he made a completely different dish…”

“How did he know I liked these mushrooms and put in so many?”

Tika, a vegetarian, muttered quietly. And it wasn’t just her. For each person, he’d added their favorite ingredients in abundance, and reduced the ones they disliked—as if encouraging them to try even the foods they avoided. How could someone be this considerate? It wasn’t a false gesture.

The dishes weren’t fancy, but rather plain and comforting. The plating was elegant, but the flavors were mild and easy to eat. It was the sort of food that soothed one’s weariness after a long journey and three days of banqueting.

Even while enjoying the feast, Huyan’s eyes kept drifting to the prince. He moved among the people with bright smiles, never once losing composure, even though he must have been exhausted. But there was one moment when his expression changed. It was when a man with black hair and indigo-blue eyes appeared.

From the beginning of the banquet, the prince had been watching that man carefully.

He was stronger than anyone else present—but rotten to the core. Huyan sensed in him the kind of black aura only found in the monsters of the desert. There seemed to be some connection between the prince and this man. The prince didn’t appear to like him—his expression was tense—but watching them together made Huyan’s throat strangely dry. That’s why—when someone at the same table suggested a drinking contest, he accepted.

The challenger dropped out after just eight cups. Huyan drank all he could, but the thirst wouldn’t go away. Only when the prince approached and spoke to him did the dryness fade. He was almost alarmed at himself. He even began wondering whether the prince had cast some kind of spell on him.

But if the prince had that kind of power, he wouldn’t have gotten into a scuffle in the middle of the banquet.

When the invited singer finally arrived, the hall buzzed with excitement. Wadiram didn’t even bother to hide his awe. The woman was certainly beautiful—but not more than the prince.

She couldn’t sing, however. Because Prince Reginald stopped her. The envoys’ expressions turned cold when they realized Reginald had used his aura to pressure the woman. It must have been a ploy to ruin the banquet—but if he was trying to gain favor, that was the wrong way to go. Wadiram, especially, was furious.

Yet Prince Yudit managed the situation gracefully.

“Why is Lady Isiah singing instead?”

“She is late Princess’ mother.… who was close to the Prince.”

“Ah… Then Lady Isiah supports Prince Yudit?”

There seemed to be a complicated story behind it all. He had apparently gotten along well with his deceased sister. He didn’t seem to be loved by his remaining siblings, though—especially not by Prince Hiore, who took advantage of the shadows to trip Yudit’s servant.

“Something… something must have caught my foot… I am truly sorry…”

The beautiful tapestry was ruined by the wine spilled by the servant. Realizing what had happened, the servant fell to the floor in apology. Huyan was ready to step forward if things turned serious—but Prince Yudit didn’t scold the servant or try to uncover the truth. Instead, he chose to clean the wine-stained tapestry himself.

That night, Huyan dreamed of Prince Yudit. A dream in which he died. Huyan made up his mind to take Prince Yudit to the desert.

But the prince declined.

“The third and final reason… is because I want to become Emperor of Adanauer.”

What were the odds of Prince Yudit becoming Emperor? In this short time, all Huyan had seen was how coldly the imperial court treated him. And yet, the prince wasn’t deluded about his chances. Still, he had wagered his life on that dream. It wasn’t ambition. It wasn’t greed for power. It was simply because of a life debt to someone whose name he didn’t even know.

“About that tea you like, Your Highness…”

“It’s not like that.”

It wasn’t love. Surely it couldn’t be love—not when they had met just days ago, not with so little time together. It was simply that—when he heard the prince speak those words—he felt he couldn’t leave him behind.

That was all.

“Until I return, take good care of His Highness.”

“Leave it to me.”

At the border, Wadiram thumped his chest lightly. The hot sun blazed down on the land still tinged with blue. The familiar scent of sun and sand faintly drifted in the wind. Huyan turned to look quietly at the Adanauer Empire, where the prince remained, then turned and began to walk away.