Sylas wore a mask, so Mirabel couldn't see his expression.
But his body gave a clear tremble.
His hands, which had been resting flat on his knees, clenched into fists.
He was finally showing a genuine reaction.
Mirabel couldn't help feeling a flicker of smug satisfaction.
Everyone said she was silly and timid, but she didn't think so at all.
She could be plenty clever.
See? She had the former noble son of Lyonesse right where she wanted him, just by showing up.
Sylas, however, wasn't worried; he was furious.
He felt he had worked diligently for Stonewold, and now, Mirabel was suggesting handing him over.
For a moment, he felt his blood boil with rage.
His eyes blazed as he suppressed his anger and said, "Your Majesty's words are truly heartless.
Here I am, working diligently for you.
And you just want to send me away.
If it's because Stonewold cannot withstand Aethelred's attack, I might understand the necessity.
But, I am, after all, the Chancellor's servant.
If you wish to send me away, shouldn't you consult the Chancellor?
I can draft a letter for Your Majesty right now, to be sent to the Jade Wall.
If the Chancellor agrees, I will not utter a single word of objection."
"Uh..." Mirabel was instantly rendered speechless.
She stammered, unable to form a coherent reply.
Forget writing to Gwendolyn; even if Sylas agreed to leave willingly, she wouldn't actually let him go.
What a joke! They were at war, locked in a stalemate.
And she would send away someone actively working for her side?
Wouldn't that make her a traitor?
Others might have reasons for treason.
But she was the ruler of Stonewold. How could she betray her own country?
Mirabel's pretty face flushed red, then she became angry out of shame.
When a person's scheme is seen through, it's natural to feel indignant.
Why can't you just play along?!
She stopped pretending and said irritably, "Sylas, I'm unhappy. I am your sovereign. You need to cheer me up."
"Your Majesty, forgive me. I am a servant of the Chancellor's Manor, not a palace attendant tasked with lifting spirits."
"What's the difference?! Auntie Gwendolyn's things are mine!
The palace and the manor are one and the same!"
"..."
Sylas was beyond speechless.
He truly felt like getting up and slapping Mirabel a few times.
Mirabel persisted relentlessly: "Anyway, I'm unhappy, I'm just unhappy..."
She began to act unreasonably.
It was the lowest form of tactic.
Sylas found it infuriating.
Once the other party started being unreasonable, it meant all his logic and arguments were useless.
He sighed deeply, gritting his teeth silently.
Remembering Gwendolyn was at the front and shouldn't be distracted, he could only compromise.
His tone bitter, he said, "Your Majesty, tell me what you want me to do. I can..."
Mirabel's breathing immediately became rapid. Her heartbeat quickened drastically.
Just moments ago, she had almost given up.
But who would have thought Sylas would relent?
Overjoyed, a fresh wave of jealousy also prickled at her.
Your defenses are really loose!
She said excitedly, "It's like this... The matrons in the palace were all arranged by Auntie Gwendolyn. They supervise me very strictly.
I..." She placed her small hand on the table, looking at Sylas pleadingly. "Can we just hold hands?"
Sylas turned his head away. "Can we avoid physical contact?"
Mirabel, like a little dog begging for food, came around from behind the desk and stood beside him, tugging gently on his sleeve, pleading softly.
"Holding hands is fine!"
Sylas sat there helplessly.
Finally, unable to withstand Mirabel's pitiful, begging look, he raised and opened his left hand.
Mirabel hurriedly grasped it with both hands, her face breaking into a wide smile.
She began to push further.
"Sylas, take off your mask. It must be so hot."
Sylas said coldly, "No. There must be distinction between ranks."
"Sylas, that's so hurtful! Where am I 'lowly'?" Mirabel said, misunderstanding.
Sylas said helplessly, "I meant you are the Empress, I am a servant. I am lowly. We cannot be too intimate."
"Oh, is that it? Then it's fine. Sylas, I don't mind you being lowly."
"This isn't about minding or not! It's about—" He was so angered by Mirabel's willful ignorance he couldn't speak.
"Take it off, please? You didn't wear it before. Nothing will happen if you take it off." Mirabel bent her small waist, pleading incessantly.
Her charming, pitiful look was truly heart-wrenching.
No wonder even a serious woman like Gwendolyn could only gently advise her.
This was a girl raised in a honey jar.
Sylas even felt swapping her with the white cat that slept all day might be more appropriate.
Harassed beyond endurance, he could only say irritably, "Alright, alright."
He removed the mask, keeping his head bowed, allowing Mirabel to play with his left hand.
The more he thought about it, the angrier and more upset he became.
But just as he prepared to scold her, he couldn't help but rationalize to himself.
Forget it.
It's just holding hands.
Turn big issues into small ones, small issues into nothing.
If he really upset Mirabel, he might avoid trouble now, but when Gwendolyn returned, Mirabel's unreasonable nature might lead her to blame him.
After all, he was from Lyonesse, a war captive who had been passed among Aethelred's elite.
Even if Gwendolyn appreciated his talent, she had doubts about his character.
And when choosing between two evils, one picks the lesser.
Gwendolyn would definitely protect the ruler of Stonewold.
Even if Mirabel was a thousand times wrong, the final punishment would fall on him.
Seeing his dispirited look, Mirabel comforted him with good intentions: "Sylas, don't be so sad.
I've just never been close to a man before, so holding hands is all.
I won't do anything too excessive.
When Auntie Gwendolyn returns, I won't tell her..."
She suddenly paused, then stared blankly at Sylas.
Her sluggish brain had another flash of inspiration.
Right.
She could tell Auntie Gwendolyn.
Say that Sylas seduced her!
His reputation was already bad, and he was a man.
Wouldn't blackmailing him work then?
She quickly dropped her kindly tone and said clumsily, "How about this: when Auntie Gwendolyn returns, I'll tell her you tried to seduce me."
"Pfft—"
Sylas looked at her in utter bewilderment, literally sputtering in disbelief.
What is this?
What's going on inside her head?
He tried to speak but was choked by his own saliva and started coughing.
Mirabel hurriedly patted his back.
As she patted, she analyzed seriously: "You see, I'm the sovereign, right? But I can't control anything by myself.
I want to start with you. After all, you seem pretty easy to push around.
Just let me blackmail you a little, okay?"
Sylas said angrily, "You! Go to the palace and bully whoever you want there!"
Mirabel said seriously, "No, no, that won't work. They were all carefully chosen by Auntie Gwendolyn. They're all so stiff and boring, no fun at all.
Sylas, I can see you're actually a very good person.
Good-tempered, good-natured.
Just a bit... flirty, a bit... easy.
But everyone has their own way of life. Maybe you like attracting attention?
So, just let me blackmail you a little, okay?"
Sylas was so angry his head spun.
He opened his mouth but couldn't find the words.