SSCP 08

Chapter 08

Maylily

Cheodorn was staying at the Rubiche estate and helping me study. And, to be honest, I was more satisfied with that arrangement than I cared to admit.
The problem was my adoptive father and Rioel.

They really didn’t like him.

As soon as they heard that Cheodorn was out of the mansion, they summoned me to the office. And from the way they kept glancing nervously at the door, it was obvious they were afraid he might burst in at any moment.

“So, when exactly is His Highness Reynold leaving? I can’t even walk around the mansion in peace!”

Rioel grumbled irritably, ruffling his hair before gulping down his coffee.

My adoptive father, sitting across from me, nodded in agreement.

“Ena, how about you try persuading His Highness Reynold?”

Apparently, my adoptive father was still embarrassed about having made a fool of himself by dropping to his knees in front of Cheodorn the other day, because he’d been avoiding any direct encounters with him.

“He doesn’t listen to me either.”

At that, both my adoptive father and Rioel sighed at the same time—then froze and looked at each other.

“But Ena,” my adoptive father asked carefully, “how exactly do you know His Highness Reynold?”

I recalled the story Cheodorn and I had agreed on beforehand. Thankfully, we’d had time to coordinate it in advance.

“Cheodorn—no, I mean, His Highness Reynold—visited the Kingdom of Naden once as the head of an envoy. That’s when we met.”

Fortunately, that was true. The first country I’d fallen into after arriving in this other world had been Naden, which bordered the Alpine Empire.

And Cheodorn had, indeed, visited Naden five years ago as an imperial envoy.

“It was before I met Father at Mount Kirks,” I added quickly.

“So what exactly happened back then?” Rioel demanded. “What did you do to make that Crown Prince lose his mind over you like that?”

A question I really couldn’t answer. I looked at Rioel and said lightly,

“He’s not crazy. He’s just happy to see an old friend again.”

Both my adoptive father and Rioel looked at me as if I’d said the strangest thing imaginable.

“Could it have something to do with your lost memories, Ena?” my adoptive father asked.

“Ah—no, nothing like that…”

I didn’t like lying to him, but I couldn’t tell the truth either. Otherwise, he’d really think I was insane.

“All right. If it’s difficult to talk about, you don’t have to. But if you ever want to share it, tell me first, all right?”

His gentle voice warmed my heart. If my falling into this world was a divine mistake, then perhaps God gave me the Marquis of Rubiche as an apology.

But Rioel clearly wasn’t satisfied with that ending.

“Well I want to hear it right now.”

“Rioel.”

At my father’s stern tone, Rioel clicked his tongue in frustration.

Then, setting his coffee cup down, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a letter, handing it to me.

My adoptive father frowned suspiciously.

“And why, exactly, do you have that?”

The look he gave Rioel made it seem like he’d intercepted my mail.

Rioel scowled.

“It’s from Argan. You know—my friend? The one everyone’s talking about because he might get engaged to Ena? Father, you always take her side.”

He muttered like a sulky child jealous of a newborn sibling. My father’s gaze, however, was merciless.

“Do you really think you and Ena are on the same level?”

“Ah yes, of course, I must be the adopted one,” Rioel said flatly—and promptly got scolded again.

Honestly, he was like a five-year-old. I shook my head and opened the letter.

“What does Lordvalt say?” my father asked curiously.

Argan Kaelis Lordvalt was the heir to the Duke of Lordvalt—a noble among nobles.

My father and Duke Lordvalt had been the best of friends, and they’d even promised that their children would marry someday. Thanks to that old pact, an outsider like me could even consider being engaged to a man like Argan.

“He says he wants to have tea with me. Not at the family mansion, but at a coffeehouse in the capital.”

Why me, though? I frowned at the letter. Argan had never seemed particularly fond of me.

“Argan?”

Rioel blinked in disbelief.

“Yeah. That stiff guy.”

He pointed accusingly at me and looked toward my father as if tattling.

Even a toddler wouldn’t act this childish. My father sighed deeply.

“If you don’t like him, you don’t have to go through with the engagement. Take your time to decide.”

He smiled kindly at me. I just nodded, dazed.

