Chapter 17
I went with Cheodorn to the outskirts of the slums to volunteer, serving food to the impoverished every week.
Reporters from the Alpine Times were there, busily snapping pictures of us.
There were only three portable cameras in the entire Alpine Empire — one owned by the Imperial Family, one by the Alpine Times, and one rumored to belong to the Duke of Stephan’s household.
I couldn’t help but be impressed that the Alpine Times had brought along such an expensive device.
It just showed how much public interest Cheodorn and I were attracting. For a newspaper, it was only natural to invest in stories that sold well.
“Are you planning to keep coming out like this every time?”
Cheodorn asked as he handed bread to the people lined up for their share.
I nodded while pouring stew into the cup held out in front of me.
“I was going to stop once public opinion settles down. But this is a good thing to do — I should keep at it while I can. And since we’re at it, I plan to make a donation to the orphanage, too.”
“Hah… who would’ve thought I’d end up copying my uncle’s habits?”
Hearing his mutter, I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Who would’ve guessed the director would be reborn in another world as a politician? Has your past-life experience been helpful? Public opinion about us has really improved lately.”
At that, he shook his head with an expression that practically screamed don’t remind me.
Cha Do-hyuk’s family had been famous — he was the youngest son of a major conglomerate chairman, and his uncle had been a politician.
One of those politicians: the kind always mired in controversy, who only cared about charity work during election season.
“But why didn’t you think of doing this kind of thing before? Changing your reputation like this — it’s something you could’ve tried long ago, isn’t it?”
I asked seriously.
“I was too busy protecting my people.”
He fell silent for a while after saying that. Then, after a long pause, he added quietly,
“I was so focused on moving forward that I never had time to look around me.”
He suddenly turned to look at me. I blinked, startled, meeting his gaze.
“That’s why… you’ll never really understand what you mean to me.”
I could empathize, but I knew that as long as I wasn’t him, I could never fully understand his life.
“But you’re not just doing this volunteer work for the sake of public opinion, are you?”
Cheodorn looked at me with an expression that said he didn’t quite believe what I’d said earlier.
I smiled faintly. Of course he’d catch on — he always did.
“It’s a public space, so anyone can approach without drawing suspicion. Perfect for meeting someone discreetly. But that doesn’t mean I’m insincere about the volunteering itself. I’m genuinely doing this with all my heart.”
What I really needed was evidence that Eleanor, the reporter, had been bribed by Lady Serinne and Prince Verdi.
This volunteer event was merely the cover for that meeting.
I shrugged lightly.
“The only drawback is that it’s not exactly the safest setup.”
Cheodorn nodded calmly, as if he’d already thought of all that himself.
“That’s why I made some preparations of my own. Did you bring what I told you to?”
At his question, I pulled a small folded note from my pocket, showed it to him briefly, and tucked it back in.
It contained the address of the mage Melissa, who ran a magic shop.
It had been an urgent message from Cheodorn that morning — I hadn’t even had time to ask why.
Earlier today, I’d visited Melissa and asked her to smuggle a certain person across the border into the Kingdom of Naiden.
“But what is this for—”
I didn’t get to finish my question. A man had stepped in front of us.
Neither of us reacted; we just continued serving food.
The man had tangled, reddish hair and a shabby appearance.
He lowered his head as he reached toward Cheodorn, silently asking for bread.
His hair was so messy and long that I couldn’t see his face clearly — but from the brief glimpse I caught, I knew exactly who he was.
A colleague of his from the Alpine Times had once shown me a sketch of his face, asking for help on his behalf.
It was Eleanor, the journalist whom Cheodorn had reportedly pressured the editor-in-chief into firing.
But why was he here…?
Of course, this volunteer work had been arranged partly as an excuse to meet him.
Still — for him to appear right away like this, almost too conveniently — that was a surprise.
“I brought what you asked for,” Eleanor murmured quietly.
Cheodorn looked at him for a long moment, then smiled and handed over the bread.
As Eleanor took it, I saw a slip of white paper move from his palm to Cheodorn’s.
And at that moment, I understood everything.
Cheodorn had planned this from the very start — from the moment I’d suggested doing volunteer work.
Now I knew why Melissa’s help was needed: to give Eleanor a means to escape safely.
I instantly knew what I had to do next. With Cheodorn, we didn’t need to speak — we always understood each other.
Eleanor came up to me next. I filled his cup with stew, intentionally pouring too much so it overflowed.
“Oh no! Are you all right?”
I quickly grabbed a handkerchief from Maria, the maid behind me, and began wiping the stew from his hand and clothes.
“I’m fine.”
He caught my hand — and in that instant, I slipped him the folded note.
“Go to the address written there. They’ll tell you how to cross into Naiden without inspection.”
