Chapter 96: The Grand Duchess's Ideal Type
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 96: The Grand Duchess's Ideal Type
"Why are you suddenly saying that?"
"They say you don't necessarily have to live together just because you're married. Aston said his aunt and uncle live apart. They only see each other once or twice a year."
"I'm the Grand Duchess of Blenheim, so I have to stay in Blenheim."
"And the Grand Duke is very good to me."
"But didn't you like Duke Kyle, Sister?"
This time, even Cecilia’s jaw dropped.
‘I thought that was just a baseless rumor?’
She recalled seeing a headline like that in one of the capital’s third-rate tabloids—the kind of gossip rag she could never admit to reading.
"But the Duke lives in the capital. If I had known things would turn out like this...!"
Raphael’s voice muffled as he buried his face in the Consort’s embrace, his words turning into a soft mumble.
Cecilia wiped the cold sweat from her brow.
Her mind was reeling from the sudden onslaught of unexpected information. It seemed the young master was indeed the one truly in power here, seeing as Her Highness was so helpless against his whims.
‘It looks like the Grand Duke has really fallen out of favor with him.’
To think he would so openly suggest moving back to the capital.
The Grand Duke had been putting in quite a bit of effort lately, but if this beautiful young boy set his mind to coaxing her, Her Highness’s heart might just waver.
‘Cecilia, I’m sorry. Raphael says he can’t live without me, so I think I’ll have to stay in the capital for the time being.’
The mere thought of that imaginary scenario sent a chill down Cecilia’s spine.
‘This is a definite crisis.’
*
The afternoon flew by in a blur of activity.
"The circulating carriages must be stabilized before the delegation arrives."
"Compile a list of the shops with poor sales and let me know. We need to find a solution."
"The bedding? This is too worn out to use. Check with the current suppliers to see if they can secure more replacements quickly."
"Let’s hire temporary help for the laundry and the kitchen. There’s no need to recruit new permanent maids right away."
I wasn't sure how it had happened, but before I knew it, I was managing the internal affairs of the castle.
It started with preparing the delegation’s quarters, which led to replacing old bedding, which naturally led to reallocating the budget, which then led to rearranging the maids' assignments...
One thing led to another, and I found myself issuing all sorts of instructions. Since everyone followed them without complaint, I just kept going.
"Pass the room assignment chart to the administrator as well."
Perel gathered the documents and flashed a grin.
"What would we have done without you, Your Highness?"
"What else? Sir Perel would have been pulling all-nighters every day," Cecilia said, shooting Perel a sharp look. "Aren't you pushing too much of your work onto Her Highness?"
"No! I—well, of course, Her Highness’s help has made things much easier, but..."
"It’s alright. It’s not that hard. Actually, it’s quite fun."
"This is?"
Cecilia muttered as she looked at the mountain of protocol manuals, looking as if she couldn't understand my perspective at all.
"But... in this way..."
When I tilted my head in question, Cecilia forced a smile. Then, she sent a strange signal to Perel.
When Perel looked away, pretending not to see, Cecilia glared at him as if urging him on.
"Sir Perel. Didn't you say you had something to ask Her Highness?"
As Cecilia kept gesturing with her chin, Perel cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Ah, well. It’s... it’s about an acquaintance of mine."
For some reason, Perel’s voice sounded a bit strained as he began.
"He has a lady he likes, and he’s worried about how to win her heart. So, I was wondering what kind of men women usually prefer..."
"Oh my, is this about you, Sir Perel?"
"Absolutely not!"
Mhm.
Seeing him deny it so frantically only made him more suspicious.
"Well, everyone has different tastes. Wouldn't it be most accurate to ask the lady herself?"
"Still, there are... general standards that women have," Cecilia added, chiming in.
I began counting off points on my fingers.
"Naturally, he should be handsome, fit, wealthy, and capable...!"
"Oh, so far...!"
"Does being handsome count too?" Cecilia and Perel whispered to each other.
"And he should be kind, have a good personality, and be fun...!"
"Ah! I’ve never seen a woman who dislikes a fun man. Right, Cecilia?"
I looked up to seek her agreement, but for some reason, both of their faces had turned pale.
"F-Fun?"
"Why? Am I wrong?"
Was the standard in this world different?
As I tilted my head in confusion, Cecilia asked urgently, "N-not just women in general. What about you, Your Highness?"
"Me?"