Ah, Father, you’re too handsome.
My heart squeezed painfully.
Yes, Father. For you, I’d pluck stars from the sky.

I was in the middle of that ridiculous daydream when—

“H-H-H-His Highness Reynold has arrived!”

The maid’s panicked stammer said it all.

Both Rioel and my father looked at me, clearly expecting me to do something about it.

“What brings His Highness here? I thought he said he’d be going to the palace today,” my father said.

“He did,” I muttered.

“He must’ve come running straight back to see her,” Rioel said dryly. “He’s completely obsessed these days.”

“Rioel. Watch your tongue.”

Father’s reprimand made Rioel pout again. Was he really twenty-four?

While I was musing over that, Cheodorn entered the study.

He was wearing his formal palace attire—dark navy with gold embroidery, perfectly complementing his silver hair.

God, he was absurdly handsome. Just looking at him made you sigh.

Father and Rioel stood to greet him, so I reluctantly followed suit.

Cheodorn caught sight of me, tossed his jacket to the attendant behind him, and casually dropped into the seat right beside me.

“It’s been a while, Marquis Rubiche. Though we live under the same roof, I hardly ever see you. Almost as if you’re avoiding me.”

My father flinched.

“Of course not, Your Highness. I’ve simply been busy preparing for the upcoming state council. If I’ve given offense, I apologize.”

Cheodorn studied him silently, as though weighing his sincerity.

Why are you giving my father that look?

I glared at him, and only then did he glance at me—more precisely, at the letter in my hand.

“What’s that?”

“A letter.”

“I can see that.”

“Then what exactly are you asking?”

“Who sent it.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because it’s your letter.”

“And why does that make you curious?”

“Didn’t I tell you to call me by my name?”

“We’re in public. If I don’t use your title, people will think weird things. I have a reputation too, you know.”

That shut him up. Finally.

But when I looked up again, both my father and Rioel were staring at us with dazed expressions.

“You two seem awfully close,” Father murmured.

His face twisted in despair, like a father realizing a thief had just stolen his daughter.

Close? Close?! After hearing our conversation, that’s what he concluded?

“Of course we’re close,” Cheodorn said smoothly. “I’m crazy about her.”

And before I could react, he leaned over and read the letter in my hand.

“Ah! Don’t read that!”

I lifted the letter high, but Cheodorn gave my father and Rioel a sad, pitiful look—like a tragic movie hero about to cry.

I surrendered immediately. I couldn’t embarrass myself again in front of Father.

“Fine! I won’t say anything, just—don’t cry.”

Please.

“You were engaged?”

He must’ve skimmed it already. His eyes were sharp as ever.

“Not yet, but… unless something changes, I probably will be.”

“And you didn’t tell me because…?”

“Was I supposed to?”

“So you’re not thinking of canceling it?”

It wasn’t even official yet, so there was nothing to cancel. And besides, it was something Father wanted. Plus… well, Argan was handsome.

“Marquis Rubiche,” Cheodorn said suddenly, his tone grave.

My father seemed to understand what he was going to say before he said it.

“That’s not for me to answer,” he replied calmly.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s Ena’s choice. Not even the Crown Prince has the right to interfere.”

To my surprise, Cheodorn didn’t argue. He looked thoughtful, then smiled.

“So all I have to do is convince Ena myself?”

Rioel’s jaw dropped. He must’ve realized what was coming.

“How about becoming the Crown Princess?”

“No. Absolutely not. Never.”

I shot him down instantly. Father sighed in relief.

Cheodorn stared at me quietly, then asked,

“Do you dislike me that much?”

“Did you really think I’d like you?”

He looked wounded—like a puppy being scolded.

“But why? I’m handsome, capable, high-ranking, rich. You used to like that type. Young, rich, tall, handsome, pretty guy—that’s literally me.”

“You’re forgetting the part where I said I hate office romance. You were my awful boss.”

“So you’re admitting the rest is true. Young, rich, tall, handsome, pretty—works for me. And I’m not your boss anymore, so no problem, right?”

I leaned back on the sofa, exhausted, and shut my eyes.

Talking to Cheodorn was so tiring.
Not because I couldn’t win an argument—definitely not that!

But seriously, could someone please come take him away?
Every time I talk to him, I get dizzy!