“Lady Letier!!”
Efron’s voice echoed faintly from above, drowned out by the deafening roar of the wind.
Letier clung to Dante’s waist as if her life depended on it.
With one arm wrapped tightly around her, Dante stretched out his other hand toward the cliffside.
He had to find something—anything—to grab onto or use as a foothold.
The rough rock scraped against his arm, but thanks to his basic protective magic, the pain wasn’t unbearable.
He had to keep colliding with the rock, creating as much friction as possible.
His eyes darted frantically.
Below them, jutting out toward the open air, he spotted a thick tree trunk.
Timing his fall, he hooked his arm tightly around the sturdy branch.
“Ugh…!”
The thick trunk bent downward under their combined weight, slowing their fall significantly.
For a brief moment, they bounced upward due to the tension, only to drop again, now dangling precariously.
“Haa… haa…”
Letier clung tightly to Dante’s torso, gasping for breath.
“You okay?”
Dante asked.
She couldn’t even bring herself to look down, only managing a small nod.
Dante grimaced as he glanced below.
At this height, a fall wouldn’t necessarily be fatal.
With their protective magic still intact, they might even escape without serious injuries.
Scanning for a safer landing spot, he prepared to descend.
Crack.
Just then, the weakened tree trunk, unable to support their weight any longer, snapped.
“Ahhh!”
With no time to brace themselves, Letier and Dante plummeted.
Dante tightened his hold on her, dragging his arm along the cliffside in an attempt to slow their fall.
They hit the ground hard, rolling several times before finally coming to a stop.
“Ugh…”
A groan escaped her lips.
Dust from the impact clouded the air, making it difficult to see.
Her waist, arms, and knees ached from the impact, the bruises already forming. But at least they were alive.
Letier exhaled shakily, overwhelmed with relief.
“Hic…”
“Haa…”
Only then did she realize she was lying directly on top of Dante, her body sprawled across his.
Her legs felt too weak to move.
“You alright?”
Dante asked again from beneath her.
This time, she nodded a bit more firmly.
She could feel his chest rise and fall with his heavy breathing, her cheek pressed against the hard surface.
Oddly, the rhythmic motion was reassuring, helping her steady her own erratic heartbeat.
As the dust slowly settled, their surroundings became clearer.
A narrow cliffside.
Getting out of here was going to be a problem…
As she took in their surroundings, something caught her eye.
A little distance away, lying on the ground in two perfect halves—
“Huh?”
The object that had been covering Dante’s face all this time.
His mask.
“…Your Highness?”
“I know.”
Dante answered in a resigned voice.
The mask had fallen off, broken from the impact.
With an uncharacteristic sigh, he gazed up at the sheer cliff and the sliver of sky visible between its edges.
“Should I just… not look up?”
Letier murmured, her face still buried against his chest.
Above her, a quiet, exasperated chuckle escaped him.
“It’s a little late for that.”
Now that his face was uncovered, his voice sounded clearer—without the usual muffled resonance.
Letier listened carefully, her brows knitting together.
His voice… it was familiar.
“You must be uncomfortable. I’ll get up now… If you want to cover your face… I’ll give you a moment!”
“No need.”
At his blunt reply, Letier slowly lifted herself off him.
So this was how she was going to see the prince’s real face—so suddenly, so unexpectedly.
Not knowing where to look, she awkwardly got off him and turned her gaze toward the distant landscape.
She was trying to be considerate.
“…”
“What are you doing?”
“Um… so, what do we do now? Should we wait for rescue?”
“The western outpost shouldn’t be too far. They’ll send people soon.”
“Then… should we just stay here and wait?”
At her question, Dante glanced down at himself.
His clothes were in tatters from the fall, exposing his skin beneath, now covered in scrapes and bruises.
The golden aura of his protective magic had dimmed significantly.
“The spell will last at most until tomorrow. If no one arrives before then, we’ll be in real danger.”
“So you mean…”
“We need to move toward the outpost ourselves.”
Letier turned her head blankly toward the west.
