The Grand Duke Was a Workaholic Too

Grand Duke Berk was, as it turned out, a man utterly possessed by his work. Had she been a mere private, his workaholism wouldn't have mattered much to her. But Chloe was Brigadier General Berk's aide. If Brigadier General Berk didn't go home, Chloe didn't go home. Only after enduring a solid week of overtime without a single day off did Chloe finally realize why there was a bed in the aide's office. I should have run away at full speed the moment I saw that bed!

Unfortunately, his flaws did not end there. His severe mysophobia and insane overtime schedule were merely a fraction of the colorful reasons why the recruitment notice for his aide had traveled all the way to the southern navy. The Royal Guard, directly under the crown, was notorious for gathering only the stiffest, most arrogant souls in the kingdom. And Brigadier General Berk stood at the very pinnacle of them all. He was, in truth, both incredibly un-royal and deeply royal at the same time.

The un-royal part was, as previously mentioned, his habit ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of arriving at dawn and leaving at midnight. What, then, was the royal part? He was astonishingly cruel to anyone who made a mistake or performed poorly. Chloe had never in her life seen a man with such a diverse repertoire of punishments.

"One month's salary cut.""Go face down on the floor right now.""Conduct a service inspection." At the slightest provocation, he handed out physical discipline and pay cuts. Since the Royal Guard answered directly to the crown, most of its members were noble sons. Yet Brigadier General Berk paid no heed to their status, generously providing his subordinates with a wide variety of infuriating, hands-on disciplinary experiences. Among them, the absolute worst in Chloe's eyes was the salary cut.

I only applied for this job because of the steady salary, and he cuts my pay?! For the record, overtime and weekend pay were disbursed reliably. However, Chloe did not count allowances ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as a benefit. To her, getting paid for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠work was a basic right, not a perk.

I want to discharge... It took Chloe exactly two weeks to adopt the most common phrase muttered by the guardsmen. Had Brigadier General Berk been a harsh but incompetent superior, the Royal Guard would have dissolved like mist long ago. However, from an aide's perspective, his competence was hardly a blessing. When a highly capable man is also a workaholic, he doesn't just do his job—he actively seeks out more work, and tasks that didn't even exist before start piling up.

Perhaps because Brigadier General Berk was a war hero, it was common practice for him to handle everything from trivial chores to top-secret state affairs. The schedule was brutal, going home was a distant dream, and just when she finally caught her breath, it was time for another round of discipline. This was precisely why every single aide assigned before Chloe had submitted a transfer request to another unit before long. Of course, even more had been fired outright by the brigadier general's thunderous rages and fastidious demands.

The high command could hardly have been pleased to see Brigadier General Berk's aides being ground to dust day after day. Marshal Victor of the Kingdom's Army ground his teeth in frustration. Though the Grand Duke was a headache dumped on them by the King, they couldn't leave his side vacant. Thus, their first move was to block the aides' transfer requests. They decreed that a transfer was only possible after completing three years of service. In response, the tormented aides simply applied for discharge. If blocked from discharging, they looked ready to desert. So, the high command offered incentives. But it was too late. Rumors had already spread like wildfire throughout the Army. Ultimately, in their desperation, the high command extended the recruitment notice to the Navy. And Chloe Amboise fell right into the trap.

Thanks to the nineteen aides who had fled before her, the transfer contract Chloe received was packed with an absurd number of defensive clauses.

It wasn't as if Chloe hadn't prepared herself. With great pay comes great responsibility. Holding that thought, she had stamped her seal and begun her service. After all, the salary was four times what she had earned in the Navy. Some might have criticized her as foolish, arguing that health should come before money.

But that's the kind of luxury only people without families to support can afford. ...Or so she had thought. Yet, after a mere three months, she found herself seriously weighing whether it would be better to become a high-profile national criminal by assassinating the hero of Ivanes, or to simply throw herself off the highest peak of the outer wall. But now, her chance had come. A chance to exact vengeance for all her suffering.

To put it plainly, Chloe Amboise was feeling rather thrilled.

"Kneel? To you?"

"Yes."

She was bold enough to declare it to Curtis, who asked back with narrowed eyes. To think that perfect war hero actually couldn't swim and was prone to severe seasickness. It was true that once she learned this fact, the Grand Duke seemed a bit less intimidating than before. The sight of his usually cold, handsome face thoroughly crumpled in dismay was another reason for her excitement.

