PRKE 11

CHAPTER 11……………………………….

Hubert spouted nonsense with a straight face.

“Even in that moment when the nanny took the assassin’s blade for me, she didn’t scream. I still clearly remember how she grabbed my stiff hand and dragged me into your room, hiding me there until the guards arrived.”

“……”

“Ugh, the women around me aren’t as strong as you.”

The hand holding mine tightened. Should I squeeze back? I might not be able to break his hand, but I could probably make him yelp.

I stared hard at his hand, seriously contemplating it.

“I just resent that I’m not stronger.”

Hubert brought my hand to his lips and whispered against the back of it.

I secretly frowned.

‘Why does he keep rubbing his lips wherever he wants?’

“If only I could give up my arm and keep you from going, I would. But Aris… that girl won’t be able to endure it with a sane mind.”

“……”

“You’re the woman I trust. You’re strong. Something like this happening once won’t make me turn my back on you.”

I listened half-heartedly, but when Hubert’s gaze met mine, I drooped my eyes pitifully.

Hubert didn’t seem satisfied with my reaction. As if making a decision, he spoke.

“If you agree just this once—for me—I’ll repay you.”

“……”

“Your heart—regardless of whether the world condemns me.”

Like a tragic male lead in an opera, he was completely serious.

“I won’t hide how I feel about you.”

My eyes widened—not because of his words.

‘How did I ever waver when I heard this? Was I insane?’

I simply couldn’t understand my past self.

Then I became aware of Hubert’s gaze and snapped back to myself.

“Give me time to think.”

Here was the situation:

The Imperial Crown Prince had sent a letter stating that the Fifth Prince was heading to the kingdom. In the letter, he asked them to take good care of the prince and added a meaningful line: “in the traditional Imperial manner,” he expected splendid hospitality.

Traditional Imperial hospitality.

I knew full well what that meant.

To put it simply—attach a woman of good bloodline to entertain my younger brother.

Unlike the last time I received Hubert’s proposal in my past life, I was quite relaxed now.

Because I knew the Imperial prince wasn’t actually as brutal as the rumors claimed.

‘This is exactly what I was waiting for.’

The next day, I gave him my answer.

Hubert fell silent for a moment, then gripped my hand tightly.

“I’m always receiving help from you. From childhood until now. I’ll repay your sacrifice for the family for the rest of my life.”

‘What a fraud.’

His promise of lifelong repayment had eventually returned as the blade of the guillotine—if that’s not a scam, what is?

I hid every bit of my true feelings and whispered only the pleasant things he wanted to hear.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for House Lorenst.”

“Thank you, Egrain.”

I was suddenly pulled into his arms.

With his face buried against my shoulder, Hubert whispered:

“I like you. You’re the only one who’d go this far for me.”

Hearing that, I secretly yawned.

I wasn’t thinking about his words at all—I was thinking about what would happen a month later.

About a month from now, the Imperial delegation would arrive.

The desert road to Riorsa.

People walked in silence.

Fwooosh—

Dry sand-laden wind whipped at their turbans.

“Ugh, this damn sand.”

Kichef glanced back at the grumbling royal envoy and scowled.

The envoy should have offered the tribute and headed straight back long ago.

‘He’s not the only one I’m sick of.’

Kichef held back the urge to shout at him to shut up.

What about a marriage alliance?
Rodraki’s meaningful voice resurfaced in his mind, making his teeth grind.

If even he felt this absurd and furious, how must Giovanni feel—who was forced to accompany the delegation without warning?

Kichef spurred his horse and moved to the front, where Giovanni rode.

Even with a dingy turban to protect his skin from the desert wind, the natural authority of a ruler radiated from him.

The glory of the Empire proclaimed by the Prophet. The blessed one. Even without such exaggerated titles, Kichef was certain Rodraki would still be wary of Giovanni.

‘Anyone can see he was born to be Khan.’

He clicked his tongue in pity.

“How’s the kingdom’s envoy doing?”

Snapped out of his thoughts by Giovanni’s question, Kichef looked back.

“He’s still grumbling.”

“He said he wasn’t feeling well even before we left.”

“He’s been suffering from stomach trouble.”

Kichef’s curt tone earned him a sharp look, so he quickly added:

“But he doesn’t look seriously ill.”

“Tell him to take care of his health. We’re traveling to establish friendly ties. It won’t do for the envoy to fall sick.”

“…Yes, Your Highness.”

Kichef responded reluctantly, his expression sulky.

“Are you truly unfazed?”