The deep drop had left them in a dark and eerie place, even though it was still broad daylight.
I don’t even know the way…
“At least there don’t seem to be any dangerous plants here.”
Like Letier, Dante surveyed their surroundings before dusting himself off and standing up.
They needed to cover as much ground as possible before sunset.
He stepped behind Letier, extending a hand to help her up.
“Can you stand? Want me to carry you?”
“N-No!”
Letier quickly turned her head.
As she did, she caught sight of Dante’s hands—his white gloves were tattered, and beneath them, his palms were raw and bleeding from scraping against the jagged rocks during the fall.
“Your Highness! Your hands…!”
Startled, she grabbed his wounded hands.
Now that she thought about it, she had been relatively unharmed, having been cradled in his arms during the fall. Meanwhile, he had taken the brunt of the impact, likely suffering bruises and scrapes all over.
She looked up at him with concern.
Through the tears in his clothing, she could see numerous cuts and abrasions across his thighs, sides, and shoulders.
And above that…
“…Huh?”
As Letier’s gaze traveled upward, her expression shifted from sympathy to utter confusion.
His face, previously hidden beneath a mask, was completely unscathed—smooth and flawless.
And his striking red eyes…
They were unmistakable.
“…Wait, what?”
The bright sky behind him cast a shadow over his face, but she could still tell.
She knew that face.
She knew it very well.
“…What? What? What?!”
Dante silently looked down at her.
Finally, after gaping in stunned silence, Letier lifted a trembling finger and managed to stammer,
“…R-Reuters?”
At her outburst, Dante raised an eyebrow.
That expression. That eye color. That face.
It was definitely Reuters.
“What is going on?”
Invisible question marks seemed to float above Letier’s head.
Dante stared at her for a moment before finally speaking.
“I figured you’d be surprised.”
“Surprised?! That doesn’t even begin to describe—”
Dante glanced down at the broken mask lying on the ground.
Shattered cleanly in two, it was now completely useless.
“S-So… where is the real prince?”
Letier stammered.
She could not believe that the man standing before her—Reuters—was actually the First Prince of Trillante Empire.
“You’re looking at him.”
“Do you… have a twin?”
“No.”
“It’s just… you look exactly like someone I know…”
There was no way that Reuters—the reckless, insufferable Reuters—could be a prince.
A wild theory crossed her mind.
Had Reuters been pretending to be the prince this entire time?
“The person you know is me.”
“W-Why? How?”
“I had my reasons for hiding my identity.”
Letier stared up at him, trying to process everything.
Her mind was spinning, making her dizzy.
She struggled to put the pieces together before hesitantly asking,
“The Reuters I met in the capital… you’re saying that was you, the actual prince?”
“Yes.”
“And the reason… is because of ‘circumstances’?”
“Correct.”
“Then why is your skin perfectly fine?!”
Letier suddenly pointed at his face, her voice rising.
“They said you had a horrible skin disease! But your skin is perfect!”
“That was part of the cover.”
His calm and nonchalant response left her speechless.
If he was telling the truth, then all of her efforts to create nonexistent skin treatments had been completely pointless.
Letier let out a long, exhausted sigh.
She squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed by the sheer absurdity of the situation.
“Wait, so… let me get this straight. You faked a nonexistent skin disease, deceived everyone, then roamed the capital under a fake identity and that’s how we met?”
“You catch on quickly.”
She gaped at him.
This had to be the most ridiculous and shocking thing she had ever experienced.
I… I just want to go back to Lenever Estate, Lucy…
Dante crouched in front of her and lightly tapped her cheek.
“I know this is a lot, but we don’t have time to sit here. We need to cover as much ground as possible before dark, so get up.”
Letier stared at his outstretched hand for a moment before choosing to stand up on her own.
She didn’t want to grab his hands—they were too scraped and battered.
They had to be stinging painfully.
But Dante… seemed to misunderstand her actions.
As she silently stood and began walking west with determination, he hesitated before murmuring quietly,
“…Are you mad at me?”
