The Prince Doesn’t Cry From Mere Onions - Chapter 16.2

After making sure that there was still some time left, Bertram spoke.

“This time, I would like to ask something. A few days ago, you told me that I was ‘adorable.’”

“You still remember that? Well, I suppose that might have been the first time you ever heard that about yourself.”

“You are correct. I was curious about the full account of how you came to use such a word at that time.”

“Eh? That’s easy! I guess actions not reflecting the appearance moves the heart, or something like that. Since someone who looks like a bear is covered up in a flower-patterned apron, of course that’s adorable!”

“If the village chief had done the same, would he have been adorable as well?”

“…..No.”

“If Mrs. Carla had done the same?”

“I’d wonder if Mom was sick, probably.”

“If Mr. Dieter?”

“I’d kill—ahem. Hm. I’d step on him demanding what he was putting someone else’s apron on his feet for.”

“So in the end, it was me you found adorable.”

…..Something’s not right here.

A man as built as a mountain was trying to find the justification of his adorable-ness himself. Really, if it wasn’t Bertram, she would have given him a good whack.

Fortunately, Bertram sensed that Anna was uncomfortable.

“I understand. So I am not adorable.”

“W-well. No. Now, how do I put this….”

“You do not have to say anything more. In thinking this may be a clue to rediscovering my emotions, it seems I have put you in a difficult position.”

“…..You said before that you did not lose your emotions because you hurt your head. Is there another problem you have? Maybe some internal wound you had during the war?”

“It is something similar. Though I do not know if you would believe me….”

Bertram hesitated for a moment.

He wondered if Anna would believe him if he said that ‘he was cursed’—and even if she did, if there would be any meaning to telling her now.

However, as soon as he saw the clock, he came to his decision soon.

Anna was his last debtor, and perhaps a potential lead that might cause some kind of change. He couldn’t spend his time with someone like that with dishonesty and fabrication.

They had five more minutes.

Bertram confessed.

“I was cursed.”

***

Crouched in front of the inn, Lara crunched on a raw carrot.

Caught up in the moment, she’d burst out after telling them she’d give them thirty minutes, but…

“I want to go back up and watch them….”

Imagine, the tragic love story between an ex-soldier from a faraway land and the owner of a countryside restaurant. It was just like a romance novel.

If she talked about romance at the village, Lara would only hear her friends asking, ‘you still read those kinds of stuff?’ But the truth was that all of them still read them. They just didn’t say so out loud.

‘I wonder if something so marvelous won’t happen to me. I wish I could have a whirlwind romance with someone wonderful before I get married.’

She’d heard until her ears bled of how nobles who crawled all the way into the countryside to seduce girls were plain losers who hadn’t succeeded in romancing in the city.

But a man from a nearby city must be fine, right?

Patrol guards were out since they were dull, so someone like a merchant, maybe. If she was lucky, she might even meet someone around the level of the mayor’s secretary. He would definitely be handsome as well.

While Lara so dreamt—

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In the alley next to the inn came a strange breathing sound.

“Haa… Haa…”

The rough sound of a male who had already undergone puberty.

Lara’s shoulders hunched up.

‘A bully? Thief? Robber? Rebel?”

All the villains Lara knew of rolled through her mind. But after a few moments, the man who stepped out with one hand on the wall, was….

To estimate his job from pure stereotyping, perhaps a ‘librarian’ or so.

He wore glasses, and he had an innocent expression. The dark brown, slight curves of his hair did much in softening his impression.

Lara was moments away from finding herself saying ‘cute,’ when—

The body of the man who had emerged completely from the alley was surprisingly well-built. And the sword hanging at his side informed her of how he had an occupation in fighting.

As Lara’s jaw dropped at the strange mismatch, the panting man turned his head.

“Oh, lady.”

“L-l-lady?”

Yelping, Lara looked around her.

Lady—that was the sort of thing girls who wore dresses and carried white parasols around would hear! According to the villagers, at least!

However, no one else was in the area. And the man was approaching her, step by step. His kind eyes were pinned on Lara herself.

“I am not, a dangerous, person. Hoo…. I’m just looking for someone.”

“Are you a patrol guard?”

“I am different from those people!”

Franz’s subordinate, Erich, ended up raising his voice in anger without meaning to.

Being compared to the irresponsible patrol guards of a small city was unpleasant.

Even if rank-wise Erich was also a common soldier, not everybody was chosen to be Franz Gerhart’s immediate subordinate.

Confidence flashed through Erich’s eyes.

Lara’s eyes sparkled as well.

“Whoa, then…. Are you a knight, sir?”

“…..”

Erich thought about that for a while.

He was not a knight. Knighthood was something only those with a certain amount of wealth and title could give to the generation that came after them.

If Erich worked hard, he might become an officer at best in his forties.

However, this girl who sat in front of the countryside inn consoling her hunger with a raw carrot did not seem like she would know such details about the situation.

If he was to fish out information from her, might as well come across as dignified.

After completing his short calculations, Erich told a lie.

“Yes, I am a knight!”

“No wonder! You seemed very cool.”

This was an empty flattery describing the ‘knight’ rather than ‘Erich’ himself.

But the word ‘cool,’ which Erich had heard for the first time since he was born, swept up a small breeze in Erich’s chest.

May it be known that he would not feel a single ounce of regret over his lie.