I whispered quickly and straightened up.
I’d known that Melissa sometimes helped illegal travelers cross borders for a price, but I hadn’t expected to rely on her like this.
Eleanor used the handkerchief I’d given him to hold the cup steady, accepted the stew, and turned away.
“What was that about?”
I asked, glancing at the note in Cheodorn’s hand. It contained evidence — letters written by Count Zenis, one of Prince Verdi’s supporters, and Lady Serinne, detailing their orders to fabricate articles.
Cheodorn folded the note neatly and tucked it into his inner pocket.
“I promised him money and a safe hiding place. Looks like Fabian’s been making his life hell.”
Fabian — meaning Prince Verdi himself.
Come to think of it, most of the Alpine Times’s flattering articles about Crown Prince Reynold had been written by Eleanor.
Prince Verdi and Lady Serinne — whether or not their engagement was still on, they were certainly a pair that suited each other.
“You’ve both done well today. The stench was terrible, but you bore it admirably. Most nobles would never stand it — I’m proud of you.”
Joseph’s voice came from behind us.
Cheodorn and I exchanged a brief glance before turning toward him.
“We didn’t endure it,” I said. “We understood it — the circumstances that made them live that way.”
Joseph blinked, clearly not following, and looked to Cheodorn for explanation.
Cheodorn smiled.
“There’s nothing to be proud of. We just did what’s right. Nobility exists to shoulder responsibility, not to practice discrimination.”
Joseph stared at us, a bit dazed, before murmuring,
“You both have a… very unconventional way of thinking.”
At that, I looked at Cheodorn — and he burst out laughing.
Of course our minds worked alike. And hearing Joseph’s words made me understand something a little better —
why Cheodorn was so obsessed with me.
“That’s probably because we share the same secret,” I said.
For a moment, Cheodorn just stared at me, speechless.
I could see the flicker of complicated emotions crossing his face.
Yes. Maybe, for the rest of my life, there would be no one in this world who thought quite like Cheodorn.
That much, I was certain of.
Later, I found out the truth — that the reporter Eleanor, once bribed by Prince Verdi, had been bribed again by Cheodorn.
He’d been a double agent all along.
Cheodorn had been quietly gathering information about Prince Verdi’s faction through him.
When Cheodorn suddenly forced Eleanor’s dismissal, it had been a warning to Verdi’s camp.
Apparently, Cheodorn had been able to endure the attacks aimed at himself —
but when those claws reached toward me, he’d lost his temper.
(Or so Joseph claimed — I still needed to hear Cheodorn’s side of the story.)
I later worked Eleanor’s story into my novel — heavily fictionalized, of course.
Even without using real names, people immediately assumed it was about Prince Verdi and Lady Serinne, and public opinion turned sharply against them.
The Serinne family eventually released an official statement condemning the Alpine Times and demanding the serial be stopped.
But the series was too popular — sales had skyrocketed.
The newspaper refused, and in retaliation, the Serinne family began applying political pressure.
That only made things worse.
Fans of Frederica’s Man — my serialized story — rose up in outrage, flooding the Serinne estate with complaints.
When public sentiment soured, even the Marquis of Serinne was forced into silence.
Though who knows how he’ll retaliate next.
“I must admit, I used to have a prejudice against you.”
I looked up from the morning paper I was reading on the café terrace.
At some point, Argan had appeared and sat across from me.
He was usually a stickler for etiquette, but lately he’d grown noticeably more casual around me.
I folded the newspaper.
“I understand. My face tends to invite prejudice.”
It sounded self-deprecating — and honestly, a bit unfair.
Back in Korea, I’d been considered quite attractive, even celebrity-level —
but here, apparently, my face was the kind that provoked bias.
How depressing.
“…Even when I read Lady Serinne’s interview, I didn’t think her claims were entirely wrong,”
Argan admitted.
So, he’d once seen me the same way Lady Serinne did.
That stung a little — though considering he was the heir to the prestigious House of Rodvalt, maybe that kind of mindset wasn’t surprising.
As I mulled it over, Argan suddenly stood up.
He pressed a fist to his chest and bowed low in a knight’s salute.
“I apologize. I knew prejudice was the mark of ignorance, yet I was still guilty of it.”
“I don’t think that’s something you alone are to blame for, Lord Rodvalt.”
It wasn’t just him, after all.
But my words seemed to wound him even more — his face clouded as he quietly sat back down.
“I’ll do better from now on.”
I knew what that meant — he wanted to impress me.
And as I watched him, one thought came to mind:
First Cheodorn, now Argan… why is everyone so desperate to win my favor?
I had no interest in Argan. None at all.
But since I couldn’t just say “You’re being a bother, please stop,”
I chose to stay silent instead.
