The Extra Saved the Terminally Ill Princess and Ran Away - Chapter 68

Chapter 68: A Double-Edged Flower (4)

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A double-edged sword.

Literally, a sword with two sharp edges, no blunt side.

Its metaphorical meaning:

While effective, its effects, beneficial or harmful, depend on the situation and the wielder.

They say a dangerous tool, with both advantages and disadvantages, can be more effective than a simple, predictable one.

A prime example would be nuclear power.

It can be used to generate electricity, benefiting countless people. But if mishandled, or if a natural disaster occurs, it can cause an uncontrollable catastrophe.

And if weaponized, it could lead to nuclear war, a return to the Stone Age.

The double-edged flower, which Lili had encouraged Finn to smell, was similar. Of course, its effects were far less dramatic than nuclear power.

But still,

"Of course I know about it! The double-edged flower!"

"Snort!"

"Huh? Why are you…?"

In this situation, with the boy and girl face-to-face, its effects could be quite dramatic.

The boy, flustered, his words betraying his intended meaning, looked at her in confusion.

The girl, unable to contain her laughter, pointed at her own smiling lips, then opened the guidebook, showing him the entry for the double-edged flower.

An entry that had made her think, 'What kind of flower is this?'

The boy's expression twisted in confusion as he read the description aloud.

"It says… the double-edged flower makes those who haven't smelled it tell only the truths they don't know… W-What is this, Your Highness?!"

" Hee hee… So you did know about it… Oh."

His voice cracked, his words betraying his understanding of the text. He was speaking voluntarily, yet his words expressed the opposite of what he meant.

And Lili, realizing her prank had backfired, her teasing turning into genuine admiration, looked at him sheepishly.

The problem was that the actual description in the guidebook was this:

[The double-edged flower compels those who have smelled it to speak only lies, for a short time.]

Since Finn had read the description after smelling the flower, its effects had twisted his words, replacing key elements with their opposites.

Those who have smelled it became those who haven't.

A short time became a very long time.

Lies became truths they don't know.

The flower's magic had affected his language processing, twisting his understanding of the text.

And Lili was affected as well.

She had intended to tease him, saying, "Even you didn't know about this, did you?"

But her words came out as, "So you did know about it…," a statement of admiration, a lie.

Yes, this was the double-edged flower, the one Lifre had tried to warn them about.

While lies were generally considered deceptive and malicious,

They could also be kind, even benevolent.

They could be used by con artists to deceive their victims.

Or by boyfriends planning surprise parties for their girlfriends.

Or by doctors, offering comforting lies to terminally ill patients, like in Lili's case.

Of course, even well-intentioned lies could have unintended consequences.

A girlfriend, suspecting infidelity, might retaliate by spending the night with another man, unaware of her boyfriend's surprise party plans.

A dying patient, believing the doctor's comforting lies, might miss the opportunity to say their final goodbyes.

While not solely due to its lie-inducing properties, the flower was aptly named the "double-edged flower."

Finn, realizing what had happened, said, his voice laced with mock betrayal,

"You didn't know about this either, did you, Your Highness?!"

"No! I just wanted to see your calm and collected side!"

Once again, their words betrayed their intended meaning, twisted by the flower's magic.

Fortunately, the flower's effect only applied to statements the speaker believed to be lies. If they were aware of the lie, the flower's magic wouldn't affect them.

"…But did you know, Your Highness?"

"Know what?"

And so,

"I… used to dislike you."

"…What?"

The boy,

Recalling a line from the original story—The two of them, visiting the Secret Garden, became even more lovey-dovey than the protagonists—

Decided to use the flower's effect to his advantage.

By telling a lie he knew to be false.

He had sensed her lingering insecurities, her fear of being disliked, and this was the perfect opportunity to address them.

He was giving her an opportunity to hear the words she couldn't bring herself to ask.

How could she, burdened by guilt and gratitude, ask him,

Didn't it hurt, being bullied by me, even if it was unintentional?

Didn't you start hating me?

Of course, it must have been painful. His letter had mentioned his failing health.

And it must have been difficult, a lonely burden for a young boy to bear.

So,

It was natural for him to have disliked her, even hated her, at some point.

It was natural for him to resent her childishness, her selfishness, her obliviousness to his suffering, her demanding his unwavering devotion.

But emotions weren't always logical. Even if she knew, intellectually, that he might have resented her, hearing it from him was a different matter.

So, he used the flower's effect, the forced confession, to tell her what she needed to hear.

That he had disliked her.

And as expected,

"W-Why…? How…? No, why would you…?"

Her cheerful smile vanished, replaced by a look of confusion, her lips trembling.

Having accepted his "lie" as the truth, she couldn't form a coherent sentence, her words dissolving into disjointed phrases.

It couldn't be true…

He smiled, seeing her reaction, her confusion, her disbelief.

"There was a time… when I didn't care about you, Your Highness."

It couldn't be…

He pressed on, determined to shatter her insecurities.

"There was a time… when I resented you, Your Highness."

I never disliked you.

No matter what you did, how you treated me, I never stopped caring about you.

Even when you wished for my death, I never resented you.

His gaze shifted towards the double-edged flowers, their silver buds clustered around the trees.

He gestured towards them with his eyes.

Look.

If you think I'm just saying this to comfort you, look at these flowers. You're the one who brought me here.

Look at the guidebook, the undeniable proof, if you don't even trust Grace anymore.

And then,

"You wanted to see my calm and collected side? That's funny."

He echoed her lie, the words twisted by the flower's magic.

You experienced the flower's effect yourself. You know how it works.

His gaze, while not explicitly stating it, seemed to convey that message.

She lowered her head, unable to meet his eyes, her emotions overwhelming her.

"Why…? But even that…"

I didn't want you to…

She trailed off, unable to voice her thoughts.

"Why…?"

She repeated the question, her voice filled with confusion, clinging to the ambiguity of a question, its truth or falsehood irrelevant.

As if answering her question, he reached into his pocket, searching for something.

The Operati Annulus, the perfect gift for this moment.

'I was going to give it to her tonight, but this is even better.'

He pulled out a small, red box, tied with a luxurious gold ribbon.

"…!"

The timing, the size of the box, its meaning unmistakable.

He knelt before her, his head bowed, a gentle smile on his face.

Words were unnecessary. They would only ruin the mood, especially if they were lies.

He raised his head, meeting her downcast gaze, and opened the box.

The Operati Annulus, shimmering in the sunlight.

He extended his left hand, palm up, towards her.

A silent invitation.

She hesitated for a few minutes, her lips opening and closing soundlessly, but he simply smiled patiently, his gaze unwavering.

Her hand, trembling slightly, finally rested on his, and he gently closed his fingers around hers, careful not to hurt her, as he slowly brought the blue butterfly ring towards her finger.

He removed the simple ring she was wearing and replaced it with the blue butterfly, a symbol of their bond.

"Sob…! Hic…! Sob…."

She couldn't hold back her tears any longer.

He gently wiped her tears away and placed the red butterfly ring in her palm.

She knew what to do.

As she placed the red butterfly on his left ring finger, the Operati Annulus activated.

A translucent vine, extending from the blue butterfly on her finger, wrapped around his ring finger, a symbolic bond.

'Perfect.'

Unlike her, overjoyed by the simple act of receiving a ring from her beloved,

He smiled, knowing he had just secured another way to protect her.

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