BVIB 34

Chapter 34

“Kyaa! How did I get so lucky? Two men who are exactly my type at once!” Naryan exclaimed, her smile radiant as sunshine.

In another world, there might have only been one—but now there were two.

Arma, meanwhile, was still reeling. He could easily imagine how Roselyn might have misunderstood his intentions before, and the realization stunned him. What shocked him even more was that she’d just accepted it so easily, without protest.

“Okay, I get it, I’m handsome—but put me down already! You little brat!” Yuldian shouted, still trapped in Naryan’s arms.

“Oh my, how adorable. Are you threatening me, big brother?” Naryan teased, hugging him tighter.

“Don’t call me that! I am not your brother!”

“Why not? I heard imperial men love it when cute little girls talk to them like this… but you’re so picky,” she pouted.

Yuldian, who was already pale from the day’s events, looked like he might just pass out.

Meanwhile, Arma found himself thinking about why Roselyn had chosen Yuldian as her travel companion instead of him. It all made a strange, uncomfortable kind of sense now.

Naryan squealed with delight, still clinging to Yuldian. “Ah, what a shame! The pretty brother and sister over there sure know how to run away… So, what do you say? Want to marry me?”

“I’ll pass,” Roselyn replied with a shrug, her tone utterly calm.

“Hmmph, you’re a cool one, aren’t you? Well, that’s fine! I’ve still got two handsome men to choose from!” Naryan winked at Arma.

Arma, flustered, quietly let his bangs fall to hide his face again.

“Here we are!” Naryan announced, finally setting Yuldian down as she gestured to a round, tent-like structure ahead.

The structure was framed with sturdy wood and covered in thick fabric that looked far warmer than ordinary cloth—perfect for the biting, early-winter chill that swept across the highlands. The entrance wasn’t just a flap, but a real wooden door.

Inside, it didn’t have a traditional layout with separate living rooms or multiple bedrooms. Instead, the single, expansive chamber contained everything: a kitchen area, a washing space, and beds—all arranged efficiently in one large, open room.

Despite being called a tent, it was far from shabby. Compared to other homes, it lacked nothing; it was surprisingly spacious and solidly built.

Given that the Kaluta rarely settled in one place for long, it made sense. Permanent buildings were a rarity here—portable yet comfortable tents like this were simply the way of life.

With the tribes living apart, Kaluta’s settlements felt more like loosely connected villages than a single town.

“These folks will fill you in on the details,” Naryan said, gesturing to the people waiting outside the tent.

They approached confidently, showing not a hint of fear—even as they came face-to-face with armed imperial soldiers and knights, their hands empty and posture relaxed.

“We were planning to hold a banquet tonight,” Naryan continued with a bright smile, “but given the circumstances, it might be postponed.”

She grinned even wider. “We might have an execution instead, for the first time in a while.”

The way she said it—so cheerfully—made it even more chilling.

“….”

Yuldian, still cradled in her arms, looked ready to faint.

“If you don’t want to see anything unpleasant, I’d suggest everyone stay inside your tent tonight,” Naryan advised, finally setting Yuldian down on wobbly legs.

“See you tomorrow, my pretties!” Naryan called out with a wink. Then, before turning to leave, she pressed a playful kiss to the back of Yuldian’s hand—“Mwah!”—and finally sauntered out of sight.

Roselyn let out a tired sigh and stepped into her assigned tent, finally grateful for a moment of peace.

As soon as Arma stepped into his assigned tent, he ran a rough hand through his hair and tossed his black jacket aside.

“She always finds a way to make things difficult for me,” he muttered, frustrated.

All that time spent agonizing over how to act more naturally around her—it had all been pointless. It was clear now that Roselyn didn’t feel anything for him at all.

Why am I even doing this? he wondered.

In truth, breaking off the engagement meant little to him. Roselyn was interesting to observe, sure, but that didn’t mean he needed to go this far.

He had learned, as he grew older, how to hide his own feelings. It was easier and less trouble to keep everything bottled up.

He’d never wanted to be like his father, the Emperor. That’s why he’d spent so long pretending to be foolish, weak, and utterly unimpressive in the eyes of others.

Letting some of his true self show today—it was a risk, and he knew it.

