Unable to contain his curiosity, the foreign minister inquired, but Balquiter waved it off.
“I need to check something personally. I’ll be back shortly. Please continue to entertain the envoys.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Leaving the banqueting hall with a grave expression, Balquiter muttered, “Finally, news from Lowen. I can’t ignore it.”
His curiosity about Kain’s affairs superseded the importance of entertaining foreign dignitaries.
Alone, Balquiter’s stern expression transformed into a playful grin.
Reaching his office, a black envelope awaited on his desk – a regular update from Lowen.
Balquiter slouched in his chair, slicing open the envelope with a letter opener. He eagerly pulled out the contents.
Laughing out loud, he remarked, “Ah, what a spectacle. The duke’s daughter crippled in an accident.”
Balquiter had hoped for Kain to endure a terrible and ruined marriage.
This turn of events was a bonus.
Kain, outwardly aggressive and impulsive, was actually highly strategic and principled. His inflexibility often went unnoticed because he rarely failed.
Frustratingly, it seemed he was born under the blessing of victory and success.
Balquiter, who resented Kain, had longed to cause him pain. The unexpected marriage and now the bride’s crippling were perfect for tormenting Kain, a perfectionist, into a pit of misery.
“It won’t be long before he kills her with his own hands, right?”
It was a logical suspicion.
Kain, superior and demanding perfection, despised imperfections in his surroundings.
“You need to have the best and perfect things by your side to feel at ease.”
However, for Balquiter, the crown prince who rightfully deserved the best of the kingdom, Kain securing or obtaining excellent things felt like they were stolen from him.
His possessiveness was intense, never yielding even when asked to lend or transfer something to him.
He blamed their mothers for this. Even though they were distant cousins, they should have been clear about their lord-vassal relationship.
Raised like brothers of the same age, Kain’s allegiance to Balquiter was different from that of a servant devoted to their master.
“I wonder what Duke Vermonte is up to.”
It was Balquiter who leaked the information to Duke Vermonte about Kain preparing for a territorial war.
Despite their cousinship, would the pillar supporting the kingdom crumble? With the king’s command to reconcile through marriage, Duke Vermonte’s eyes flickered with the desire to take Temne’s life right away.
Vermonte, weakened by a long drought, lacked the strength to strike Temne.
The wealth accumulated from northern mines spent on mercenaries would eventually flow back to Balquiter through the Mercenary Guild.
If Vermonte failed to attack Temne and got exterminated, Balquiter could seize the long-coveted northern trade port of Valmond for the kingdom.
If Temne loses and Kain falls to Duke Vermonte, that would be favorable in its own way.
“Is a fight without loss a real fight? How boring.”
Being a spectator had its limits.
“It’s only visible from above.”
He burned the letter, summoning Marquis Mackie to his office.
“Prepare for a visit to Lowen next month.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Balquiter returned to the hall where the envoys awaited him, a satisfied look on his face.
Clodelle spent her days more peacefully than expected.
Kain visited her occasionally, but never with the same anger or harsh words as before.
Even that felt like the calm before the storm.
Facing death was tremendous.
It stripped her of fear.
“Could I ask for a change in my burial spot?”
One day, upon seeing Kain, she asked, and he frowned immediately.
“I think it would be better for the new duchess to be buried in that spot.”
“You seemed to like that tombstone quite a bit.”
His response was sarcastic but earnest.
“You can’t have everything you like.”
Clodelle felt free to say anything to Kain now.
With no more secrets, she was liberated to speak freely.
Gone was the caution and fear of being discovered. She found herself incessantly talking to him.
Partly, she feared he might suddenly send her to a convent or hospital.
On the other hand, having someone know of her impending death made her want to unburden herself of things she had suppressed.
“There. Where the white flowers bloom. Under the tree. It would be nice to be buried there.”
At that, Kain, unable to contain himself, stood up and yelled.
“You talk about dying so easily. Do you think I, Kain of Temne, can’t even find a simple cure?”
Clodelle’s eyes widened.
“A cure?”
Male lead reborn without memories — but he still falls for her.
The person he finds displeasing in this life turns out to be his cherished wife-master in previous life…
Xie Zhi and Fang Xianxing who had known each other for less than three days through a blind date sat in the same car in front of the civil affairs bureau. They had a disagreement and failed to get married.
Xie Zhi immediately took out his phone, slid through his contacts, and randomly selected the next marriage candidate.
The woman snatched his phone and hung up. Looking at his phone wallpaper, she awkwardly changed the subject: “An ancient painting, eh? It looks pretty good, it’s just that the person in the painting looks a bit like me.”
When he heard this, he sarcastically mocked her for being so delusional, completely unaware that, the person in front of him was the reincarnation of Wen Ru, the famous prime minister of Yuan Shun whom he most admired…
The female CEO who doesn’t want to get married with a divorce agreement in hand × The male archaeological researcher who will only get married if he’s sure he can get divorced
