The Grand Duchess Embraces
Crown Prince Mikhail Schuelgart was, at this very moment, in a state of absolute chaos.
Which was understandable enough — an attempted assassination had just occurred within the Imperial Palace, a place that was supposed to be the safest in the entire world.
By some stroke of fortune, the Grand Duchess of Valencia had fought on without abandoning her fallen fiancé, which was the only reason Mikhail had managed to arrive before it was too late.
He had no idea why the Saintess, who was supposed to arrive today, had shown up at the Imperial Garden a day early — but regardless, thanks to the Saintess being there at just the right moment again, there had been no casualties.
"Your Highness, the documents you requested."
"...Leave them there."
Still, the absence of casualties didn't mean the Imperial Palace's airtight security hadn't been breached.
It was only natural that his workload — which already included shouldering the duties of the current Emperor — had grown even heavier. His father, the reigning Emperor, had long ago dumped the responsibilities of the throne onto him the moment he came of age, declaring his intention to enjoy his remaining years with Mikhail's mother.
So it fell to Mikhail to resolve this matter as well. As it should.
"Albert Zernias..."
The name of the assassination target was Albert Zernias.
Mikhail remembered him — the neatly dressed young man he'd crossed paths with in the palace corridors before the Imperial Banquet had properly begun.
Aside from the fact that House Zernias was betrothed to the Grand Duchy of Valencia, the County was hardly a house of any particular distinction, which made it difficult to believe the assassins had come for Albert himself.
Given the circumstances, the most plausible explanation was that someone who had learned the Saintess would arrive at the palace a day early had sent killers after her — and the target had simply been misidentified.
After all, hadn't the Grand Duchess of Valencia herself testified that the assassins had initially come for her, not her fiancé?
"...Whew."
Which only made his head ache all the more.
This wasn't a matter of material compensation or anything of the sort.
It would be simple enough to offer a substantial settlement to the Grand Duchy of Valencia and House Zernias, the direct victims of the incident, and for Mikhail himself, as Crown Prince, to bow his head in formal apology.
It was true that swallowing his pride to do so stung — but this incident was, beyond any argument, the fault of the Imperial Family.
The man in charge ought to be the one to apologize. That was Mikhail.
What gave him the headache was the question of why.
Why had the Grand Duchess of Valencia and Lord Zernias been attacked?
The palace security, though breached, was by no means soft. That seasoned assassins capable of slipping past such defenses had failed to even properly confirm their own target was nothing short of absurd.
Just how had the target been communicated to them, such that instead of striking the Saintess while she was alone, they went after the two people standing beside her?
Mikhail was burning to know — but for now, there was no way to find out.
The failed assassins had long since taken their own lives with the poison they'd carried in preparation, and with the assassins dead, there was no longer any way to extract further information.
The case was sinking deeper and deeper into a maze.
No matter how he turned it over in his mind, he could see no path forward.
Letting out yet another sigh, Mikhail rose slowly from his seat.
"Where are you going, Your Highness?"
"To see Lord Zernias, I think."
His destination was the palace guest parlor, built to accommodate the Empire's distinguished visitors.
Lord Zernias, who had collapsed after the incident yesterday, had been moved there.
If Albert had woken, Mikhail would question him about the attack; if he hadn't, Mikhail would ask the royal physician about his condition. Either way, he had reasons to go.
And so Mikhail walked toward the parlor.
Then, the moment he opened the door to the room where Albert was staying—
"..."
"..."
He turned to stone.
Albert Zernias was already awake — and the Grand Duchess of Valencia, Albert's own fiancée, was wrapped tightly around him in an embrace.
Having become, entirely against his will, an intruder upon two young lovers' passionate moment, Mikhail—
"...My apologies. I shall return a little later."
—left behind a heart-felt apology and shut the parlor door behind him.
"Your Highness, why on earth would you leave after coming all this way?"
Beside him, the tactless royal physician he'd brought along wore an expression of utter incomprehension.
"What would you know about youth? It's why you've gone forty years without a wife."
"..."
Brushing aside that look was no difficult task for the accomplished Crown Prince Mikhail.
Warm sunlight streamed in through a window left slightly ajar.
That was the kind of room I woke up in.
Glancing around, I found it decorated so lavishly that it made the Count Zernias estate look shabby by comparison.
"Ugh..."
A dull ache pulsed from the spot where the arrow had struck me.
Running my hand over it, I found a stiff bandage wrapped around the wound — but apparently, taking an arrow to the bare body without even light armor had done more damage than I'd expected.
