His Highness’ Secret Accountant

The fluttering snow crystals inside the vial, which seemed to be magical, made it look as if there was another world inside it.

Owen opened the lid of the vial while staring at Ayla, who had a surprised expression.

As he put his finger inside the vial and carefully scooped up the crystals, the little snowflakes sparkled even brighter.

"It will hurt a little."

Owen came closer to Ayla and brought the sparkling snow crystals to the back of her left hand.

The cold crystals that touched the skin melted, and it felt like ice was digging into the flesh.

"Ugh…"

Ayla grimaced heavily, and a single shriek came out of her mouth.

She felt the pain in the back of her hand and wrist finally subsiding.

‘You're too close…'

After the pain was gone, she started seeing the current situation.

Owen, kneeling in front of Ayla and applying crystals to her wound, came into her eyes.

His shiny blonde hair fluttered in the wind, tickling the tip of Ayla's nose.

She felt strange somehow and turned her head, but she was curious about what he would do next.

 Her blue eyes turned back to Owen.

"It will be fine now."

Owen slowly raised his head after speaking, as if he felt Ayla's gaze on him.

There was no more than a hand span of distance between Owen and Ayla.

Staring at Owen's captivating olive-colored eyes, she felt like she was falling into them.

As if possessed by something, Owen's face was getting closer to Ayla's, little by little.

The closer his breath got and the narrower the distance between Ayla and Owen was, the sweet and refreshing flowery scent coming from him seemed to make Ayla lose her mind.

The bathing product from Pella, which Ayla prepared in hopes that Owen would receive more interest from the young aristocratic ladies, was more intense than she thought.

‘Doing your job too well is a problem too…'

It was not the aristocratic ladies who were seduced by his scent, but Ayla Serdian herself.

Seeing Owen getting closer and closer, Ayla squeezed her skirt, scattered on the velvet sofa.

She felt like she had to close her eyes for some reason.

Owen, approaching the red lips of a very tensed-up Ayla, turned his direction and whispered into Ayla's ear.

"The treatment is over, you can go."

Saying, ‘Ah… Ah, yes.', she hurriedly got out of Owen's residence. Then, leaning against the closed door, she grabbed her trembling heart.

As if her face wasn't enough, she was blushing even up to her neck.

‘Is this frustration…'

It seemed that she became more ridiculous because she imagined something unnecessary.

There is no way an upright Grand Duke would do something like that, but shame and embarrassment coexisted with how she assumed something before it happened.

The feeling of another man's breath on the back of her neck was strong enough to make her delude herself that there was a sentiment that didn't even exist. Besides that, the bathing product from Pella was really effective.

‘I guess there was no other reason for why the aristocratic ladies praised it.'

In a rush of embarrassment, Ayla buried her face in both her hands and stomped her feet.

‘That's right… It's because I don't have any love experience. I think we should keep our distance.'

As she was leaving his residence, Ayla remembered Owen's deep gaze looking at her, but she shook her head vigorously, saying it was a delusion.

***

Ayla, who was looking silently at her wrist where she no longer felt pain, was walking down the stairs with a bewildered expression.

Thump.

As she walked down the stairs absent-mindedly, with her head down, Ayla felt something hard bumping into her head.

‘These stupid stairs must be on bad terms with me.'

Ayla instinctively said, ‘I apologize.', without even identifying the person she bumped into. It was a quick apology, a method of survival she learned while living at the brutal palace.

"Won't you look ahead?"

Ayla silently raised her head at the voice that seemed to be annoyed by her, and lowered her eyes again.

"G-Greetings. Your Highness."

‘Why does he only appear like this…'