Chapter 6

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: Chapter 6

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“Please use honorifics... You’ll end up losing your head.”

“What dirty schemes could our esteemed Crown Prince possibly be harboring? Not you, right?”

“...Just adding honorifics doesn’t make it polite.”

Unable to bear her subordinate’s uncooperative attitude any longer, Saskia abruptly stood up from her seat.

“Well, that’s just it. I can’t figure out why he’s suddenly marrying off the woman he’s been clinging to like a security blanket everywhere he goes. If he really wants Iona to become a proper duchess, he should be preparing for her retirement too, but I haven’t received any such orders.”

Saskia spat out the doubts she’d been harboring all this time.

Theobald looked puzzled, as if he hadn’t fully grasped the questions that had flown by in an instant.

“...Isn’t His Highness just rewarding Lady Iona for her long service under him by letting her live in luxury?”

Luxury, my foot.

It might look like a dramatic rags-to-riches success story on the surface, but the real world wasn’t that forgiving.

There was no way a duke, the epitome of the noble faction, would welcome the emperor’s hunting dog into his family with open arms. This was a marriage doomed to misfortune.

“Forget it, you clueless idiot.”

Saskia clicked her tongue in pity, and Theobald’s eyes darted around nervously.

Saskia began to genuinely worry about the future of this naive subordinate.

It had been quite some time since Richardt had last visited the palace where he’d stayed as Crown Prince, but thanks to the ingrained memory in his body, he didn’t get lost on the way.

Upon safely reaching her destination, Iona exchanged light nods with her fellow knights waiting in the corridor.

As she entered the room, Luisa, who had been nearby, hurried over to her.

Luisa was Richardt’s personal maid, so naturally, she and Iona were acquainted.

“What should we do, Lady Iona? His Highness just fell asleep. Will you wait here, or come back later?”

Luisa asked with a troubled expression.

As Luisa said, Richardt was lying leisurely on the long sofa bed with his eyes closed.

Iona gestured for Luisa to leave, then slowly walked toward Richardt. In a low, polite voice, she asked,

“If you’re very tired, shall I come back later?”

Richardt remained perfectly still, but Iona waited patiently for a long while.

After a long time, he finally spoke.

“My knight is so impatient she disturbs her lord’s nap.”

“I apologize.”

Though she knew he’d been awake from the start, Iona didn’t point it out and simply bowed her head in silent apology.

Only then did Richardt slowly open his eyes and sit up.

As Iona had expected, there was no trace of sleepiness about him.

As he shifted position, he seemed annoyed by his disheveled hair and ran a hand over his forehead to smooth it back.

His golden hair cascaded down like waves, a sight of exquisite beauty.

Yet compared to the face revealed beneath it, even that seemed modest.

His features were composed of lines so meticulously crafted by the Creator’s hand that they seemed almost unreal.

It was the common consensus that his exceptional beauty had played a significant role in gathering devoted followers even before his ascension.

“By the way, I heard a rumor that you broke Nils’s front tooth.”

Richardt said casually as he pulled up his slipped outer garment.

Since he hadn’t permitted her to raise her head, Iona kept hers bowed.

Relieved not to meet his eyes, she replied curtly.

“It’s just a rumor.”

Of course, Richardt showed no intention of letting it slide. This time, his voice grew more commanding.

“Tell me the truth, Iona. That’s an order.”

This was the one phrase Iona couldn’t resist.

He wasn’t a lord she’d chosen willingly, but she carried out whatever he commanded.

Her loyalty was, if anything, more blind than that of those who had joined him of their own accord.

Iona, who had spent so long locked away alone, had faced many hardships reintegrating into society.

Never properly taught right from wrong, she struggled to trust her own judgments.

In contrast, Richardt’s expectations of her were always crystal clear. As long as she followed his orders, she would be recognized as a valuable asset in society.

The moment she suspended her own values and surrendered to another’s commands, life became straightforward.

Thus, the loyalty Iona offered Richardt was utterly personal and selfish. Just as he used her for his convenience, she used him to survive.

She had never sought repayment or meaning from it, but in this moment, there was one thing she wanted to ask him.

When the duke, who had no need for a wife, walked into the jaws of death to save her, where were you and what were you doing?

Could you not save me? Or did you choose not to?

“I punched him in the jaw first, intending it as payment for his violence. That was all.”

Swallowing her insolent question, Iona answered politely.

Richardt, who had been scrutinizing her as if verifying the truth, soon commanded curtly,

“Raise your head.”

Then he posed an unexpected question.

“What did you fight about? Was it because of the marriage proposal with the duke?”

Iona, who had caused the commotion for an entirely different reason, was inwardly flustered by the unforeseen interrogation.

When her usual swift reply didn’t come, Richardt seemed to draw a conclusion from that alone.

He stood abruptly and reached out, lightly brushing Iona’s bruised left cheek.

It was a dry gesture whose intent was inscrutable. No warmth lingered in the hand that withdrew unconsciously.

Looking down at Iona, Richardt spoke with feigned benevolence.

“Iona, if you don’t want it, we can call off this marriage.”

His voice sounded utterly sincere.

But Iona already knew the answer to this test. It wasn’t the first time he’d asked such a question.

“Iona, if you don’t want it, we can call off this marriage proposal.”

Before her return to the past, around this time, Richardt had said the exact same thing.

The timing and place had been slightly different, but she remembered his expression, voice, and the way he looked at her being similar.

Iona was briefly taken aback but quickly surmised his intent.

He was testing her loyalty.

“What Your Highness desires is what I desire.”

Iona placed a hand over her heart and bowed deeply.

She couldn’t see his expression, but after a long pause, satisfaction colored his voice.

“Yes, you’ve always been that way. You’ll continue to obey only my words. Nothing changes. Right?”

“Of course.”

What had he replied to her bold declaration back then?

“Congratulations on your marriage, Iona.”

At that time, Richardt had willingly offered her his blessings.

But the answer Iona would give this time was slightly different.

“No, it’s fine.”

Judging her explanation insufficient, Iona quickly added,

“Truth be told, I quite like my fiancé.”

Richardt’s lips stiffened faintly at her words.

He stared silently into her face for a moment.

At last, he narrowed his eyes slightly and said,

“I’m glad it’s not a forced marriage.”

There was no falsehood in his words, so Iona simply remained silent.

Richardt turned his head away from her and stared intently at the windowsill.

For whatever reason, Iona’s response had clearly soured his mood—an unusually rare occurrence.

Soon, Richardt issued a curt dismissal.

“That’s enough. You may go.”

“Didn’t you summon me for something?”

“Your future husband was supposed to visit today. I thought I’d have you greet him...”

Richardt flicked his eyes toward the bruise on Iona’s face.

“But you can’t show him that face at your first meeting. Especially when you like him so much.”

Had the duke already arrived in the capital?

It was true that the duke had met with the Crown Prince before seeing her, but she had never intruded on their meetings.

Why was Richardt saying something so implausible?

Unable to fathom the reason, Iona decided to withdraw cleanly.

It was regrettable not to meet the duke right away, but a proper conversation would be impossible with the Crown Prince present anyway.

“Then I shall take my leave.”

Iona offered a formal bow and turned to go.