BVS CH 25

Chapter 25

I wasn’t sure how I even made it out of the royal palace.

The words still echoed in my ears—

“Next time, the duke must come as well.”

And after that, the queen’s voice—

“Hoho. That means His Majesty is very fond of you.”

Once I had completed my task and climbed into the carriage, the tension finally left me. I let out a slow breath.

The last thing I’d done was hand Oscar my handkerchief after he teared up, and then I’d closed my eyes quietly.

Now I had to think about how to explain this to Martin.

Will he go to the palace willingly?

He’d only sent me in the first place because he didn’t want to go himself.

And now the king wanted to call me again—just to hear Martin’s answer directly.

He doesn’t trust my word.

First, I’d have to figure out what Martin really thought.

Hopefully, he didn’t have any grudges against Oscar.

The carriage soon rolled out of the palace grounds.

Meanwhile

“Damn it.”

Sitting at his desk, Martin clenched and unclenched his fists, stewing in his own frustration.

He should never have let her go.

He should have stopped her—no matter what it took.

Even if she claimed it was for the family.

The thought of that sly King Leonard’s face made Martin’s jaw tighten, and the veins on his clenched hands stood out.

He got up restlessly, worried she might say something unnecessary to the king.

When had she started thinking of the family’s business as her own?

He didn’t understand why Gemma was acting so differently lately.

Just then—knock, knock.

“It’s Clinton.”

Martin’s brow furrowed deeper.

He was the one who had called for Dr. Clinton.

Lately, his own behavior had been… odd.

Resting a hand on his forehead, he told Clinton to enter.

“I heard you needed me urgently. Is something wrong?”

The doctor began unpacking his bag, ready to examine him.

“What’s wrong, huh…” Martin muttered.

Oh, there was something wrong, all right.

But what was the “symptom” exactly?

He thought back carefully—

“I got curious about you.”

Gemma’s voice rang clearly in his ears.

He remembered how his hands had trembled back then.

“This is when you treat yourself. Should I buy you one too?”

She had meant ice cream, and he had frowned at the time.

But afterward, for some reason, the thought made him smile.

Just a silly comment, he told himself.

Yes, that was it—a ridiculous thing to say.

And the time they had fallen together on the ground to avoid the handcart? That had just been surprise—nothing more. They’d never been that close physically before.

No, that wasn’t why he had called the doctor.

The real problem was his anger—anger at himself for not stopping her from going alone to the palace.

“Your Grace?”

Clinton’s voice pulled him back.

Martin sighed in relief.

Now that he thought about it calmly, it was obvious—

“Never mind.”

“…Pardon?”

“No need for an exam. I just figured it out—it’s clearly an anger disorder.”

While Clinton looked bewildered, Martin let out a breath of relief.

The carriage entered the front gates of the Cloud estate.

Looking out, I was surprised to see Martin outside.

Is he… here to greet me?

He looked almost relieved—much more relaxed than I expected.

He’d been so against me going, so why did he look so at ease now?

But as soon as I stepped down, he walked toward me like someone who had been waiting all along.

Maybe it was my imagination—his face didn’t look so relaxed anymore.

“Nothing happened, I hope?”

“Nothing serious. I was nervous because of you, but His Majesty was far kinder than I expected.”

“Kind?”

His eyebrow twitched upward. He glanced at Babel, but Babel only shrugged.

Martin stayed close behind me, not letting me get far.

“That’s impossible.”

Sure, I’d been nervous about facing the king—but nothing bad had happened.

Well… except that he’d liked my answer so much he’d invited Martin next time.

I turned to face him.

He almost bumped into me.

“See? You don’t believe me. He invited both of us.”

“…What do you mean? Invited? Tell me exactly what happened—start from the beginning.”

He was practically grinding his teeth.

“Before that, let me ask you something. What do you think of Prince Oscar?”

Martin looked at me with an unreadable expression.

Probably wondering why I’d ask such a thing—or maybe stuck on the fact I had addressed Oscar as ‘His Highness.’

Whether he didn’t want to answer or just couldn’t, I wasn’t going to get anything useful right now.

Before the silence could stretch further, a voice called from behind us—

“Sister-in-law! Brother! What are you doing out here?”