Had she been just a fraction more excited, she might have said, "If you're going to do it, do it tomorrow morning at sunrise in the middle of the training ground, in front of everyone!" But something felt off.

"I see. Sincere action, then."

Even after hearing Chloe's excited demand, Curtis merely stroked his chin. Then, he nodded.

"Very well. I shall."

"...Pardon?"

Chloe doubted her ears. What? He was going to kneel... just like that? This isn't how this was supposed to go.

"Your Grace, do you understand what I am asking—"

"I understand. It seems we skipped a crucial step in the process."

"What?"

A crucial step? While Chloe tilted her head in confusion, Curtis ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pulled something out of his desk drawer. He stood up and strode purposefully toward where Chloe was sitting. His steps were so swift that she didn't even have time to speak.

Reaching her in an instant, Curtis looked down at her. And Chloe found herself utterly overwhelmed.

Crazy bastard...

He was the Third Prince, exceptionally tall and broad-shouldered since childhood. A soldier who had spent six years on the battlefield. Perhaps her fatal mistake was that, after three months of mind-numbing overtime, she had forgotten exactly what kind of man he was. Standing before her, looking down, the sheer pressure Curtis radiated was immense. The synergy of his inhumanly beautiful face and cold expression only amplified the intimidation.

Consequently, Chloe suddenly began to reflect on her recent actions.

...Did I push my luck too far?

It was clear she held the upper hand in this situation. But demanding he kneel and beg on the spot? Looking up at the Grand Duke, who was staring down at her with an expressionless face, she suddenly felt a chill of fear. Should she apologize now? No, maybe she should say it was just a joke? But Curtis did not wait for Chloe's reflection or apology.

"Warrant Officer Amboise."

"Yes...?"

Her eyes instinctively darted to Curtis's hand. Surely he hadn't pulled a gun out of that drawer. Am I about to be summarily executed for insulting royalty? All sorts of terrifying thoughts swirled in her head. Cold sweat pooled in her palms.

It was then. A sudden gust of wind seemed to sweep through the room. Chloe blinked, her eyes closing and opening in a flash. Immediately after, an astonishing sight unfolded before her. To her utter shock, Curtis Shan Berk had dropped to one knee before her in a perfectly polite, formal posture. Unfortunately, it was a far cry from the scene Chloe had envisioned.

"This is the ring my mother received when the Late King proposed to her."

What? A ring? As if answering Chloe's silent confusion, Curtis held out a luxurious ring box in his hand. Inside, an enormously large amethyst ring glittered brilliantly. Beautiful, just like its owner. Sparkling and shining.

"Marry me."

A brilliant flash. Chloe lost her train of thought. It wasn't because the man before her was too beautiful. It was because she had absolutely no idea where things had gone so spectacularly wrong.

At this point, it is worth examining Curtis Shan Berk's inner thoughts. In truth, Curtis held his aide, Chloe Amboise, in rather high regard. This was partly because he understood himself far better than others realized. He was well aware of his own fastidious nature, his mysophobia, and his workaholism—traits so severe that the guardsmen called him a crazy bastard or a demon. Though his workaholism was actually a coping mechanism to drown out the annoyance of being demoted to the Royal Guard, he knew his office was a brutal environment for any aide.

Yet Chloe had worked under him for three whole months. While she wasn't entirely without flaws, her work was remarkably clean, especially considering she had come from that chaotic Navy. This was a stark contrast to the previous aides, who had been so overwhelmed by the deluge of work that their desks and tasks were left in a filthy, disorganized mess. He had seen no reason to keep men in his office who went two days without washing despite not being on a battlefield, or who made frequent mistakes under pressure, so he had kicked them out.

But Chloe was quite to his liking. He appreciated how she always tied her hair back tightly in a single ponytail and kept her surroundings neat. Naturally, she made almost no mistakes. Although Chloe's meticulousness was actually born from years of looking after her three younger siblings, Curtis, whether he knew this or not, was highly satisfied with his superior-subordinate dynamic.

There were reports that she was a miser who occasionally won sums bordering on extortion from her colleagues in betting games, but that was none of Curtis's business. The fact that she worked overtime without a single complaint because she was a miser was excellent, and as for winning money through gambling—well, the losers were simply fools. He truly believed that.

He was so satisfied, in fact, that he could even overlook her calling him a "crazy bastard" behind his back, finding it rather cute and amusing.