Chapter 11
Clyde Dalton had lied to Beatrice Hartwell.
He had told her that if anything happened while they were separated, they should meet at the designated rendezvous point.
At the time, he had spoken as if it were natural for them to be apart, as if nothing could possibly go wrong… but—
“…My stomach…”
“Your stomach?”
“My stomach hurts so much…”
“…Ah. I-I see.”
Knowing that Valoa was in the same place as Beatrice, Clyde had no intention of letting her out of his sight at all.
Watching Valoa’s ridiculous little scheme unfold from the shadows, Clyde slowly twisted one corner of his lips.
“Hah. Of course.”
Valoa Edvain Crawford had not deviated even slightly from his expectations.
She was so self-centered that she didn’t hesitate to use suspicious, sloppy tricks, and her malice toward hurting others for the sake of her own desires was exactly as he expected.
As he watched the two women, a question Beatrice had asked him recently suddenly surfaced in his mind.
“Clyde, what did Valoa do to you?”
“Why do you react like that whenever you see her?”
“What did she do? Did she tell you to become hers or something? Or treat you like an object?”
…If only it had been something like that, it would have been easier.
Even now, the scene from that day still surfaced in his dreams like a nightmare.
The day he had shown himself to buy time and ensure the Crown Prince and his allies could escape safely.
Valoa had looked down at him lazily and said:
“Clyde Dalton, I’ll make you a simple offer. It doesn’t have to be sincere. Just say you’ll become mine. Then—everything you want…”
At that moment, Beatrice’s voice snapped him back to reality.
“…I’ll call a servant on the way and have them help you immediately!”
Following their plan, she quickly distanced herself from Valoa and headed toward the meeting point. Seeing her hurried, tense steps, Clyde’s taut nerves loosened slightly.
The way she was pretending to be calm while clearly panicking helped as well.
Just imagining Beatrice’s disgusted expression when she saw Valoa from behind made it easier to breathe.
With a calmer mind, Clyde watched Valoa standing alone in the corridor.
She stood there with a face like she was contemplating committing mischief at any moment, then slowly began walking.
And of course, her direction was the place Clyde and Beatrice had agreed on.
Not surprising.
Beatrice hadn’t noticed, but Clyde had repeatedly “leaked” information about their meeting place during the ball.
Partly because more eyes watching them meant more protection, and partly to limit where Valoa could act.
More precisely—to ensure Beatrice would be completely safe from Valoa’s malice.
And I even had the Crown Prince act as a protective charm…
—Fwoosh!
Good thing I did.
The moment Valoa saw the silhouettes of a man and woman behind the old tree, she shattered a nearby oil lamp and started a fire.
Starting an arson attack in a crowded noble banquet was reckless beyond reason—but Clyde wasn’t surprised.
As expected.
Valoa was exactly the kind of person who didn’t care about anything except her own emotions, regardless of how cunning or malicious she was.
“…What does something like this matter? Even if I get blamed, I’ll just say it was an accident.”
“…And do you really think a fire this small would kill them? At worst, they’d just lose those faces they’re so proud of.”
Yes. Exactly like this.
Watching Valoa smile cruelly, Clyde spoke softly.
“I knew it. You really are the kind of person who wouldn’t hesitate to do something this irrational and cruel.”
At the voice suddenly coming from close by, Valoa turned sharply—surprise flashing across her face.
“…Clyde Dalton? Why are you here…?”
“Strange, isn’t it? I was supposed to be one of the victims of the fire you set with Beatrice. I’m sure you saw the two of them behind that tree before you lit it.”
“……”
“Right, Lady Valoa Edvain Crawford?”
“…How did you—how did you recognize me?”
Shock filled her eyes.
But Clyde had no intention of answering.
“That’s not the important part. Shouldn’t you be more concerned about who ended up caught in your little scheme instead of me?”
At his words, Valoa quickly looked toward the old tree.
Beyond the growing flames, two round heads peeked out from beside the trunk.
And one of them had silver hair that every citizen of the Empire would recognize instantly.
“…Crowell Edvain…”
She muttered the familiar name under her breath, her body staggering slightly.
Before she could even process what was happening, Valoa turned and ran toward the garden.
For the first time, a red warning flashed in her mind.
But it was already too late.
Before she could escape, the Crown Prince’s hidden guards—who had been protecting him in secret—subdued her immediately.
Never in her life had Valoa been handled so roughly. She froze for a moment in disbelief, then erupted in fury.
“How dare you! Let go of me this instant! Do you know who you’re touching?!”
“Who you are does not matter. You attempted to harm His Highness the Crown Prince.”
“Attempted…? Me? Don’t talk nonsense. I never touched the Crown Prince! I clearly—!”
“You clearly intended to kill me and my wife.”
Clyde’s voice cut in coldly.
“Honestly, that alone is enough for your arrest. But since you seem unwilling to accept that reason, shall I cite Imperial Law for you?”
Article 3, Clause 1 of Imperial Law:
“For the security and stability of the Empire, any direct or indirect threat to the Emperor, Empress, or Crown Prince shall be considered treason.”
“……”
The guard stepped forward, crushing scorched grass beneath his boot.
“Lady. You have committed treason. Do you understand?”
“Treason…? Ha! Me? Treason? Hahaha!”
“……”
“You filthy rat. You lured me in from the beginning and now you’re calling it treason?”
Valoa Crawford laughed like a madwoman, then suddenly broke into rage again, unable to control herself.
“Your Highness, you should keep your distance…”
“It’s fine. Clyde, are you alright?”
“Clyde!”
Crowell the Crown Prince, Beatrice, and soon even nobles who had noticed the disturbance began gathering.
“What’s going on?”
“I smell smoke over there…”
“Wait… is someone being arrested?”
As voices grew closer, Valoa twisted her lips into a smile and shouted loudly for all to hear:
“Let me say it again! Yes, I targeted Beatrice Hartwell and Clyde Dalton! They provoked me first, so I just wanted to teach them a lesson. If the Crown Prince just happened to be there, how is that my fault?!”
She lifted her chin arrogantly and glared at Beatrice and Crowell.
“And if we’re being honest, isn’t it far stranger that the two of them were together? What kind of married woman meets the Crown Prince alone in such a secluded place?”
