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Chapter 38
Vincent’s words left Zeiss more flustered than expected.
“There’s no need to take things that far, is there?
After all, she is your fiancée, and Lady Wentworth is still…”
Zeiss trailed off as he glanced through the glass window toward Amelia.
“And Lady Wentworth is what?”
When Vincent pressed him, Zeiss hurriedly waved his hand.
He had nearly said the empire’s greatest beauty, but realised this was hardly the right moment for it.
“No, nothing at all.
It’s just… when a man and a woman in the prime of their youth live under the same roof, feelings can naturally develop.”
“That will never happen.”
At Vincent’s cold response, Zeiss promptly dropped the subject.
Regretting that he had brought it up at all, he shifted awkwardly before deciding to change the topic.
Work was always the easiest way to break uncomfortable tension.
“That request you made to my father earlier—I think he’ll accept it readily, so there’s no need to worry.”
“The House of Royce has long been loyal to the crown. I have no reason to doubt them.”
“That’s true enough. Though the Wentworths were once the same.”
Zeiss spoke with a trace of regret, but Vincent replied indifferently.
“The Wentworths betrayed us over a century ago.”
The Royce and Wentworth families had both once stood beside the Fitzroy imperial line as founding pillars of the Arthurian Empire.
But after the empire stabilised, the Wentworths gradually turned their attention toward their own interests. Time and again they clashed with the imperial family, eventually becoming the symbolic leaders of the noble faction.
The third ducal house, the Priums, was different altogether.
The Prium family had originally been chieftains of a northern tribal territory. When their lands and people were incorporated into the empire, the imperial family had granted them a dukedom.
Because their territory lay far from the imperial capital and possessed a distinct culture of its own, they lived largely separate from central politics.
The crown, in turn, permitted them broad autonomy while maintaining only minimal communication and support.
Put kindly, it was respect.
Put harshly, it was neglect.
“By the way, Your Highness, how exactly did you win over the Wentworth Duke’s man? What was his name again?”
“Stefan.”
“Right, Stefan. He was the one handling the Duke’s external affairs, wasn’t he?”
“That’s correct. But his relationship with the Duke was never built on loyalty.”
“Then what was it built on?”
“Profit.”
“Ah. Still, the Duke must have invested a great deal into this matter. Stefan played a major role.”
“Yes. Which is why I had to promise him something the Duke could never provide.”
Something the Duke of Wentworth could not offer, but the Crown Prince could.
What could that possibly be?
Zeiss rolled his eyes thoughtfully before eventually giving up and staring at Vincent instead.
“I promised him a barony. Non-hereditary, but still a noble title.”
“Oh. Yes, that would certainly tempt him.”
Vincent himself could not bestow an official hereditary peerage—that authority belonged solely to the Emperor—but both the Empress and the Crown Prince possessed the authority to grant baronies.
Though such titles carried neither land nor inheritance rights, they were still recognised as noble ranks within the empire.
And even that much could completely change a person’s life.
A noble could freely utilise banks.
Their children could attend the Academy.
Launching businesses became far easier.
Compared to commoners, it was an overwhelming advantage.
“Still, you’ll need justification, won’t you? You can’t just hand out a title for no reason.”
“Justification can always be created. I’ll simply say he saved me in the street or something similar.”
Would an ordinary shop clerk ever realistically have the opportunity to rescue the Crown Prince in broad daylight?
Probably not.
But if the Crown Prince declared it to be true, who would dare dispute him?
“Then once the time comes, the Duke will finally realise what happened. That’ll be quite a sight.”
“Indeed.”
The Duke’s meticulously laid plans would crumble apart, along with the reputation he had spent decades building.
Vincent’s gaze drifted once more toward Amelia, still unconscious.
His lips tightened faintly.
And that is precisely why I can never be with Amelia Wentworth.
Even setting aside revenge for the death of his previous life, the conclusion remained unchanged.
Even without that history, he never could have accepted her.
Vincent and Zeiss remained out on the terrace for quite some time afterward, speaking idly about one matter after another.
“…”
Apparently, neither of them realised it.
The terrace windows were not soundproof at all.
Which meant I had heard every single word from beginning to end.
For me, learning about their future plans—and how much had already been set into motion—was undeniably valuable.
Even if I knew the rough outline of events, it was never easy to determine exactly how far the Crown Prince had progressed.
I tried to organise my thoughts, but one sentence from earlier kept piercing through my concentration.
If I truly loved a woman like that, I would be insane. And a madman cannot inherit the throne, so I would rather surrender my position as Crown Prince.
Sharp.
I had already known that truth, yet hearing it spoken so plainly…
Should I call it a blessing?
Yes, I already knew.
His smiles and kindness had all been an act.
And yet, despite knowing that, a small part of me still ached upon hearing it aloud.
What is this?
Have I already grown attached?
Or… had I been hoping?
When he saved me in the garden maze, perhaps I had hoped.
Hoped that he had recognised I was no longer the same Amelia.
Hoped that perhaps he had finally discarded his hatred for her.
Even if his smiles and warmth were fabricated, yesterday’s events alone had been enough to deceive me.
But now I knew better.
And still, those words refused to leave me.
They circled endlessly within my chest, clawing painfully at my heart.
Heat rose through my body once more.
A throbbing pain pressed behind my eyes, and the world tilted unsteadily.
I closed my eyes as drowsiness overtook me again.
I needed sleep.
As consciousness faded, I vaguely heard Dr. Resa explaining something about medicine to someone nearby.
My body was lifted slightly and tilted back.
Then bitter liquid slid into my mouth.
At least it’s probably not poison, I thought vaguely as I swallowed.
Afterward, I was gently laid back onto the bed.
My eyelids felt far too heavy to open.
A cool hand brushed against my forehead.
It felt pleasant.
And vaguely, I wondered whose hand it was.
Dr. Resa’s?
No… for a physician, the hand felt too large.
The medicine must have contained sleeping herbs, because I quickly sank into deeper slumber.
So this is the same man who just called her repulsive?
From a distance, Zeiss watched Vincent with an incredulous smile tugging at his lips.
Only moments earlier, they had still been chatting casually when Vincent abruptly stopped mid-conversation and headed back inside.
Zeiss had soon realised why.
Dr. Resa had arrived with the medicine.
And what did that have to do with him?
Surely the doctor could handle everything perfectly well.
Yet Vincent had questioned him thoroughly about every ingredient.
He personally supported Amelia so she could drink the medicine more comfortably.
And after it was done, he carefully laid her back down before brushing her forehead with his hand, gazing at her for an absurdly long time.
With eyes unbearably gentle.
He said he’d rather give up the throne than love her? At this rate, Prince Noel may truly become Crown Prince instead.
Zeiss nearly felt tempted to shove a mirror in front of Vincent’s face.
Because what he was witnessing now was not an act.
Anyone could see it.
That was the expression of a man hopelessly in love.
Shaking his head, Zeiss quietly slipped outside.
Before leaving entirely, he glanced back once more and let out a low whistle.
“Lucky bastard.”
