Chapter 24

The king’s mouth fell open.

It seemed he had already guessed what words would follow.

“Wait a minute, so you mean right now…

‘The second reward I will receive is your tacit approval of the slave’s identity. Chernaya Antoinette del Peroa. The second princess of Peroa and the only survivor.’”

The king closed his mouth immediately.

After that, a long silence followed.

“…Were you going to say this at the regular meeting?”

The king asked in a hoarse voice.

Riorlem looked at the tapestry hanging on the wall instead of answering.

He had considered whether to try to secure the king’s political support as advised.

But the “only merit” Chernaya mentioned kept coming to mind.

The fact that he could show everyone that Chernaya was in his hands.

For a man who had never escaped the influence of Chernaya Antoinette del Peroa his whole life, there could be no greater reward.

Riorlem answered calmly,

“Of course.”

“You mad bastard.”

The king clicked his tongue.

All those attending the regular meeting were high-ranking officials of Arete, but not all of them were loyal to the kingdom.

Among them were people who preferred the path of becoming the new ruler of the Peroa Duchy rather than clinging to their narrow influence within Arete.

Some even openly declared themselves as puppets of the empire, a sworn enemy.

In such a place, to say he would claim the only unmarried Peroa princess as a reward. And as a slave too.

There was no crazier man than him.

‘Moreover, isn’t this a notification?’

The king frowned, as if a headache was coming on.

He knew Riorlem was not normal.

So he had spent years taming him, taking care to imprint his place.

‘I thought his obedience had finally become natural, yet he commits such acts.’

But whether the king permitted it or not, nothing would change.

Since the second princess of Peroa had already fallen into Riorlem’s hands.

The king made his conclusion.

“Go hunting with the crown prince next week.”

“Real hunting?”

“Yes. Whether deer or fox, something to pass the time suitably.”

“If I answer yes, will I be able to return to the castle then?”

“Yes.”

“I will attend. Please issue the detailed schedule as you see fit.”

Riorlem bowed deeply, indicating he was about to leave.

The king accepted Riorlem’s salute and watched him until his straight and beautiful back disappeared beyond the door.

“Today, he looks oddly dashing. Could it be the touch of the Peroa princess?”

Murmuring in a complicated mood, the king cleared his throat and summoned his attendant.

“Call the crown prince. I have urgent matters to discuss.”

By the time Riorlem returned to the mansion, the sun was already setting.

No one was surprised by the bloodstained uniform of Riorlem, perhaps because the commotion at the conference room had already spread.

So Chernaya was the only one shocked to see the uniform.

“Oh my. What happened, Riorlem?”

Chernaya, leaning on her pillow reading a book, asked in a surprised voice.

Of course, she probably wasn’t really surprised.

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him soaked in blood.

So instead of answering, Riorlem snuggled into Chernaya’s arms, hugging her slender waist tightly, filling his lungs deeply with her scent.

Under the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window, Chernaya’s red hair shimmered.

It had been a month watching this scene, yet he still never got used to it.

‘If anything, it’s more…?’

Riorlem shook his head, then rose as if suppressing a rapidly beating heart.

“I was bitten by a mad dog.”

“A mad dog?”

“Miss… you know him too.”

“…Ah.”

Chernaya nodded as if she understood.

Riorlem was relieved by her dry and unenthusiastic response.

So he did as usual, pressing his crotch firmly into the bed to suppress the swelling lust.

But the words that followed stiffened his body.

“Alpheo has returned, it seems.”

“Alpheo?”

Riorlem repeated in disbelief at the kind and soft tone.

“I mean Prince Alpheos.”

Chernaya answered calmly.

“Arete’s royal family uses long and hard-to-pronounce names, so they often call each other by nicknames.”

“Why do you know his nickname?”

And why do you say it like it’s familiar?

Riorlem forcibly swallowed the words rising to the back of his throat.

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t strange that Chernaya called Alpheos so familiarly.

Alpheos had been courting Chernaya for nearly ten years.

Apart from the proposals, they were on friendly terms.

It was only natural.

No matter how much of a bloodthirsty madman he was, he was still the third son of the King of Arete.

A man with the bloodline and status to propose marriage to the Peroa princess.

As if to remind him of this fact, Chernaya continued in a soft voice:

“Isn’t it because you already knew Alpheos? He often came to my palace, spent a lot of time there, and you’ve known each other for a long time.”

Chernaya’s golden eyes looked down at Riorlem’s left arm.

Thanks to the priest’s emergency treatment, the wound had nearly healed. Yet the dark bloodstains still vividly showed what had happened.

“I already knew Alpheos hated you… but I didn’t expect him to attack you at a meeting of nobles. Are you alright?”

“… ‘Already’?”

Surprised by the word, Riorlem asked back.

“It means he hated you ever since you were a slave attached to the Pelvicé Palace. That’s why on the days Alpheos came, you drank tea all day long.”

‘I didn’t know.’

Riorlem clenched his teeth.

He had no idea.

That Chernaya called Prince Alpheos by a nickname.

That Alpheos hated Chernaya’s slave.

‘…And that on days they met, there was only tea time.’

Chernaya, watching Riorlem, smiled.

“You really had no idea Alpheos hated you.”

“…Of course not. We never even made eye contact.”

“Ah, I see. When someone like Alpheos came, the slaves would prostrate themselves flat on the floor.”

Exactly as she said.

Even servants and attendants bowed politely; a mere slave wouldn’t dare raise their head.

Of course, Riorlem was a ‘special’ slave who had stayed by Chernaya’s side the longest.

He was probably one of the people who knew her best.

But in the end, he was just a slave.

When Chernaya met men of noble rank, the servants of the lowest rank would attend her.

So Riorlem had no idea how she spent time with other men.

What tone she used in social settings, what she talked about.

If her shoes got dirty, it meant she had taken a walk that day; otherwise, she would have tea or danced.

Yet, the one who spent time with Chernaya back then—Alpheos—knew who he was.

It was natural for a slave to know the name and face of a foreign prince, to protect themselves.

But the reverse was strange.

“A madman, maybe.”

Riorlem muttered quietly.

Hearing this, Chernaya burst into laughter.

“Alpheos is a ridiculous man. But this isn’t strange. I cared for you.”

“What’s so natural about that?”

“He has eyes, too. He knew why I kept you close, so he hated it.”

Chernaya’s hand stroked Riorlem’s cheek—a cheeky gesture fit for a master to a slave.

But Riorlem let her.

The smoothness of her fingers on his cheek felt good.

“Did you get your reward from the king properly?”

“Were you worried?”

“I wasn’t, originally. But now that Alpheos has made such a fuss, I’m starting to worry.”

“Prince Alpheos never heard about my reward.

He was dragged off after attacking me in front of the conference hall.”

“Attacking you? Alpheos?”

“Alpheos.”

Riorlem hugged Chernaya’s waist tightly.

“Don’t call him that anymore. That’s an order. Even if the king permits it, call him by his name.”