Erica stood at the entrance, staring at the two of us.

This was between Martin and me, so I preferred she didn’t know.

Luckily, he seemed to agree—his face quickly composed itself.

“You said you were going to the audience. You’re already back? Did you meet Prince Oscar?”

Her eyes sparkled brightly.

Martin gave a dry snort.

“What business do you have asking about him?” he said, ruffling her hair.

“Ugh, why!”

“Don’t bother your sister-in-law. Go inside.”

“Hey! You were the one bothering her just now!”

Erica stuck her tongue out at her brother, then attached herself to my side, openly badmouthing him.

“Isn’t he weird? He was so happy earlier, you know?”

Happy?

“Oh, what was it… He said something about an ‘anger disorder.’ I swear, only my brother would be happy about having one. Right, sister-in-law?”

Her words made me recall Martin’s oddly relaxed face before I got out of the carriage.

So that’s what it was.

When I glanced back, Martin looked away and coughed.

So she was right.

Shaking my head, I let Erica lead me inside—unaware that another problem was waiting for me.

Her chatter didn’t stop for the rest of the afternoon.

“So, what happened?”

I rubbed my forehead as she pestered me.

I hadn’t had a proper chance to speak with Martin since the audience—Erica had latched onto me the moment I got home.

Normally, I would have found her cute. But today? Not so much.

I’m tired too, you know.

Today, she was the very picture of a chatterbox. And that wasn’t the worst of it—she might be causing trouble again.

“Aaron’s completely won over now,” she announced.

“…Oh dear.”

Was she still on about that?

I answered absentmindedly, but then she pulled something out and proudly held it up for me to see.

“Tada! I just got a reply today—to that anonymous letter I sent.”

It was a letter to Erica from Aaron.

The fine paper and quality envelope made my stomach sink.

What on earth did she do?

I could picture Aaron going out of his way to respond to the mysterious ‘kind stranger.’

And he’d just lost his family—where would he even find the mental energy for this?

Until now, I hadn’t paid much attention to her little “anonymous letter” game, but this time I had to say something.

I pushed the letter back toward her and spoke firmly.

“This kind of prank isn’t okay.”

“Prank? What prank?”

She looked disappointed. She’d clearly shown it to me expecting praise.

“He was the one who ignored me first,” she muttered, lips jutting out.

“You sent it to get back at him for what happened last time, didn’t you?”

“…But if you read it, I bet you’ll change your mind.”

I was curious, so I took it carefully and read—

If it weren’t for your comfort, I wouldn’t have been able to go on. I want to thank you—please meet with me. –Aaron

How on earth had she written to him to get this kind of response?

I hated to admit it, but this didn’t sound like someone who’d been insulted—it was heartfelt.

Still, if she hadn’t entirely let go of her desire for revenge… that was dangerous.

“I’m going to meet him. Don’t stop me, sister-in-law.”

She answered before I could even ask, folding her arms with a stubborn look.

That expression said clearly—even I wouldn’t be able to talk her out of it this time.

“I don’t know what you’re planning, but there will be no revenge.”

She half-nodded, half-shrugged.

Well… as long as it wasn’t aimed at the royal family, maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.

But Aaron and Erica weren’t my priority right now.

First, I had something more urgent—

Getting Martin to the palace without a fight.

Whether she understood me or not, Erica soon started humming happily again.

Honestly, I couldn’t help but marvel at how persistent this connection between her and Aaron had become. In the original story, there was nothing like this.

After that day, Martin avoided me whenever possible—lowering his head, pretending to be busy, claiming he was too tired to talk.

But even the great Duke Martin couldn’t avoid me forever.

Today, Baron Gilbert was coming early in the morning to paint the family portrait.

Good. Today, I’ll make him talk.

While I was determined to corner Martin, Erica came running down to the garden, excited at the mention of the portrait.

The spring breeze caught her black hair, and her cheeks were flushed with excitement.

“It’s my first time having a family portrait taken,” she said.

“Do you like it that much?”

“Of course! It’s the first time.”

When she said “first time,” she looked down slightly.

I smiled and gently squeezed her shoulder.

“It’s my first time too.”