Chapter 21
Right after Chloe left, only Andrea’s maids remained in the deserted Princess Palace.
Soon, the head maid of the Prince’s Palace was expected to summon them back to their original place of service.
The Imperial Palace was in such a chaotic state that the head maid seemed to have forgotten about them. There had been no instructions so far.
“Until the head maid remembers us, it’s like we’re on vacation!”
The maids were delighted.
They had never really paid much attention to Chloe before, and now they didn’t have to at all.
Each of them enjoyed their free time, doing whatever they pleased.
Some, without a shred of fear, even lay down on Chloe’s bed and chatted away.
That’s when one of them noticed a piece of white paper sticking out from behind a drawer.
“What’s that?”
She casually approached it, grasped the edge of the paper with her fingernail, and carefully pulled it out.
“Don’t worry. I’ll follow after you…?”
The maid read the words on the paper aloud, then grimaced and showed it to the others in disgust.
The maids gathered around and peered at the note.
“What is this?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The maid who found the note scoffed and said,
“What else could it be? She’s playing her usual double-act again. Look closely. That’s the Princess’s handwriting.”
She shuddered as if disgusted.
“Talking to herself as if she’s speaking to someone else—that’s her specialty. Now she’s even exchanging notes with herself?”
“Ugh, that’s creepy.”
“How did she end up going so insane? Sometimes she seems normal, but then she locks herself in her room and mutters to herself like a lunatic.”
“Tsk tsk, who knows what’s wrong with her.”
“That’s probably why Her Majesty the Empress sent her all the way to Ronheim—to get her out of the palace for good.”
“But what if the Marquess of Rodrian sees her pitiful state and thinks she’s possessed by a ghost or something and sends her back?”
“Pfft! That’d be tragic!”
The maids cackled as they mocked Chloe.
The note, which Chloe had hidden behind the drawer to avoid being found by the cleaning maids, ended up as nothing more than a source of laughter before being thrown into the trash.
At that very moment, Andrea, who hadn’t even bothered to see Chloe off—supposedly because she was going to visit the Emperor—was instead drinking at an upscale tavern outside the palace.
He grumbled irritably.
“What on earth is Mother thinking? Why the hell is she suddenly sending that woman to the Marquess of Rodrian?”
Andrea usually jumped at anything Cabala said, but this time, he was full of complaints.
That was because the marriage between Chloe and Viscount Pelsus had been entirely Andrea’s own scheme from the start.
He had finally taken a step out from his mother’s shadow to do something on his own.
Andrea had already received a massive sum of money from Viscount Pelsus in exchange for arranging the marriage with Chloe. He drank hard liquor in frustration.
“Damn it!”
He thought of how hard he’d worked to get that money.
It felt as though it had passed through his own pockets before vanishing.
Drunk, he slurred angrily.
“Do you know how much I had to coax and coddle that woman because she didn’t want to get married?”
“What! The Princess doesn’t want to marry me?”
Viscount Pelsus, who had been drinking with Andrea, twisted his face in offense. His sharply groomed goatee twitched under his chin.
Unlike the heavily drunk Andrea, the Viscount had only been pretending to drink and was listening with a sober mind.
In his forties, he was significantly older than Andrea, and although he was a commoner who had bought his title, he still treated Andrea—the future Emperor—with utmost deference, even when Andrea spoke rudely to him.
Andrea forced his unfocused eyes open and said,
“She kept whining about how she didn’t want to marry you. But then she just went along with the Marquess of Rodrian? That brainless woman. Isn’t it disgusting, living with a barbarian like that?”
Though it was all Andrea’s fabrication, Viscount Pelsus believed every word.
His face flushed red and then pale.
His hand trembled around his glass.
‘So that barbarian’s okay because he’s royalty, but I’m no good because I’m a commoner?’
The blow to his pride was unbearable.
He had seen this marriage as a chance to tie himself to the royal family. That’s why he had bet so much money—and his official wife position—on a mentally unstable woman.
But now she was marrying Marquess Rodrian?
‘How little must she think of me!’
Anger boiled within him, but he directed it at Chloe, not Andrea.
Suppressing his rage, Viscount Pelsus pleaded with Andrea.
“The Princess is still in Arental. Isn’t there something we can do, Your Highness? After all, you already received part of the dowry in advance…”
Andrea had confidently promised the marriage and had taken a third of the payment up front.
When Viscount Pelsus mentioned it, Andrea frowned in irritation.
“Are you trying to blackmail me over that investment now? I’ll just give the money back! You think I can’t afford that?”
The Viscount quickly waved his hands.
“Of course not! I meant only that everything was going smoothly, and it’s a shame it fell apart at the end. If there’s still a chance…”
Though Andrea was the one who failed to deliver on his promise, the Viscount nervously read his mood, drenched in cold sweat.
Andrea snapped at him instead.
“Mother decided to send Chloe to Ronheim, so what do you expect me to do? Stop pestering me. I’ve got enough of a headache already. Ugh, this ruined my drink.”
He called loudly for the attendant outside the room and demanded an even more expensive bottle of liquor.
The attendant cheerfully brought out the finest.
Viscount Pelsus glared at the attendant when Andrea wasn’t looking.
‘Is he insane? It’s not even his money. How much more is he planning to squeeze out of me?’
As usual, the bill for Andrea’s drinks would come from Viscount Pelsus’s pocket.
He had already been spending a fortune entertaining Andrea, hoping for a royal connection through the marriage to Chloe.
‘And now the marriage is off.’
Even with all his wealth, Pelsus felt sick watching his money disappear down Andrea’s throat.
But he couldn’t tell him to stop drinking.
Just then, Andrea muttered mid-sip,
“That cursed marquess bastard. I wish he’d just drop dead. If someone killed him, I’d cover for them and give them a huge reward.”
Hearing that, Viscount Pelsus’s expression changed.
Feigning a casual tone, he asked,
“Would Your Highness give the Princess to me again if that were to happen?”
Andrea laughed boisterously and nodded.
“Of course. I’d even be grateful if you took her, even if she’s tainted by a barbarian.”
“I don’t mind that kind of thing.”
“Really? You’ve always been very open-minded like that. If it were me, I’d never touch a woman who’d been with someone like that.”
“I don’t care. So if the opportunity arises again, please make sure the marriage happens, Your Highness.”
“Sure, sure. Absolutely.”
“You promise?”
Viscount Pelsus never intended to have a proper marital relationship with Chloe.
He only needed her for her royal status.
Once married, he planned to lock her in a basement and keep her barely alive.
‘Even if someone finds out later, there are already rumors she’s crazy. I’ll just say I locked her up to stop her from hurting herself. Who cares about some insane woman?’
Viscount Pelsus’s eyes gleamed with renewed determination.
Andrea had just promised: if Callias died, he’d cover up the crime, reward him greatly, and even guarantee marriage with Chloe.
Viscount Pelsus smiled faintly, his eyes filled with a scheming, sinister light.
