34. Are You Worried?

2023.11.03.

Regina asked without taking her eyes off the box, her face flushed red.

The small man once again pulled out a golden envelope from his coat instead of explaining. A purple wax seal bore the royal family’s symbol—the wolf. The eyes of the count and countess widened instantly.

Regina snatched the envelope and opened it.

The short letter clearly began like this:

“Oh my goodness! Darling, did I ever tell you? The First Prince kept looking at our Regina throughout that party!”

As soon as the small man delivered the letter and disappeared, Priscilla let out a shriek of joy.

Regina, heart swelling, read and reread the letter. It was an invitation to attend a private theatrical performance soon, extended specifically to Regina Pelliese.

Regina, who until now had always been pushed aside by noble daughters from prestigious families when tailoring her dresses and denied access to the finest designs, now had her eyes sparkling brightly.

Even her father, who usually lavished endless support on her, had recently tightened his purse strings ever since the crow left the nest.

What a perfectly timed gift! And none other than a handwritten letter from First Prince Bollonico Euphris himself!

What could this possibly mean?

“I mustn’t get carried away like this. Our Regina might become the prince’s partner!”

Priscilla, even more excited than Regina, rushed up to her study, which she only visited once or twice a month.

She was about to write a letter to her family home, the Felts.

Though her ties with her birth family had nearly severed due to the Count Pelliese ruining their business, right now, that was the only place with potential financial help.

Thanks to just one letter from First Prince Bollonico, Priscilla was already imagining Regina becoming the future crown princess—and eventually, empress.

Count Pelliese watched Regina, who began flipping through an expensive jewelry catalog with a complicated expression.

Whether the unpredictable favor of First Prince Bollonico would bring fortune or misfortune was impossible to tell at this moment.

But….

“So when exactly will my heart medication be ready?!”

“I purchased a full five-year supply! Do you have any idea how much money that was—what I had to sell to pay for it, Count?!”

“Now, now, everyone. The reason I’ve been so busy lately is… the First Prince has—”

Right now, the only name powerful enough to fend off the approaching high nobles was Bollonico Euphris. There was simply no other name with such immense weight.

So, to escape the immediate crisis, Count Pelliese willingly added a bit of exaggeration to the truth and deflected the situation.

‘It’ll be fine.’

For example:

“Haha, becoming a crown princess? Don’t be absurd. We’re simply seeing each other fondly—for now. Isn’t that natural at her age?”

Just a fresh, discreet little scandal to pique the curiosity of the capital’s aristocrats.

***

The Black Mansion.

Butler Gustav was just about to leave the bedroom, as Clade had summoned him and then remained silent for quite some time.

Lately, Clade often stared at Gustav as if about to speak, only to turn away without a word.

Gustav checked himself in the mirror—nothing unusual. His clothes were the same as always. It couldn’t be his aging appearance.

He concluded, as usual, that his sensitive master was simply being capricious.

But today, Clade seemed determined to say something. As Gustav turned to leave with the empty dishes, Clade called out to him once more.

“Butler.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Why is today different?”

Had he ever been the type to complain about meals? His lord, always suffering and with no appetite, never cared what was served.

Recently, however, the lady had personally taken charge of cooking, lending her skills almost every day, which had made a difference.

Today, someone else had prepared the food, and it was Gustav who brought it up.

The butler pondered, then looked at Clade, whose gaze was fixed out the window with an “Ah-ha” expression.

Clade Euphris, standing by the sunlit window every day with the curtains drawn open?

Now that was something to see.

“Does it not suit your taste? It seems the lady’s cooking has perfectly matched Your Highness’s palate. You’re uncannily perceptive.”

Clade’s smooth brow creased slightly—clearly not the answer he wanted.

“Did I share the bed last night?”

“Pardon? Yes.”

A daily question. A daily answer.

“How old is Yuan Pelliese?”

Then came a hesitant question that sounded utterly absurd.

Even Clade himself seemed to find it ridiculous, still gazing out the window as he repeated:

“Exactly. How old is she?”

“She is four years younger than Your Highness, as far as I know.”

A deep sigh escaped.

His large hand tugged at his hair, and from between them came a hollow chuckle—really, a sigh of relief.

She had indeed passed the age of majority.

Only her appearance seemed so youthful. But even so, nothing changed.

He kept sharing the bed despite her being in a condition that made it improper, and she never refused—worse, she even claimed she enjoyed it.

And the biggest problem was that he remembered nothing about those beastly nights.

Another question was abruptly thrown at the awkwardly standing Gustav.

“Where is she now?”

“Who do you mean?”

