Hours after Rhydan left and noon came where the sunlight filtered through the tall windows of his chamber, casting warm patterns on the polished floor—Rowan stood hesitantly, fidgeting with the thin white robe that still felt foreign against his skin.
The unfamiliarity of his body made every movement feel awkward, and the idea of stepping out into the world—even for a simple walk
—made his stomach twist.
Before he could make a move, the servants appeared at his side, bowing slightly but speaking with firm authority. "Your Highness, it is time to prepare for your walk. So, allow us to assist you with bathing," one of them said, with a tone leaving little room for refusal.
Rowan froze and panic flared in his chest.
Bath? With them? Now?
In his mind, he was still Mari—a woman used to privacy and autonomy so the thought of being undressed and handled, even by servants, made his face flush hotly.
"Uh… I-I can do it myself…" he stammered, tugging at the robe while trying to maintain some control over his body.
But the servants stepped closer, their hands gently but firmly guiding him toward the bathroom. "Your Highness, it is our duty to assist you. Please cooperate," another insisted, their eyes polite but unyielding.
Rowan's mind raced and didn't know what to do.
I'm not used to this… I'm not even a man in my head!
This is so… weird… so wrong…
His heart then hammered in his chest like it was about to break out, each step toward the bathroom making him feel smaller, more vulnerable and acutely aware of how exposed he truly was.
Every movement, every gesture reminded him that he was no longer Mari and yet, his mind clung stubbornly to his old identity, creating a dissonance that made even a simple bath feel like an impossible ordeal.
"D-don't look at me! You guys are so rude!" Rowan stammered, trying desperately to cover himself as the servants gently guided him down into the warm bathtub. And that the sudden realization that he was completely naked in front of them made his face burn with embarrassment.
The two men just glanced at each other, silently shaking their heads in mild confusion. Odd… one of them seemed to think but easier to manage than when he throws a tantrum.
Despite the strange resistance, Rowan's current behavior seemed far more predictable than the occasional outbursts of the timid, quiet prince they were used to.
"Your Highness," one servant said carefully, "I will now apply a shampoo to your hair. Please close your eyes."
Rowan's cheeks flushed even deeper but he obediently lowered his eyelids, letting the servant's hands work through his long, dark hair. The warm water flowed over his shoulders but even the simple act of bathing felt surreal.
It's just a bath… but how long are they going to wash me? Am I going on a honeymoon without my knowledge?
"Your Highness," the other servant began, his tone respectful, "this is an oil imported from the southern region. It will make your skin smoother than before. It is made from roses, with a drop of…" He paused, noticing Rowan's tense posture but continued gently,
"…a drop of lavender essence for fragrance. It is very beneficial for the skin."
Rowan stiffened at the scent, the strange mixture of roses and lavender filling his senses.
Why does everything feel so… intimate? he thought, blinking against the warm water.
Every motion and every touch reminded him of the body he now occupied and of how alien it felt to be cared for in this way, in a world where he was suddenly vulnerable and completely dependent on others.
After an hour and a half of the painstaking bath, Rowan finally stepped out into the palace courtyard where a cool breeze brushed against his damp skin and sunlight glinted off the stone path.
He was shielded by a large, dark umbrella held by his chaperone
—a tall, broad-shouldered knight with deep brown skin and hair as black as Rowan's, standing like a silent guardian by his side.
"How have you been, Your Highness? Are you still in pain? I heard the poison you accidentally ingested was quite potent…" the knight asked with a voice calm yet measured and his eyes was carefully observing Rowan.
Rowan just blinked while confusion knitting in his brows. Poison? That's why I was bedridden? … Maybe it's what brother was talking about at the banquet?
The thought made his stomach tighten and a knot of unease forming in his chest.
"I--
Before he could answer, another figure approached—a man with a sword resting at his hip and clad in the gleaming attire of royalty. His hair was short and silver with a sharp blue eye, though subtly different from Rowan's own.
The aura around him was commanding yet strangely refined.
"Let me take over. You may go now," the man said to Rowan's chaperone, stepping closer and lifting the umbrella himself to shield Rowan from the sun's bright rays.
"I understand, Grand Duke. Then, I'll excuse myself and give you some privacy," the chaperone replied respectfully, bowing deeply before stepping aside and exiting the courtyard with silent dignity.
Rowan froze, his heart hammering against his ribs. Mari herself couldn't recall this man and she had never seen him before yet something about the silver-haired knight radiated authority, confidence and a quiet, dangerous power.
Every instinct screamed caution as he stiffened, bracing himself in fear of what this Grand Duke might demand of him or what he might do.
Stay calm… just stay calm, Rowan reminded himself trying to keep his trembling hands steady under the umbrella while his woman instinct was row contemplating deeply.
Who is he? Why is he here? Is he from the manhwa?
And why do I feel like my life is about to get a whole lot more complicated?
Just as Rowan was about to speak, the Grand Duke—whose name he still didn't know suddenly reached out and took his hand. The touch was gentle, deliberate and before Rowan could react, their fingers intertwined and what's more confusing was that his chest fluttered and a strange warmth was spreading through him.