The Queen is Man のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

"Get your hands off the silk, I can do it myself!"Noah yanked the heavy, gold-threaded fabric away from the maid’s reach. His voice hit a pitch that made his throat ache, a strained, melodic reediness that felt like a tightrope walk. The girl recoiled, eyes wide, her hands hovering in the air like startled birds."But, my Lady Abigail," she stammered, "the King’s orders were absolute. We are to prepare you for the welcome feast. The layers—""I know how to dress myself," Noah snapped. He gripped the edge of the privacy screen until his knuckles turned a ghostly white. "Out. All of you. Now."The maids scurried, their soft slippers whispering against the marble floor before the heavy oak doors clicked shut. Noah slumped against the wall, the air leaving his lungs in a jagged rush. His chest felt like it was being crushed. The linen bindings beneath the corset were too tight, digging into his ribs with every breath, but they were the only thing keeping him from a hangman’s noose.He lo

"You look like you're heading to your own funeral, Lady Abigail."Hannah Brooks didn't look up from the lace. She yanked the corset string. Hard. Noah’s breath left him in a sharp, pained hiss. His ribs, already screaming from the beating Lucas’s dogs had given him in the dark, felt like they were grinding together."Just nervous, Hannah. It’s a big day." Noah’s voice was a thin wire. He kept his eyes on the mirror, watching the seamstress apply another layer of heavy, pale lead-white to his jaw. It covered the yellowing bruise. It buried the boy."Nervous is one thing. Looking like a corpse is another." Hannah stepped back, her eyes narrowing at the way the silk sat on his shoulders. "The King wants a bride, not a ghost. Stand up straight."Noah forced his spine to lock. Every movement was a gamble. The heavy embroidery of the gown weighed ten pounds, dragging at his bruised skin. Outside, the cathedral bells began to toll. Clang. Clang. Clang. Each strike felt like a hammer hitting

"Get up. We’ve got a long day, and I'm not waiting on you."The mattress dipped under Ethan’s weight. Noah’s eyes snapped open. Sunlight sliced through the heavy velvet curtains, hitting the floor in sharp, jagged blocks. His ribs screamed as he tried to sit up. Every muscle in his torso felt like it had been shredded and stitched back together with hot wire."Ethan?" Noah’s voice was a dry rasp, the high-pitched 'Abigail' mask failing for a second. He coughed, pulling the silk sheets up to his chin. "What time is it?""Late enough."Ethan stood by the bed. He wasn't wearing his royal mantle, just a loose linen shirt open at the throat, but the sheer size of him sucked the air out of the room. He reached down, his fingers hooking into the edge of the duvet. With a single, violent jerk, he stripped the bed bare.Noah scrambled to cover himself. He was still wearing the thin, sleeveless shift from the night before, the linen damp with the cold sweat of a feverish sleep. Underneath, the

"You’re a long way from the birdcage, Abigail."The voice was like grinding gravel. Noah stopped dead. The damp air of the Royal Gardens clung to his skin, heavy with the smell of rotting mulch and rain-soaked roses. He didn't turn around. Not yet. His fingers gripped the silk of his skirts, twisting the fabric until his knuckles turned a bloodless white."The King gave me leave to walk," Noah said. He pitched the voice high. Strained. The 'Abigail' mask was a thin, brittle thing today. "Who are you to question him?""I’m the man who watched you pull him out of the ravine."Noah turned.A guard stood in the shadow of a weeping willow, his face half-hidden by a steel helm. He was thick-set, his leather brigandine scarred and salt-stained. He didn't stand at attention. He leaned against a stone plinth, his hand resting casually on the hilt of a heavy broadsword."Samuel Brooks," the guard said, stepping into a patch of grey, filtered light.Noah’s breath hitched. The face was hauntingly

"You’re late. Again."Samuel didn't look up from the whetstone. The rhythmic shing-shing of steel against rock filled the damp corridor beneath the gallery. Torches sputtered, casting long, dancing shadows against the salt-stained stones. The smell of mold and old iron was thick enough to taste.Noah pulled the hood of his cloak tighter, his fingers trembling against the heavy wool. "The King. He wouldn't let me leave. He’s... he’s getting worse, Samuel. He barely sleeps. He just watches me.""Yeah? Well, watching you is going to be his downfall." Samuel stopped. He tested the edge of the dagger with a calloused thumb, a bead of dark blood blooming on the skin. He looked at Noah, his eyes hard and flat. "The resistance is ready. The lords in the north are moving their coin, but we need the Seal. The State Seal. Without it, the orders to open the border gates are just scrap paper.""The Seal?" Noah’s voice cracked, the high-pitched 'Abigail' facade slipping. "It’s in his private study.