Chapter 7
The Prince Dies and Starts Over From the Beginning!
Ah, was he talking about something like the stigma of being a divorcée?
Only then did I understand why the Third Prince had pulled out such a massive card — the North’s only year-round port.
It was a kind of compensation. A divorce settlement, even. And an astronomical one at that.
Come to think of it, in this conservative aristocratic society, breaking off an engagement must be quite a scandal — especially when it involves the royal family.
A typical noble lady, who saw such things as a great disgrace, would never dare to accept a “contract engagement” with the Third Prince.
“Would owning Delike change anything?”
No matter how remarkable the city of Delike might be, it couldn’t restore one’s damaged reputation.
Owning Delike would simply make me a wealthy divorcée instead of just a divorcée, wouldn’t it?
Of course, as someone from the modern world, I didn’t see being dumped as that big of a deal — but there was no way the Third Prince would understand that.
At my question, the prince awkwardly rubbed his chin with his fingertip before whispering softly,
“…Duke Kal of the North has his eye on Delike. Every shipment bound for the North must pass through there.”
“So, what you’re saying is… you want me to trade Delike with His Grace, the Duke?”
“If that is what Lady Lulupel wishes.”
Oh-ho.
It was now perfectly clear that the Third Prince hadn’t completely let go of the rumor that “Hariela” was secretly in love with that northern viscount, Kal-whatever.
He came to me — believing that if Hariela truly harbored feelings for the young northern noble, she would be intrigued by this proposal.
Indeed, while most noble families might hesitate, the Northern Duke surely wouldn’t refuse a daughter-in-law bringing Delike as her dowry.
Of course, I — who had never even seen this so-called viscount’s face — would much rather live comfortably on my own than marry some stranger in exchange for Delike.
Still, the Third Prince was… unique.
Do kids his age usually think this deeply? Was it because he was a prince? Or maybe because he was the second male lead type?
“…Um, by the way, Your Highness — are we definitely going to break off the engagement?”
“…What?”
Just as one question was answered, another curiosity bubbled up.
The Third Prince blinked his wide eyes, clearly not expecting that kind of question.
When he looked like that, he seemed like just an ordinary boy again… Maybe he was simply a bit precocious.
“It seems every clause of the contract assumes that we’ll end the engagement when we reach adulthood.”
“Isn’t that what you want?”
“Well… yes, of course, but…”
I swallowed the rest of my words, unsure what to say.
What did the Third Prince gain from this engagement, anyway?
No matter how I looked at it, I couldn’t find an answer.
He wasn’t some kind of self-sacrificing saint — it just didn’t make sense that he’d give everything away for nothing in return.
A deal that only benefited one side could never be a complete or fair one.
“Your Highness! There you are!”
But I couldn’t press him further — because his attendant was running toward us from the garden’s entrance, panting heavily.
“It seems we must end our conversation here.”
“I suppose so.”
“Please, read the rest of the clauses carefully when you return to your room. If you have any additions, you may write them at the bottom.”
“Yes, Your Highness…”
“…And one more thing.”
The prince stood up, neatly straightening his clothes, then looked me squarely in the eye.
“Please keep everything we discussed a secret — including the existence of this contract and the fact that I am the true owner of Delike.”
With that uncharacteristically stern warning, the boy — with his cherubic face — turned and left first.
A boy who entered a loveless engagement while thinking about his fiancée’s future.
A boy who stammered like an innocent child, yet stayed silent when it truly mattered.
Was he cold, or kind? Foolish, or brilliant?
The Third Prince was truly an incomprehensible, peculiar child.
Sir Peter arrived at the lakeside garden long after the prince’s attendant had left.
He apologized profusely, sweating buckets, explaining that he’d gotten lost in the maze garden.
Feeling a little sorry for him, I handed him my handkerchief — the very same one the prince had rejected earlier.
Unlike the prince, Sir Peter accepted it with deep emotion, as if it were some sacred relic.
“I shall treasure this handkerchief as an heirloom—!”
“Don’t keep it — just wipe your sweat.”
He clutched the handkerchief tightly, babbling nonsense until I finally scolded him.
Once he’d wiped off the sweat and looked more presentable, I let him escort me back to my guest room at the palace.
