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Chapter 13
Clyde hesitated, reluctant to let go.
It was strange—back at the shooting range earlier, he hadn’t sensed this scent at all, yet now it was unmistakable.
The distance to the bed was far too short. After only a few steps, it was already time to set her down.
Her platinum eyelashes lay still, not fluttering even once. If she were awake, then her acting would have been superb. Her body, slack and fully cradled in his arms, showed nothing but the signs of deep sleep.
I worked her too hard today. I should let her rest.
As he secretly breathed in Edith’s scent, Clyde felt himself growing faintly intoxicated.
The fact that his thoughts were drifting this way proved it.
I should put her down…
Tormenting someone you cared for was something only children did. He’d already crossed that line more times than he cared to admit, to the point where she was clearly starting to dislike him. He had planned to treat her better from now on—so it wouldn’t do to mess things up again here.
Clyde stood blankly at the edge of the bed, unable to move one way or the other, lost in thought for a long while.
There’s a scene commonly known as the so-called “morning chirp.”
When two protagonists spend a night together filled with R-rated beep— activities and an explosion of bare skin, it’s impossible to describe it all outright. So authors simply delete it wholesale.
Unfortunately, editing out the time spent “building the Great Wall” is unavoidable due to content regulations. The hot night is left to the imagination, and the story skips ahead.
But Edith’s morning was a little different.
Beyond the curtains her hazy gaze landed on, she heard birds chirping cheerfully. That, right there, was the morning chirp.
The absurdly plush cushioning of the mattress enveloping her body, and the soft texture of the blanket embroidered with gold and silver thread, told her immediately that this was not her bedroom.
Edith had the bad habit of sleeping face-down. Thanks to the pillow stuffed full of feathers, she peeked around with only one eye open.
This didn’t feel right.
Why did it feel like something had happened last night—when nothing should have?
That was the difference between a typical morning chirp and Edith’s. Other couples skipped the night where everything happened; Edith, despite sleeping soundly, felt as though something important had been completely cut out.
She was fully dressed. She didn’t even need to lift the blanket—just shifting slightly told her that much.
So Clyde really did put me to bed here.
In her mind, when she thought of the crown prince, she called him that bastard or that jerk.
Groggy, she rolled over as the last traces of sleep faded.
He’s a pervert, personality-wise. Working me to the bone all day, then pulling something like this…
The moment she turned her face the other way, the very person she’d been silently cursing was right there.
“Eek!”
She’d let her guard down and paid the price. The tyrannical superior, Clyde, was opening his eyes faintly right in front of her.
He’d said they’d sleep separately—what a liar. A total scam artist.
His black hair was tousled messily, floating up at the crown with stray strands falling over his forehead. Because the back was neatly trimmed, his ears and neckline looked almost boyish.
If I prefer this ruined, beast-like hair over his usual neat style… does that make me the pervert?
Clyde, now lying on his side facing her, blinked slowly.
“Did you sleep well?”
She’d slept so deeply it felt like teleporting from the desk to the bed, so she nodded.
His long fingers crossed her face and pressed lightly between her brows—by now, a familiar touch.
“You should smooth out this wrinkle.”
As if a woman her age would have wrinkles. Clyde was just picking at her for no reason.
Still, it was true she’d been frowning.
An unexpectedly refreshing morning.
A medieval-film-worthy bedroom.
A good-morning greeting from a devastatingly attractive man.
If she had to describe it, the embarrassment swelling in her chest outweighed the flutter in her throat. As reality sank in, Edith’s complexion shifted from red to pale.
“I said I was going home. You can’t just keep someone late like that again.”
No matter how handsome his relaxed morning face looked, she couldn’t let herself be swayed. Even when his fingers tickled down the bridge of her nose, she couldn’t give in.
Get it together, Edith. I’m not Adrian, the main bottom, and I have no intention of changing the original story to become the protagonist.
To make matters worse, Clyde’s just-woken voice was slightly hoarse.
Dangerously sexy.
“I’ll apologize for that. But you could just let go, Edith.”
If he was going to encourage her to let go of a heart she was already struggling to restrain, that was unfair.
“Let go of what?”
“Stay in the palace. I’ll reduce your workload.”
It was tempting. Anyone would welcome fewer duties.
Edith’s sulky cheeks relaxed slightly. She paused to think. If she lived in the palace, what would really change? Her mind spun as she weighed the pros and cons.
“You mean switching me to a resident palace attendant, in exchange for lighter duties?”
“Exactly. I’ll make sure you’re assigned a good room.”
That part, at least, was worth expecting. Those who served the crown prince directly were treated well.
“Hmmm… I’ll think about it.”
Either sleep comfortably at home with your legs stretched out, or live in a better environment while being on call 24/7.
Though he asked as if it were a favor, if a formal order came down, a subordinate would have no choice. Truthfully, there wasn’t much to consider. Still, Edith’s home situation was a mess lately, and abandoning her father and household to move into the palace didn’t sit right.
Clyde seemed to enjoy teasing her. His finger traced up and down her nose, making it unbearably ticklish.
She turned her head, but he followed relentlessly, poking the small dimple at the corner of her mouth.
