Melting your Precious Heart

Chapter 3 - Meeting the ice cold princess

I found myself immersed in the bustling atmosphere of the workshop, where I was tasked with supervising the complex and meticulous process of crafting bullocks and wheelbarrows. It had been precisely one week since an unforgettable incident had unfolded, yet the vivid details replayed in my mind as if they had just happened moments ago. The memory was indelibly etched into my consciousness, a permanent imprint that refused to fade; I still felt the rush of emotions that had surged through me during that pivotal moment.

Flashback: A Week Ago

As the scenario played out in my mind, I suddenly recoiled, an overwhelming epiphany crashing over me like a tidal wave. In all my years, I had never experienced anything similar—not even in my previous existence. Strangely, I had yet to share my first kiss, a milestone I had always anticipated with an odd mixture of excitement and trepidation. If someone were to inquire about what that moment felt like, I would struggle to find the right words, for it was indeed my first encounter of its kind. However, one detail remained entrenched in my thoughts: her lips were incredibly soft, like the velvety petals of a delicate and rare flower, leaving an imprint that was both enchanting and nerve-wracking.

End of Flashback

Reflecting on that day, I couldn't help but feel a complex mixture of relief and embarrassment wash over me. It was something of a fortunate coincidence that she had been half asleep during our encounter. After I awkwardly withdrew, she rolled over, drifting back into a deep and peaceful slumber, blissfully unaware of the turmoil that had just transpired. Since that moment, however, everything between us had shifted dramatically. I found myself struggling to make direct eye contact with her, as a persistent sense of awkwardness clung to me like a shadow. Strangely, she seemed completely oblivious to what had happened, remaining unaffected by the kiss, while I felt as though I was now walking on eggshells, attempting to navigate even the simplest of greetings without invoking our previous encounter.

Her name was Elaine. We were both twelve years old, and despite having grown up side by side in a small village, I had never perceived her through a romantic lens. The other boys in our community, however, were undeniably infatuated by her charm; I couldn’t blame them, for her beauty was striking. With short, silky, straight black hair that skimmed just above her shoulders and fair skin that could rival the complexion of the nobility who occasionally visited our village for special occasions, she was genuinely captivating in every sense of the word.

Yet, amid all her allure, there was a confusing feeling lingering within me—a sense that perhaps she was not the one destined for me, despite the affection that others lavished upon her. Strangely, an inexplicable presence loomed in my thoughts, a feeling that there existed someone else meant for me. If I were to confront the truth, I would reveal that if I calculated my age by the standards of my past life, I would have been over thirty years old. Yet in this present existence, I felt trapped in the body of a twelve-year-old, possibly because I had yet to fully mature or because my daily tasks felt more suited for someone of my current age. Embracing my youthful spirit seemed to be the wisest choice, a necessity to navigate the complexities of this new life and simply go with the flow.

At the workshop, the production of bullocks and wheelbarrows had significantly surpassed our expectations. In just a week’s time, we had successfully manufactured fifteen bullocks and thirty-two wheelbarrows. These essential tools had swiftly become invaluable to the farmers in our village, greatly facilitating their daily labor.

“Yoh kid, you’re really amazing for thinking about this kind of thing!” Mr. Solomon exclaimed as he stepped out from one of the workshops. His broad grin stretched from ear to ear, lighting up his wrinkled face.

I couldn’t suppress a chuckle at his exuberance. “Sometimes I think I’m an illegitimate child destined for greatness! Maybe I’m actually from a far-off kingdom that’s incredibly advanced!” I teased, exaggerating my gestures in a playful manner, pretending to embody an otherworldly being from a different realm.

“Keep your voice down, you little rascal! What if your father hears that? Do you remember the last time you joked about how your nose looks different from his? He argued with your mother for no reason, and she ended up disciplining him! I’m the only one who appreciates your jokes, so please, be cautious, alright? And don’t forget your noble lineage; if someone overhears you, it could tarnish your family’s reputation.” His tone was serious, yet it still carried that hint of affectionate exasperation that made me smile.

Even though I didn’t want to admit it, I was indeed born into a noble family, albeit at the very bottom of the hierarchy. Being of noble blood entailed a collection of responsibilities and expectations that I had to maneuver through with great care.

“Okay, okay, I promise I will hold back on those kinds of jokes from now on,” I conceded, acknowledging his prudent concerns with a nod.

