"I-I’m sorry."
Why he suddenly turned so polite?
The prince was clearly of higher status, so why was he speaking so politely to him?
"It is good that you can apologize. But what is your reason?"
He already had a general idea.
"U-um, well..."
The prince had been flinching nervously this whole ti as if he were afraid of Qiong Xing.
Qiong Xing had kindly stopped and waited, yet the conversation was not moving forward at all.
He was starting to feel tired.
"Please co after you have decided what you want to say. Simply standing there is a waste of ti. Well then."
He turned on his heel, making it clear the conversation was over, but suddenly his arm was grabbed.
Surprised, he looked back.
"P-please wait!"
"Um... I’m sorry. But, well..."
This was going nowhere.
Qiong Xing let out a deep sigh.
The prince’s shoulders jumped at the sound.
"If you continue following us like this, it will be a problem. I will listen to what you have to say. Please sit down."
"Huh?"
"Did you not hear ? I said sit down right there. If you are worried about your clothes getting dirty, then hurry back to your castle."
"I-I’ll sit!"
Surprisingly obedient, the prince quickly sat down on the spot.
Qiong Xing also lowered himself to sit in front of him and Cari and Albe sat down on either side of him.
...
Since that day, he had been thinking about it constantly.
"What did you do to him?"
He had not been able to answer.
"Please, just leave them alone. They are only trying their best to live quietly, day by day. I’m begging you."
He could not look away from the sad expression on the young man’s face when he said that.
After they left, he finished the food that had been left behind.
Even though his body felt heavy, he dragged himself back to the castle.
"Lord Bratislav! Lord Bratislav has returned!"
The knights rushed toward him.
He said a few words to them and returned to his room.
A doctor examined him, then he took a quick bath and lay down on his bed.
"...How did it end up like this?"
The face of that young man would not leave his mind.
It was nothing.
That man was the strange one for saying such things.
If he wanted to think that way, he could.
But he had thought too much already.
His past actions, his words, every single thing he had done until now weighed heavily on him.
How many tis had he cursed the slaves, insulted them and killed them for being useless?
When they broke down crying, when they clung to him and begged for help, what had he done?
"...I..."
That young man had called the ears and tail he once thought were ugly a "trait."
Just like humans have their own traits, beastn have theirs too, he had said.
"...If it were him, would he call these eyes of mine a trait too...?"
He had always hated their color.
His hair was the sa color as his father, the king. But his eyes had not co from either of his parents.
They were a pale purple, a color that had never appeared in the royal family before.
Even though he was a prince, people thought his eyes were eerie.
Even his own mother abandoned him because of them.
Everyone treated him as if they were afraid to touch him, like he was sothing dangerous.
So he used his position as prince to do whatever he wanted, as if to release all his frustration.
The maids who whispered about him behind his back were dismissed.
The soldiers who were supposed to guard him but clearly had no intention of protecting him were thrown into prison.
When he was in a bad mood, he would insult slaves just because their eyes t his.
He would punish them under the na of "discipline" until he was satisfied.
As they scread and cried, covered in blood, begging for forgiveness, he felt at last that his existence was being acknowledged.
While all of that had beco normal for him, the words of that young man suddenly made him think.
Do not treat those who are different as heretics.
Accept them as individuals.
What is so strange about being different?
Those words felt heavy to him and at the sa ti, precious.
"...It was the first ti soone ever scolded ."
His mother had scread at him before.
She had shouted that he was disgusting, that he was not her child.
But no one had ever told him that he was wrong.
No one had ever truly scolded him.
"I wish he had been my parent instead..."
He felt jealous of the beastn who had been called "family."
If that young man could say that the beastn who were hated and looked down on across the entire country— ere precious, then maybe he could have loved soone like him too.
Soone who was judged just because of the color of his eyes.
"...What should I do so that he will forgive ?"
He had said terrible things.
Even after being told to stop, he had insulted what that young man cared about most.
Filthy. Ugly.
He had thrown at them the sa words his mother once threw at him.
By looking down on the beastn and telling himself that no one was better than him, he had barely managed to protect his own fragile pride.
"...Will he forgive ?"
The words he had spoken could not be taken back.
But he did not want to lose soone who might be able to save him.
If he apologized, would he forgive him?
Would he even agree to et him again?
He was afraid of eting him and being rejected.
But he was also afraid of never seeing him again and losing that chance forever.
He did not know what to do.
There was no one he could ask for advice.
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