TPDSA13

Chapter 13

The Prince Dies and Starts Over!

‘Well, I can’t completely blame the kid.’
The Third Prince probably wanted to act cool and aloof, not to fall for someone’s looks.
But Hariela was just too pretty for that.

Even I had been through something similar.
When I first possessed this body, I used to pinch Hariela’s cheeks a dozen times a day.
Honestly, I’d wanted to bite those chubby cheeks, but since that was physically impossible, I settled for pinching instead.

“Your Highness… do you also ever feel like you want to bite my cheeks?”
Maybe the Third Prince felt the same way…?

“N-no! I swear I’ve never had such an indecent thought!”
“Oh, really?”

…Ah, maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say. He denied it so fiercely that it was a little embarrassing.
I thought wanting to nibble a cute child’s cheek was a universal human impulse, but apparently not.

I scratched my cheek awkwardly.
The prince mumbled a desperate string of excuses, and when he thought I wasn’t listening, he raised his voice to make sure I heard:

“I-I just thought Lady Lurupel was like an angel fallen from heaven! I never once had any shameful thoughts about biting your cheek!”

The Third Prince shouted so loudly that the dining room rang.

“…Pardon?”
I blinked, startled, and leaned back slightly.

I had to stay calm.
No matter how weird his comment sounded to me, maybe in this romance-novel world it was considered normal.

“…Oh dear!”

Hmm. Maybe I was wrong about that too.
The Third Prince suddenly flinched so hard that his chair squeaked, then buried his entire face into his little palms.

Apparently, calling someone a fallen angel was an embarrassment even for a romance novel character.

“Oh my…”

I heard a soft gasp from somewhere.
Following the sound, I saw several servants gathered at the doorway, whispering amongst themselves.

They must have run here when they heard the sound of the teacup breaking, only to stop when they heard the prince loudly praising Hariela’s beauty.

“…Ahem. Perhaps we should move elsewhere.”
I didn’t want to be the servants’ afternoon entertainment.

Rumors traveled fast among staff—faster than anywhere else.

I climbed down from my chair and walked over to the Third Prince, who was frozen stiff.
Then I poked his arm gently.

His arm felt soft and squishy like any child’s, but its owner was as unmovable as a statue.

“Your Highness, are you planning to stay like this? Don’t you want to play with your angel—me?”

I couldn’t help teasing him a little—his shy reaction was too cute.
The prince didn’t answer, just trembled slightly.

Wait a second…

“…Are you crying?”
“I’m not crying!”

Oh, sure. He’s crying.

I’d only teased him a little for egging on Count and Countess Lurupel, but now he was sniffling miserably, tears and snot everywhere.

Oops. I hadn’t meant to make him cry… now I just felt bad.

Flustered, I thought maybe I had a real talent for villainy.
Then again, I’d been good at everything since childhood—talent really could be terrifying.

“…Right. You’re not crying. How impressive. Then before anyone calls you a crybaby, shall we go somewhere else?”
“I’m really not crying!”
“Of course not. And since you’re not crying, you can walk just fine, right?”

Speaking as kindly as I could, I held out my hand to him.
He wiped his tears furiously but didn’t refuse.
Like a good little boy, he stood up.

I guided him carefully out of the dining room, making sure he didn’t step on any broken porcelain pieces.

Just as we entered the hallway, someone called out to us.
It was a man I didn’t recognize.

“Greetings, Lady Lurupel. I’ll escort His Highness from here, so please hand him over.”
“Who are you?”

He wasn’t wearing the uniform of the Rudbeckia Palace servants, nor that of House Lurupel.
So, he must be the prince’s personal attendant.

Still, I asked his name on purpose.

The man frowned but bowed reluctantly.
“My apologies. I am Andrew, the Third Prince’s personal attendant.”

Hmm, Andrew. Short and plain. Definitely a background character.

He added something about being the second son of some viscount, but it didn’t sound important, so I ignored it.

“May I take His Highness now? He has other engagements scheduled.”
“Really? What engagements?”
“Well, I don’t believe I’m obligated to tell you that, my lady.”

Was this viscount family some great house or something?
His attitude was astonishingly rude.

Sure, a prince’s attendant might have some noble backing and pride, but even considering that, this level of insolence was absurd.
Where on earth did this out-of-era extra pop up from?

“Why shouldn’t I know? You must be mistaken—I already have an appointment with His Highness.”
“You do? What appointment is that?”
“Well, I don’t believe I’m obligated to tell you that.”

After wasting a few seconds arguing, I glanced back at the prince.
He should’ve scolded his attendant for such disrespect, but instead, he was trembling behind me.

‘Wait… is he scared?’

Then it hit me—the Third Prince in the original novel had been nothing but a powerless puppet.
Come to think of it, I’d never questioned why he was powerless.

Could it be… that he was a bullied prince?

“How long are you planning to stand in my way?”
“I’ll move as soon as you release His Highness’s hand, my lady.”
“I told you—we already have an appointment! Why make me repeat myself?”

Anderson—or was it Anchovy? Whatever his name was—looked down at me with a condescending smirk.
How annoying.

“If you’ve never had proper servant training, shall I lend you one of mine? She’s only been working for three months, but she’s already leagues better than you.”

I scolded him in the most childish “spoiled noble girl” way possible—just like a cliché villainess in a low-budget romance novel.

I didn’t know how to use fancy noble phrasing anyway; I’d never even left my estate since possessing this body.
So, yeah… I probably sounded like a brat who didn’t know how to respect adults.

Still, in this world, letting servants look down on you was never a good idea.
I’d even heard that a certain count’s daughter once slapped a servant just for blocking her way.

By comparison, I was practically a modern-day lady of grace and restraint.

“Alright, Your Highness. Shall we go play now? You promised to play with your angel, remember?”

The prince trembled, glancing between me and his attendant.
Then he screwed his eyes shut and buried his head into my back—like a three-year-old who thought hiding his head meant no one could see him.
Adorable.

Holding his small hand tightly, I ignored the attendant and continued walking.

The man didn’t step aside.
And since I didn’t change course either, we inevitably bumped shoulders.

I put as much force into mine as possible and shoved him aside.
Despite our size difference—he was a boar, I a sparrow—he staggered back easily.

Guess he’d underestimated me for being a child.
Serves him right.

I stuck my tongue out at him, climbed a nearby step, and entered the closest room.

After all, I was the only daughter of the palace’s highest official, and the boy beside me was the master of this palace.
There wasn’t a single room we couldn’t enter.

“Perfect! We found a good room!”

Since the prince was still shaken, I didn’t want to go too far.
Luckily, the room we entered turned out to be a playroom.

For two eight-year-olds meeting in secret, it was the perfect spot.

“Alright, then… shall we play with blocks?”
I made sure to say “blocks” loudly before slamming the door shut and locking it tightly.

Now, no one in Rudbeckia Palace would suspect the prince and I were having a secret meeting.

Of course, realistically, who would suspect that of two eight-year-olds?
Still, one could never be too careful.

That attendant—what was his name again? Something like Anchovy—was suspicious enough.

I walked deeper into the room toward a cabinet I’d spotted earlier.
Inside were three boxes of colorful building blocks.

“So, who was that guy just now?”
I asked as I pulled one box out.

Once inside the playroom, the prince had calmed down remarkably fast, but he didn’t answer my question.
He just gave me a faint, powerless smile.

Clearly, there was more to his story.
But honestly… I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

A tragic backstory for the romance novel’s secondary male lead?
That just sounded like a hassle.