Chapter 12
He had the face of someone desperate to host the most luxurious, extravagant engagement ceremony imaginable.
Well, considering it was Count Lurupel, that made perfect sense.
Count Lurupel loved showing off more than anyone, yet rarely had the chance to do so.
Because his territory was tucked away in a remote corner of the empire, he seldom met anyone who could properly appreciate his boasts.
“I swear upon the name of House Lurupel! I shall prepare an engagement ceremony grand enough to be remembered in history!”
The Count’s eyes blazed with determination, as if he were about to charge into battle.
“That’s a very kind offer, but I don’t want anything too extravagant.”
However, the Third Prince clearly didn’t share the Count’s enthusiasm.
He poured cold water on Lurupel’s excitement as casually as a child popping a soap bubble—without an ounce of hesitation.
“Judging by your reaction, Count, I take it the news hasn’t yet reached Lurupel.”
“Pardon? What news do you mean, Your Highness?”
“My brother, Prince Belos, has recently broken off his engagement.”
Be–who?
I stopped tapping my spoon against my boiled egg cup and pricked up my ears.
With a name that odd, there was a good chance this “Belos” played some important role in the story.
That was my hypothesis—based on both my natural deductive genius and my long years of experience surviving in this world.
It was still only speculation, but a rather credible one.
Just look at the difference between Hariela’s name and Anna’s.
Even though Anna was supposedly the sole confidante of the story’s only villainess, her name was suspiciously plain.
Why Anna and not something dramatic like Annarella?
Back in my second life, I had suddenly realized the truth.
It was the difference between main characters and supporting ones!
“Beluga…”
What a dolphin-like name. I’d better write that down later.
I smashed the egg shell again, repeating the name in my head.
“…It’s Belos, actually.”
I could’ve sworn I heard the Third Prince muttering something under his breath.
When I looked up, wondering if he was talking to me, he hastily turned his gaze back to Count Lurupel.
His ears, bright red against his pale face, were impossible to miss.
He dropped his fork again.
“A-anyway! In these circumstances, it would hardly be proper for me to hold a grand engagement ceremony while my elder brother’s has just been canceled.”
“Well, Your Highness, that may be true, but…”
The Count didn’t seem particularly concerned about the boy’s clumsy table manners.
Instead of scolding him, he simply stroked his beard and fell into deep thought, wearing a gloomy expression that didn’t suit his massive frame.
His wife, the Countess, looked equally disappointed, though she hid it better.
Honestly, nobles were ridiculous.
What did it matter whether an engagement ceremony cost a hundred coins or a hundred million?
As long as this fourth life didn’t end abruptly, they could hold an engagement or even a breakup party for all I cared.
I chewed on a flavorless boiled bean with all the enthusiasm of someone eating dirt from a playground.
“It seems Lady Lurupel… isn’t very interested, I see.”
Having finished his own meal, the Third Prince sounded faintly dejected as he watched me tackle the last of my beans.
Maybe he was catching the gloomy mood from the Lurupel couple, because he looked oddly downcast too.
“…Very well. Then I’ll decide on the general details of the ceremony myself.”
After shaking his head a few times, he seemed to regain his energy and continued briskly,
settling the date, venue, and guest list faster than a snake slithering through grass.
“So to confirm, Your Highness wishes to hold the ceremony in three weeks’ time, at a quiet yet elegant venue, with only essential guests invited—but maintaining all proper formality?”
“Exactly! As expected of you, Count Lurupel.”
‘Classic yet modern, simple yet splendid. Oh, and the sooner the better. Three weeks should be fine, right?’
By the time the prince finished speaking, the Count looked exactly like a designer faced with an impossible client request.
But the prince didn’t seem to notice anything wrong.
He simply ignored the Count’s trembling hands and nodded with that shamelessly adorable confidence of his.
The Count’s complexion grew even darker.
“W-well… I can’t say about the rest, but three weeks might be difficult. Merely sending out invitations and confirming attendance would take at least two…”
“Is that so? Ah, I must have overestimated Lurupel, then. I thought with such capable people, three weeks would be more than enough…”
The prince looked so openly disappointed that it was almost painful to watch—like a poor squirrel who’d just lost its last acorn in the woods.
Apparently the Count thought so too; his shoulders twitched violently.
According to my years of research in The Complete Strategy Guide to Count Lurupel,
nothing motivated him more than the sight of a cute child’s disappointment—
especially if that child outranked him.
This was a man who lived and died by appearances.
Sure enough, the Count gulped down a glass of cold water, slammed the cup on the table, and leapt to his feet.
“Three weeks! Yes! On second thought, three weeks will be perfectly sufficient!”
He declared it like a man giving a rousing speech.
“Splendid! As expected of House Lurupel!”
The Third Prince beamed brightly, clapping his hands together like a kindergarten teacher praising a student.
The Count even scratched the back of his head with an embarrassed chuckle, apparently pleased by praise from an eight-year-old.
Watching them, I suddenly understood why people called the prince clever.
With nobles this dimwitted, even an eight-year-old would seem like a prodigy by comparison.
From where I sat, it was obvious—Count Lurupel was dancing neatly in the palm of the Third Prince’s hand.
‘Is it really okay for a man like that to be managing such a vast territory?’
I popped the last bean into my mouth and glanced at the Countess.
She looked like she’d die happy if she could just smack her husband across the head once.
Count Lurupel and his wife left the dining room almost immediately after breakfast—
or rather, the Countess dragged her husband out by the arm.
Having been suddenly tasked with organizing an unplanned engagement ceremony,
they already looked like they were losing their minds.
I probably wouldn’t see them again for a while—which meant… I had some freedom.
An unexpected stroke of luck.
‘But why isn’t he saying anything…?’
Even after the couple left, the Third Prince and I remained seated.
We had business to discuss—or so I assumed.
Surely he planned to take me somewhere after breakfast.
But apparently expecting that kind of forethought from him was too much.
The same boy who chirped away like a lost chick in front of the Count now sat silently, fiddling with his fingers,
his mouth firmly shut.
I watched him for a while, then decided enough was enough.
There was something I’d been meaning to ask, anyway.
“Excuse me, Your Highness.”
“Y-yes?”
“This might sound odd, but I have to ask.”
“Go ahead.”
“Are you… by any chance, embarrassed right now?”
“…What?”
“Is it because I’m too pretty or something?”
CRASH!
A deafening sound rang through the dining room, like the world itself had just ended.
The Third Prince looked exactly like someone whose world had ended.
He’d knocked over his teacup—stone cold by now—and his eyes darted about wildly.
I’d suspected it for a while, ever since he kept dropping his fork whenever our eyes met…
and now I was sure.
The Third Prince was so flustered because Hariela was simply too beautiful.
‘But seriously, isn’t this a little too shameless for a “sub male lead”?’
When my suspicion turned out to be true, my first reaction was disbelief.
Wasn’t a proper male lead supposed to stay pure and untouched until meeting the heroine?
Even a sub-lead should have some dignity.
A man who was supposed to embody tragic devotion shouldn’t be blushing over someone else!
Even passing sparrows would mock such behavior.
Honestly, this third-rate romance novel didn’t have a single thing going for it.
“Th-th-th-that is to say…”
The poor prince hung his head so low I could barely see his face.
But his ears—red, no, nearly black from how hot they’d gotten—were impossible to miss.
Any more teasing, and I was sure they’d explode.
