Even If You Tear Me Apart - Chapter 36
The chapters are split like this so that the TL can update more consistently over time (✿ ＞◡❛)
Despite everything, a trace of joy appeared on her face.
A fifteen-year-old girl was a complicated being. It was burdensome to accept it too eagerly, yet that didn’t mean she wasn’t pleased by beautiful, elegant jewelry and dresses.
However, Iris didn’t know.
“I can’t help but wonder. Who on earth will end up taking such a lovely young lady?”
She didn’t realize that Felicia was watching her and Étienne—who whispered those words—with a thoroughly crumpled expression.
***
Ezekiel tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
‘…Yes, beautiful.’
How foolish must he have looked, saying that!
He had dozed off briefly, only to wake up from a dream of Iris Quilluxia, beautifully grown, and hadn’t been able to fall back asleep since.
“Haa…”
In the end, he got up from bed. He intended to drink some water and clear his head.
He assumed it was late enough that everyone would be asleep, but there was someone in the kitchen.
“…Iris.”
Iris, with only a small candle lit, startled and turned around from where she had been inspecting the mead jar, then smiled bashfully.
She seemed relieved to see it was Ezekiel, and he found himself a bit too pleased by that.
To the point he forgot he hadn’t been able to sleep just moments ago because of her.
Ezekiel quietly stepped into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, I’m skimming off the residue.”
Inside the mead were the crushed honeycomb remnants and herbs Ezekiel had mashed into the water, floating throughout the liquid. Foam from fermentation bubbled up as well, and Iris was removing it with a wooden ladle.
“If the scent feels just right, you skim it off. If you leave it too long, the mead turns bitter.”
“I see…”
Iris scooped a little of the mead and held it out to him.
“Would you like to taste it? I’m trying to decide whether to stop the fermentation here or let it go longer for stronger alcohol.”
Ezekiel gave an awkward smile and waved his hand.
“I don’t know much about the taste of alcohol. My brother would be better at this.”
“But we can’t wake Prince Étienne now, can we?”
Iris smiled faintly.
“Most people can tell if something tastes good or not just by trying it. Give it a sip. After all, it’s mead you brewed.”
The cloudy mead in the ladle gave off a faint herbal scent mixed with sweetness, followed by a subtle, bitter warmth that rose slowly.
But more distracting than the alcohol was the pair of blue eyes looking straight at him.
Deep, like the sky, or a blue lake…
Ezekiel, unconsciously, bit his lip again. Iris, holding the ladle to his lips, blinked.
“What is it? Does it not taste good?”
She didn’t seem to notice, but the two of them were far too close. When she asked that, her breath tickled Ezekiel’s jaw.
Was his face heating up from the alcohol… or from something else?
“No… I think it tastes good.”
“Oh my. But…”
Already overwhelmed, Ezekiel froze as Iris took it a step further. She reached out and touched his cheek.
“Are you weak to alcohol? Your face is so red…”
The next moment, their eyes met—and only then did Iris, startled, pull her hand back.
“Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
Why, he wondered. Why did he dislike seeing her pull away?
Ezekiel, without thinking, caught her wrist. Iris flinched, but she didn’t push him away.
In a low voice, Ezekiel called her name.
“Iris.”
“……”
“…If you dislike this… you can push me away.”
But she didn’t.
Her long, fluttering lashes watched him for a moment, then slowly lowered as if shy.
In the dim candlelight, her soft, pink cheeks and high nose bridge were clearly visible. And just below that—her small lips.
“……”
He was a striking young man, and it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that any noble girl in the capital had, at one point, held him in her heart.
But Ezekiel himself had never once held any girl in his.
And so this moment was deeply confusing…
But one thing was certain.
He wanted to kiss those lips.
