The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

The first time I laid eyes on him, I knew I wasn't going to like him.

He was odd — eccentric, with a frivolous demeanor that seemed to clash with the gravitas expected in the royal court.

An outsider from another world, chosen by Her Majesty as her consort, of all people.

He spent his days preoccupied with strange hobbies, things like collecting bugs, watching anime on the peculiar devices he'd somehow brought with him.

The very sight of him made me feel distant from Elowen, even more than I already did after she'd ascended the throne.

I couldn't understand it, and that frustrated me to no end.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

What did she see in him?

His carefree, infuriatingly relaxed nature?

His odd interests?

He certainly wasn't like the other candidates for her hand.

He had no military accomplishments, no significant political influence, nor the kind of charisma that would usually win people over.

I knew he was the safest choice for Her Majesty among the potential husbands.

Someone without an existing power base, who could never become a threat.

But despite that, I just couldn't fathom why this man was the one who made her eyes light up in a way I hadn't seen since we were children.

He had this ridiculous smile — infuriating, really.

It wasn't the smile of a schemer, nor that of a calculating politician.

Instead, it was carefree, almost as if he was completely oblivious to the weight of his position as the Queen's consort.

He'd stroll through the gardens, humming some unfamiliar tune, his steps almost childlike in their carefree nature, while the rest of us struggled to maintain order and stability within the kingdom.

I found myself sneering more than once at his antics, which seemed so out of place in the court.

"Your Highness, it's improper to—" I'd start, but he'd always cut me off with that smile, that infuriating smile.

"Oh, come on, Lira. Why don't you relax for a bit? We're in the middle of a beautiful garden. Aren't we supposed to enjoy it?" he'd say, his voice light and teasing.

I never had a good retort for that.

The carefree way he spoke, as if the world wasn't weighing on his shoulders, it grated at me.

And yet, Her Majesty looked at him with eyes filled with that unmistakable warmth—a sparkle I hadn't seen in years.

Why him?

Why not someone more serious, more deserving?

It just didn't make any sense to me.

"Isn't he fascinating, Lira?" Elowen said softly, her eyes never leaving Mikhailis. "He sees wonder in the smallest things."

I couldn't stop myself from letting out a small scoff.

"If by fascinating you mean completely inappropriate for his position, then yes, Your Majesty."

"Now, now," she chuckled, "you're being too harsh. Besides..." She paused, her expression becoming more serious.

"He's the safest choice among all the candidates. Sometimes, what appears frivolous on the surface holds the most depth."

I wanted to argue, but I bit my tongue. It wasn't my place to question Her Majesty's decisions, even if I disagreed with them. Still, watching this man—this oddball from another world—prance around our carefully maintained gardens while spouting references to those animated shows he loved so much, I couldn't understand what made him special.

The sarcasm came easily, then.

"Your Highness, perhaps it's time you did something productive instead of... whatever this is," I'd say, crossing my arms as I watched him tinker with one of his many gadgets. He'd always reply with a chuckle, brushing it off as if my words held no weight at all.

I heard Elowen suppress a laugh beside me, and my frown deepened. How could she find his nonsense charming?

This man, who seemed to take nothing seriously, who approached everything with that same carefree attitude—how could he possibly be worthy of her?

The worst part was being assigned as his personal maid. I was used to being Elowen's right hand, standing beside her through thick and thin.

Suddenly, I found myself attending to him—this annoying, odd, frustrating man. It felt like I'd been cast aside, traded in for someone who, to me, was utterly undeserving.

I served him because it was my duty, but my disdain was thinly veiled, and he knew it.

My tone towards him was sharp, my words laced with thinly veiled criticism whenever I could manage it.

"Is that how a prince consort should behave? Spending your days playing with insects?" I'd snap when I found him lying in the garden, his gaze fixed on the ground, watching a beetle scuttle across a leaf.

He'd only smile and wave me over.

"Come, Lira. Have you ever watched them closely? They're fascinating. Look at how their legs move, each in perfect harmony. There's a lot we can learn from them."

I never understood how he managed to brush off my sharpness with such ease.

He didn't seem to mind my jabs or take them personally. And, despite myself, despite the distance I tried to maintain, I found my eyes lingering on him more often than I wanted to admit.

He did strange things—things that weren't expected from someone in his position.

He treated the castle staff with kindness that I found almost suspicious. I'd catch glimpses of it when I walked past the kitchens, seeing him chatting with the cooks, laughing with them as if he wasn't supposed to be above them. Or when he'd help a stable hand carry heavy buckets of water, offering his strength without expecting anything in return.

One day, I saw him with one of the younger maids, Greta.

She was teary-eyed, speaking to him in hushed tones about her grandmother's back pain. I paused, half-hidden behind the archway, listening in.

"Have you tried mixing dried willow bark with chamomile flowers? It works wonders for joint pain," he said, his tone sincere. Greta looked up at him, her eyes wide with hope.

"Really, Your Highness? Would that work?"

He nodded, giving her that gentle smile.

"It did wonders for someone I knew back in my world. Try it, and let me know how it goes. It seems that the chamomile flowers in my world and this place has the same traits,"

Two days later, I overheard Greta talking to another maid about how her grandmother was finally able to sleep through the night without pain. I found myself watching Mikhailis more closely after that.

Despite the seemingly frivolous nature of his interests, despite his carefree demeanor, there was something undeniably kind about him.

And he wasn't as clueless as I had thought—he knew things, he understood people.

He acted like a fool, but there was intelligence behind those eyes, something deeper that I couldn't quite place.

I hated it—how he seemed to fit in so easily, how people warmed up to him without a second thought.

