If You Take the Enemy Prince as Your Knight

“If that’s the case… is that why Princess has been treating me with such honor, despite me being a mere knight…?”

I had to be shameless.

“Yes. Because I thought my brother had returned to me.”

“…” He fell silent as if overwhelmed.

Now, I needed to drive the nail in.

“Can I call you just once?”

“…”

“Brother.”

“…”

I squeezed out the most heartfelt tone I could muster, my eyes narrowing slightly as if I were on the verge of tears. He took a deep breath, his chest expanding, and then abruptly turned his head away.

What? Did it backfire? Was it too much?

I started to panic, unsure of what more I could do. And then, after what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

“I understand.”

“…”

His resolute eyes locked onto mine. It seemed I had won him over.

As expected, half of the deception is all about confidence. As long as I pushed forward with conviction, it worked. Unfortunately, I had just learned something I shouldn’t have. But it was too early to feel relieved.

“In that case, Princess… what do you want me to do, and how should I do it?”

Surely, you should know better than me. You said you had a younger sibling like me. Of course, I couldn’t say that out loud. Instead, I conjured up the image of an ideal older brother, one shaped by the notions I had built in my mind.

“When it’s just the two of us, please call me Sasha. My brother used to call me by a nickname.”

“How dare I, Princess.”

“If you won’t, then why did you ask?”

“…”

I only pretended to be sulking, yet his gaze clouded with guilt. For a moment, I was struck by the realization—I truly was the daughter of the mad emperor. Deceiving such a kindhearted person should have made me feel guilt-stricken, unable to breathe. And yet, right now, I was more curious about how he would react.

Barely suppressing the tyrant’s blood that ran through my veins, I opened my mouth. “Forget it. If you don’t want to…”

“Sasha.”

“…”

I flinched without meaning to. Perhaps thinking I hadn’t heard, he met my eyes again and repeated himself, letting my name roll off his tongue.

“Sasha.”

“…”

This was bad for my heart. To hide my unease, I brought the cup to my lips. Pretending to sip the tea, I took a deep breath and exhaled before finally managing to respond in a way that fit this little roleplay.

“Yes, Brother.”

“…”

For a while after that, neither of us spoke. He was the first to retreat from the awkward silence.

“That’s enough for today.”

“Alright.”

“I will maintain propriety when there are others watching.”

“Got it. Come to think of it, I never asked for your name. How should I address you?”

“…Since I’ve become Your Highness’s knight, I wish to discard my past and receive a new name. Please call me whatever you wish.

In that case—

“Sir Regen.”

“…”

“It was my brother’s name.”

Among the sixty-seven deceased princes, surely one of them had been named Regen.

His lips instinctively parted in protest, but I cut him off before he could say anything.

“Is there a problem?”

“…No.”

“Good. Then I will call you Sir Regen, Brother Regen, or simply Regen.”

“…”

As if he were feeling suffocated, he picked up his cup and downed the drink in one go. Seeing that, I brightened up.

“…Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You drank of your own.”

It was proof that he was beginning to want to live.

With the atmosphere now more relaxed, I finally urged him. “Well then, shall we eat?”

Chapter 2: What Happened in the Princess’s Chambers

I gave Regen one of the adjoining rooms in my chambers. A room filled with warm sunlight, quiet and peaceful—I hoped he would like it.

“You are free to move about within the Silver Bird room.”

Since it was dangerous outside, I restricted his range of movement.

The only times we interacted were during meals and treatment sessions. Unless there was something urgent, I let him rest in his room and didn’t call for him.

Regen had been through too much over the past month. He needed time to process and come to terms with the fate that had overwhelmed him. That was something he had to handle on his own, so the only thing I could do was provide him with the time and space to do so.

He hasn’t come out of his room. He’s not crying, is he? The thought sent a pang of anxiety through me.

His room was just past my study. I found myself frequently wandering into the study, absentmindedly pulling books from the shelves, flipping pages only to close them again—just to pass the time.

By the fifth day, he finally began appearing, gradually expanding his movements to the study. Though pleased, I pretended not to notice. I acted as if I were absorbed in my own work and had no interest in him at all—so he could use the study freely without feeling watched.

A week passed. Since it was time for his morning treatment, I prepared a table full of refreshments in the parlor and called for Regen.

While I leisurely enjoyed my tea, Hamel and Demia handled his treatment. Since top-grade positions were hard to come by, the only option was to treat his right eye slowly with regular potions. Every morning and afternoon, we applied the potion to his eye.

“Sit down, Sir Regen.”

Regen took his seat, tilting his head back in a practiced motion. His smooth forehead and sharply contoured throat were fully exposed. His short, tousled white hair fell carelessly around his face. At that moment, he was perhaps the most alluring patient in existence.

His treatment concluded with a fresh bandage over his right eye. I gestured for him to take the seat opposite me.

“Your right eye’s injury is deeper than expected. The palace doctor says it will take a month to fully heal. It will be inconvenient, but bear with it for a bit.”

“I still have my left eye. So it’s fine.”

Demia, who had been pouring my tea, narrowed her eyes at him. “Take good care of that left eye. Do you even know how much it cost? A mansion—mmpf!”

“Indeed, Demia. A person’s eye is priceless.”

I silenced her by popping a strawberry tart into her mouth. But Regen was no fool.

“A mansion…? Don’t tell me…”

“…”

“Did you use a top-grade potion just for my eye?”

“If you understand, you should bow to Her Highness and express—mmpf!”

This time, Demia got a blueberry tart.

Calmly dabbing my fingers with a napkin, I answered Regen in an unbothered tone. “It wasn’t just for your eye—it was for your life. The power l I exerted over you gave us this time to talk, did it not?”

“…”

He seemed to grasp my meaning. Without it, he would have died.

Silence stretched. Then, Demia, having finally swallowed her tart, blurted out: “You better repay this debt and potion cost with your body!”

“…Huff, Demia. I’m sentencing you to a vow of silence until dinner tonight. Reflect quietly.”

“Hiing, Your Highness.”

“Until tomorrow’s dinner.”

“Mmpf.”

Demia nodded with a tearful expression. Though I didn’t revoke her punishment, I handed her an orange tart and sent her out of the parlor.

“Sir Regen, do you like sweets?”

“I don’t dislike them.”

“That’s a relief.”

I reached for my tea—only to find my cup empty. Since no maid was present, Regen picked up the teapot and refilled my cup. For a moment, I simply stared at the swirling amber liquid. Perhaps this tea would taste quite special.

“Your Highness.”

Hamel’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. She was holding a large box I had never seen before, as if she had just returned from somewhere.

“I have brought Sir Regen’s attire from the palace.”

Inside the box was the uniform of an imperial knight—though instead of the imperial navy blue, it was jet black, reminiscent of mourning robes. It seemed they differentiated the emperor’s knights and the princess’s personal knights by color.

I stole a glance at Regen. How must it feel for a prince to wear the uniform of his enemy? Probably not good.

“…”

Even though he suppressed it with a blank expression, his eyes couldn’t hide it. In his golden eyes, various emotions swirled like impurities, rising to the surface before sinking deeply again. Anger, hatred, and humiliation passed, leaving resignation in their wake, barely dragging acceptance along with it.

“It was ordered to wear it immediately upon receiving it.”

“Understood.”

I thought to myself—It was a good choice to pretend not to know his true identity as a prince. While sorrow could be shared, humiliation couldn’t.