SPWHC 11

Chapter  11

Too late, I realized what I’d just said was far too rude.
But apologizing wasn’t in René’s character.

Instead—

“Don’t worry. There won’t be any reason for pity anymore.”

I made that arrogant promise as I brushed a finger over the pale scars on Friedrich’s wrist.

At that, he flinched and quickly pulled his hand away.

“Does it hurt?”

“…No.”

Then why did he yank his hand back like he’d been burned?

Puzzled, I didn’t press further. Just then, the aperitif was served.

I casually clinked glasses with Friedrich and was about to take a sip when something occurred to me.

“Wait—should you even be drinking?”

Friedrich looked at me in confusion.

“You’re about to turn into a kid again, remember?”

“…Not yet.”

Still, alcohol takes time to break down. Could a child’s liver even handle that?

I frowned, briefly serious, then ended up snatching his glass away.

Ignoring his bewildered stare, I asked Elsa to bring orange juice instead.

A moment later, the sweet citrus scent of juice filled the air as Friedrich reluctantly accepted the glass. Only then did I smile in satisfaction.

Friedrich, on the other hand, looked less than pleased. I ignored that and tapped my glass against his.

The appetizer was canapés topped with duck liver pâté.

I absentmindedly picked one up and brought it to my mouth—but just as it brushed my lips, I felt something sharp.

I turned my head and saw Friedrich holding the canapé up to my mouth. I chuckled softly.

“I can feed myself, you know.”

Maybe he took that as a rejection, because he awkwardly began to pull it back.
Had I embarrassed him?

On impulse, I leaned forward and took a bite from it. I could feel his fingertips freeze as they brushed against my lips.

“Tastes good.”

“……”

“It’d be rude to refuse food from my future husband, don’t you think?”

Friedrich just stared at me, dazed. I glanced down at the canapé still in my hand and asked,

“You’re not saying you want me to feed you, right?”

He flinched so hard his chair nearly tipped over as he shook his head.

Wow. He really hated that idea.

So I just popped the rest of my canapé into my own mouth.

“……Wait.”

Friedrich spoke up carefully.

“May I?”

I thought he meant he needed the restroom or something, so I nodded.

But instead, he reached out solemnly, brushed a finger lightly across the corner of my mouth, and pulled back.

Puzzled, I looked at him. He quickly lowered his gaze and murmured,

“There was a crumb.”

“Ah, thanks.”

“…You’re welcome.”

He really did act like a proper attendant. It was… actually kind of nice.

I kept that thought to myself and took another sip of red wine.

…But wait, I didn’t drink that much, did I?

“Ugh, my head…”

It felt like my skull was splitting when I woke up.

“Elsa, water. I need water…”

I reached out, groping blindly for a glass—but my hand brushed against something soft yet firm. Too solid for a cup…

‘Wait. Why does this feel familiar?’

I shot upright and looked down. Then slapped a hand over my mouth.

I was holding Friedrich’s chest.

And Friedrich, eyes wide and trembling, was staring back at me.

Why the hell was he in my bed?

“…Did Elsa bring you here again without asking?”

I asked cautiously, since I remembered absolutely nothing. Friedrich’s lashes trembled as he lowered his gaze and shook his head.

“Then don’t tell me I…”

“You came,” he said faintly, voice hollow.

“To my room. Yourself.”

I darted a look around.

Damn. None of this furniture was mine.

“…Sorry. I made that big promise and ended up making you miserable the very first night.”

I quickly apologized, watching his expression carefully.

“I… didn’t do anything stupid, did I? I honestly can’t remember.”

“…Not at all?”

“D-Did I do anything embarrassing to you, or something?”

A flood of worst-case scenarios filled my mind as I waited nervously.

Friedrich looked at me for a long moment before sighing and replying,

“You just slept. Next to me.”

“…Really?”

“I’ve no reason to lie, have I?”

“Fair enough. I believe you.”

I smiled awkwardly and reached out to pat his shoulder—only for him to flinch and pull away.

I awkwardly withdrew my hand.

“Anyway, sorry. I… I don’t usually get drunk like that.”

So much for having a high tolerance. I must’ve lost my alcohol resistance along with my magic.

‘People are going to think the former hard-drinking empress got tipsy after one glass…’

That might honestly be the biggest problem.

I apologized again and hurried out of the room.

“Ah!”

Elsa was standing right outside. I froze, then forced a nervous smile.

“Hi, Elsa.”

Without a word, she handed me a mug of honey water.

I downed it in one go. Then she said flatly,

“Last night, I failed as a lady-in-waiting.”

“Cough! Cough!”

I nearly choked on the honey water as she continued.

“To think I took your words so literally, and drove His Highness to such a performance.”

“Uh?”

“I’ll do better from now on—read the situation more wisely.”

I stared at her blankly. Then, like a wave, the memory hit me.

“Shall I summon Prince Friedrich, Your Highness?”

“Huh? No, no. It’s his bedtime.”

“It’s not even ten o’clock yet.”

“Kids need to sleep early if they want to grow tall.”

Oh, hell. I’d said that, hadn’t I—and then gone to his room myself.

“Forgive my impertinence, Your Highness,” Elsa said solemnly. “I forget, sometimes, that even someone as bold as you can feel embarrassment.”

“……Haha.”

I couldn’t deny it. Couldn’t even pretend it didn’t bother me.

I laughed weakly, dying inside, and dragged myself back to my room.

That’s it. No more drinking. Ever.
…Well, maybe just the occasional aperitif.

“Duke Rommel has requested to be your partner at tomorrow’s victory banquet,” Elsa announced while I was nursing my hangover with more water.

I frowned.

“There’s no way Duke Rommel doesn’t know about Friedrich, right?”

“Not a chance.”

“Then what’s that invitation supposed to mean?”

“Probably that he doesn’t believe you’d actually marry a prince from a defeated nation. Not when you’re poised to become the Empire’s first Empress.”

I sighed. “Tell him no.”

Then I sent word to Friedrich—asking if he’d join me for dinner that evening. I needed to apologize properly.

“Don’t feel pressured, though,” I’d added.

“Yes,” he’d said simply.

“…That means don’t take it too literally, okay?”

Still, better to let Elsa handle it than to go myself.

Thankfully, Friedrich accepted the invitation. I asked the kitchen for a magnificent dinner and dressed for the occasion—a crimson gown, the color of an apology.

But just before sunset, an unexpected guest arrived.

“Your Highness, Duke Rommel requests an audience.”

I scowled at the clock. Five o’clock—an hour before dinner.

Fine. Let’s end this cleanly. While he’s been hesitating, I’ve moved on.

When I entered the parlor, Joachim Rommel was sitting perfectly straight.

He stood immediately at the sound of my steps and bowed low.

“To the radiant star of Stade, the blessed one favored by the gods, Princess René.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to show up unannounced, Duke.”

I didn’t bother to hide my irritation as I sat. Only then did he rise from his bow.

“Forgive the intrusion. The victory banquet is tomorrow night, after all.”

“Which is why you already got my answer.”

I looked at him sharply.

“Or do you mean to ignore my wishes altogether?”

“Perish the thought.”

Joachim smiled mildly and shook his head.

“If Your Highness wishes to attend the banquet adorned with a fine accessory, I’d never presume to object.”

“Not an accessory,” I corrected him coolly.

“A husband. Duke Rommel.”

For the first time, the smile vanished from his lips.