Chapter 7

Things like the crushing helplessness that had overwhelmed her after being left alone.

Or the shock of realizing that she herself had been nothing more than a beautiful shell with nothing inside.

Everything she had thought belonged to her had turned out to be as insubstantial as sand.

And no matter how hard she struggled to change the situation, her own power had never been enough.

‘Not that I plan on drowning in self-pity, though!’

The past was the past.

Failure was failure.

That was all.

Everything was far too precious to waste time dwelling on old regrets.

Beatrice’s green eyes lingered briefly on the man sitting across from her.

More specifically, on the complicated emotions quietly stirring in his blue eyes.

Clicking her tongue, she lightly smacked his forehead with the back of her hand.

“Hey. My mother always says the most exciting victories are comeback victories. We can just start now. Why are you acting so serious? It’s not like you died once and came back to life.”

“…I guess that’s pretty much what happened.”

“Mm. The real question is how we build power. Actually, I’ve already thought of something.”

“You too?”

Ignoring Clyde’s comment completely, Beatrice rolled her eyes and looked directly at him.

Their gazes met.

Then, as if they had never been arguing moments ago, identical smiles spread across their faces.

It was the exact smile they used to wear as children whenever they were secretly plotting something behind their parents’ backs.

Convinced they were thinking the same thing, they spoke at the same time.

“We need to earn achievements and obtain a title as quickly as possible, right?”

“The answer is obviously building powerful allies, isn’t it?”

“…Huh?”

Silence filled the carriage.

The two blinked at each other.

Then, as though they had never been quiet at all, they immediately began mocking one another.

“What? Earn achievements and get a title? The only achievements a knight like you can earn are things like winning wars or heroically saving a region in crisis. You’re the guy who complains whenever training leaves a tiny scratch on his arm!”

“I’m the one who should be saying that, Bea. You want to gather supporters? You don’t even know when the social season starts and couldn’t care less what other people think.”

“Oh really? You know when the social season starts? Amazing. Kaelan doesn’t even know because he’s too busy training. Do you just have that much free time?”

“Wow, dragging family into this? Fine. Then maybe I should talk about your father for a while. About how impressive he is.”

Their childish argument rapidly descended to a level lower than two five-year-olds fighting.

The peak came moments later.

“Besides, what good is a title by itself? Our families didn’t fall because they lacked titles.”

“And you think simply gathering people is enough? Without a central figure? We call that a mob.”

Honestly, both of them knew this was basically a chicken-and-egg problem.

And they both knew the truth.

They needed to do both.

It was just that…

‘…We got carried away while making fun of each other.’

At this point, admitting the other person might have a point felt like a blow to their pride.

Still, they couldn’t keep going like this forever.

Beatrice cleared her throat and proposed a compromise.

“Fine! Then let’s test which idea is actually more effective. But since we’d probably both get stubborn if we did our own plans, we’ll switch.”

“Switch?”

“Yep. I’ll earn achievements and obtain a title. You go gather allies.”

“How did we suddenly arrive at that conclusion?”

“Why? Think you’re going to lose?”

“Me?”

Clyde brushed back his hair as though he had just heard the most ridiculous thing imaginable.

Then he casually nodded.

“Fine. Let’s do it. The loser becomes the winner’s servant for a week.”

“Deal.”

Beatrice accepted immediately.

Then she turned toward the window with a smug snort.

She was absolutely certain she wouldn’t lose.

There were generally three ways to obtain a title in the Empire.

The first was performing a universally recognized good deed, such as saving lives or improving laws and systems.

The second was earning military achievements, bringing glory to the Empire, or defending regions endangered by disasters, invasions, or conflicts.

And the third was creating something remarkable, such as a new invention or revolutionary theory.

Beatrice knew a way to accomplish two of those conditions at once.

‘If I can help Her Majesty establish magic within the official system, the inventions I created in my previous life should be more than enough to earn a title!’

Even if someone accused her of unfairly using knowledge from before her regression, she felt no guilt whatsoever.

‘The alchemy Father taught me is one of the few things I truly built with my own efforts. One of the few things I’m genuinely proud of.’

What she didn’t know was that Clyde was having similar thoughts beside her.

‘If I can save Marquis Downer before he becomes isolated this time, a lot of problems will solve themselves. Honestly, beating Beatrice is just a bonus.’

In their minds, both had already achieved complete victory.

As a result, their attitudes became noticeably more generous.

The thought of ordering the other person around for an entire week over trivial matters was surprisingly satisfying.

Humming quietly to herself while organizing her plans, Beatrice suddenly remembered something.

“Ah, right. Before any of that, there’s something we need to deal with first.”

“Ah… that.”

This time Clyde clearly knew exactly what she meant.

Nodding, he opened his mouth at the exact same moment she did.

“Valoa Edvain Crawford.”

“We need to get rid of Valoa! If nothing else works, tie her up somewhere.”

Finally!

Beatrice nodded vigorously.

“Valoa is… how do I put it? She’s a variable. Someone so impulsive that nobody knows what she’ll do next.”

“And today’s wedding made her even more dangerous.”

As long as they had no idea where or when she might appear to interfere with them, removing her from the board was the safest option.

“Hmm… maybe we should think about incidents she got involved in before?”

“No. We don’t need to.”

“Huh?”

“Valoa Edvain Crawford is violent, selfish, and reckless. But that’s exactly why she’s predictable.”

A person who acted entirely according to her emotions.

Touch those emotions, and her reactions became obvious.

That was exactly how Princess Elodie had manipulated her.

“So you’re saying we should set a trap and deliberately push her into doing something terrible?”

“Something like that. But we don’t even need to go that far. All we have to do is act disgustingly happy together in public. I have faith in Valoa.”

“…Faith?”

“Faith in her cruel nature. We just need to look happy together. She’ll destroy herself all on her own.”

His voice dripped with cold contempt.

Beatrice glanced sideways at him.

‘Come to think of it, he seemed genuinely hostile toward Valoa at the wedding.’

Had something happened between them in the previous timeline?

No matter how hard she thought about it, she couldn’t remember Valoa directly causing problems for her.

Unlike now, the Beatrice of the previous timeline hadn’t been a thorn in Valoa’s side.

Eventually she gave up trying to figure it out.

The easiest solution was simply asking.

“Clyde. What did Valoa do to you?”

“That’s random.”

“Not random at all. You look disgusted every time you see her. Like you’re looking at some horrible insect.”

Beatrice watched his blue eyes widen slightly before returning to normal.

“Look at that face. Something definitely happened. What was it? Did she tell you to become her husband if you wanted to live? Or maybe after the Dalton family fell, she treated you like a pet and told you that you were nothing?”

“…”

“Come on! What was it?!”

Even as she pressed him for answers, Clyde simply stared at her.

Then, without warning, he reached out and squished both of her cheeks.

Afterward, he flashed his usual shameless grin.

“Forget it. Kids don’t need to know.”

“…Kids… what?”

“If you’ve got time to worry about useless things, spend more time practicing instead, my Honey.”

His grin widened.

“Or maybe we should use this opportunity to practice kissing.”

“Ah.”

A familiar sense of dread washed over Beatrice.

It felt suspiciously similar to what had happened at the wedding.

Her face immediately twisted into a scowl.

Valoa could wait.

First, she needed to win the war against this idiot sitting in front of her.