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Chapter 65
Not only was the Crown Prince’s lukewarm attitude puzzling, but the fact that the men who dated Merina didn’t seem to mind being involved with other women—it was strange.
Because of the nature of this story, Merina naturally drew the attention of many men. It was as natural as breathing.
She met them as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world, and the men who went out with her at night inevitably fell under her spell.
Her influence over men was practically absolute.
Yet now—she hadn’t even become particularly close to one, and when they grew distant, that influence seemed to fade?
It was the first time I’d ever seen such a thing, so I decided to watch the situation carefully before making any judgments.
Unlike Violet’s engagement, the Vietta and Gerden families made theirs a grand affair, inviting even Stella and Pony.
At first they’d said it would be a small ceremony, but in the end, after one thing and another, it turned into quite the spectacle.
After Vietta’s engagement ended, Stella and Pony naturally followed me back to my house.
Once we settled in the sitting room, I told a maid to prepare something light to eat.
“I never thought Lord Gerden would change that much,” Stella said, lounging on the sofa with the sunlight streaming through the curtains at her back.
“Me neither. I thought he was just Merina Ickel’s lapdog—but I guess not?”
The same Lord Gerden who seemed ready to die for Merina now looked perfectly content to be engaged to Vietta.
Even though Vietta was from a modest baron’s family, it was actually the Gerden Count who had to pay a dowry to bring her in.
“Guess he really enjoyed his time with her,” Pony said cheerfully.
At that, Stella burst out laughing, clutching her stomach.
“That must be it! What else could explain it? Otherwise, why would Roy Gerden insist on marrying Lady Vietta?”
Roy Gerden, the protagonist of this scandal, was the heir to a countship. The Count of Gerden had tried to smooth things over by paying off the baron’s family.
But then Roy himself had declared he wanted to marry Vietta.
“Lady Vietta isn’t exactly what you’d call a popular lady, so that’s saying something,” Pony said confidently, picking up a macaron.
“Pony, don’t feed sweets to Rees,” I warned.
Pony, who had been completely enamored with Rees lately, stopped mid-motion as the little creature wagged its tail.
“Sorry, Rees. If I give you this, Roa will scold me.”
Rees turned away dismissively, and Pony looked wounded, popping the macaron into her mouth in one go.
Her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk’s.
“Anyway, am I really the only one who applied to be Crown Princess?”
“Good luck, my friend!” Stella laughed, plucking grapes one by one and feeding them to Rees.
“Really? I’m the only one who applied for that dreadful—no, that magnificent position? I mean, my father forced me to apply, but still.”
“Then it’s your choice whether you quit, isn’t it?”
“Well, that’s true.”
Of course—Pony was planning to “accidentally” fail the selection again.
Silently, I cheered for her decision.
* * *
Even as the deadline for Crown Princess applications drew near, the House of Revián still hadn’t submitted anything.
The Emperor, upon confirming this, summoned the Crown Prince.
“Jacques, you insolent boy.”
His father’s voice was filled with irritation. Jacques blinked, confused for a moment—
Then came the reprimand.
“What on earth did you do when you went to apologize to Lady Revián?”
Jacques’s mind went blank.
“All the high-ranking noble families have withdrawn from the selection. Fine, the eldest daughter of the Maritny family is engaged to a duke’s second son, and the younger one’s too young—that’s understandable. But Revián?”
The Emperor slammed his fist on the solid wooden desk.
“For the sake of the royal family’s dignity, I personally asked the Marquess of Revián for his daughter’s consideration. And do you know what he said in return?”
Jacques shut his eyes tightly, already knowing what was coming.
“You shot arrows and called her a beast? Are you out of your mind?”
There was nothing he could say in his defense.
Even he couldn’t understand why he’d done it.
At the embassy’s party, at the hunting tournament—whenever he saw Rosia, anger would rise in him out of nowhere. She hadn’t even done anything wrong.
“I met Lady Revián myself,” the Emperor went on. “I couldn’t stand watching you drool over Merina, so I took it upon myself to find you a proper match.”
Jacques didn’t even dare ask when.
“She has impeccable manners, remained perfectly calm even before me, and even tried to cover up your wrongdoing so the Imperial Family wouldn’t be disgraced.”
The Emperor’s voice softened—just slightly.
“She’s even beautiful, you fool.”
At that, Jacques suddenly remembered Rosia Revián’s crimson eyes—eyes that had once glowed with life but lately had become empty, resigned.
Was it because he’d tormented her so much?
“To think you let a perfect girl like that slip away! I don’t care if she’s rumored to meet the Archmage—she’s not engaged to him. I was planning to bring her into the Imperial Family somehow, but you ruined it!”
The Emperor pounded the desk again, so hard the ink bottle rattled.
“Now we have no candidates left in the kingdom or the duchy, so we must find your bride from within the Empire. At best, there are only a few count families left—rich, yes, but lacking in pedigree!”
The Emperor sighed deeply.
His son had no maternal relatives to draw political strength from, and he’d been trying to make up for it by finding a good match.
But his son had dug his own grave.
The Emperor couldn’t stop thinking what a loss Rosia Revián was—the illustrious family, the wealth, the influence, and the girl herself.
The Marquess had even considered naming her heir. So what if it were a daughter instead of a son?
“I’ll… I’ll go and apologize to Lady Revián,” Jacques said quietly.
“You’re not going to make another scene, are you?”
“No, Father. This time, I’ll truly apologize—sincerely.”
Hearing his son’s subdued tone, the Emperor’s anger eased somewhat. The boy, though bright, was still immature in certain ways. Perhaps he’d gone too far in his scolding.
“All right. Lady Revián seems to have a generous heart. If you convey your sincerity properly, things might turn out well.”
“Yes, Father.”
“And don’t bring up that Archmage business. The Marquess of Revián is strict; nothing improper could have happened between them.”
“So you seduced the Archmage once and made all eyes turn to you, but what—did he abandon you this time?”
“Of course. It’s always the lady who’s thrown away in the end.”
Jacques bit his tongue, remembering the cruel gossip from that day at the embassy.
“…Understood,” he muttered.
What had he been thinking back then, saying such vile things? He really must have been out of his mind.
Leaving the Royal Palace’s inner chambers, he headed toward the stables—but stopped short. He suddenly remembered the Marquess of Revián’s wife and the cold, disapproving look she’d given him.
“Right. It would be rude to just barge in.”
Returning to the Crown Prince’s quarters, he took out a sheet of fine paper and carefully wrote, letter by letter, requesting permission to visit the Revián estate soon.
* * *
I let out a long sigh as I read the name of the sender written on the luxurious stationery.
“As expected, I really am a pitiful villainess.”
“Pardon, my lady? Do you need something?”
“No, Cassie. But I do need to write a reply—bring me a suitable sheet of paper.”
“Shall I fetch one of those floral-patterned papers that are all the rage these days?”
Cassie didn’t know, but her innocent suggestion made me shudder.
“What are you saying, Cassie? The sender is His Highness the Crown Prince.”
Cassie’s face twisted in disgust, and her hands trembled as she placed the finest, stiffest paper on the table before me.
“That man doesn’t even deserve paper, my lady. No, he’s not even a man—why is he coming here? If that beast dares to hurt you again, I’ll—”
“Cassie? What was that?”
“Nothing! The finest paper, right here!”
I could’ve sworn I heard her muttering darkly just before that…
The Crown Prince’s letter expressed his wish to visit the Revián estate.
If it were up to me, I would have refused outright—but I didn’t have that choice.
So I wrote back:
“Please act according to Your Highness’s wishes.”