“Could you move your hand?”
His elegant fingers waved before her eyes.
“I want to touch you a bit more. You’re so springy—like freshly baked bread.”
In his hands, Edith felt like a doll. If she let this continue, he might cuddle her like a bedtime plushie and roll around with her.
It was overwhelming. She grabbed his hand and shoved it away.
And then—despite swallowing the words again and again—she finally said it.
“Your Highness… why are you doing this to me?”
What she really wanted to ask was what kind of grudge he had against her to torment her like this.
His constant touching pointed to only one possible explanation, so she went all in.
“…Do you like me?”
“Yes.”
“…?”
“Yes.”
Edith stared at him, mouth hanging open, blinking like a stunned fish.
Answering so plainly to a question thrown out in frustration—impossible.
If she hadn’t noticed anything at all, she’d be an idiot. Still, it felt less like romantic interest and more like mischief.
And wasn’t he the crown prince? An adult? Why did he act like this? What kind of elementary-schooler expressed affection by burying someone in paperwork?
Nothing about the situation made sense. Clyde was serious when it came to work, persuasive when expressing his views. The late-night report demand had been infuriating—but she’d never imagined it was just to get her into his bed. That would’ve been childish!
Yet after bringing things this far, Clyde smiled calmly.
“If you react that strongly, it kind of hurts my feelings.”
His lips curved into a sexy smile on a face that clearly hadn’t been hurt at all.
The glossy sheen of his lips, and the glimpse of a moist tongue between them, was proof enough that the original novel was R-rated.
Because he was undeniably attractive, Edith couldn’t bring herself to snap at him.
“But you’re an alpha. A dominant alpha, at that.”
He nodded in response.
“Aren’t omegas more comfortable? People say they’re much more attractive.”
“That’s true. You can’t ignore the power of pheromones.”
It was natural for alphas to prefer omegas. Omegas, born with pheromones that instinctively attracted alphas, were far more alluring than scentless betas.
Edith prodded him further, drawing on her knowledge of the original story.
“Besides, you rarely keep women around you. I assumed you preferred male omegas.”
Clyde paused briefly.
“Now that you mention it, most of those close to me do happen to be men. Though overall, the staff gender ratio is balanced.”
“So… men are better?”
She nudged him deliberately toward a BL interpretation.
Clyde studied her quietly, as if he’d never considered it before.
“In the current situation, I suppose so.”
Edith cheered inwardly. The plot felt like it was accelerating. If Clyde acknowledged his inclination, bringing him together with Adrian would be much easier.
But wait—what was this? He’d just said he liked her, and now he was saying he liked omegas? He was all over the place.
As she cautiously watched him, Clyde caught her hand mid-motion and slid it gently closer.
The sensation of their palms overlapping was strangely intimate.
“I’m not trying to toy with your feelings,” he said softly. “But there are many kinds of liking.”
“….”
“Relax, Edith. I’m not asking you to become the crown princess out of nowhere. That’s not the kind of ‘liking’ this is, right?”
She had to carefully manage her expression so her relief wouldn’t show too clearly.
If she had to guess, she was probably just a favored attendant to him—maybe someone he wanted to keep close as a trusted aide.
That was a relief.
He didn’t seem intent on crossing the line, either.
“Of course. I’m just a servant. And Your Highness will soon welcome a crown princess who’ll become your strongest supporter.”
Edith replied smoothly.
Still, her chest felt oddly tight. Not because she’d developed special feelings—but because the situation itself felt uncomfortable.
Enough. Don’t overthink it.
After all, I’ve never liked anyone enough to change my life plan for them.
As he pulled the bedside cord to summon attendants, Edith stood up and shook out her hair.
She failed to notice that she’d overlooked something important—his words had included the condition “for now.”
Because it was phrased casually, she’d let it pass. Whether it referred simply to ordinary human relationships, or hinted at Clyde’s hidden intentions, Edith didn’t think deeply about it.
The day after her not-quite-an-overnight stay, she managed to leave work on time.
Additional renovations were underway in both the bedroom and the antechamber, though she didn’t know what was being installed yet. With everything in disarray, she took the opportunity to head home early.
Her father was home—rarely seen.
The third Duke of Fedleton, head of the Ketsmoris family.
She wondered if he’d skipped the gambling house for once. Was he short on funds? He’d accumulated so much debt that even borrowing had become difficult.
Whenever she did see the duke at home, he was either drunk or suffering from a hangover. This time, too, he was pressing his temples, clearly unwell.
Edith wanted nothing to do with him—ideally, she’d cut ties altogether. But having lived in this world for years after transmigrating, she’d continued following the original owner’s habits. Not knowing when she might return to the real world, she addressed him as her father, as she always had.
“It’s been a while, Father.”
“Mm… Edith…”
His appearance was a mess, but he didn’t seem drunk.
When sober, the Duke of Fedleton was always wracked with guilt. Facing Edith, his timid nature showed clearly—he couldn’t even meet her eyes.
The problem was that after digging himself into remorse, he’d soon run off again to gamble for days.
“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about. Could you spare me a moment?”
“W-What is it? Is it… important?”
The duke fidgeted nervously even before she began.
