Chapter 8

Her outfit as the Saintess?

Why was she out here in the dark, so late at night, walking this far away?

And alone, at that?

Alesto had no intention of questioning any of it.

The reason was simple.

No matter what he asked right now, she would only lie.

It was obvious she had tried to escape, and now she was claiming it had only been a walk.

And yet here she was, climbing obediently into the carriage without hesitation.

‘She cannot even hide how flustered she is, yet she lies so shamelessly.’

Alesto did not wish to ask anything that would embarrass her further, nor did he want to hear another excuse.

So he let the matter end with her flimsy excuse of taking a walk.

However.

Letting it go without pressing her and giving her a warning were two different things.

That was why he had only spoken casually, like a passing joke.

‘It’s good to know you were just taking a walk. For a moment, I thought you might be trying to run away.’

The Saintess flinched as if struck, then quickly composed herself and denied it with an awkward smile.

“O-oh, really? I had no thought of running away… haha.”

Alesto nodded calmly.

“It was just a passing thought. Of course you wouldn’t try to run. You told me yourself, remember? That I could keep you confined until trust was built. To run away after saying that would be absurd, wouldn’t it?”

Asha instantly realized she had cornered herself.

‘Wait. Isn’t that basically him saying he’ll lock me up?’

So much for a comfortable imperial confinement. At this rate, she might end up literally imprisoned by the future tyrant himself.

A chill ran down her spine. She pulled the blanket around her shoulders like a cloak and clasped it tightly in front of her.

“Are you cold?”

“Yes, a little… I guess I walked for too long.”

At that, the Crown Prince gave a strange reaction.

He raised his hand slightly, hesitated, then asked in a careful voice,

“May I help you with that?”

Asha’s eyes widened.

The reason she had pulled the blanket around her was to hide her maid uniform, and every alarm in her head screamed to refuse.

But her lips betrayed her.

“Uh… yes.”

It wasn’t entirely unintentional. The atmosphere made it impossible to say no.

She worried that refusing would make her look suspicious, that he might think she was hiding something, or perhaps it was simply because he was too close.

As soon as she gave her answer, he moved nearer. Surprisingly, he smelled faintly warm and clean.

She wasn’t sure why that surprised her, but it did.

Then came his touch.

His hands moved with deliberate care, avoiding any unnecessary contact. The slow, gentle motion somehow felt tender.

For a fleeting moment, she completely forgot he was the so-called future tyrant.

Thump.

‘Thump? Why thump?’

He spread the blanket around her shoulders, adjusted it over her neck, and fastened it in front with his own brooch so it wouldn’t slip. Then, without hesitation, he stepped back.

Asha blinked rapidly, trying to calm the strange flutter in her chest.

Why was he suddenly being so kind?

Then she realized his behavior had actually been consistent from the beginning.

‘He’s always been polite and gentle with me. Kind… even?’

Yes, that was right. He had even bought her food when she was hungry.

Kind indeed.

But why?

Why would a future tyrant be kind?

Then a voice echoed in her head.

‘I see Lady Asha as a romantic interest. She appeals to me.’

And suddenly, she understood.

‘Wait, isn’t this that cliché? The cold, stoic tyrant who’s secretly warm only to his woman?’

In the original novel, the heroine had married Cedric, so Alesto hadn’t been deeply explored. But if the author had written his character as the type who was “warm only to his woman,” it made perfect sense.

‘But am I really his woman?’

The Crown Prince in the original didn’t have a lover. There was no guarantee that person was her.

There was no way to know.

While Asha puzzled over that, Alesto was equally unsettled.

Offering to fix her blanket had been a completely impulsive act.

‘Why did I do that?’

Was it because she had looked so pitiful when he saw her by the road?

Well, she had.

Her cheeks were red from the cold, her maid outfit disheveled, her makeup gone, her hair tangled.

She had looked small and weak, her voice faint, her eyes silently begging to be taken in.

So small, so fragile.

When he looked down at her from the carriage, her already petite frame seemed even smaller.

She had been like a speck of dust rolling on the ground.

Pitiful in appearance, clumsy in motion, awkwardly fumbling with the blanket.

He had acted on impulse, but as he adjusted the blanket, a strange feeling welled up.

The sight of her sitting still and letting him fix it, her cheeks faintly flushed, made something stir inside him.

‘What is this?’

Something felt off. The way she quietly accepted his touch, the way her face looked up close.

A sudden urge to take care of her crept up on him, followed immediately by a sharp wave of discomfort.

‘No. The Saintess isn’t my type. I only said that to Jerold as a convenient excuse.’

His true ideal was someone rare, fated, nearly impossible to find.

This was simply instinct reacting to her helplessness.

He forced himself to sort through his thoughts coolly.

Meanwhile, Asha was busy interpreting the situation through her own lens of clichés.

Alesto was clearly the “tyrant who is warm only to his woman,” and judging by his considerate behavior, that woman seemed to be her.

Objectively, this wasn’t a bad situation.

From the moment she realized she was inside a novel, her goal had been simple. Stay alive, keep her body intact, live comfortably, and die peacefully of old age.

Her original plan to live under Cedric’s imperial confinement wasn’t some grand romantic wish.

It was because he was the male lead and, aside from his obsessive tendencies, was portrayed as a gentle and loyal man.

All she had ever wanted was a safe, comfortable life with enough rest and stability. Cedric himself wasn’t essential to that plan.

So really, all that had changed was the person capable of providing her “imperial confinement.”

From Cedric to Alesto. The situation itself hadn’t worsened at all.

‘It’s actually pretty simple when you think about it.’

And Alesto was extremely, unbelievably, absurdly handsome.

Back in her old world, she never would have even had the chance to speak to someone like him.

Now that very man was the Crown Prince.

A man with wealth, power, beauty, and affection reserved only for her. There was absolutely nothing missing.

On top of that, he had no intent to harm her. He was respectful, kind, and had even admitted to seeing her as a romantic interest.

At this point…

‘There’s really no reason to run away anymore, is there?’

While Asha and Alesto each sorted through their own thoughts, the carriage rolled smoothly back to Blossom Palace.

When they arrived, Alesto personally escorted Asha to her chamber.

“You must be tired after walking so far. Rest early tonight.”

His tone was gentle, almost like that of a parent to a child.

‘Rest early… When was the last time someone told me that?’

A peculiar warmth rose in Asha’s chest. She tilted her head slightly.

Suddenly, she found herself wondering what time it was in this world.

“What time counts as early here?”

Alesto looked at her for a moment, then pulled a pocket watch from his coat to check.

“Usually around ten. But it’s already past that, so it might be difficult. How about sleeping by eleven tonight?”

Asha glanced at the wall clock in her room and nodded without hesitation.

So the concept of time in this world wasn’t that different from modern standards.

“Hmm, ten o’clock. Alright. Good night, then.”

With a polite nod, she closed her bedroom door.

The corridor dimmed as the light from her room faded.

Alesto stood there for a while, unmoving.

Wait.

Had he just… set the Saintess’s bedtime to ten o’clock?

Was that because of him?

‘…’

Why did his chest feel oddly tight all of a sudden? Was it his imagination?

As for the marriage contract, he decided to keep it secret for now.

After all, his goal was to win her heart, and it would be better if she believed their union was a love match.

He would hold onto the contract until the very end, using it only if she tried to leave him or if he failed to earn her affection.

When that moment came, he would make sure she understood.

That no matter what happened, she could never leave him.