It Seems Like The Infamous Trash Can is Right Here! - Chapter 9
“Please, have some.”
I brewed some lemongrass from the line of tea canisters displayed on the shelf and handed a cup to Lionel.
Naturally, I brewed some for myself as well. Focusing on the tea helped me avoid letting my gaze stray to his bare torso.
“Priestess.”
“Yes?”
He, too, held his cup as he spoke to me.
“Is there anything that makes you uncomfortable staying here, or anything else you might need?”
Perhaps it was the relief from the pain that had plagued his body and mind, but Lionel seemed in the best mood I’d seen since we first met.
The sharpness of his gaze had softened, his brow was relaxed and smooth, and his red lips, moistened by the tea, curved in a faint smile.
Somehow, I had high expectations, like it was the perfect moment to ask him for anything.
“There’s something I’ve felt during the past two weeks here. May I speak frankly?”
“Of course. Go on.”
“Your Grace, Lady Vivian isn’t suffering from any particular illness; her constitution is simply frail by nature. All I can do for her is boost her energy or alleviate her symptoms when they appear.”
Despite the tightening of his expression, I continued, undeterred.
“And I believe you’re aware that her physician’s prescriptions could adequately handle that.”
“And?”
“This mansion doesn’t need a resident healing priest. With your permission, I’d like to return to the monastery.”
At this point, the Crown Prince didn’t even know I existed, so I couldn’t use that as an excuse. All I could do was remind Lionel that I wasn’t necessary here.
“It’s not necessary.”
After staring at me for a moment, he set his teacup down and leaned closer.
“Then what is necessary?”
“…Pardon?”
“If not a healing priest, what do you think this mansion—and I—might need?”
With him looking at me like that, I had no idea what to say. In fact, I wasn’t even sure he expected a real answer.
But his persistent gaze remained fixed on my lips, leaving me no choice but to say something, anything.
“As far as I can tell… Your Grace already seems perfect. What more could you possibly need?”
“Do you really think so?”
…Something told me that wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear.
It felt as though if I didn’t come up with at least one plausible suggestion, he’d never be satisfied, let alone let me go.
Fortunately, after wracking my brain, one thing came to mind.
“Well, Your Grace and Lady Vivian still need to choose marriage partners. You’re both slightly past the ideal age, after all.”
“Marriage… Now that I think of it, perhaps that is the issue.”
An issue? What did he mean by that?
“I haven’t married. Not even once.”
Of course he hadn’t. Why was he saying it so seriously?
“This time, I suppose I’ll have to marry.”
I subtly shifted backward in my seat.
There was something about Lionel’s expression that resembled joy, but there was a strange undertone—almost a hint of madness.
“Yes, well, I’ll pray that you find a good match and marry soon. Then, might I return to the monastery?”
I asked cautiously, hoping to gain permission while he seemed distracted by his own thoughts.
“No, that won’t be possible.”
He answered firmly.
“I’ll need you to stay here until the matter is confirmed.”
“…What exactly are you confirming?”
“The matter of what the priestess is needed for.”
It was a perfectly circular answer, with no progress whatsoever.
Just as I felt a wave of defeat and lowered my head, there was a knock on the sitting room door.
“Yes, come in.”
Assuming it was a servant bringing fresh clothes for Lionel, I answered absentmindedly, only to be startled by the man who entered with such flair.
“Lionel! There you are!”