Three Months Later

Now, as I sat inside our carriage, a wave of realization washed over me—why on earth was I even riding in a carriage? The destination was the castle, and the reality of the situation hit me like a bolt of lightning. I still found it hard to grasp how this had come to be; all my father had told me was that I was his son and a genius. At times, I found it hard to believe such lofty praises, but with little else to ground my thoughts, I chose to embrace the belief.

Anxiety thrummed through my body, heightening my senses as this would be my first-ever visit to the castle. My mind buzzed relentlessly with questions, mostly circling around why the royal family had extended an invitation to me. The only plausible reasoning I could muster was the success of the inventions I had designed—the tools that had proven so remarkably useful in the past three months had stirred an interest from neighboring villages, eager to place orders. Had my humble inventions and their reputation reached the esteemed ears of the royal family? The very thought filled me with both excitement and dread as I prepared to step into a world that felt both foreign and majestic.

I'm getting so hungry just by thinking of it! It looks like my packed lunch will be consumed ahead of schedule, much sooner than I had planned.

Today is a big day! Going into the castle from our village is quite the experience. As one of the nearest villages to the castle, I’m fortunate that I don’t have to worry too much about staying full on the way there. Just one pack of lunch is more than enough to keep me satisfied until we arrive at the grand destination. My father and mother decided not to accompany me on this trip, explaining that this journey serves as a rite of passage—a way for a young noble to train for the responsibilities ahead.

As I rummaged through my bag, I couldn't help but smile. “Look at this! Mom really loves me,” I thought, as I uncovered containers filled with some of my favorite dishes. To my delight, there were also some pancakes that she had packed just for me.

Pancakes hold a special place in my heart. They are one of the few recipes I had taught my mother because I missed them so dearly. I had the ingredients readily available, so why not share a bit of home with her?

Once I indulged in the delicious feast my mother prepared, a wave of sleepiness washed over me. Feeling content and full, I closed my eyes and dosed off, comforted by the knowledge that we still had a few hours until we reached the castle.

Upon waking, I realized we had already arrived! I stepped out of the carriage and was immediately struck by the imposing sight of the castle's towering gates. Engaging in conversation with the guards, I presented them with my invitation letter and badge, which, like the noble lineage I belong to, bore a unique design. The guards, recognizing my status, promptly allowed me entry.

However, a nagging regret started to creep in as I considered my earlier decision to dismiss the driver. I had insisted on handling my own journey. After passing through the gates, I was met with a seemingly endless road stretching before me—far longer than I had anticipated. When I had glimpsed the castle's pinnacle from outside the gate, I assumed it was quite close. But how wrong I was!

“It might take me at least an hour to get there. Whose idea was it to send the carriage away? Oh right, it was mine!” I muttered to myself in the stillness of the path. Suddenly, a carriage beside me came to a halt.

A middle-aged man stepped out and asked, "What are you doing here, young man?"

I shared my predicament with him, and to my relief, he was compassionate and offered me a ride in his carriage.

As I climbed aboard, I noticed that I wasn’t the only passenger. A stunning girl with long, flowing white hair—so pale it reminded me of moonlight—sat quietly beside me. Her small, delicate face held captivating beauty that left me momentarily speechless. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call her an angel; she seemed to radiate perfection. Yet, despite her charm, she appeared shy and reserved, not uttering a word when I introduced myself.

Our journey together was marked by an awkward silence until, quite unexpectedly, her stomach emitted a low growl. It became evident that she was hungry. Glancing at the remaining pancakes my mother had prepared, I felt a surge of generosity wash over me.

“Looks like you’re hungry. I have some pancakes here, if you'd like, I can share them with you,” I offered, pulling out the container.

To my surprise, she declined politely, stating, "Grampa always said never to eat food from strangers.” Despite her rejection, I was pleased to have heard her voice.

“Thank you, little Felix, and I'm sorry for my refusal. I recognize that you were trying to be kind. So, in return, let me accept at least some of those pancakes—it will save you some embarrassment, right?” Mr. Philip interjected, displaying an admirable kindness that contrasted sharply with the girl’s demeanor.

I couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment. Although she was breathtakingly beautiful, I soon realized that her external charm was matched by an icy demeanor. It was as if her heart was shielded by a barrier, revealing a chilly nature beneath her radiant facade.