The castle staff respected him, the guards spoke of him with admiration, and even the stern advisors seemed to be coming around to his presence.

He didn't have any grand ambitions, and that made me question him even more.

Why was he here?

What did he want?

There had to be something, some hidden agenda, some reason behind his willingness to stay in the background and play his role without complaint.

It was becoming clear that behind his frivolous exterior lay a sharp mind. I'd catch glimpses of it during council meetings, when he'd make suggestions so subtle yet clever that most wouldn't realize their brilliance until later. But why did he hide it?

Why did he choose to present himself as this anime-loving, bug-enthusiast oddball?

"Your Highness," I confronted him one day while serving his tea, "why do you pretend to be less intelligent than you are?"

He looked up from his book—some colorful manga volume—and for a moment, I saw that rare serious expression cross his face.

"Who says I'm pretending anything, Lira? Sometimes the best way to help people is to make them feel comfortable enough to help themselves."

I didn't understand his answer then, but I would soon enough.

Then one day, Elowen called Serelith and me to her office. She had a strange look on her face—a mix of worry and determination. She spoke of Mikhailis, how she wanted to prepare a concubine for him.

"He's said he doesn't need it," she admitted, her eyes downcast.

"But I can't fulfill my duties as a wife. I'm too busy. And I need to make sure there's no talk about me confining the Prince Consort. He needs... some form of freedom, even if it's just a little." She paused, her lips curving into a small smile.

"I want him to be happy here."

I clenched my jaw, the words sticking in my throat.

Why was she so concerned about his happiness?

Wasn't he content enough already?

And then she turned her gaze on me, those golden eyes of hers filled with a strange light.

"Lira, Serelith," she said, her voice soft, "do you perhaps want to be his concubine?"

The words hit me like a slap. I could only manage a scoff, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"No, Your Majesty. I have no desire to become part of his collection."

Serelith, standing beside me, pulled a face, her disgust evident.

"Absolutely not. I'd rather eat dirt."

Elowen only laughed, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"At least think about it, the both of you."

I left her office feeling more confused than ever.

What was it about this man that made her care so much?

Wasn't she supposed to be the Queen, above such emotions?

And yet... despite my disdain, I found myself wondering. Wondering if perhaps there was something more to him than I had given him credit for.

The turning point came when we were attacked.

The Technomancer League ambushed our carriage, their strange modernized magic-wielding members swarming us from all sides. I had been assigned to escort His Highness, to ensure his safety, but when the attack began, it all spiraled out of control so quickly.

One moment, I was shouting orders, trying to keep the attackers at bay, and the next, everything was chaos—shouts, flashes of light, the ground trembling beneath us. In the midst of the confusion, I heard a shout, and before I could even react, he was there.

He grabbed me, throwing me towards Lady Vyrelda, who had just arrived to reinforce us.

"Get her out of here!" he yelled, his eyes fierce.

I barely registered what was happening.

One moment, I was on the ground, dazed, and the next, I watched as His Highness faced down the attackers alone, his expression set, determined.

As I lay there, watching helplessly as they dragged him away, I finally understood. This man, who everyone dismissed as frivolous and carefree, had calculated everything in that split second. He knew I wouldn't be able to fight them all off. He knew Vyrelda had a better chance of protecting me than I did of protecting him. He had chosen to save me, knowing full well what would happen to him.

Why did he do it? Why did he risk himself for me? I was supposed to be the one protecting him. That moment stayed with me, haunting me in the days that followed. It wasn't just bravery—there was something more. He had acted without hesitation, without a thought for his own safety.

It wasn't until later, when he was rescued, bruised but alive, that I allowed myself to truly think about it.

Maybe, deep down, I had known all along. Maybe that was why I had watched him so closely, why his smile frustrated me so much.

Because behind that smile, behind the jokes and the frivolous nature, there was something real.

Something strong and genuine.

And maybe that was what Her Majesty had seen from the start.

Now, here we were, at Count Arvis's estate in the Northern Province.

His Highness had excused himself from the banquet, retreating to the guest estate specifically prepared for visiting royals.

I had watched him leave, the exhaustion evident in his posture.

I bet he's tired from all of those formalities, I couldn't help but smile thinking about his tired face.

After a while, I decided to follow.

When I entered the room, I found him sitting on the sofa, his face serious, his eyes distant. I paused at the doorway, watching him. It was a side of him I rarely saw—quiet, contemplative, that rare serious expression on his face again.

I study his profile, thinking about how wrong I'd been about him.

This man, who hides his brilliant mind behind jokes and anime references, who makes himself seem harmless to put others at ease, who calculations always consider everyone's feelings and comfort—even at the cost of his own dignity.

Those eyes of his, usually twinkling with mischief, now show their true depth.

Eyes filled with passion, understanding, and endless curiosity.

The same eyes that had captured Her Majesty's attention, and now, somehow, had captured mine as well.

Before I can stop myself, I move closer and sit on his lap, wanting to break through that serious expression, to see his usual smile again.

Ah...

I remember.

Ever since I was a child.

I always want to get princess-carried by a prince riding a white horse, aren't I?

Back when I was a child.

I guess I thought.

Even a maid is allowed to dream, right?

"...Lira?" His voice carries surprise, but not rejection, and something in my chest warms at the sound of my name on his lips. Your journey continues with empire

"Are you fine?"

Such a gentle voice that filled with concern for me.

That's the problem with him.

He always notice.

And because of it.

"Yes, it's me, Your Highness. I'm fine,"

Please let me take advantage of your kindness again today, Your Highness.