🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 68
The next afternoon.
“Phew, shall we stop here for today?”
Today, neither Vincent nor Oscar were in the office, and I handled the paperwork alone.
Because of that, thoughts about Vivian kept coming and going in my head.
I wondered if I should trust Vincent and leave it to him, but then I worried it might turn into a pointless debt.
Anyway, I closed the file and decided to leave work.
One good thing about this workplace is that as long as I show my face and do my tasks, I still get paid.
There are no fixed working hours.
‘Where else could I find such a cushy job.’
At first, I thought the salary was low, but seeing how things turned out, it really wasn’t.
I went straight from the east wing to the west and headed to my room.
When I opened the door, I heard a faint rustling of fabric from the dressing room.
“…Huh?”
I instinctively turned my head toward the sound.
I thought it might be Lauren, but somehow it didn’t feel like her.
And as expected, I saw a familiar small back turned toward me.
It was Vivian. She was quietly opening drawers and organizing clothes.
“Vivian?”
I called her name in surprise, and she immediately turned around with a bright smile.
“My lady, you’re home from work? How’s your day going?”
Her voice was cheerful as usual, and her expression seemed fine.
She looked like someone who had never been through any trouble.
That was the problem.
If she’d shown even a trace of discomfort, it might’ve felt less awkward.
I walked into the dressing room slowly, watching her.
A few garments were still left unorganized. I picked them up to help.
“I heard you weren’t feeling well. Are you okay now?”
I asked carefully, but as naturally as possible.
Vivian nodded beside me without hesitation.
“Yes, I had a bit of a cold, so I took a few days off. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. Oh, please hand me that. I’ll do it.”
I glanced sideways, watching her movements closely.
She folded and hung dresses with her usual steady hands.
There was no sign of discomfort or strain on her face.
That perfect calmness made it all feel stranger.
“Give it to me. Don’t overwork yourself.”
Taking the clothes from her hands and hanging them up myself was all I could do for her.
Vivian looked at me quietly and murmured,
“I hope you become the crown princess soon, my lady.”
“Huh? What did you say?”
“Oh, um… nothing. Ah, my lady, that one doesn’t go there! Please, give it to me. Oh, honestly!”
In the end, I got kicked out of the dressing room for being in the way.
Still, she seemed like her usual self, which was a relief.
But that last comment… what did she mean by it?
***
I met with Vincent and Oscar alternately.
Lately, I felt like I was seeing them way too often.
‘Well, that makes sense.’
Living in the Crown Prince’s palace and working in his office—it was natural.
But realizing I had gotten used to it still felt strange.
Anyway, the office was quiet but filled with a faint tension.
The three of us were standing around a table, looking at a spread-out newspaper.
The headline had some very familiar content.
[“Duke Wentworth Announces Tax Reform for Wealthy Relief”
— Major reduction in property and inheritance taxes
— Increase in goods and income taxes, concerns over public burden
— Controversy over expanding noble influence
According to Duke Wentworth’s reform proposal, property and inheritance taxes will be significantly reduced, while goods and income taxes will rise.
Critics claim this will lessen the nobles’ burden while increasing taxes on ordinary citizens.]
The article hit the core of the issue quite precisely.
“Bold move,” Vincent remarked shortly.
His eyes glowed more sharply than usual as he stared at the paper.
“They don’t care about public opinion anyway. It doesn’t affect the vote.”
Oscar grumbled while I skimmed through the rest of the article.
“It even says the parliament will convene in three days.”
Vincent’s eyes stayed fixed on the paper.
It was hard to guess what he was thinking.
Actually, the situation now was similar to before my regression.
Because Vincent had indirectly hinted to Aiden that he would oppose Duke Wentworth’s bill.
Duke Wentworth would now do everything to gather votes.
It was impossible to predict how many nobles would take his side.
That’s why one thing became especially important.
“Your Highness, have we heard back from Duke Priem yet?”
“The reply should come soon.”
“If it’s a positive one, he’ll probably come in person.”
Oscar added an explanation.
“The Priem region doesn’t have magic tools for communication, so messages must be sent by people.
Hardto believe such places still exist… Anyway, if he wants to join the vote, he’ll come right away after getting our message.”
Oscar sighed, half in disbelief and half in concern.
He quickly folded the paper and tucked it under his arm.
“I’ll go check what other nobles are thinking.”
“Do that,” Vincent said lightly.
Oscar gave a short bow and left the room.
Thud—
The door closed, and silence filled the office again.
Feeling awkward, I fiddled with the papers on the desk, pretending to tidy them.
Vincent was staring at the corner of the table, deep in thought.
The silence was suffocating, so I forced myself to say something.
I racked my brain and returned to the previous topic.
“If Duke Priem joins the vote, we can definitely win, right?”
Vincent lifted his eyes to me.
His emerald gaze flickered quietly before softening.
“That’s because you reminded Duke Priem and persuaded His Majesty the Emperor as well.”
His sudden compliment caught me off guard, and I mumbled awkwardly.
“Well, Her Majesty the Empress was the one who persuaded the Emperor.”
“No need to be modest. If you hadn’t brought it up first, no one else would’ve thought of it.”
His calm praise hit deeper than expected.
Still, embarrassed, I just nodded.
“Then Duke Priem—”
“He’ll side with us.”
I looked at him, surprised by his certainty.
“I made him an offer he can’t refuse.”
“Right.”
I already knew what that offer was—building a permanent new route that would benefit the Priem region.
If he refused that, Duke Priem would go down in history as a man too proud for his own good.
At the same time, I found it remarkable how Vincent had crafted that idea from such a small clue.
As I stared at him, I suddenly realized how long we’d been locking eyes and quickly looked away.
My face felt a little warm.
Then he called my name.
“Amelia.”
When I looked up, his gaze was still fixed on me.
“It’s strange.”
“What is?”
“I never imagined you’d one day work beside me. But now, it feels natural.”
His tone was reflective, but knowing how he used to view Amelia, it wasn’t exactly sentimental.
Still, it was hopeful.
Maybe I’d taken one—or two—steps away from death.
