Chapter 12
William and Mark were on their way to the Central Palace to attend the Imperial Palace’s daytime meeting. Mark, still looking utterly haggard, had deep shadows under his eyes and was clutching a thick stack of documents.
“Duke, please, please, please! Hire the person coming for the interview today. At this point, I’d be willing to work with them even if they were a serial killer.”
William, dressed in a sharply tailored uniform, slowly ran a hand through his hair and replied with a grave expression.
“…Even so, a serial killer would be problematic.”
“I’m exaggerating. Just exaggerating! Ugh. Do you know what my wish is these days?”
“…Retirement?”
“To sleep more than five hours a day. I’m not even asking to retire! It’s not like you’d let me anyway!”
“Hmm. An average of five hours of sleep a day is reasonable.”
“Duke. Are you aware that I don’t even get half of that average?”
“You’re always working hard.”
When William nodded calmly as he said this, Mark pounded his chest with his fist as if he were about to burst.
“Anyway, please hire someone today. And for the next relief mission, please take a rookie with you. I’m absolutely not going this time.”
“Mark.”
When William suddenly stopped and called his name, Mark, sensing danger, hurriedly blurted out,
“No matter what you say, I’m not going! Just thinking about how hard it was last year makes my legs shake even now. You’d better beat me to death instead!”
However, despite Mark’s outburst, William’s gaze was fixed on something far in the distance.
“Duke?”
Mark naturally turned his head to where William was looking. It was the garden connecting the annex palace to the Central Palace. The Seventh Princess was walking toward them.
With a small wooden club in one hand—and gripping a royal guard by the collar with the other.
“Mark, I’m not hallucinating right now, am I?”
Seeing Raphaella striding toward them with such confidence and brightness, both men were left dumbfounded.
“It looks like the Seventh Princess to me too, but what on earth is that…?”
As if something had suddenly occurred to him, William flinched and stepped a couple of paces away from Mark. When Mark tried to approach him with a confused expression, William startled and held out his hand to stop him.
“Don’t come. Stay there.”
“Yes?”
“For the time being… it’d be better if we kept some distance.”
“That’s a welcome thing to hear, but why all of a sudden?”
“…I don’t want to be misunderstood again.”
“Misunderstood about what?”
Just then, Raphaella, who had been walking briskly toward the entrance of the Central Palace, spotted William and Mark. She casually tossed aside the guard she had been holding and waved at the two men with a bright smile.
“Hey, Duke! Mark!”
Seeing the round-faced princess running toward them with a club in her hand, Mark instinctively stepped back. William, on the other hand, though his expression stiffened, bowed politely.
“I greet the Empire’s star, Her Highness the Seventh Princess.”
“Wow, you two still stick together.”
“We are not sticking together. Can’t you see how far apart we’re standing right now?”
“What, did you fight again? I told you to stop teasing Mark so much.”
Raphaella fiddled idly with the club, her cheeks flushing slightly. They really do get along well. She felt oddly pleased. Thanks to that, the irritating people she had encountered on her way here were quickly forgotten.
At first, she’d thought she didn’t get along with the duke, but after dealing with several other people on the way, she decided that the prickly duke was actually preferable.
Mark followed William and offered an awkward, silent greeting, then stared at the duke as if to ask what on earth Raphaella was talking about.
William, having immediately understood what Raphaella meant, frowned coldly. He felt that now was the time to clear up the princess’s misunderstanding.
Steeling himself, he spoke.
“Your Highness. There is something I absolutely—most certainly—must say to you.”
“Later. I’m busy right now.”
“No. This misunderstanding must be cleared up immediately—”
Raphaella cut him off, glancing around the entrance of the Central Palace.
“Instead of that, could you tell me where the Empress is? Everyone keeps running away or talking nonsense. I almost died of frustration.”
She tossed the club lightly into the air and caught it again, her face annoyed. She needed to settle things with the Empress, grab some money, and hurry off to find the fragments.
