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nThe King sat Iris down on the balcony railing, placing one behind her back and the other on the cold metal railing. It was wide enough for Iris to sit on, but the King made a safety bar on her back with his arms, bringing their bodies closer together.

n“You don’t like people’s eyes, but are you okay with heights?” he asked.

nIris used to have a room at the top of the tower and was often scolded by her teacher for sitting with her legs dangling out of the open window. But she just nodded because such a story couldn’t be said.

n“Why don’t you like people’s eyes?” Sidrain probed further.

n“It’s just…” she couldn’t find the right words.

nRosemary had been a woman who loved people’s eyes, but Sidrain didn’t bother to say that. Rosemary was dead. She was no longer in the picture, and now his Queen was Iris. Sidrain kept quiet. Even though they had the same blonde hair, Iris’s hair was as sweet as honey. Even though they had the same blue eyes, Iris’s blue eyes were clean and lovely. Even with the same lips, goodness, hers were tempting. He’d give her anything if he could covet those lips right now.

nThe features that he considered to be awful in Rosemary, were now lovely. It was strange, but on the other hand, it was natural. How could they be the same, when their movements, speech, and facial expressions were completely different? The same tree could be seen as firewood or viewed as artwork. That would depend on the perspective of the person looking at it.

n“Did someone bother my lady?” Sidrain asked.

nIris recalled her awful childhood, reluctantly. Elaine had been the only one who’d been kind to her, so she’d only followed him. The older she got, the more she knew that not everyone was unkind, but she still hated people regardless.

n“No,” Iris said no automatically and it was too late to take back what she’d said.

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nSidrain kissed her on the cheek and whispered, “Who was that man? Do I know him?”

n“No, not really,” said Iris.

n“Do you want to say no?”

n“No, that’s not it.”

n“I can’t get rid of the idea that my girl was bullied by someone and that’s why she hates people.”

nIris looked up at his words. She seemed to be confused. He was unpredictable and scary at times and she didn’t know why Sidrain was nice to her.

nLooking at her sweet face, Sidrain was annoyed by his recklessness at the age of sixteen. She would’ve opened the door if she had told him that she wasn’t scared to take some sweet snacks, and he could’ve lured her out. It was a pity.

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n“But I’ll believe it if you tell me you’ve never been bullied. I’m your husband.” Sidrain smiled and closed his eyes. “Kiss your husband, my Queen. Then I’ll believe you.”

nIris looked at him submissively. Sidrain thought he’d never do something, like breaking down a door when he was sixteen, again. With sweet snacks, he’d lure her out, in the name of her husband this time. He waited in anticipation with his eyes closed. Slowly, he felt her breath approaching.

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nIris looked at the King’s face, with his closed eyes, silently. It resembled a sculpture. She didn’t mean like the idiom “handsome,” but he had a statue-like look. He had no flaws but she thought he’d look like a plaster statue if she painted him with flour. Her face was close enough to know that he was breathing and he waited patiently for a kiss from Iris, with a gentle smile.

nShe approached slowly. Her lips trembled because it was her first time kissing someone other than her teacher. Her kiss made a wet smooching sound on the King’s cheek, but he didn’t budge. She had just kissed her husband on the cheek. Wouldn’t it be natural to at least kiss him on the lips? Even if it wasn’t a deep kiss? He was her husband by law. But no matter how long he waited, nothing happened, and when he opened his eyes, Iris saw his face.

n“My Queen, what is it?” Sidrain asked as if he couldn’t believe it. “Don’t tell me you want to claim this as a kiss?”

n“You told me to kiss you, didn’t you?”

n“Yes, I asked for a kiss.” By Sidrain’s standards, this was a greeting, not a kiss. Then it dawned on him that Iris must think that this is how people kissed, by putting their lips on someone’s cheek.

nIn some cases, people’s lips met, but Iris thought it couldn’t happen to her in her lifetime. She’d had a thousand kisses before but only from her teacher and her father. Elaine, the soon-to-be sixty-year-old man, had only been kissed on the cheek by her, of course. So in her world, a kiss was on the cheek.

n“This is not a kiss meant for a husband,” Sidrain said as he burst into laughter.

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