“But all of that… was just for someone else?” Arma muttered to himself, feeling a wave of dizziness as he sank onto the cheap bed.

How could Roselyn know the ideal type of a Kaluta princess she’s never even met? he wondered, blinking slowly, exhaustion tugging at his thoughts.

“…No,” Arma whispered, shaking his head as if to clear the idea away. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the confusion.

“What exactly am I lacking?” Arma wondered aloud.

Aside from a few personality flaws, he couldn’t think of much.

Maybe… it’s a lack of physical affection? His gaze dropped.

He had always been careful to respect Roselyn’s boundaries. Ever since their engagement, he’d barely even held her hand and never once tried to create a romantic atmosphere. Maybe, in his effort to be considerate, he’d simply become distant.

No wonder, then, that when he held her hand earlier, she hadn’t reacted at all.

“…This won’t do,” Arma muttered.

Even if he’d convinced himself there was no need to try so hard for someone who felt nothing for him, here he was, already planning new ways to try again.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I am the Khan of Kaluta,” the man announced, arriving right on time. He was massive, built like a mountain, and his introduction was blunt and to the point.

Roselyn shook her head to show it was no trouble.

At least, for this official meeting, he’d taken the time to fasten his shirt—though, truthfully, his chest was still mostly exposed.

He’s younger than I expected, Roselyn thought, quietly surprised. He looked even younger than the emperor back home—she almost wanted to ask how old he’d been when he started a family.

“It’s fine,” she replied politely.

The Khan glanced at the two princes sitting on either side of Roselyn, his expression betraying a hint of curiosity as he settled into his seat at the round table.

He dropped heavily into the seat across from her.

“Well, this is a first. I’ve never seen a negotiator flanked by two imperial princes as bodyguards,” the Khan remarked, a hint of amusement in his deep voice as he accepted a large oak mug of liquor.

“Will you join me for a drink?”

Roselyn hesitated for a moment. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but in Kaluta, refusing a drink was considered a serious breach of etiquette.

“I can’t handle much, but I’ll gladly accept the first glass,” she said, lifting the mug with a polite nod.

“I’m fine with that too,” Arma added.

“Same for me,” Yuldian replied, trying to sound composed.

The Khan threw back his head and laughed heartily. “I was worried when they said we’d have young people at the table, but you’ve all got good manners.” He nodded approvingly, clearly in good spirits.

Roselyn accepted the mug and took a few polite sips, doing just enough to honor local custom. Almost immediately, heat rushed to her face, her headache from that morning flaring up again. She ignored the ringing in her ears and the way her pulse thudded loud and fast.

“So, I heard you saved my son,” the Khan said, his tone turning serious. “We believe in repaying favors tenfold here. Is there anything you want as a reward?”

Roselyn frowned slightly but kept a small smile on her lips as she met his gaze.

“No, as I told the young chieftain earlier, that was my gift to you. Gifts aren’t meant to come with strings attached,” she replied, her voice steady and clear.

The Khan’s green eyes narrowed with interest at her unwavering stare.

“Nothing at all you want?”

“There wasn’t,” Roselyn admitted, “but now, there is one thing.”

Roselyn smiled.

The Khan nodded, his expression lighting up with interest. “Speak freely.”

“We’re here at the negotiation table as equals,” Roselyn said. “An equal table means no side has the advantage.”

The Khan raised one eyebrow, intrigued.

“I am Roselyn Bellion, of House Bellion—a duchess, not simply ‘young lady,’” she continued, her voice calm and direct.

“….”

“And furthermore…” Roselyn added, her words slow and measured, “I understand that ‘Khan’ is a title, much like our own word for ‘king.’ But I haven’t heard your actual name.”

She looked him directly in the eye, refusing to look away.

The words that flowed from Roselyn’s lips were in Ruta, the ancient language once spoken by the so-called “barbarians” before the Kaluta tribes were unified.

Few people knew it these days. Even within Kaluta, there were those who couldn’t speak it.

For a moment, the Khan simply stared at her in surprise. Then, he burst out laughing—a booming, hearty sound that echoed around the tent and went on so long it almost became awkward.

At last, his laughter faded. His face turned serious as he looked at Roselyn and asked, “Where did you learn that language?”