Her mind was in a rush, but nothing was going as planned.
William narrowed his eyes, puzzled.
“You haven’t gone to the Empress’s palace?”
“I stopped by on the way earlier, but it was empty.”
“Empty… Don’t tell me you visited without making an appointment with Her Majesty?”
“An appointment? No. Do I have to?”
“……”
William pressed a hand to his forehead and sighed.
In noble families, it was customary to notify one’s parents through attendants in advance before paying a visit.
And if that was the case for nobles, how much more so for royalty?
Every member of the imperial family had their own schedule, managed by secretaries or maids. For the Empress, who oversaw the affairs of the state, it was common sense that even her own children had to request an audience several days in advance.
Externally, the Seventh Princess is said to be young and frail, quietly recuperating while receiving her education. That’s why she’s never been seen in high society.
Seeing the princess’s condition was more serious than he’d expected, William sighed again. No matter how young she was, she had just come of age. It was hard to understand how she could lack even such basic knowledge or etiquette.
Raphaella glared at William as he sighed at her.
“What’s with that sigh? Somehow that annoys me.”
William thought back.
Sneaking out alone for a walk late at night. The utterly irrational misunderstanding about him and Mark. And just now, dragging a guard along by the collar. Not to mention that inexplicable outfit….
All of it led to a single conclusion.
An eccentric, immature child. A hooligan of the imperial family.
After quickly organizing his thoughts, William replied,
“I know where Her Majesty the Empress is.”
“Oh! Really? Great. Duke, guide me there.”
Raphaella’s expression instantly brightened as she shot him a sideways glance. But William straightened his posture and hardened his face.
He intended to use this opportunity—for his own sake.
“If Your Highness so commands, I will do so. However, I ask that you grant me one request in return.”
“What is it? Hurry up and say it so we can go.”
“I would like Your Highness to clear up the misunderstanding you have.”
“What misunderstanding?”
William gestured toward Mark. Mark, having no idea how the situation was unfolding, stood there blankly, his eyes darting around.
“Mark is my personal secretary. He is employed by House Klimt.”
“So?”
“He is, ahem….”
William couldn’t bring himself to say it. He’d never imagined in his life that he’d have to say something like this out loud. His face flushed with humiliation, and he kept clearing his throat.
Growing impatient, Raphaella spoke first.
“What about Mark? What? He’s your lover.”
“He is not! Absolutely not!”
The duke shouted his denial in shock.
“What?!”
Mark screamed too, his zombie-like face now twisted into an even uglier expression.
“My goodness, Your Highness! What a horrifying thing to say! I am a man with a fiancée! And of all people, with that stiff—ah, pardon me. Anyway, it’s not true! Why on earth would you have such a dreadful misunderstanding?”
At Mark’s excessive denial, William’s brow twitched. Seeing Mark recoil in horror, Raphaella tilted her head.
“He’s not? Then what was it that I saw that day?”
“That is precisely why it’s a misunderstanding.”
William took a step closer to Raphaella.
“Because Your Highness returned to the annex palace immediately that day, we were flustered and unable to clear things up. But today, I very much—absolutely—wish to correct that memory.”
Mark nodded so vigorously his neck looked like it might snap, staring at Raphaella with desperate intensity.
“Whatever part you misunderstood, we are not in the kind of… relationship you’re thinking of.”
Raphaella narrowed her eyes and studied their expressions. William looked as though his pride had been thoroughly cracked, and Mark—
Anyone would think he’d actually crushed a bug in his mouth.
He was denying it so fiercely that it almost felt excessive.
She was still suspicious of them, but for now, getting to the Empress took priority. Clicking her tongue with a bitter taste of regret, she replied,
“Tch, fine. I’ll admit I misunderstood.”
“Thank you.”
Only then did William let out a breath of relief.
Then, at Raphaella’s small mutter, William fell back into deep thought.
“Then… was it unrequited love?”
