MCFLS 19

Chapter 19

“Sir Cyril will be attending the debutante this time, won’t he?”
“I should think so. I hear he’s even being promoted to Captain.”
“It’s truly remarkable. For someone who was so sickly to have achieved such feats… And I’ve heard the Special Warfare Command is a unit nobles are reluctant to join. He must be very brave.”

Whether Adrienne took the words in one ear and let them out the other or not, Emma, who had been singing Cyril’s praises, cautiously added.
“Is there… no chance for you and Sir Cyril, Miss? Neither of you is betrothed yet.”
“I heard there was talk of an engagement with the Princess. It’s not certain, but that’s what everyone was saying.”
“That must be the Duke of Teslar making his unilateral decision again. Just like with the Marquis of Dalbre before…”

Emma, who had been chattering on about every little detail, belatedly stopped speaking and covered her mouth with her hand. It was because it was an unpleasant memory for Adrienne.
“It’s alright, Emma. You might be right.”
“I’m sorry, Miss. I was just hoping, just in case…”
“I know. Do you think I don’t understand your heart? But even if it weren’t true, nothing would happen between him and me.”

For Cyril to confess to Adrienne now, of all times?
She might as well expect the sun to rise in the west.

How many times had she been rejected? And in the end, Cyril had left Carcinel without a word.

She had definitely liked Cyril once. From a time before she even realized those feelings were ‘liking’ someone.

But that was already a past long gone. Adrienne had now resolved never to like Cyril again.

Cyril Valentin de Teslar.

The name of a first love and a friend who had arrived one day without warning and left just as abruptly one day.

Adrienne chewed on that name for a moment.

The name she had once lived and breathed now felt somewhat unfamiliar. A dry sigh seeped into the white pillowcase.

“It’s been a while since you returned, why are you only coming to see me now?”

It was the first time in three years that Cyril had stepped into the Crown Prince’s palace.

No sooner had he set foot inside than he was met with reproach, to which Cyril responded casually.
“You saw me at the triumphal ceremony.”
“Still so good at being heartless.”

The criticism lacked force thanks to the light tone. Smiling broadly as if he hadn’t been serious at all, Lionel welcomed Cyril with a light embrace.
“Should I call you Lord Teslar now?”
“Your Highness may address me as you please.”
“Oh, you won’t even let me joke.”

Lionel raised both hands as if in surrender and returned to his seat opposite.

Sitting down, Cyril quietly gazed at Lionel, who was two years his senior but remained the Crown Prince at twenty-one.

Lionel truly possessed features befitting the title of Crown Prince. His brilliant golden hair and green eyes, close to a light jade, were particularly striking.

‘…Exactly what Adrienne used to dream of.’

The sudden thought made Cyril slowly close and open his eyes. Of course, Lionel was still there before him.

In the many fairy tales he had read to Adrienne in their childhood, the prince always looked just like that.

Adrienne liked the prince so much that she would constantly pester him to play pretend.

Once, annoyed by her obsession with princes, he had acted out.

He said, where in this world is there a prince with black hair? So he couldn’t be a prince or anything like that. He wouldn’t play anymore.

Then, Adrienne, looking shocked, opened her eyes wide and asked,

‘There aren’t any princesses with red hair either… Then, can’t I be a princess?’

Amazingly, tears had welled up in the eyes of the child who would laugh even when she fell and scraped her knees.

So, what could he possibly say to that?

‘……I guess there might be somewhere. Just do it.’

That was all he could say.

Then Adrienne would laugh happily again.

What followed was always the same. He’d be held captive until they saw the ending—’And the prince and princess who became husband and wife lived happily ever after’—and only then would the day’s play finally come to a close.

Why did that fool love such a ridiculously childish game so much? What was so great about a prince, anyway?
“Cyril, if you stare at me like that, I’m starting to feel a bit shy.”
“The more I look, the more you seem exactly like a Crown Prince, Your Highness.”

Emerging from his reverie, Cyril retorted petulantly, with a hint of spite. It wasn’t a very loyal tone to use with the future Emperor, but Lionel just smiled.

The Crown Prince had always been mature, then and now.

So much so that it made his own past resolve to see what was so great about him that Adrienne fell for him at first sight seem pointless.

‘Useless thoughts.’

Feeling momentarily drained, Cyril gave a light shake of his head.

This was all that subordinate’s fault for needlessly stirring up old memories.

Why bring up Adrienne? What did it matter to him who she liked or didn’t like…?

“It seems this year we’ll be able to enjoy the flower viewing.”

