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Chapter 29
“Is this really all?
Not a single item could satisfy my fiancée’s heart in such a grand shop?
How disappointing.”
“……”
I was so dumbfounded I couldn’t even speak.
The jeweller looked equally troubled, his expression tight, and he shot me a resentful glance every now and then.
Hey, I said I liked everything!
It’s this Crown Prince who’s being impossible!
With a sigh, the jeweller withdrew.
I glanced desperately at Derrick, but when our eyes met, he quickly looked away.
Meanwhile, Vincent simply stood beside me, staring intently.
“Your Highness, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Maybe nothing, but I could see plain as day that his mood had sunk even lower than before.
Seriously, what is his deal?
At that moment, the jeweller returned, carrying a jewellery box with a reluctant look.
He placed it carefully on the table.
“This is the last piece we can show you from our store.”
At first glance, the box looked smaller and plainer than the ones before.
Vincent answered curtly, face still closed off. He didn’t look the least bit expectant.
“Open it.”
The lid was lifted, revealing a cherry-sized red stone inside.
It looked closer to a rough gem than a finished one.
“A red diamond.”
I’d already seen plenty of red diamonds—beautifully cut and polished ones.
Compared to them, this raw stone looked crude.
No wonder the jeweller wore such a hesitant expression.
Vincent had rejected several far finer red diamonds earlier, returning them without a second glance.
Still, I asked. There had to be a reason he brought it out.
“Is there a special reason you’ve chosen to show us this?”
“Well… It’s nothing much, but there is something unusual about it.”
“What is it?”
“It reacts to magic.”
The moment he said it, something sparked in my head and my lips curled upward before I could stop them.
On the surface, it was just another red diamond, but I recognised it immediately—it was a magic stone.
The very same stone the heroine discovers later in the story, striking gold when she stumbles upon an entire magic stone mine.
This world had magic and magical tools, but no one yet knew how to harness magic stones.
All magical tools required a mage to forcibly inject mana into them.
Once depleted, the item became useless unless another mage recharged it—or the owner simply bought a new one.
That meant magical tools were a luxury reserved only for the very wealthy, as they demanded constant, costly labour.
I knew only vaguely where the future magic stone mine would be located, and had planned to seek it out once I grew more familiar with the geography here.
A stone this small couldn’t do anything amazing on its own, and I couldn’t track down a mine just from this—but still, the sight filled me with excitement.
I sneaked a glance at Vincent, worried he might take an interest.
Luckily, he didn’t seem impressed.
After all, a gem that merely reacted to magic wasn’t rare.
Plenty of such materials existed, easily crafted.
But I knew the value of a true magic stone was so much more.
“Well, I—”
“We’ll take it.”
He cut me off before I could speak.
Whipping my head toward him, I found Vincent watching me.
“You seemed to like it.”
“Yes, I do.
But… how did you know?”
“Because your smile—”
“What?”
Vincent abruptly closed his mouth.
My smile?
What about it?
I watched him curiously, but instead of answering, he raised a hand to cover his lips, staring at the jewel box with a grave expression.
“Your Highness, are you certain about this?
It is unusual, yes, but its cloudiness lowers its value as a gemstone.
Are you sure—?”
“I like it.”
Fearing he might change his mind, I rushed to answer.
Vincent nodded, though his face remained complicated.
“Then if you’ll tell us your preferred setting design…”
“Something simple.
Minimal, clean.
Preserve the stone’s size as much as possible.
And… a bracelet, not a necklace.”
The jeweller quickly sketched out a design on paper.
“Would this suit you?”
It was a chain adorned with small, dangling stones.
“That’s perfect!”
I agreed enthusiastically.
“Then I’ll send the bill to the Crown Prince’s palace.”
Vincent rose abruptly.
I moved to follow, but as soon as I stood, he stepped close and offered his arm.
The carriage wasn’t far.
I shot him a look saying I could walk, but he didn’t budge.
Left with no choice, I took his arm and we left the jeweller together, boarding the carriage.
Outside, I realised time had flown.
The sky was already dark.
As the carriage started moving, I turned to Vincent.
“What time does the Duke of Royce’s dinner party begin?”
“I believe it was set for five.”
It was already seven.
We’re two hours late… and he still dawdled at the jeweller’s?
“Isn’t this… a problem?”
Vincent gave me a puzzled look, as if the question itself were odd.
“Why wouldn’t it be fine?”
“Because…”
Then it hit me.
The idea that one must keep promises simply didn’t apply to someone like him.
He was the Crown Prince.
His mere attendance was an honour.
Whatever time he arrived became the appointed hour.
“…Never mind.”
“Hmm.
Now that I think of it, you must be hungry.
I should have told them to hurry earlier.”
“I’m fine, Your Highness.”
He ignored me and ordered the driver to pick up the pace.
I felt the carriage lurch faster.
Already my energy felt drained.
How would I survive this dinner?
Relying on Vincent wasn’t exactly an option, given the precarious nature of our relationship.
I leaned back against the seat, trying to rest my body as much as possible.
**”
Thump.
Vincent, who had been gazing out the window, felt a sudden weight on his shoulder.
He turned.
Amelia’s head rested there, her breathing deep.
Despite the jolting carriage, she didn’t stir.
“Amel—”
He started to call her name, then closed his mouth.
An indescribable feeling spread in his chest.
I hate this.
It was uncomfortable, unsettling.
Awkward.
Not because of Amelia—but because of himself.
He had planned everything: seduce her, win back her affections, gift her jewellery, and escort her to the dinner.
Even if unpleasant, it was necessary.
So why was he so fixated on her genuine smile?
He remembered that radiant laugh she’d shown in the garden that morning, and had watched her intently in the jeweller’s shop because of it.
The last gem he’d chosen wasn’t to his taste at all.
He had agreed to it for no reason other than her smile.
Was that really necessary?
He questioned himself, and self-reproach pricked at him.
But it was already done.
His gaze lingered on the crown of her head swaying lightly against his shoulder.
Her violet hair carried a faint, pleasant fragrance.
No.
He accepted that she had changed—different from before the regression, different from before the accident.
But she was still the Duke of Wentworth’s daughter, the same woman who had once killed him in another life.
That fact would never change.
If anything, these soft feelings would only become a hindrance to the path he intended to take.
And yet…
Letting her sleep a little won’t hurt.
She would need her strength tonight.
The people at the Duke of Royce’s would not be kind to her.
Bringing her there was part of his plan.
Vincent looked down once more at Amelia’s head, then let her be, turning his gaze back to the window.
The a
ir inside the carriage suddenly felt stifling.
He cracked the window open.
Outside, the scenery seemed to rush past too quickly.
“Derrick.”
His low voice carried through the night.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
Derrick drew his horse closer.
“Tell the driver to slow the carriage a little.”
