Chapter 10
The corridor, where the heat and noise of the bustling ballroom had eased somewhat.
Valoa quietly followed behind Beatrice as she walked off somewhere.
Then, once the crowd thinned out enough that the two of them were the only ones left in the corridor, she suddenly let out a loud “Ah!” and collapsed where she stood.
At the scream from behind her, Beatrice turned around. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, then slowly walked toward her.
“Um… is something wrong?”
As expected. Just as she had anticipated.
Valoa curled the corner of her lips slightly at the sight of Beatrice—innocent and kind, exactly the sort of person she had expected.
Beatrice was the type Valoa looked down on. Someone who could do nothing, had no power, yet overflowed with goodwill and was therefore easy to exploit.
Well, that works in my favor.
Suppressing a sneer inwardly, Valoa let out a weak groan.
“…My stomach…”
“Your stomach?”
“My stomach hurts so much…”
“Oh… I, um, I see.”
“I don’t think I can walk by myself… Could you take me to the lounge over there?”
“Ah…”
Valoa watched Beatrice glance back and forth between her and the direction of the lounge, then carefully studied her face.
Her wavy platinum hair, which looked soft enough to touch, her delicate light green eyes, and her somewhat naive-looking flushed cheeks.
She really does look just like she seems.
Setting aside appearances, even the atmosphere matched. Blank and meek.
While evaluating Beatrice inwardly, Valoa never once thought she would refuse.
Unless Beatrice already knew who she was, people like this simply could not leave someone in distress alone.
So hurry up and say yes.
Just as Valoa was barely dragging up her patience, an unexpected answer came from Beatrice.
“Um, I’m sorry. I… actually have somewhere urgent to go right now.”
“…Urgent? Something more urgent than helping someone who’s in pain?”
“Well… if it were a normal day, I’d help, but I have an appointment to meet someone…”
“……”
“You’re having trouble moving, right? Please sit here for now! I’ll call a servant on the way and have them help you right away!”
…An appointment?
Valoa narrowed her eyes beneath the mask and quickly turned over the possibilities in her head.
Now that she thought about it, she seemed to remember hearing something about this from those noisy people earlier.
“Bringing a shawl to the powder room? Sir Dalton really is as gentlemanly and kind as the rumors say! There’s been talk of him like this in the knights’ order too.”
“Oh, I’ve heard that story too… He seems to have a more adorable and romantic side than I expected?”
“Romantic, you say.”
“I overheard it near the powder room, so I can’t say for sure, but it seems like he prepared some sort of event just for the two of them. He kept stressing that she had to come to the meeting place. You know, that old tree in the garden.”
“The old tree in the garden? The one famous as a place for confessions?”
“Yes! That one!”
Reviewing the conversation that had surfaced in her mind, Valoa’s eyes darkened.
So this is why they separated for a while? And Beatrice too—this woman is exactly the same. She’s refusing to do something she’d normally do, just to go meet her beloved husband?
—Crunch.
How truly admirable. What a magnificent love.
Valoa sat down on a stool placed in the corridor and kept following Beatrice with her eyes as the girl turned away.
A variety of thoughts flashed through Valoa’s mind at speed.
Should she rush up behind her, cover her mouth, and drag her into some room?
Now that she knew where Beatrice was heading, should she send the people she had prepared to ambush the path to the garden?
Either way, it was obviously more convenient to act when the girl was rarely alone. But…
…I need to see it with my own eyes.
Once Valoa had been irritated, she developed the twisted urge to find out how far this unpleasant feeling could be pushed.
She wants to use even that brief moment apart for her lover? Clyde Dalton?
It was a side of him she had never seen, heard of, or even imagined while chasing after him.
What truly offended Valoa’s pride was the fact that Clyde Dalton had a side she did not know about.
Whether that feeling was directed toward her or not, whether he had secretly investigated and found something, or not—there could not be a thing about Clyde Dalton that she did not know.
He’s mine.
It was a thoroughly possessive and insane thought, but to Valoa it was as natural as the sun rising in the morning.
