Chapter – 23
The Brother Complex Prince
Before me stands Gilbert, looking slightly younger than the version I remember from my memories.
Even though he’s young, Gilbert is still Gilbert. My former fiancé who did nothing but look down on me. The person I never wanted to see again.
I thought I should just bow formally out of politeness and then quickly leave. That was my plan, but I made the mistake of glancing at Gilbert’s expression to check.
“…I bet you’re making fun of me too, just like them.”
I saw a tear spill from Gilbert’s eyes as he spoke in a sulky tone.
(Ahhh. So he did hear what those maids were saying earlier.)
Gilbert wiped his eyes fiercely with a frustrated expression. He wiped them over and over again, so irritably, that the area around his eyes became red and raw from the rubbing.
This figure was a far cry from the Gilbert I knew. I felt no fear or disgust towards the boy in front of me, only pity.
I wanted to avoid getting involved with Gilbert as much as possible. But I also felt bad about leaving a crying child alone like that. Even though I’m a child now too, I have the memories of my past life in my late twenties. But still, for my own safety, it would be wise to avoid contact…
I was agonizing over it, but in the end, I couldn’t stand the sound of Gilbert sniffing back tears and let out a sigh.
“Prince Gilbert. Please use this.”
I took a handkerchief from my apron and offered it to him.
Gilbert looked up at me with his reddened eyes. His glare-like expression was probably due to the embarrassment of having been seen crying.
“If you rub them that much, they’ll just get redder. Please use it. I won’t tell anyone.”
I thought he might say something like, “How dare a maid pity me?” but Gilbert remained silent. He looked alternately at me and the handkerchief with a slightly bewildered expression, then cautiously accepted it and wiped his eyes.
His unexpected docility left me bewildered as well.
In my first life, the only words he ever directed at me were cold ones like, “Don’t get the wrong idea,” or “You’re getting carried away just because you’re my fiancée, aren’t you?” So the Gilbert before me now felt like a completely different person.
Since he, a prince, was sitting on the ground, it felt disrespectful for me to be standing and looking down at him, so I sat down on the grass a little distance away.
“…Was it you who chased away those maids earlier? Since you’re in the Crown Prince’s palace, are you my elder brother’s maid?”
A period of silence passed, but once his tears seemed to have subsided, Gilbert finally spoke.
“As you say, I am a maid working in the Crown Prince’s palace.”
I answered, imbuing my words with the meaning that I was absolutely not the villainess, Olivia. Right now, I’m just a plain, ordinary, unremarkable maid.
“You’re fortunate. To be able to work under my wonderful elder brother. Your daily life serving my excellent, virtuous elder brother must be truly blissful.”
(Hmm. He’s being self-deprecating.)
Could it be that if Noah hadn’t been poisoned and died, Gilbert would have grown up to be this insecure?
(What kind of otome game has its prime romance target being this self-deprecating?)
When I played the game in my previous life, Gilbert was a popular character, the reliable, arrogant-type prince. I wasn’t fond of the arrogant type at all, but even that is better than this self-deprecating version.
“Why can’t I be excellent like my elder brother? Is it really because I don’t have the King’s Eyes…?”
Gilbert murmured, touching his reddened eyes.
It seemed that Noah’s existence wasn’t the only reason for Gilbert’s inferiority complex.
The King’s Eyes refer to those blue eyes of Noah’s, like a captured starry sky. Every king in history has possessed the King’s Eyes. I’ve heard that there were times when royals without the King’s Eyes ascended the throne due to assassinations during succession disputes, illness, or various other reasons, but it’s said that when that happened, the country fell into disorder and the king died young.
In other words, those starry, blue eyes are proof of a legitimate king.
And Gilbert’s eyes are not blue. They are the same beautiful green eyes as the Queen’s.
(Ah, I remember. There was a scene where the Saintly heroine healed and comforted Gilbert’s wounded heart over not having the King’s Eyes.)
So his eye color is his complex, I suppose.
How did the Saint comfort him again? I think she said something like, “I like your eye color,” or something along those lines.
Well, I’m not the kind-hearted Saint, so I have no intention of offering such sweet consolation.
A complex isn’t something that can be resolved by what people around you say; in the end, you have to overcome it or come to terms with it yourself.
Makeup and detoxing are also methods for doing that. In my previous life, many of the women I served as a consultant had complexes. Small eyes, a big nose, noticeable spots. The moment those customers, who faced their complexes and wished to do something about them, smiled thanks to the makeup techniques I taught them, was truly fulfilling.
“Regarding the King’s Eyes, it’s difficult for a mere maid like me to comment…”
I spoke while vaguely looking out at the Crown Prince’s garden.
“…But the Crown Prince is someone who works very hard.”
“Eh…?”
“While assisting His Majesty the King with his official duties, he devotes himself to his studies and training, sparing even time for sleep.”
“I do that too—!”
“Yes. I’m sure Prince Gilbert also works very hard.”
I shifted my gaze from the garden to the boy beside me.
Gilbert was looking at me with an unclear expression, unsure if he was angry or confused.
“In other words, all excellent individuals work hard.”
It’s the same. Excellent people weren’t excellent from the very beginning. They are the result of hard work. I, with my past-life experience as an adult, know that not everyone who works hard is rewarded. But it’s also a truth that if you don’t work hard, you can’t even earn the right to stand in a glorious place.
Although Gilbert looks down on himself, he must be clever. He seemed to understand the meaning of my words, and his expression tightened.
“Then… I must work twice as hard as my elder brother.”
“Hard work is fine, but rest is also necessary. Your health is the most important thing, after all.”
Since Gilbert stood up, I followed suit.
“Will you be going to see the Crown Prince now?”
“What are you talking about? Of course I’m going back to my lessons.”
His attitude was tsundere, but there was also a hint of embarrassment about it.
Gilbert’s green eyes had regained their sparkle; he would probably be fine now. I handed Gilbert the packet of cookies, saying, “If you’d like, please have these for a snack.” They were detox cookies for Shiro, but I could always make more.
“The Crown Prince is an excellent person, but I’m sure there are things he’s not good at as well. Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses, their aptitudes and inaptitudes.”
(Though his strong support for the villainess is a clear flaw…) I thought to myself as I spoke.
“Prince Gilbert, you must also have your own unique charms.”
(Probably. Not that I’d know.)
After all, he was the most popular character among the game’s romance targets. He couldn’t possibly lack charm. It bears repeating, but it’s just that I don’t see it.
“Hmph. …If you insist that much, I might even make you my maid one day.”
“…Huh?”
“I’ve troubled you.”
After saying something so nonsensical, Gilbert left the Crown Prince’s palace with a somewhat satisfied look on his face.
And this vexing, unclear feeling swelling in my chest as I watched his back retreat—just what am I supposed to do with it?
“I really do dislike that man—!”
I shouldn’t have lent him that handkerchief. Now that I think about it, he took it with him. And it was issued by the palace!
Feeling completely drained all at once, I decided to finally head back to the Crown Prince’s palace to get some healing by fluffying Shiro.
