The Queen and the Lion - Chapter 63
Chrysanthemum was adept at diplomacy and skilled in rhetoric. Meanwhile, Aslan was remarkably poor at managing his expressions. It would not be an exaggeration to say that Chrysanthemum had laid bare nearly all of Aslan’s thoughts.
Chrysanthemum also knew that Aslan was sincere about Lysian. However, he deliberately added words that cast doubt on that sincerity. If Chrysanthemum were to acknowledge him too readily, the confidence gained from being recognized by a former candidate for King Consort could lead Aslan to grow complacent.
“It’s true that Her Majesty feels like a younger sister to me. But at times, she also feels like an elder sister. That’s how heavy the burdens placed on her shoulders are, and she bears them without complaint. It’s admirable, truly.”
Aslan thought so too.
The more time he spent with her, the more extraordinary she seemed. Even Aslan, who had been pushed to his limits, would study for six days and then rest for one, but for Lysian, there was no such thing as a day off.
If Aslan loved Lysian as a woman, he truly respected her as a queen. Because she was a woman he could respect, she shone even brighter, and that made her feel all the more beautiful.
Because Lysian was so busy, Aslan couldn’t bring himself to complain about how difficult his lessons as King Consort were. Lysian was a woman overwhelmed and burdened by her own responsibilities, and the weight of her duties was on an entirely different scale compared to his.
Chrysanthemum raised his teacup once more. After finishing the last of his tea, he stood up and added a parting remark.
“Her Majesty, though she doesn’t express it for fear of burdening you, inwardly hopes to hold the wedding with Sir Yilmaz as soon as possible. Strive harder.”
With those parting words, which carried a hint of admonishment, Chrysanthemum briskly left the office.
Aslan stood there, mouth agape, staring blankly at the retreating figure of Chrysanthemum, who had said all he wanted and then disappeared. His unexpected entrance and the intense conversation that followed—it all felt like a storm had swept through.
But Chrysanthemum’s words left Aslan with much to reflect on.
Lysian was someone fully deserving of love. And because such a woman trusted and loved him, Aslan knew he had to strive even harder.
A man who wavered, comparing himself to others out of insecurity, didn’t suit Lysian. In that case, he simply needed to become a man worthy of her.
Aslan’s expression shifted. There stood a man ablaze with burning desire, eager to achieve his goals, ready to devour everything greedily to get what he wanted.
After the conversation with Chrysanthemum, Aslan poured effort upon effort into improving himself. Sometimes, he would even sneak out while Lysian was asleep to read the history books of Florea.
When Lysian asked with concern if he was overworking himself, Aslan shook his head firmly. He added with a confident tone that his stamina was his only strong suit and that this level of activity didn’t tire him in the least, so she needn’t worry.
In the past, whenever he received even a little bit of praise, he would often think, “Isn’t this enough?” But now, no matter what kind of compliments he received, he didn’t loosen his tightened resolve. Aslan drove himself to his limits.
A few weeks later.
Aslan received permission from Count Mugue to pass his etiquette lessons. The Count, who had been teaching Aslan for months, was repeatedly amazed at his transformation. Bowing his head, the Count apologized to Aslan.
“I believe I may have been too harsh on Sir Yilmaz until now. I apologize for my past discourtesy. Please forgive me.”
“No, I understand. I would have thought the same in your position.”
Aslan nodded calmly. His voice was still brusque, but there was a newfound refinement and gentleness in his choice of words and tone.
After passing Count Mugue’s lessons, it wasn’t long before Baroness Margaret, who was in charge of teaching social dances, also praised Aslan. He flawlessly performed the quickstep, a faster-paced waltz. At the end of the waltz, he bowed gracefully, extending his hand with a line of elegance.
Baroness Margaret clapped her hands and said, “You’ve become skilled enough to make your debut at a banquet. The young ladies preparing for their kingdom debut will want to dance with Sir Yilmaz.”
“You flatter me too much. Thank you for the praise.”
“I mean it. Your steps, in particular, are elegant and restrained. When you stand opposite Her Majesty, you’ll complement each other splendidly.”
A smile spread across Baroness Margaret’s face. Compared to the early days of Aslan’s lessons, his progress was so remarkable that it was moving, even beyond generous praise.
Despite the constant stream of positive feedback, Aslan didn’t grow complacent. He kept striving, focusing solely on becoming a man worthy of Lysian. Yet, the more effort he put in, the further the goal of standing by her side seemed. No matter how hard he worked, Lysian remained a radiant star in the distant sky.
Even in swordsmanship, to an untrained eye, wielding a sword might seem simple, but for those who actually held one, the gap to reaching a high level was hauntingly vast.
The same was true for etiquette, knowledge, and everything else. When he had been completely ignorant, he had once looked down on those who adhered to formalities or spent their days seated, reading books. Realizing his past arrogance was progress in itself. Aslan consoled himself with this thought and continued to push himself forward.
