Chapter 6
“Please don’t lie.”
You’re terrible at lying.
The Third Prince’s small hands trembled.
Anyone could see he didn’t mean what he just said — you didn’t need to be a genius like me to figure that out.
He was such an easy boy to read. Of course, considering he was only eight years old, that wasn’t so strange.
But thinking of his status as a prince, it was hard to understand.
There was something… peculiar about him.
Was he supposed to be the “sub male lead” or something?
Maybe there were little background details about him I didn’t know yet.
“Whatever the reason may be, I won’t blame you. Please be honest with me.”
“Honest…?”
“Yes, honest. How could we possibly get engaged if there’s no trust between us?”
The Third Prince hesitated for a while, his lips barely moving, and finally spoke in a quiet voice.
“…Because Miss Lurupel will be the only one who won’t love me.”
Huh? Isn’t that line plagiarized?
I swear some baron’s daughter said almost the same thing in another story.
Was he… reusing dialogue?
“Um, is that line a popular saying or something?”
“…What?”
Maybe lines like that were trending in this country? The thought was so absurd, I almost laughed.
His answer was ridiculous — even by the standards of a fantasy romance world.
Of course, I already knew the political benefits he’d get from marrying Lurupel weren’t that big.
The Lurupel family was a great noble house, yes, but their territory was on the far edge of the empire — not exactly rich.
Among the many powerful noble houses, the only thing the Lurupels could boast about was their lineage.
Every count in the Lurupel line had always been a legitimate heir — not one born out of wedlock.
That was their pride.
That’s why the Count and Countess Lurupel thought the Third Prince wanted to marry Hariela — to erase the stigma of being born to a lowly concubine.
In short, the deal made sense:
The prince gave the Lurupels the honor of becoming kin to the royal family, and they gave him legitimacy in return.
Still, knowing that this world was just a third-rate romance novel, I didn’t think the prince’s motives would be that calculated.
But I certainly wasn’t expecting this kind of answer either.
“Why do you think I’d be incapable of loving you, Your Highness?”
After all, it wasn’t impossible.
People fall in love unexpectedly.
Life — and especially emotions — are unpredictable.
You can’t just decide how you’ll feel about someone.
So for him to assume, so firmly, that I’d never love him… it didn’t make sense.
Unless, like me, he knew how the story went — but he was just a character in it.
“Miss Lurupel loves Cal—”
He cut himself off mid-sentence with a startled “Ah!”
Then he slapped his own lips with his tiny hands.
“Ahh… I see.”
So, it seemed he hadn’t yet given up his delusion about Hariela Lurupel being in love with young Lord Cal Sal Donia or whatever his name was.
I had a feeling I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight, wondering where he’d gotten that idea.
Was there maybe a rumor going around the empire that Hariela was secretly in love with that young lord?
Come to think of it, that did happen in the original novel.
Hariela couldn’t stand it when another woman approached the Northern Grand Duke — the man she had “set her eyes on.”
So it was clear there’d already been some kind of relationship between them back then.
Since the prince didn’t seem like he’d answer any more questions, I decided I’d ask Anna about it later.
“Well, I think that’s enough reason for now. …Can I ask you just one last thing?”
“Of course. Ask me anything.”
“Why would Your Highness want to be engaged to someone who won’t love you?”
“That’s…”
It was a careless question, thrown out while I was still thinking about Hariela and that young duke.
But the Third Prince’s expression suddenly darkened — deeply, almost painfully so.
His pale little face was shadowed with sorrow.
“…Because I don’t want anyone else to suffer because of me.”
His eyes shimmered like he might cry — but no tears fell.
He looked far more pitiful now, struggling not to cry, than he would have if he’d just sobbed outright.
I didn’t dare try to comfort him.
The prince bowed his head and said nothing.
Even though I knew the rough outline of the novel, I didn’t know his personal story — and that left me awkwardly silent.
Another heavy stillness settled between us.
As the cool evening breeze turned chilly, the flickering lights around the ballroom began to fade one by one.
“Oh! It looks like the banquet’s ending.”
I spoke a little too brightly, trying to break the tension.
I could already picture Sir Peter, running in circles around the hall, searching frantically for me.
He surely knew I’d snuck out with the Third Prince.
Still, it would be rude to return too late.
“We should probably head back. Your Highness’s attendants must be worried too.”
The prince’s retinue was quite small — a knight and three attendants, if I remembered right.
Enough for a noble, perhaps, but for a royal? Too few.
The more I learned about him, the stranger he seemed.
“Well then, shall we go?”
I stood up from the bench and brushed the dust from my dress before offering him my hand.
Once again, he hesitated to take it.
“Um, about the engagement…”
“Oh, the engagement? I’ll talk to my parents about it tomorrow.”
“…To Count Lurupel?”
“Yes. I’ll tell them I’m very much in favor.”
During our talk, I’d made up my mind.
He didn’t seem to wish me harm.
He didn’t seem to resent me.
And he already knew far too much about me.
He even seemed… to be hiding some secret.
A strong feeling told me — this prince might actually be the reason for this strange time loop.
It was time to take a risk.
“…Is that really all?”
“Pardon?”
“You’re not going to ask about anything else?”
“Hmm? Like what?”
The prince tilted his head, looking confused — like he couldn’t understand my reasoning.
“I thought… Miss Lurupel would ask something different. For example…”
He fumbled inside his jacket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.
“Something like what advantage this engagement would bring to you.”
I took the paper from him.
The first line read:
1. If Saphirus Aiden Detemir maintains his engagement to Hariela Liberati Lurupel until he reaches adulthood, Saphirus Aiden Detemir shall transfer ownership of Delike Port to Hariela Liberati Lurupel.
“What— this is…!”
A contract!
The eight-year-old prince had just handed me a creased sheet of paper — a contract!
It wasn’t just that it looked official. It was the contents that shocked me.
“D–Delike Port?!”
“Yes, Delike Port.”
“You mean the Delike Port — the northern all-season harbor?!”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
His offer was so outrageous that I was speechless.
In this world, where land travel was poorly developed, ports were immensely valuable.
Almost all ports were centers of imperial trade, and the taxes from even one port city were at least three times that of any inland city of similar size.
Even gifting an ordinary port would’ve been incredible — but this was Delike, the only northern harbor that never froze over.
Even in the frigid north, it stayed ice-free all year round.
Even I, who sometimes forgot the name of this empire, couldn’t possibly not know about Delike.
“Um… are you sure you’re not sick or something?”
The Lurupel estate had a small river port too — shallow and narrow, so large ships couldn’t pass, but it still generated considerable tax revenue.
Eight years ago, the Lurupel lands had suffered from drought — not because of the drought itself, but because the river’s water level fell too low for trade ships to pass.
“Are you sure it’s that Delike?”
“Yes. The same Delike you know, Miss Lurupel.”
A small border port like ours was already essential for survival. The northern empire’s main trading port was on a completely different scale.
I wondered if maybe the boy had misspelled the name.
But no — he nodded over and over again, perfectly calm, not flustered in the least.
Why on earth would he give me Delike Port?
Did he think the Lurupels were that poor?
Was the welcome ceremony not grand enough for his taste?
My mind was spinning with question marks.
“Why would you give this to me?” I asked, frowning.
“…Because I think you’ll need it.”
A strange answer came back.
“Me? Need Delike Port?”
“…It’s embarrassing to admit, but I know this engagement might leave a stain on your name.”
“A stain?”
“The fact that you were once engaged to me — and later broke it off — will likely become a burden to your future.”
