“…I… have a boyfriend I promised to marry in the world I used to live in.”

“…”

“So… in this country’s language, I have a betrothed I promised to marry… I just can’t bring myself to leave him behind…”

The man, whose name or age I didn’t even know — only that he was a king — looked at me with a gaze that made it hard to read his thoughts.

I could’ve easily pulled my hand away, but instead met his eyes with an earnest gaze. His voice, though quiet, rang out clearly, letting me realise just how close he was.

“Has your body already been embraced by him?”

I wanted to understand what the king meant by that question. If I said yes, would he stop, believing he couldn’t hold someone touched by another? Or would he cling even more tightly, knowing I’d been embraced before?

I hesitated briefly, but afraid he’d accuse me of lying again in that cold, metallic voice, I shook my head.

“…No.”

“You’ve kept yourself until marriage?”

“…Yes.”

“You’re foolishly devoted to the point of pure innocence.”

“…”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have that kind of virtue.”

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