Clade hesitated briefly.

He couldn’t bring himself to say the word “crow” aloud to Gustav, as it habitually rose to his lips.

Instead, slowly slipping through his trembling lips, replacing both her name and the word “crow,” was:

“…The former crown princess.”

That title. Yet upon hearing it, Gustav’s face brightened.

“She went to the forest to look for some medicinal herbs.”

“Medicinal herbs?”

Clade’s eyebrows drew sharply together.

“She left the estate without even asking for my permission?”

When she sneaked out without permission, apologized, and admitted wrongdoing—where was that girl now, still not coming to her senses…?

Gustav smirked at the sudden shift in Clade’s expression.

“Are you worried?”

Clade’s healthy half of the face visibly flushed red.

His languid eyes snapped shut in an instant.

“Wor-ried?”

“Isn’t that it?”

It wasn’t a particularly meaningful question.

Butler Gustav tilted his head, then retraced his memory of when Yuan had left.

“She said the place wasn’t far—within walking distance—and mentioned she’d already received permission from Your Highness.”

“From me?”

Ah.

‘Tomorrow, I’m going out for a bit with Hena, just up ahead.’

‘I see.’

‘…Yes, that’s right.’

A brief memory from last night flashed quickly across Clade’s mind.

He had assumed “up ahead” meant no farther than the vast garden of this enormous mansion.

‘I should ask more precisely from now on.’

As this thought occurred to Clade, his face suddenly stiffened.

‘…Why should I be the one asking precisely? Shouldn’t the one seeking permission be the one to state things clearly? That way, I wouldn’t have to ask at all.’

Seeing Clade’s mood darken rapidly, Gustav cautiously suggested:

“If you’re curious, why not go see for yourself? It’s just nearby.”

“Curious? I’m not.”

Clade let out a scoffing laugh, casting a subtly sharpened gaze out the window.

The sun hung high in the sky.

Gustav nodded to himself—of course not.

Clade stepping out of his bedroom and leaving the mansion during the day, when the few servants were busy with chores?

Absolutely impossible.

“I’ll inform Doctor Hille to attend Your Highness for the morning examination.”

Clade, who had been leaning idly against the wall with his arms crossed, began pacing around the spacious bedroom.

Gustav, not understanding, quietly closed the bedroom door and left, pretending not to notice his inexplicably anxious master.

***

By now, lunchtime had long passed.

Yuan smiled proudly at the basket full of dandelion greens she had gathered.

Known also as green dandelions, this herb had larger blossoms and a deeper green hue compared to ordinary dandelions.

When the thick stem was split open, white sap oozed out. Crushed together with the flowers in a mortar, the juice served not only as a disinfectant for wounds but also as a cleaning agent.

Though abundant in mountains and fields, its similarity in color to common weeds meant one had to search carefully with wide-open eyes.

“My lady!”

“Doctor Hille.”

“You really should’ve taken me along next time!”

“Doctor Hille, you must stay and attend to His Highness. And besides, I gathered these not to give to you, but for a separate purpose of my own.”

“Huh? You’re making me feel left out?”

Doctor Hille was one of the few people in this mansion who held the warmest feelings toward Yuan, along with Hena.

Once stuck doing menial tasks, Hille found his actual duty—treating the former crown prince, Clade Euphris—had become much smoother since Yuan’s arrival.

Of course, it also helped that Yuan was from the famed “Pelliese” family, and whenever they discussed medicine or pharmacology, Hille felt as if he’d reunited with an old friend.

“What do you plan to use it for?”

“This must stay between you and me.”

Yuan lowered her voice to a whisper, speaking directly into Hille’s ear, even though no one else was around.

She planned to mix this dandelion green with several other purifying herbs to create a special cleaning agent.

While she couldn’t possibly clean every corner of this grand, pitch-black mansion, she could manage to thoroughly clean the small western wing all by herself.

“That’s truly a genius idea! If we do that, we could erase almost anything! Wait—what if we add some lye water? We could ask the stable hand to prepare it.”

“I’ve already asked Mr. Marling to make me a brush slightly larger than a toothbrush.”

“Of course, you’re always one step ahead.”

Watching Hille, his round glasses pushed up, spring excitedly toward the medicine storage with his ponytail bobbing like a bouncing ball, Yuan couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

-Thud!

Suddenly, a sound of impact came from above the garden where she stood.

Startled, Yuan froze, basket in hand, and looked up.

-Rustle!

Now making no effort to hide, the dark curtain inside Clade’s bedroom window—wide open until now—noisily swung shut, obscuring the interior.