Giovanni’s black eyes turned to him—an indifferent gaze, as if even his own marriage held no interest.

Suddenly overwhelmed, Kichef burst out.

“You heard it too yesterday, Your Highness. About the new princess in Riorsa.”

The moment he spoke the words he’d been bottling up, Kichef instinctively thought of Rodraki.

Though now serving as Giovanni’s aide, Kichef had originally been a slave of the Imperial family.

Had Giovanni not valued his sturdy physique and loyal nature enough to make him his aide, Kichef would still be licking Rodraki’s boots.

For Giovanni, he felt he could toss away his own life without hesitation…but now this had happened.

Last night, on his way back from checking the condition of the horses for the long journey—

Oh my, Kichef. Where is your master? Why are you alone?

…Kichef Kachin greets the Kun.

Kneel.

Expression unchanged, Kichef knelt.

He may have been granted a surname and freed from slavery by Giovanni—but in Rodraki’s eyes, he would forever be a slave.

He could resist, but he feared Giovanni would suffer because of him.

Rodraki made him kneel and then spent quite a while chatting and laughing with his companion.

Kichef didn’t even blink, knowing full well it was meant to humiliate him.

Ah, right. Kichef, before you depart tomorrow, take my gift with you.

A gift, sir?

Yes. They say the king of Riorsa has gained a daughter. A congratulatory gift.

In royal families where numerous offspring were common, late children weren’t unusual.

But—

At his age, to gain a daughter already fully grown—he must be thrilled! Considering relations with their kingdom, it’s something to celebrate.

Passing by stiffened Kichef, Rodraki whispered quietly:

That little kingdom is quite bold, isn’t it?

A princess suddenly appearing when a political marriage was being discussed.

That means…

Kichef stared at Giovanni.

He simply couldn’t understand how Giovanni remained so calm even after hearing this news.

A man said to be the Empire’s glory, crafted by the hands of the divine—perhaps someone like Kichef could never fully comprehend him.

But how could he be so indifferent about his own marriage?

Kichef feared Giovanni would shrug this off just like he did with everything else.

‘Even if His Highness doesn’t care, I won’t just stand by. A princess pampered like a jewel of Riorsa is one thing—but a woman appearing out of nowhere? She must be a worn-out woman if they dare pull something like this. If needed, I’ll take care of her myself…’

Cruel ideas flashed in his mind.

As he pondered how to punish the insolent Riorsa royal family and the scheming woman involved, Giovanni spoke in a calm tone:

“There’s no need for that, Kichef.”

Kichef blinked stiffly, and Giovanni’s thin lips curved faintly.

“Your face is quite a sight.”

“Your Highness, I—!”

“I know what you’re worried about.”

His characteristically indifferent gaze drifted toward the desert ahead.

Even though Kichef trusted and revered him more than anyone, Giovanni’s eyes were so distant—as if looking at the end of the desert—that Kichef reflexively gripped the reins tightly.

“Rodraki’s ploy is annoying.”

“……”

“But I don’t enjoy being deceived.”

“Meaning…?”

“I’m not going to marry some woman I’ve never even met.”

His firm voice melted Kichef’s anxiety like snow.

“The wind is settling. Let’s pick up the pace.”

“Yes, Your Highness!”

Kichef’s answer burst out bright and strong.

Was this how it felt when a rotten tooth was finally pulled?
The knots of worry that had stabbed like desert scorpions suddenly loosened.

Trailing behind Giovanni, Kichef’s eyes burned like the desert sun.

‘Of course. This is His Highness. He’s not someone who’d be outmaneuvered so easily!’

But it wasn’t over.

Giovanni might have said he wouldn’t marry her—but Kichef had no intention of letting it go.

His resentment toward the Riorsa royal family—and even more toward the woman who became a “princess” for this marriage—had already reached its peak before they even arrived.

‘They will pay dearly for daring to mock His Highness.’

Late at night, the Lorenst estate was silent.

Outside, the rustle of leaves in the wind could occasionally be heard, but inside the manor, not a sound stirred.

Clink.

Setting his teacup onto the coaster, Count Lorenst cleared his throat.

“When is the reception for the delegation?”

Hubert, who had been slightly tilting his head and savoring his tea, responded:

“The day after tomorrow. They arrived only a few hours ago, so they’ll rest today and His Highness will meet them privately tomorrow. The banquet will proceed for a week after that.”

Lady Emerne’s eyes widened.

“A whole week? Quite extravagant for mere savages.”

Then she slurped her butter-greased fingers clean. Watching her as usual with a look of disdain, Hubert replied coldly.