PSTB 29

~Chapter 29~

A sharp jolt ran through my heart.

I glanced around once more.

“God, it’s dazzling!”

Maybe it was just because I thought these jewels were mine, but they seemed to shine even brighter, almost burning just for me. In my last life, all I ever did was give up. But here, I can have anything I want.

My nose tingled.

“You’re not actually about to cry, are you?”

“Me? Cry? Why would I cry when everything’s so wonderful?”

I threw my eyes wide open and flashed the biggest grin.

“Eek! In that case, I want this! And that! And all of those over there, too!”

Watching Penny’s excitement over my new jewelry was almost more satisfying than getting it myself. I went back to my room, bone-tired after a long day out, but floating on air.

I traced my fingers over the line of rings stacked on my hand.

“So pretty, so shiny. And no worries about rust—because these are gold! Not iron, not silver, gold! Hah!”

I started improvising silly little songs about gold rings on the spot, then, sneaking a glance around, I pulled out a small box.

It wasn’t as dazzling as my own, but inside was a diamond ring, shaped just like mine.

Simple, but I thought it’d look perfect on Etienne’s long, beautiful fingers.

We didn’t even have wedding rings, so I figured this could be something just for the two of us—a secret present, hidden among all the others.

Sure, it was bought with Etienne’s money, but hey, gifts are about the heart, not the receipt.

Who cares who paid for it?

…

“Will Etienne actually like it? Or is he going to hate it?”

I fretted for a second, then shot to my feet.

“He’s done so much for me—I can’t just stand by and do nothing.”

Still, handing him a ring out of nowhere would be embarrassing. I spent ages wondering how I could give it to him without it feeling weird.

Suddenly, my eyes sparkled. “Penny!” I called.

The kitchen staff didn’t know what to do as I picked up a knife.

But honestly? I’m a veteran of a thousand part-time jobs.

I even worked at a famous bulgogi joint for a while—not officially trained, but I’d watched and learned by peeking over the cooks’ shoulders. I could pretty much copy their recipes.

When I started chopping, everyone’s jaw hit the floor.

See? I’m kind of a big deal.

Thanks to my long-lost kitchen skills, I finished up before dinner rush.

Changed into comfy clothes, I waited at the table. Etienne showed up soon after.

Fresh from our trip, his hair was falling loose and—was it just me, or did he have a healthy flush in his cheeks?

“What’s all this?”

“I got a huge present today, so I made something for you—even if it’s not much. Sit down, already!”

He looked annoyed, but sat anyway. Plates of steaming bulgogi soon appeared.

I’d cooked up a whole pot, but the chef plated it so nicely it looked like restaurant food, not homemade.

“I made it myself. I hope it’s your style.”

Etienne picked up his knife, but stopped.

“You eat first.”

“Seriously? You think I poisoned it?”

Muttering, I chomped down a massive bite.

“Mmm! This is amazing.”

Steam rose from my mouth.

I know I made it, but wow, it just melts in your mouth! Maybe I’m in the wrong business. Should I ditch the dress shop and open a restaurant?

Etienne just stared while I ate with pure delight.

“Switch plates with me.”

“Oh, come on. Just eat it! I promise it’s not poisoned.”

But he just waited.

“Geez, you’re such a worrywart. Paranoia’s a real sickness, you know.”

Grumbling, I swapped plates with him.

Only then did he take a bite.

I watched as he chewed quietly and wiped his lips with a napkin, all calm and graceful.

Come on, you know it’s good, right?

“It’s decent.”

A grin broke out across my face.

Would it kill him to say he liked it? He can be such a kid sometimes.

“Of course it is! Who do you think made it?”

“When did you learn to cook?”

“I don’t know, my hands just remember. Maybe before we got married?”

“You can’t remember dancing or riding, but you remember how to cook?”

Feeling guilty, I stuffed another bite into my mouth.

But seriously—when do I give him the ring? I fiddled with the box under the table.

“Want some wine?”

Etienne was already pouring wine. I glanced between him and the glass.

I’m not a drinker, but the red was calling my name.

“Yes, please! I’d love to try some!”

I’d never tasted wine in my last life, so this felt special.

Rich people always drink wine with steak. If I’ve already mastered steak, why not wine?

Wine’s made from grapes, so it must smell sweet and fruity, right? My mouth started to water.

“I had no idea you liked wine so much.”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I just want to try it tonight.”

Etienne filled my glass. The crimson liquid swirling in the clear glass was mesmerizing.

Trying to look cool, I took a sip like Etienne.

Wow.

It tasted like grapes and something more—a whole mix of fruit. A bitter note, then a sweet finish that made you crave more. Nothing fake about it, just honest-to-goodness flavor.

Bulgogi was a revelation, but wine? This was another universe.

“This is so good!”

“Drink slow.”

“How am I supposed to drink slow when it tastes this good? Pour me another!”

Etienne looked grumpy but poured another.

I kept sipping, then gulping. My head started to swim, but whatever—this was worth it.

“Dahlia, what is wrong with you? Pull yourself together.”

Etienne’s tone was irritated.

He’d let me drink, but when my head started drooping and I swayed, he realized he’d made a mistake.

My hair brushed the table as I bobbed up.

“I’m awake, see!”

I answered, a bit sloppy, my big eyes rolling wildly.

“You’re totally out of it.”

“Tastes good? What’s good? Let’s eat together.”

My tongue tangled up, and I slurred. Clumsy, I flailed my fork.

Etienne ducked the fork and grabbed my wrist. Even gently, he made me wobble.

“Help! He’s trying to kill me!”

I flailed like I was fighting off an invisible snake. Etienne just watched.

What a weirdo.

That’s when I slumped onto his shoulder. He froze.

“Mmm…”

Like a kitten, I nuzzled closer.

He frowned, trying to push me away, but I clung to him tighter.

“I’m not letting go… No divorce for me. I’m going to stick to you like a leech… steak…”

He actually laughed at that string of nonsense.

Trying to sound offhand, almost boyish, he asked, “What about Veseth?”

He remembered Veseth under the window, the jealousy burning bright. The thought of me at the play with Veseth still made his blood boil.

I shot upright and wagged my finger like a schoolteacher.

“Veseth isn’t it. His eyes are too dull. More importantly, my husband is so much hotter. Yup, definitely.”

With lidded eyes, I poked Etienne’s cheek. It felt like I was asking and answering my own question.

A faint smile tugged at Etienne’s mouth, then vanished.

“That’s slander against the crown prince.”

“Slander, whatever. But what if he really is the prince? Who cares. Whatever happens, happens. I’ll just die again if I have to.”

I mumbled and buried my face in his chest, my voice buzzing against his shoulder.

Silence.

“You really don’t like Veseth?”

He remembered how I’d just followed him home after the play, how his anger had faded fast.

Etienne looked at the slender wrist in his hand.

Just holding her close, having her here, filled him with a quiet satisfaction.

In that moment, it felt like his dreams—me in his arms, whispering love, him holding me close.

But this wasn’t a dream. My breath, my warmth, the way I seemed to set his whole body alight—it was all real.

Etienne’s heart pounded fiercely.

“I don’t believe a word you say,” he muttered, maybe just to himself. But his eyes trembled, the words sounding more like a wish than the truth. Because honestly, he wanted to believe me more than anything.