Cyril, having personally added to the training schedule of his meddlesome subordinate, turned his gaze to the window.

The sunlight filtering through the wide window shone impartially on the garden beyond.

Flowers flaunting their vivid colors stood out against the green leaves, each showing its presence with its own hue.
“Flowers bloom every year. Why make a point of it?”
“Just because they bloom every year doesn’t mean they’re the same each time.”

Cyril remained unmoved by the sentimental remark.

It was hard to resonate with talk of flowers when discussing someone who, until recently, had been rolling around on battlefields.

‘Guns, you can tell apart with your eyes closed, but flowers…’

Cyril, who had been thinking of common types like roses, paused.

The yellow flower that had decorated his windowsill for so long flickered in his mind.

It was only natural that the face of the girl who had brightly smiled while holding out an armful of a bouquet followed.

‘That bastard Marcel, anyway…’

Once again, the arrow of blame returned to his subordinate.

The experience of having the past, buried away in the recesses of memory, constantly dug up was not at all pleasant.
“Fine, let’s say you have no interest in those flowers. What about other flowers? They’ll be in full bloom soon.”
“A flower is a flower. What’s the point of distinguishing between this one and that one…”

Cyril, answering without much thought, stopped short. He had caught a different meaning from Lionel’s beaming face.

Frowning slightly as if to say, ‘What nonsense,’ Cyril rested one arm obliquely on the armrest of his chair.
“If you’re talking about the debutante, I have no interest whatsoever. I’ll attend since His Majesty commanded it, but that’s all.”
“The young lady of Carcinel has come a long way, and you say you have no interest?”
“Why is Adrienne coming up?”

His brow, which had been smooth and indifferent just moments before as if it had nothing to do with him, now creased.

Lionel watched him quietly for a moment before giving a light shrug.
“You know, you react particularly sensitively whenever Carcinel is mentioned? It’s a place you lived in your childhood, it’s natural I might ask.”
“I’ve never done that.”
“That’s quite different from my memory.”

Chuckling as he looked at his friend’s irritated, contorted face, Lionel waited until the frown on Cyril’s forehead deepened further before reining in his smile and speaking.
“Very well. But if it’s just a banquet you’re attending by Father’s command, how about granting me one request?”
“What request?”
“Ask Desirée for a dance. She’s been confined to her sickbed, so she must be terribly bored.”

Lionel’s face darkened slightly as he mentioned his sister.

Cyril recalled Princess Desirée, who had lived with a constant cough during the time he stayed by Lionel’s side.
“She says she wants to attend the debutante too, but where has that girl ever been? She officially comes of age next year, but it seems she wants to experience it early. As her older brother, it’s hard to refuse her request.”
“What’s the big deal about a dance that you have to make it a request?”
“Thank you for agreeing.”
“I was just planning to make an appearance and leave anyway. Dancing once won’t change that.”

Thinking it of little consequence, Cyril nodded. One dance wouldn’t even take five minutes, so it wasn’t an unreasonable request.

‘When was the last time I danced…?’

After a brief moment of thought, vivid remnants of the past unfolded before Cyril’s eyes.

The image of two people aligning their steps under the watchful eye of a strict etiquette teacher.

The girl who would make mistake after mistake yet brazenly continue dancing, and the boy who would lead as if nothing was wrong even when his feet were stepped on…

‘It’s frightening what memories come back these days.’

Lately, whatever he thought of, from one thing to the next, they were all memories with Adrienne. Even though he had only encountered her once since returning from the battlefield.

Feeling too embarrassed to blame Marcel any further, Cyril swallowed a sigh. Lionel’s gaze lingered briefly on his lowered head.

The Carcinel mansion, located on the outskirts of the capital Luthère, was quite modest for that of a great noble.

To begin with, the architectural style itself, with a narrow, shallow moat surrounding the mansion, was a fashion that had passed long ago.

And it wasn’t just a matter of style. The mansion was situated in an unusually low-lying area, possessing the geographical weakness of being easily flooded with just a little too much rain.

However, considering the sky-rocketing land prices in the capital over the past decade, that much was a minor issue.

If it hadn’t been for Reed’s stubbornness, a trait seen only once every few years, even this flawed mansion wouldn’t have remained in Carcinel’s possession.

If they had been just a little later, the price would have at least doubled.

Adrienne marveled anew at the twins’ foresight.

In Adrienne’s eyes, while Reed might lack talent in martial arts, his ability to read the trends of the world surpassed anyone else in the family.
“Adriana!”
“Reed, why are you running like that?”

Just as she heard a clattering noise from somewhere, Reed, his face flushed red, burst into the room.