Evan had been restless from last night until the early hours of the morning.
He went to the kitchen and ordered that all spicy foods be removed, instructing that only thin, gentle dishes be served for breakfast.
He also made sure to receive plenty of medicine in case the fever returned.
Then, perhaps a bit excessively, he stuffed the fireplace with logs and kept poking at it with the poker to make sure the fire didn’t go out.
Thanks to his efforts, the fire in the hearth looked like it could burn forever.
“You’re making my head spin!”
Unable to watch any longer, Nihil flung the pillow he’d been using right at Evan, who was bustling around the bedroom.
After a few words exchanged with Evan during the night, Nihil had unconsciously slipped back into his old-man manner of speaking.
Evan caught the flying pillow with one hand and, lowering his voice, shouted back.
“How can you sleep with the Prince sick beside you!”
“My fever’s gone, so there’s no problem. Stop making a fuss and sit still.”
It was true that the Wildcat’s advice to bring medicine right after the Prince fell asleep had helped keep the fever from spiking.
And what the Prince needed most right now was plenty of rest.
Regaining a bit of composure, Evan hugged the pillow Nihil had thrown and collapsed onto the sofa.
It was inevitable that the Prince’s fever had risen.
After all the mental strain from what happened at the Duke’s Estate, then getting caught in the sleet and crying so much—it would have been stranger if he hadn’t gotten sick.
The Prince was so frail that, once he fell ill, he would be bedridden for at least two days, sometimes even a whole week. Just thinking about how long he might be sick this time made Evan’s worries pile up like a mountain.
“Give me back my pillow.”
…Damn Wildcat. Doesn’t even give me a moment to think.
Evan glared at Nihil, tossed the pillow back, and lay down on the sofa.
He’d done everything he could for now.
All that was left was to inform the princes’ teachers at sunrise that they’d be absent.
Normally, he would have left such things to the Servent, but right now, he couldn’t let it be known that the Prince was sick.
The reason was none other than that wretched Wildcat loitering by the Prince’s side. And, in truth, there was an even bigger problem.
The problem was the princes’ shared lessons.
Since the First Prince and Second Prince were the same age, His Majesty had decreed that there should be no discrimination in their education, arranging for them to take the same classes with the same tutors.
Thanks to this, our gentle, soft-hearted Prince often had to face the First Prince, and especially because of Duke Thesaurus, the notoriously biased swordsmanship instructor, our Prince had shed countless tears in secret.
Our Prince, who was sick so often, struggled to keep up with the lessons, but did his best not to fall behind.
There was even a time he attended class while ill and collapsed on his return.
Even if the Prince missed classes due to illness, the lessons moved on.
There was no such thing as adjusting the pace just because one of them was absent from a combined class.
To make matters worse, that First Prince, despite being born prematurely, was so robust he never got sick.
And his tongue—so sly—whenever Evan suggested splitting the classes to spare the Prince from subtle bullying, the First Prince would sweet-talk the Prince into refusing.
If he fell behind in lessons again, our Kitten would only suffer more.
The thought kept gnawing at Evan’s mind, making his head throb. He gripped his hair in frustration.
A few strands of his ash-brown hair came away in his fingers, but he simply brushed them off and turned over.
He could see the Prince’s bed.
That white Wildcat was probably sleeping soundly inside the canopy.
Just thinking of that creature made him irritated again. But then, a truly brilliant idea flashed through his mind.
What if he used the Wildcat as bait to convince the Prince to agree to split classes?
He could suggest, “Don’t you want to take lessons with the Wildcat? Studying with a friend would be more fun.” But since a commoner child couldn’t attend class with the First Prince, they’d have to separate the classes.
Perfect.
He almost felt proud of himself for coming up with such a plan.
The Wildcat ought to earn his keep, after all, especially after eating so much meat. And now he’d even get to attend the princes’ precious lessons for free—of course he should accept.
Our Kitten, who was especially attached to the Wildcat, would probably agree right away, bouncing with excitement.
If he sat the obviously less-educated Wildcat next to the Prince, it might even help the Prince regain some confidence.
Having reasoned it all out, Evan jumped up from the sofa and quietly called out, intending to wake the likely-sleeping Nihil.
“Hey, Wildcat.”
“…It hasn’t even been ten minutes since you got quiet. Do you have some kind of mental illness?”
Ouch.
Stung by the sharp retort, Evan wanted to rush over and shake the Wildcat by the scruff of his neck, but since he needed to use him, he decided to let it slide—just this once.
“You. Join the Prince for lessons.”
“No.”
The answer shot out without a split second’s hesitation.
Wasn’t he supposed to at least ask why, when someone made a request?
