Assassins Beneath the Moon
The tide of the crowd brushed past my shoulder.
Thump—
I collided with someone, and I saw a fan fall to the ground.
"Ah."
Without thinking, I bent down to pick it up for the stranger.
But the person who'd dropped the fan stepped on it—right on top of the fan I'd just grasped.
I flinched and looked up at them.
"……."
A girl about my size.
Behind a flashy purple mask, I caught a glimpse of arrogant black eyes. She had beautifully styled red hair and a lovely lace dress.
She stood there looking down at me, her foot pressing firmly on the fan I'd tried to retrieve.
I hesitated for a moment because of the mask, but there was no mistaking her—this was the Marcert Countess.
'I told him there was no one in this world who could bully me.'
Someone to bully me… Well, there was one, after all.
"Straw-colored hair, green eyes… and your hands are as rough as sandpaper."
Her lips curled as she recognized me, her mouth twitching with amusement.
"……Did you just come up from the countryside? A village girl, I see."
The Marcert Countess's entourage giggled behind her, the sound reaching my ears.
I slowly let go of the fan and stood up, facing the Marcert Countess.
"Is that mask of yours—"
She tilted her head, asking.
"—not made of horse dung?"
The Marcert Countess's group burst into laughter again.
I narrowed my eyes and fixed my gaze on the Marcert Countess.
"There's a saying that excess is worse than deficiency. By that measure, a mask made of horse dung would be preferable to that purple gemstone boomerang covering your face."
The Marcert Countess narrowed her eyes right back at me and raised her hand.
With the mask hiding her expression, she seemed to have nothing left to fear, and she opened her mouth.
"Ha, you ridiculous country girl—"
"……."
And as she reached out to push me, someone wrapped around my body and pulled me toward them.
I met the eyes of the person steadying my swaying waist.
For a moment, I was so startled I couldn't help but gasp.
"Mars…?"
And slowly, the boy's features came into focus.
The boy beneath the chandelier wore not a white mask covering his entire face, but a black mask covering only his eyes—and where the mask's eye holes should have been, instead of black pupils, there were brilliant blue eyes.
He'd only looked like Mars. He wasn't Mars.
That silver hair was unmistakably… Crown Prince Britain.
'Why did I think of Mars again…?'
My heart pounded at this sudden reunion with Britain.
Britain held me for a few seconds, then steadied me until I could stand on my own.
"Your Highness…?!"
The Marcert Countess's eyebrows shot up in shock as she recognized the boy who had protected me.
It seemed she recognized Britain too.
"Striking a stranger at a ball—hardly proper etiquette."
Britain spoke to her with a stern expression, his brows set firmly.
The Marcert Countess, who had been staring at Britain in a daze, protested as if grievously wronged.
"Your Highness, it was that girl who bumped my shoulder and made me drop my fan. And how could I possibly take her side in front of you? I've always—"
But Britain cut off the Countess's resentful words.
"I don't know who you are because of your mask."
At those words, the Marcert Countess's eyes widened in shock.
She was wearing a mask, but there was no way he wouldn't recognize a countess—yet he was claiming not to know her.
He spoke coldly.
"If you mistreat my fiancée again, you will regret it."
His voice was a warning so cold it felt like frost.
"How dare you—!"
The Marcert Countess's voice cracked with tears, and her entourage behind her exchanged nervous glances.
Having finished with the Countess, Britain turned to look at me, still holding my hand.
The blue eyes behind the black mask were gentle.
"Are you all right, my lady?"
The stiffness he'd shown toward the Marcert Countess melted away like snow in spring, and the boy's voice was as tender as cherry blossoms drifting on a spring breeze.
Britain, still holding my hand, led me out of the ballroom.
A stone path wound across the garden, and after walking for a while, we came to a small lake.
The moon hung in the sky, its reflection shimmering in the center of the water.
Only when we reached a long, bench-shaped rock did Britain finally let go of my hand.
The rock was too low for adults to sit on comfortably, but it was just the right height for children like us.
After seating me on the rock, Britain leaned down slightly to check on me.
"……Are you all right?"
The blue eyes behind the mask rippled with concern.
I nodded, still dazed.
"Yes, Your Highness came just in time… I'm fine."
Britain's expression softened with relief, and he raised his hand to remove his mask.
Though he was still a young boy's face, his cool, beautiful eyes and high nose bridge were revealed beneath the moonlight.
I raised my hand too and removed the mask covering my face.
To be honest, I was disappointed I hadn't gotten to whack Lariel on the head with this mask.
'Actually, I thought it would be fine if she pushed me back then.'
After all, the strength I'd built from pulling red sugar beets wouldn't let me be fazed by a child's push.
Still, seeing her trembling with anger had been a little satisfying.
"Your Highness… are you all right?"
Britain seemed to tilt his head at my question.
"What do you mean, my lady?"
"The Marcert Countess. I heard you were close to her… and I think she seemed quite betrayed."
The corner of Britain's mouth twisted coldly.
His eyes were as gentle as always, but somehow a chill seemed to flow through the air around him.
"My closeness to the Marcert Countess is no different from my closeness to any other noble. It's a relationship of ruler and subject, where I govern unruly behavior with authority—nothing more."
Britain's voice was soft and gentle, like sweet milk at first listen.
But then a cool sensation ran down my spine, and the fine hairs on my body stood on end without my permission.
"If it troubles you, my lady, I will see to it properly."
"S-see to it? I don't think that's necessary—"
Britain Aslet—was he really just a kind, gentle boy?
He was always tender toward me, but occasionally this cold-blooded side of him made me shiver.
My throat tightened, and after a long pause, I spoke.
"Your Highness has been so kind to me. We only met for the first time at the imperial palace… yet it's as if we've known each other all along."
A brief silence followed my words.
"You always want to help me."
At that, Britain's eyes rippled deeply.
"Is that so."
I looked at Britain.
His blue eyes held the night lake within them.
"I, my lady—"
As the boy opened his mouth, a cool breeze blew and tickled the ripples on the lake.
But I couldn't hear his voice.
"……!"
Four figures suddenly emerged from the calm ripples of the water.
They wore pale blue clothing and held swords in both hands.
Britain's eyebrows, which had just parted his lips, stiffened sharply.
"An ambush!"
Britain hastily pulled me back and stepped in front of me.
"Run, my lady."
I could tell from the tension in Britain's voice that the people who had appeared before us were not on our side.
Seeing the sword blades gleaming in the moonlight, my blood ran cold.
I'd read plenty of battle scenes in novels, but actually seeing swords pointed at me with hostility made me feel like I might faint.
"No! We run together."
But even in this situation, I couldn't bring myself to flee without Britain.
'How could I leave this guy behind and run!'
And even if I did run, with four of them, I couldn't stop one or two from chasing after me.
"……."
They were closing in on us, tightening their encirclement.
Their blades were well-sharpened, gleaming coldly in the moonlight—just looking at them was terrifying.
This was a remote lake, far from any people.
'Who on earth are these people attacking us?'
Why were they attacking us?
Britain's expression was grim, as if he knew everything—but there was no way to ask in such a dire situation.
"The bloodline of Parmes, who sat upon the throne through bloodshed—"
At that moment, one of the men gripped his sword tightly and shouted.
"I will sever it with my own hands!"