Kiss the Stranger

The steward had been bustling about since dawn. When I woke and stepped out of my room, I was startled to see him already up and moving around. I knew he’d worked late the previous night, and this hour was far too early for him to be up and about. I glanced at the clock, puzzled, and asked,

“Steward, is something wrong?”
“Oh—ah, Yohan. Sorry, did I wake you?”
He kept fidgeting as he apologized. Still bewildered, I pressed on,

“What is it? Is there anything I can help with…?”
Only then did he pause, pat his pockets, and look up at me.
“It’s nothing serious. It’s just the Crown Prince’s regular checkup today, and I can’t find the notes I made.”

My heart skipped a beat at the mention of the Crown Prince, but there was no time to freeze in place. He had a habit of jotting things down on any scrap of paper he could find. He’d always managed to dredge the right note from the chaos on his desk, but whenever one went missing he’d turn the whole lab upside down. Normally I tidied only the floor so as not to disrupt his work, but at times like this I found myself crawling across it, rummaging for whatever paper he’d dropped. As I knelt, scanning the floor, he suddenly asked,
“Yohan, you didn’t throw it away when you cleaned yesterday, did you?”
“Absolutely not. I don’t touch any paper that has writing on it.”

I suggested that maybe I’d piled stray scraps onto the desk and mixed it in with other notes, but he shook his head.
“I already looked there—nothing. Oh no, time’s almost up.”
He clutched his head in dismay, then abruptly brightened and let his hands fall.
“Well, it can’t be helped.”

His sudden change unsettled me, but he acted as if nothing had happened, grabbed the handle of the cart parked to one side, and turned back to me.
“I’ll go to the clinic for the checkup; you stay here and wait.”
“Steward, are you sure you’re all right?”

I hurried after him to stop him, and he waved me off as if it were nothing.
“Ah, don’t worry. I’ll check again when I get back. What can you do about a lost note?”
With that, he left the lab, leaving me too stunned to speak. He seemed completely unbothered—was he really all right?

Worried but powerless, I stood there a moment before deciding to at least clean up the mess in the lab. Hopefully I’d find that note….
I tidied more slowly than usual, and just then Rikal padded over and begged for attention. I scooped him up with one arm and used my free hand to return scattered items to their places.
Through the wide-open window I could hear the guard shift change. As always, it was the same time. My eyes drifted to the calendar hanging next to the clock. I hadn’t seen Asgayl since that day. No wonder—he barely ever left the lab, and when he did, he slipped out with the steward to somewhere out of sight, breathed fresh air, and came straight back. Meanwhile, the days ticked by, and the date the steward had promised drew nearer. In just over ten days I’d leave this place and return to the inn.

I wouldn’t meet the Crown Prince again… would I?
I stood there, dazed. To be honest, I didn’t want to leave. I wanted just one more glimpse of the Crown Prince’s face.
Even if Kamar had forgotten me forever.

Lost in those painful thoughts, I was jolted back by a knock on the door. The steward wouldn’t knock. It must be a palace attendant.
When I opened it, sure enough a royal maid stood there holding a tray of food. She smiled at me as always and said,
“Yohan, I’ve brought your meal.”

“Thank you, Zahara.”
As usual, Zahara didn’t hand me the tray but glanced past me. When I stepped aside, she entered and placed it on the table. I’d expected her to say the doctor wasn’t here and leave, but this time she hesitated, looked around, and asked,
“Is the physician not here?”
I answered honestly,

“He went out early for the Crown Prince’s regular checkup.”
“Oh… right.”
She nodded as if remembering, her face falling. I asked, curious,

“Is there something you need to tell the steward?”
“Um, well… it’s this.”
Her gaze flicked around in embarrassment, then, steeling herself, she spoke softly.

“I actually hurt my hand… I was hoping you could treat it.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Just a moment.”
Disinfecting a minor wound wasn’t difficult, so I asked her to wait while I fetched the first-aid kit from the shelf. Zahara stood there until I returned. When I saw her held-out hands, I couldn’t help tilting my head.

“Did you hurt yourself sewing?”
Her eyes widened in surprise.
“Yes, how did you know?”

“How else—anyone could see it from the needle puncture.”
She bit her lip and blushed scarlet.
“I’m weaving a carpet as a dowry gift after marriage, but I’m hopeless at sewing, so… well, this is what happened.”

I finally understood. When it was time for marriage, the groom’s family paid a hefty bride price, while the bride traditionally brought tapestries or embroidered items she’d made. In wealthy households they sometimes commissioned others—but in the city, where abundance was the norm, wedding gifts were far larger carpets. Girls started weaving them very young so they’d be finished by marriage, and those without skill suffered greatly. Wealthy families could commission them, but carpets cost many times more than tapestries.
Zahara seemed no different. Seeing her wounded hands, I sighed without meaning to.
“Carpets are really tough work.”

I murmured to myself, and she flinched before nodding with a crestfallen look.
“I’m terrible at sewing. I work on it whenever I can, but my speed is a problem, and it’s just a mess…”
Her distress made me feel uneasy. After all, she’d brought my meals so often that she was familiar to me.

Anyway, there isn’t much time left….
I asked gently, “Do you have a loom at the palace?”
She nodded.

“There are quite a few of us, and the skilled ones make things to sell. The princess arranged a room so we can work.”
“The princess?”
She smiled shyly, her cheeks flushing.

“Yes. Lady Najima. She’s so considerate of us, and she’s an excellent embroiderer. When we saw her tapestries, we were all moved. She’s always graceful, so dignified…”
As she heaped praise on Najima, I felt an uneasy premonition at the name.
“Um, this Lady Najima…?”

She laughed sweetly.
“She’s Lady Zakriya’s daughter. The Crown Prince’s fiancée.”
Ah.

I couldn’t even utter a sound; it just slipped out like a breath. Late but brutally, reality struck me. What had Asgayl said that day? Najima had brought a friend?
No wonder he’d been so kind to me.
Realizing that made my heart ache. Tears stung my eyes and blurred my vision. I hurriedly turned away to pretend to look for something, but the tears came too fast. I pressed my back against the wall, fighting dizziness, and managed to change the subject.

“So… trying to weave a carpet while working must be really hard.”
My voice trembled faintly, but she didn’t notice and continued her complaint as she turned away.
“Exactly. Even if you try to buy one, handmade ones are too expensive. What choice do I have? If it’s late, people can just wait longer, I suppose.”

I forced myself to calm down and, still hiding my face, asked,
“You’re engaged?”
“Yes. My parents arranged it when I was young, but…”

She chatted on for a while until another maid came for her, and she finally left the lab. Alone at last, I collapsed onto the sofa and let out a relieved sigh. Tears welled up again. I buried my face in my hands and took deep breaths. As I struggled to hold back my emotions, I heard heavy footsteps in the hallway. Moments later the door burst open, and the steward rushed in, panting. He looked at me in shock and cried out,
“Yohan, why are you crying again? ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ Is it because of the Crown Prince?”