Well, fair enough. What kind of lunatic volunteers to take a poisoned arrow with his bare skin, after all?
Consider it the penalty for a reckless gamble. The only proper response was to accept it with grace.
So thinking, I looked around to get a rough sense of where I was — and then—
"...Rebecca?"
Near my legs, half-hidden beneath the blanket, I found the Grand Duchess, fast asleep with her head bowed over the bed.
And she was sleeping deeply, so deeply it looked as though she'd spent a very long time keeping watch over me.
Seeing her like that, honestly, moved me a little.
It felt like only yesterday that Rebecca had sworn vengeance on me, chasing me down at every turn and demanding we settle things with a match.
Looked at as she was now, she was simply a fiancée nursing her beloved betrothed.
Of course, that was only how she looked — I could well be imagining things — but regardless, this was a side of the Grand Duchess I'd never seen before, and it stirred something new in me.
So instead of waking her, I spent a while simply admiring the sleeping Duchess's face.
For one thing, she was sleeping far too soundly to be rudely shaken awake — and for another, a mischievous urge to tease her had come over me.
It had been a while.
Staring openly at Rebecca's sleeping face like this.
As far as I could remember, the last time had been when the Duchess of Valencia had forcibly shoved the Grand Duchess and me into the same room.
Back then, too, I'd been watching her sleep from this close when Rebecca woke, seized me by the collar, and pulled me in with all her strength—
Whoosh—
The moment that sensation and that memory, forgotten for so long, came rushing back, my face went hot.
Even after all this time, it felt as though I could still feel the touch of her lips from that day.
For no good reason at all, I found myself touching my lips again and again at the memory, then edged slightly away from the sleeping Duchess beside me.
After all, no one could say the same thing wouldn't happen twice.
Not that I was saying I disliked the idea of kissing Rebecca.
Quite the opposite — I'd liked it.
True, I hadn't been the one to take the initiative; Rebecca had dragged me in. But the sweetness of that moment was not the kind of thing a person forgets easily.
And yet, the reason I'd put a little distance between myself and the sleeping Duchess was this:
...A kiss that only I remember.
Because Rebecca, the other party involved, had no memory of that moment.
My first kiss, remembered by me and me alone. And I had no desire to experience that particular agony again.
At the very least, I wanted my next kiss to come when the Duchess and I were both perfectly sober, and when we'd truly confirmed each other's feelings.
So, having settled at a careful distance, I watched her for a long while.
Then, as though sending some kind of signal that she would wake soon, the Grand Duchess's face began to shift, little by little.
She squirmed as much as her sleeping body allowed, looking for all the world like a small, adorable baby — and I couldn't take my eyes off her.
"..."
"...You're awake, I see."
At last, Rebecca's eyes fluttered open.
It wasn't the first time I'd gazed into those red, crystalline eyes that held nothing in them but me — but every time I did, it lifted my spirits all over again.
"..."
Rebecca, eyes barely open, stared blankly at me as I lay there awake.
"That expression of yours looks remarkably foolish right now."
Blessed — or cursed — with the deplorable habit of teasing my beautiful fiancée at every opportunity, I was, as ever, already reaching for the bait.
"Your face always does look a bit vacant, but with an expression like that, you truly do look like an idio—"
Wam—
—right up until Rebecca shot upright and trapped me against her chest.
Her embrace, thrown around me with every ounce of strength she had, as if to say she would never let me go again—
"..."
—wiped my mind white, leaving room for not a single thought.
That was how warm her arms were.
Thump— thump—
The sound of Rebecca's heartbeat, rising faintly through her chest, spoke for her — telling me exactly how she was feeling right now.
Her ear, visible where her hair had fallen away, was flushed red as well, so I could guess the state of the Grand Duchess's heart without asking.
I was probably in much the same state myself.
There was no mirror here, so I couldn't check my own face — but judging by the heat burning through my skin, I could roughly imagine just how red mine must have gone.
My honest assessment: I was, if anything, worse than she was. Certainly not better.
Rebecca went on holding me, and holding me.
Not a single word passed between us, and still her burning embrace showed no sign of letting go — until, as everyone already knew—
Creak—
"..."
"..."
—it was brought to an abrupt halt by the arrival of an intruder (?).
"...My apologies. I shall return a little later."
Our ever-perceptive protagonist read the situation in an instant and slipped back out, closing the door behind him.
"...Ah."
Only then did Rebecca register that we'd been seen — and her face flared so red it looked ready to burst.
And, naturally, she released the embrace she'd held me in — reluctantly, I couldn't help feeling — and put her distance between us.