He’d even coldly rejected the adorable, lovable Prince’s offer of friendship—clearly, the one with mental problems wasn’t Evan, but this damn Wildcat!
In truth, Nihil had refused without even thinking about the request, simply because he disliked Evan’s commanding tone.
Evan, who hadn’t even realized how rude he sounded, had no idea what he’d done wrong.
With a sigh, Evan realized he would have to persuade the stubborn Wildcat.
Was getting the Prince into a separate class really this difficult?
How could he make the Wildcat earn his keep?
***
Nihil frowned.
His head was starting to ache.
He needed sleep to recover, but surrounded by strangers in a strange place, his senses were on edge and he couldn’t fall asleep.
The Guard Dog wasn’t helping, either.
Just when Nihil thought the house had finally gone quiet, the Guard Dog started barking again.
He kept going on about how Nihil should accept the offer, how learning anything could be useful, how this kind of opportunity wouldn’t come again, or at least that Nihil should just sit and keep the seat warm…
Nihil didn’t catch the exact details, nor did he want to. He buried his head under the covers and plugged his ears.
But the Guard Dog’s barking went on and on, and by then, dawn was breaking.
After a night of restless noise and constant barking, Nihil’s mood soured even more when he saw the rising sun.
He made a resolution.
Whatever that Guard Dog was scheming, he would never give in.
Everything was dark and blurry.
Lianus barely managed to hold on to his hazy consciousness.
Then he saw a mysterious black opal shining toward him, and carefully called out the name of the one whose eyes resembled that gem.
‘Nihil…?’
His ears were ringing and muffled; he could barely hear his own voice. Maybe, Lianus thought, it wasn’t that he couldn’t hear, but that his voice hadn’t come out at all.
He felt like he’d just been having a bad dream, but staring into those jewel-like eyes made him forget everything.
The harder he tried to remember, the clearer that gaze became, and everything else faded away.
A few white eyelashes fluttered.
The white color should have blurred his impression, but perhaps because the surroundings were dark, it only drew his gaze even more.
They hadn’t been friends for long, but already he was dreaming about Nihil.
Lianus thought to himself that he must really like Nihil, and smiled softly.
Everything was hazy, but that gem stood out so clearly—it must be a good dream, Lianus decided.
Someday, I’ll give Nihil a black opal that looks just like his eyes.
Maybe an earring or a hair ornament. Against that snow-white hair, it would shine even brighter.
His friend in the dream said nothing.
Then, something warm trickled into Lianus’s mouth. Thirsty, he swallowed it down without thinking.
At some point, the black opal before his eyes vanished.
Lianus felt a pang of disappointment that the good dream had ended—but then, suddenly, that dazzling gem reappeared.
Seeing it return, Lianus couldn’t help but smile again. Then, something gently tapped his lower lip.
“Ah, open up.”
A flat, indifferent voice sounded.
Ah, I can barely hear my own voice, but yours comes through so clearly.
Only then did Lianus realize this wasn’t a dream. Warm soup flowed through his slightly parted lips. It was thinner and more bland than usual.
When had he prepared something like this? Would there be any breakfast left for you? Just last night, I’d resolved to make sure you never missed a meal, but now you’re having nothing but thin soup.
I was going to go to His Majesty today and ask for permission for you, but now you’re stuck hiding in my room because of me.
Still, my room is big, so it shouldn’t be too bad. I’ll ask Sir Evan to bring you some toys.
If my friend feels lonely, I’ll lend him my Pupu. Hugging soft, fluffy Pupu always makes me feel a little less lonely.
I’ve always kept it for myself, but this time, I can let my friend have it.
Just then, something soft and fluffy was tucked into his arms.
He tried to guess what it was, but more warm soup kept flowing into his mouth, making him forget what he was thinking.
The soup didn’t taste as good as usual, but it was still comforting.
Lianus thought of his friend, who claimed he didn’t want to serve him.
But this wasn’t service. Someone so proud, so aloof that he seemed to scorn the very idea of social rank—there’s no way he’d serve a mere Prince.
He was the one who’d been taken in, and yet, Lianus couldn’t shake the feeling that he was the one being chosen.
The last spoonful of soup entered his mouth. The taste was strange.
A bitter tang stung his tongue, making him frown.
He tried to tell Nihil that the soup tasted strange, that it was too bitter, but—
“Go back to sleep now.”
He didn’t get the words out.
He couldn’t hear anything else, but Nihil’s voice rang in his ears like a divine command.
Seeing those mysterious, black opal eyes, Lianus felt he had no choice but to lie down and sleep.
If my friend tells me to sleep, then I should sleep.
The bitterness lingered in his mouth, and he doubted he could fall asleep, but contrary to his worries, consciousness soon faded away again.