Chapter 31
31. Dangerous Rival2021.12.16.
The Crown Prince frowned and leaned back against the sofa.
“What, never mind then. You put me in a real spot earlier. It seems Sir Arthur quite likes his wife.”
Rembrandt said with a strangely inscrutable expression.
“……Really?”
Francis, growing even more baffled and sinking deeper into confusion, asked.
“……Are you talking about Sir Arthur and Lady Christina? Aren’t they just in a political marriage where they married without even seeing each other beforehand? It’s only been about a week since they finally met again and started getting to know one another…….”
And yet Francis himself was showing interest in a maid he’d only met for about a week…. Rembrandt gave an ambiguous smile and stirred his innocent teacup. The Crown Prince calmly lifted his teacup to his lips and said.
“Well…… the affection between a man and a woman doesn’t always scale with the time they’ve spent together. She was that captivating of a young lady, after all.”
Francis muttered in a daze.
“Is she…… that remarkable? Lady Christina……?”
…The guy has so little to get attached to in the first place that when his so-called wife turned out to be kind and treated him well, he fell head over heels…. The Crown Prince leaned back against the sofa, lost in his own thoughts.
“…….”
A “proper family” for Arthur…. The Crown Prince quietly gazed down at his teacup.
“…….”
And he recalled his conversation with Arthur. On the way back after the victory. Under the pretext of an imperial command, he’d forced alcohol on him, and it was the first and last time he’d seen him drunk. · · ·
「……Ryan Dalton*?」
The drunk Arthur said with a tousled chuckle.
「……Yes.」
It was the first time his tongue had grown numb in the Crown Prince’s presence. Speaking a little slowly, laced with mirth, he said.
“He told me…… I don’t have to come back…….”
「That living like Ryan Dalton might be okay too…….」
Arthur let out a deflating laugh and hung his head.
「……That’s what he said.」
「Right before we parted…….」
The Crown Prince, pleasantly buzzed at just the right level, simply smiled quietly as he watched Arthur—who he’d ordered to drink heavily—turn into a complete mess.
「…….」
Deeply intoxicated, Arthur mumbled with slightly slurred speech.
「……Was I really that awful?」
「Awful enough that he never wants to see me again?」
Drunk to the point he’d forget it all by the next day. For someone with his personality, it was the kind of thing he’d never say sober.
「…….」
Wearing a disheveled smile the Crown Prince had never seen before. Arthur murmured.
「……I miss him.」
「…….」
The half-brother who always wore such inhumanly restrained expressions, always so perfectly composed. For the first time, he gazed at him with a soft, tousled smile.
「What will he say when I go back……?」
「……That woman…….」
He smiled, his face relaxed. Just that one time. That had been the full extent of what he’d heard about his fiancée—no, his wife. · · ·
“…….”
Upon hearing that Arthur had spoken of Ryan Dalton, the Crown Prince surmised that he must have thought of Christina for all five years. I probably would have too. I’d have thought of that woman for five years.
“…….”
Is that something anyone on the battlefield would do…? Or is it just Arthur and me? The sons of the emperor, desperate to run away but unable.
“…….”
The Crown Prince let out a chuckle. It was a little concerning how obsessive he already seemed. But at least the young lady appeared to be a decent person, so that was some relief. He’d been worried since she was the daughter of that “Julius.” It had been unexpected. How had such a young lady emerged from under “Julius”? The Crown Prince felt a touch of relief, but also an inexplicable twinge of envy toward Arthur, and chuckled to himself.
“…….”
Francis watched the Crown Prince and Rembrandt—each seemingly lost in thoughts of “Christina”—with a peculiar look in his eyes.
“No……. I’m genuinely curious. Just how striking was Lady Christina……?”
Rembrandt simply shrugged with a smile. The Crown Prince tilted his head back and let out a sigh.
“Ah……. If I at least had a fiancée, I might even consider turning into a Ryan Dalton…….”
The Crown Prince muttered as he stared up at the chandelier on the ceiling.
“I’m so jealous.”
It was then, as Rembrandt laughed and started to say something to the Crown Prince. The next instant. Bang! The door flew open with a crash, the doorknob slamming against the wall.
“Crown Prince Your Highness!”
The Captain of the Imperial Guard burst in. The Crown Prince’s face paled as he shot to his feet. Rembrandt and Francis panicked and stood as well. The Guard Captain, in his early fifties, strode forward and bellowed.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding!”
Imperial Guards poured in one after another behind their captain. In an instant, the Crown Prince was surrounded by his own men and raised his hands.
“Wait, hold on. Calm down, Captain Fairman. This is someone else’s house. Storming in like this is no way to act.”
The captain shouted in outrage.
“Even the master of the house would sympathize with the Guard Captain’s plight once he hears the circumstances—having to chase down a runaway Crown Prince Your Highness!”
The knights, who’d fallen for the same trick multiple times before, ignored the Crown Prince’s protests about rudeness and tightened their encirclement per the captain’s orders. The Crown Prince smiled sweatily as he protested.
“……Runaway? I said I’d head back on my own after staying just a day or two. I even left a letter…….”
The captain snapped.
“You’ve pulled that excuse seven times already! I’ve had to report to His Imperial Majesty the Emperor three times that your scheduled arrival was delayed! Messengers had to ride out three times to apologize for the schedule disruption to His Majesty! Don’t you feel for those poor messengers?!”