And if it’s true that there’s a side of mine I don’t know about… then—
By the time Beatrice’s back had faded into the distance, Valoa rose from her seat and slipped on the robe she had brought.
Then she slowly retraced the exact path Beatrice had taken.
As she walked, imagining the expression Beatrice would have as she hurried excitedly toward Clyde Dalton, and imagining Clyde Dalton waiting for her, the feeling that rose in her chest was no longer simple irritation—it was almost delight.
Of course, if Beatrice had known, she would have charged at her and shouted, “Who are you calling excited?!” with all her might.
Unlike Valoa’s delusion that Beatrice would be rushing in excitement, Beatrice had actually been running in terror.
Damn it, that crazy woman really followed me? What kind of love is worth committing a crime for? Has she lost her mind? Or is this what power looks like? Lady Valoa really thinks the world is easy to live in, doesn’t she—!
And all the while, she had been screaming at the top of her lungs.
“Haah… I’m here, I’m here… This is the place, right…? Huff, huff…”
There was a reason people called a madwoman a madwoman!
Beatrice had run all the way to the meeting place without taking a breath, afraid Valoa might grab her by the neck and shake her senseless from behind.
Just as she was clutching her pounding chest and gripping the old tree with her other hand, a water bottle suddenly appeared in front of her.
“……Wow. Look at this preparation. For now, I’ll acknowledge you as my lifesaver. No, seriously, I did suspect it, but actually seeing it is creepy!”
“……”
“I-I thought I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears! Ugh, I’m dying here.”
Assuming, of course, that this had to be Clyde, Beatrice accepted the bottle and gulped the water down.
That was when she heard a voice close enough to feel right beside her ear.
“You talk an awful lot for someone who looks like she’s about to die.”
It was a familiar but unfamiliar voice.
Meaning, at the very least, it was not Clyde Dalton’s voice!
“Cough! Cough!”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t expect you to be that startled. Are you all right?”
“Cough! Y-yes… agh…”
After finally calming down, Beatrice wiped away the tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes from the physical shock and looked at the person before her.
“W-wait, Crown Prince Crowell?”
“You have the same reaction as Clyde. Yes, it’s me.”
“What are you doing here, Your Highness?”
At her tone, as if she had just seen a neighbor who almost never came out, Crowell gave a small snort of amusement.
Though, to be fair, it was not entirely wrong.
Crowell’s mother, Empress Iyette, and Beatrice’s father, Zedrick, were from the same country. If one were being generous, they were something like very, very distant relatives.
Seeing her round, green eyes widen, Crowell shrugged lightly.
“I came because Clyde asked for my help. I did make time for it, after all.”
“You’re helping? With what?”
“Well. He said if I waited by this old tree, I’d understand right away. For now, all I know is that I’m handing you a bottle of water.”
At Crowell’s explanation, Beatrice narrowed her eyes.
That bastard Clyde looked like he could coast through life on his face alone, but he was the type to use his head like a snake.
…This guy didn’t tell me everything.
Clyde had definitely stressed that because Valoa had exploded, she should stay by his side the whole time.
This meeting spot, too, was supposed to be a kind of rendezvous point they would use if something happened when they had to separate briefly—like a trip to the restroom.
In other words, the two of them had planned to handle Valoa together and think through how to respond if she tried anything.
And I got my dad to give me a recording Obscura for that exact situation!
Whether the traditionalist nobles would accept the recorded contents as evidence was another matter entirely, but that had been their plan.
If meeting me here isn’t the plan, then where exactly is this guy and what is he doing?
While Beatrice frowned, absentmindedly fiddling with the brooch that emitted a faint artificial light, something suddenly rang out.
Crash. Thud!
“…Huh?”
The sound of something being thrown and shattered, followed by a strange scorched smell, made her reflexively look up.
Wondering what on earth was happening, she peeked around the side of the old tree—and her mouth fell open.
“Y-your Highness, th-that—!”
“Oh dear.”
Right beside a small fire that had just begun to ignite stood Clyde—the very person she had just been inwardly cursing—and today’s most dangerous guest of honor, Valoa Edvain Crawford.
