CHAPTER 118: CHAPTER 83: YURIEL

"Good day, Your Highness," the maids greeted, bowing deeply as the princess passed by. Her presence was an embodiment of authority, every step radiating an air of regal command.

"Good day, Your Highness," echoed more voices as she continued down the bustling corridor. She didn’t respond, her expression impassive—she was long accustomed to such displays of reverence.

A faint hum escaped her lips as her sharp eyes landed on an anomaly amidst the sea of maids.

"Yuriel," she murmured, her gaze narrowing as she halted abruptly.

"Your Highness?" her personal maid inquired, noticing her sudden pause, but the princess dismissed her with a wave of her hand.

"Yuriel," she addressed the young man, whose pink hair made him stand out like a blot of ink on pristine parchment. "How many times have I told you not to bow like this when you see me?"

The boy, already anticipating her words, resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Biting back the curse hovering on his tongue, he straightened slightly before replying. "Thirty-five times, my lady."

"...And yet, you still fail to grasp such a simple instruction," she said, her voice cold but laced with an almost amused edge. A smile crept onto her face, but it wasn’t one of kindness. A suffocating weight suddenly bore down on him like an iron shackle.

"Do not resist, Yuriel," she commanded. His knees buckled, and he crumpled to the ground as though gravity itself had conspired against him.

"Good," she said, satisfaction dripping from her tone. "This is how it should be. Let this be the last time I must correct your posture, Yuriel." Without another glance, she turned and walked away, her personal maid following dutifully.

"I understand," Yuriel said through gritted teeth, inhaling deeply as the oppressive weight finally lifted.

...

"What took you so long, Yuriel? I don’t have all day," a young man with golden blond hair and sharp amber eyes called out. A sword rested lazily on his back, gleaming faintly in the sunlight.

"I ran into... complications," Yuriel replied, appearing with a towel and a bottle of water.

"Let me guess—Maria?" the blond asked, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. Yuriel didn’t answer, merely uncapping the bottle before handing it over.

The blond took the water without hesitation, drinking deeply. Yuriel stood patiently, clutching the towel in his hands, his expression unreadable.

"You still haven’t told me why she despises you so much," the blond said after a long swig, his tone almost conversational.

"Hah," Yuriel exhaled, his lips twitching as he attempted to steer the conversation elsewhere. "Lady Katherine sent you a letter," he offered, hoping to divert attention.

The blond frowned but didn’t push. "Fine, keep your secrets," he muttered, already accustomed to Yuriel’s evasiveness. "You’re lucky she hasn’t outright attacked you. It’s probably because you’re my personal servant," he added with a grin, his tone teasing.

Yuriel gave a resigned shrug. "Perhaps," he muttered, clearly unamused.

"...Are you joining the subjugation?" Yuriel asked, changing the topic with practiced ease.

The blond’s eyes lit up, a spark of excitement flashing in them. "Do you even need to ask?" he replied. "It’s my chance to test my swordsmanship in a real fight. Can’t have your prince making a fool of himself at the exams, can we?" He chuckled, tossing the now-empty bottle aside and grabbing the towel to wipe his sweat.

"Definitely not," Yuriel said dryly, taking back the towel.

"Hey," the blond said suddenly, his grin widening as he grabbed a wooden practice sword. "Grab a sword. Let’s spar."

Yuriel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before bending down to pick up another wooden weapon. "Do you remember what happened the last time we did this?"

"THAT?!" the blond sputtered, his face reddening at the memory. "That was a fluke!"

"Right... just like the other times you lost spectacularly," Yuriel replied without looking up, his tone cutting.

"You know what, I think I now understand why Maria does what she does," he said, taking on another stance, this time more serious.

"Oh... well, is that your way of accepting your countless losses to me, who hasn’t even caught a glance of a swordsmanship skill?" Yuriel asked, standing across from him. His stance always felt odd to the young man facing him—a fighting style that seemed to reek of luck. It was filled with too many goddamn flaws, but whenever he tried to take advantage of those flaws, bam!

"You’ve improved quite a lot," Yuriel nodded with a thoughtful look, though the young man could almost taste the sarcasm in his words.

"Bastard," he muttered under his breath. "You know what... I’ll have my instructor go against you. Let’s finally clear the air on how you’re even able to do this."

The prince, now sprawled on the ground with a wooden sword to his neck, glared at Yuriel.

"Okay, but first, reply to the message from Katherine," Yuriel said, adjusting his sword.

"Tsk. You just don’t know when to stop, do you?" The young man accepted his outstretched hand and stood up.

"What do you mean?" Yuriel asked, tilting his head sideways.

"You know damn well how I feel about her," he said, grabbing the face towel once more.

"You... like her, right?" Yuriel asked with a raised eyebrow.

"...Tsk. Burn that damn letter," the young man said after a minute of silence.

"Why are you... Whatever. Keep at this, and you’ll die single," Yuriel said, and the young man’s lips visibly twitched.

"Really? A prince this good-looking?" he deadpanned.

"Wonder how the ladies would react if they found out their Prince Lodric is actually a hopeless narcissist. Oh, how much it wouldn’t bother me," Yuriel said and walked off to place the wooden swords in their rightful place."Tsk. Insufferable bastard."

"Have some shame, Your Highness. All those etiquette classes you lord over me, and you curse more than a goon," Yuriel shot back, his calm, impassive tone grating on Lodric’s nerves.

Lodric folded his arms. "Do you even know what she asks for every time she writes or we meet?"

"Nope. And I don’t want to know. I’m no love guru," Yuriel replied, grabbing a broom to tidy the sparring ground.

"You know what?" Lodric said, his tone turning sharp. "When you’re done here, go wash the stables."

"There are no stables here."

"That’s the point. I want you to go all the way to Cezzarel. Wash all the stables there. Tell them it’s an order from Prince Lodric that you’re not to be paid, fed, or helped. Anyone who disobeys will be beheaded."

Yuriel stared at him. "I knew you were petty, but shameless and petty? That’s a new one."

"And while you’re there," Lodric continued, ignoring the comment, "kill that mangy Slime at the mountains. I heard it’s stinks more than decayed carcass. Don’t come back until you’ve finished both tasks."

"Yes, Your Highness," Yuriel drawled, rolling his eyes.

"Actually, I’ll let Maria handle your punishment. You’re clearly more terrified of her than me," Lodric added with a smirk.

Yuriel paused, visibly regretting every word that had led them to this moment. "I hate you sometimes, you know that?"

"Careful," Lodric said, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "Hating your prince is treason."

....

The premises of the story will start off slow.

Someone drop a gift.

I haven’t received one on this book since i began typing it! (╯︵╰,)