Before the Guard Captain who’d protected him for five years, the Crown Prince deflated.
“Ah, alright. I’ll go. I’m going, okay?”
“When?!”
“Tomorrow. For real this time.”
“Today!”
The captain fired off rapid retorts.
“You were supposed to leave yesterday! Before that, you planned to split from Sir Arthur’s army last week and head to the capital! You’ve dragged it out with one ‘today’ and ‘tomorrow’ after another, and now you’ve trailed Sir Arthur right up to the doorstep of Julius Territory!”
The Crown Prince looked apologetic but brazenly pressed on.
“That’s exactly it! Since I’m already this close, how could I just leave without at least greeting Arthur’s lady…… Ah!”
He hurriedly introduced the two men behind him.
“This is Rembrandt. Say hello. You know him, right? My cousin, son of my uncle Duke Karl Klein. This is Francis. Second son of the Count of Ford, my friend, and he’s assisting Rembrandt. Greet them. That’s Captain Fairman of the Imperial Guard over there.”
He’d come secretly, but he hadn’t expected the furious Guard Captain to track him down. The flustered Rembrandt and Francis rose from their seats and offered awkward greetings.
“Ah, hello, Captain Fairman. Thank you for your hard work. I’m Rembrandt Eaton von Klein…….”
“Crown Prince Your Highness!”
The captain bellowed. While the flustered Rembrandt awkwardly greeted Fairman, the Crown Prince bolted out the back door in a flash.
“Your Highness!”
Resentful cries from the guards followed hot on the captain’s heels.
“After him!”
The Crown Prince took off running. * * *
“…….”
“…….”
After the storm had passed. Rembrandt and Francis were left alone in the room.
“Lord Rembrandt.”
Francis called out to the dazed Rembrandt. Once he turned to look, Francis finally shifted to a small smile and got to the purpose of his visit.
“I’ve completed the initial investigation on ‘Reina Astalin’. Would you like to hear it now, if that’s alright?”
Rembrandt said, “Ah,” and smiled as he adjusted his posture.
“Yes, please do. Tell me.”
Francis began his report. In addition to basic information on her as a maid of House Julius, it covered rumors of a secret romance with the son of the family physician, Dr. Lorenson; the fact that she’d suddenly vanished on some errand about a week ago and hadn’t been seen since; and that Sir Tristan, Sir Arthur’s closest knight, was looking into her.
“This is what we have for now. Shall I dig deeper?”
Rembrandt, who had listened silently to the end, pondered for a moment. Sensing the need to test how long it would take someone of Francis’s skill to uncover Reina’s secrets, he issued a new order.
“Yes, keep going. Look into her family as well—any financial troubles or difficult circumstances. However…….”
Rembrandt smiled as he added another request.
“In the future, could you conduct the investigation on ‘Reina’ even more discreetly? So it doesn’t become too obvious that you’re looking into her.”
Francis nodded readily.
“Yes. That much is no trouble at all.”
Rembrandt gazed at Francis. Then, with a slightly apologetic smile, he added.
“……And if you’ve got feelings for that young lady, you might want to let it go. I’ve heard a few things on my own.”
Rembrandt toyed with his interlocked fingers as he spoke.
“She doesn’t seem like someone for a casual fling while you’re staying here. It looks like there’s a dangerous rival in the picture.”
Click-clack. Click-clack. Julius Marquis Mansion, main building. The passage beside the central staircase, guarded by Arthur’s knights. A blonde young lady—gorgeously elegant despite her understated adornments—walked quietly. Click-clack. Upon reaching a certain distance, she came to a stop. She then swept her calm gaze over the knights.
“…….”
Her gliding eyes paused on the knight with the scar on his lip. Christina lightly gathered her skirt hems and bent her knees just slightly, lowering her gaze in greeting. Without bowing her head or waist—just a brief dip of the eyes while bending her knees—it was a proud, elegant curtsy. At the end of that short greeting, as she raised her eyes, her emerald irises came into view. Even with her face more than half-obscured by her bonnet, her stunning beauty was unmistakable.
“Do you have business here?”
Lionel asked. Christina smiled faintly.
“I’ve come to see Sir Arthur, but is he in?”
“He is not.”
Among nobles, “he is not” didn’t just mean absent—it could be a polite refusal even if he was inside. So even if you knew he was there, hearing “he is not” meant withdrawing gracefully, as courtesy dictated you wouldn’t see him that day. But Christina smiled, as if she’d anticipated the answer.
“Then I’ll wait.”
Lionel replied impassively.
“He won’t be coming today. You’d best leave a message and go.”
“No. I’ll wait.”
She smiled as she looked at Lionel.
“Even if he doesn’t come, it’s fine. Please let him know I waited.”
And she truly waited there for an hour. Back against the wall, standing like a flower adorning it. Exactly one hour later. Click—she drew a pocket watch from her bag, confirmed the time, then turned away with perfect composure. Even as she departed, she offered a light smile. ――――― *Ryan Dalton: A character from a classic novel who deserted the army despite his princely status, abandoned his identity and name, and spent his life pining for his beloved fiancée. He is interpreted as a coward and a fool.