As soon as I opened the door, Anna — who had surely been waiting for me all evening — ran out to greet us.
“Ah! G-good evening, Miss Anna!”
“Good evening, Sir Peter.”
“Y-you look lovely as alwa—”
“You must be tired, Sir Peter. Please, rest well! Goodbye!”
Anna practically shoved him out the door.
After firmly closing and locking it, she immediately latched onto me with sparkling eyes — dying to know how my first meeting with the prince had gone.
“How was it?”
“What was?”
“Oh, don’t play dumb with me!”
Her smile was just like the one she’d worn that morning — the look of a young girl experiencing her first crush.
“Well, it wasn’t anything special… but he was kind of cute.”
“Cute?”
“Mm. Like a newly hatched chick.”
It felt a bit odd to say, but pretending otherwise would’ve seemed stranger, so I mixed in just enough truth.
At that, Anna let out a strange sound — something between a delighted squeal and a wistful sigh.
“Oh my goodness… Hearing you say that feels so strange somehow.”
“Don’t tell me you’re treating me like some old lady now?”
“Of course not!”
Despite her nonstop chatter, Anna still worked efficiently — brushing my hair, washing my face, and helping me change.
It was a bit humiliating, feeling like someone incapable of dressing herself, but being cared for like this was admittedly pleasant.
It reminded me of that small thrill you feel when a hairdresser washes your hair at a salon.
“Now, hands up!”
Following her instructions with my eyes closed, I obediently raised my arms — and that’s when I remembered the contract stuffed into the hidden pocket of my dress.
“Ah!”
“What is it, my lady? Are you hurt?”
“No, no… it’s nothing. Just a leaf stuck to my skirt.”
I discreetly reached into my pocket, crumpled the contract into a ball, and tossed it under the bed like it was nothing important.
Thankfully, Anna didn’t seem to notice anything unusual and continued her work.
“But really, where were you, my lady?”
“Hmm? At the banquet, of course.”
“No, I mean before that! Your skirt was covered in dirt, and your hair was all messy when you came back.”
“Oh, that…”
I couldn’t exactly tell her, ‘I was at the lake garden discussing a marriage contract with the Third Prince.’
As I scrambled for an excuse, something came to mind.
“Right! Anna!”
“Yes, my lady?”
“Do you know someone called… Kal-something? A young lord or viscount or whatever?”
“Kal-something…?”
“Or maybe it was Kare-something?”
“Kare… something?”
It was definitely a similar name, but Anna didn’t seem to recognize it at all.
I rummaged through my memory, trying to recall the name.
No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t remember that complicated title.
Strange — I knew I’d heard it before. Maybe I hadn’t been paying enough attention.
In the end, I gave up on remembering and went with another approach.
“I don’t remember the name exactly, but he’s the Northern Duke’s son — the young lord of the North! Ring any bells?”
“The young lord of the North… Oh heavens! You don’t mean Lord Caledonia, do you!?”
Riiip.
Somewhere in the room, a sound like a soccer ball bursting echoed.
Looking down, I saw that Anna had neatly torn my nightgown in two.
“Anna…”
“Oh my!”
“Did you eat something good while I was gone? You’ve got so much energy.”
I muttered blankly.
Anna panicked, flailing her hands.
“K-K-K-Kal—! I-I mean, th-that f-f-forbidden name—why would you even—ask about—!”
“Anna, I can’t understand a single word you’re saying.”
Even she didn’t seem to know what she was talking about anymore.
Her eyes darted about wildly, and her trembling hands wouldn’t stay still.
Calmly, I poured her a glass of water from the table and handed it to her.
She downed three cups in a row before she finally regained her composure.
“I-I’m so sorry, my lady. I just got so startled…”
“It’s fine. But… I’m cold.”
“Cold? Oh heavens! Your nightgown!”
Apparently, she had been so shocked she’d forgotten that she had just ripped it apart.
Just what kind of secret was hidden between Hariela and that Kal-whatever Viscount?
At this point, I was actually getting intrigued.
I urged Anna to explain, feeling as if I were listening to someone else’s gossip.
…Well, half of it was someone else’s story, after all.