"Your ideal type. What kind of man do you like?"
I heard Perel mutter something about it being an impertinent question to ask a married woman and a crime of lèse-majesté.
"I..."
Come to think of it, what kind of style did I like?
Back when I was living a grueling corporate life, worn down by rudeness and contempt, my heart would flutter at the slightest kindness. Even a simple "Have you eaten?" would move me, making me think that person actually cared about my well-being.
‘There were so many office couples who got married because they were blinded by stuff like that.’
Fortunately, I had kept my wits about me.
Still, if I had to choose just one condition...
"A kind person?"
"...A kind person?"
"Yes. I like people who are kind and gentle."
Perel blinked and looked back at Cecilia. The expression had already vanished from Cecilia’s face.
Why were they so shocked?
"Why? Is your type the 'bad boy' style, Cecilia?"
I asked curiously, but Cecilia just shook her head while muttering something strange.
I thought I heard her say "We're doomed," but surely I was mistaken?
*
"Hah! Hyat!"
The rough shouts of knights echoed across the training ground.
Raphael peeked inside through the low picket gate used by the squires.
‘As expected, the knights of the North are strong.’
Raphael had admired strength since he was a child. Though he was still smaller than his peers, he wanted to grow up quickly and become a powerful knight.
When his tutor first taught him the history of Blenheim, he had heard a terrifying joke that the Grand Duke of the North drank the blood of monsters instead of wine.
Heavens, he thought that was the coolest thing ever.
Since then, Raphael had nurtured a deep admiration for the Grand Duke of Blenheim—at least, until the man married his sister.
Annette was the only person who had looked after Raphael since he was little. His father was someone who cared for nothing but the family name, and his mother always left him lonely while she attended parties.
Back when he didn't understand the concept of half-siblings, he hadn't known why his brother Ferdin or his sister Ladriel hated him so much. Only Annette had cared for him and cherished him in the Marquis's estate, even though she herself was treated as more of an outcast than he was.
Raphael swallowed a sigh.
He had originally planned to join the Imperial Knights after graduating from the Academy... but if he wanted to stay by his sister's side, should he join the Blenheim Knights instead?
‘The Blenheim Knights are stronger, anyway.’
As if sensing his dilemma, Janet had approached him after lunch and whispered, "Young Master, aren't you curious how the knights here train? The training ground looks much larger than the one at the Marquis's estate. Why don't you ask Lady Annette later?"
Janet had egged him on, saying that if the Young Master asked, she surely wouldn't refuse.
But if he told his sister, word would surely reach the knights.
‘The son of the Marquis wants to watch Blenheim’s training.’
He didn't want to hear such pride-wounding words.
In any case, sneaking out was Raphael’s specialty. He waited until Janet and the Marchioness were napping, then opened the window and climbed out.
Finding the training ground wasn't difficult at all. The knights' shouts were thunderous even from a distance.
Raphael watched the knights swinging their swords. The difference in level was so vast it was almost embarrassing to compare them to the Imperial Knights. For starters, their physiques were overwhelming.
‘What do they eat to grow that big?’
Raphael was deep in thought, recalling the dishes served at lunch, when someone suddenly grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.
"What do we have here? A little rat?"
A middle-aged knight with a messy crop of red hair asked in a gravelly voice. It was the knight who had accompanied his sister to greet him when he first arrived at the castle.
Even though the knight clearly knew who he was, he feigned ignorance.
"Can't let an intruder go, now can I?"
Holding Raphael, the knight stepped over the fence and strode into the middle of the training ground. The eyes of the training knights focused on them instantly.
"Demich."
The grey-haired knight directing the training furrowed his brows slightly. "Don't go looking for trouble."
"Hey now, Vice-Captain. Trouble?"
The knight named Demich shrugged his shoulders mockingly. "I just caught a suspicious brat loitering around."
Despite his words, the knights looking at Raphael didn't seem surprised or startled at all. On the contrary, the Vice-Captain gave Demich a look that told him to knock it off.
The face of the boy, still held by the scruff of his neck, turned beet red. It seemed the knights had known Raphael was there all along.
‘Maybe it wasn't just luck when I snuck out of the annex...’
His flustered feet dangled in the air. A few knights let out low chuckles at the sight of the struggling Raphael.
Just as his eyes were beginning to sting with shame, a familiar knight—one who often escorted his sister—approached them.