Chapter 22
Due to the Southern-style dress made of long, layered muslin robes and his delicate appearance, everyone mistook him for a woman.
Of course, Beriette Varner Belletti knew how to use his beautiful appearance well. When it was advantageous to appear female, he acted like a woman; when it was better to be seen as a man, he played the man.
Naturally, because of his disabled leg, he spent more time living as a woman.
“Do you really think that Tessarion brat will come here to pick you up himself?”
A blond man sprawled across a red velvet couch curled one side of his lips into a sneer as he bit into an apple.
His loose shirt revealed a bronzed, muscular chest, and he was adorned from head to toe in lavish jewelry—necklaces, earrings, rings, and more. He was none other than Heliote Fabien Quinter Belletti, Crown Prince of the Bellettinaum Empire and the Commander of the Imperial First Knight Division.
When the southern port city of Varner—once governed by the Emperor’s distant cousin—was annihilated by demonic beasts summoned by the dark sorcerer Gunthers, the Emperor personally led troops to eradicate them. Beriette, the only survivor and his fifth cousin, was rescued and adopted as the Emperor’s daughter.
Even before Beriette arrived in the capital, talks of marriage to Duke Claremont had naturally followed.
But what if the Emperor found out Beriette wasn’t a woman? Worse yet, the Emperor fell into fits of madness on stormy days.
The stubborn imperial faction elders and senior Belletti nobles—who had always opposed the adoption of someone without imperial blood—would rise up in fury and demand punishment for deceiving the Emperor.
It was only because Beriette was seen as a woman that the nobles tolerated bringing him into the royal family, intending to marry him off and preserve the imperial dignity.
But a man could be seen as a political rival to the next Emperor—a real threat—and they would do everything to eliminate him.
The only way Beriette could survive was to quietly and quickly marry Duke Tessarion Claremont—assuming this hopeless romantic fool, Crown Prince Heliote, didn’t get in the way.
Beriette glared at Heliote, then turned his pouting lips back toward the North Gate.
“Father must be losing his mind. Even if you’re in a wheelchair, how does anyone look at you and think ‘woman’? Your leg is bad, your body’s weak, and he’s sending you off to a frozen wasteland? To Tessarion—the one who said he wanted to kill you?!”
“Haa… This is driving me insane…”
Beriette covered his ears in exasperation.
He was sick and tired of the Crown Prince, who refused to give up no matter how many times the timeline reset.
At first, he hid his identity from Heliote out of fear, but with each repeated lifetime, it became unbearable—disgusting. Once, he couldn’t take it anymore and revealed he was a man.
Heliote just brushed it off with, “Ahh, must’ve been a dream I had,” and now shamelessly said things like, “So what if I’m still aroused?” and, “Why should I give you to Tessarion? If I can’t have you, no one can!”
The clinking of gaudy jewelry rang loudly as Heliote leaned in, kissing Beriette’s hair with a smile.
“My beautiful little sister… Can’t you stop pushing me away now?”
“Aww, my stubborn brother. Are you asking to be exiled from the capital right this second?”
“I’m the one holding Father’s decree, remember? You needed my military support and practically seduced me for it—so why are you pushing me away now?”
“Seduced? I merely advised Your Highness to gain Duke Claremont’s support to strengthen your political base.”
“You call that advice when you say you want me and care about me? That’s seduction.”
Heliote twirled a lock of Beriette’s golden hair around his fingers and yanked it.
“Just thinking about stealing you from Tessarion drives me crazy.”
“Can you please stop with the insanity?”
Beriette’s head was forcibly tilted back, and he glared, pushing Heliote’s face away. His rough shove left a scratch on Heliote’s cheek.
As Heliote grabbed his wrist, trying to pin him down—
“Step back, Your Highness.”
That despised voice made Heliote freeze.
He gritted his teeth at the sight of a gleaming white blade pointed beneath his chin. Meanwhile, Beriette’s crumpled face broke into a radiant smile.
“Even if you are the Crown Prince, you cannot lay a hand on the future Duchess of Claremont.”
Reflected in Beriette’s glassy, shining eyes was a knight barely past boyhood, standing firm.
Wavy ash-brown hair, clear gray eyes, a stiff expression, and skin so pale it looked soft to the touch—he was the bold young knight who always got in Heliote’s way.
Beriette resisted the urge to shout his name and instead teared up.
Roy Dover.
Chosen by one of the goddess’s Three Sacred Relics—the Holy Sword. The only knight he had searched so long and hard for. Though to Heliote, Roy was nothing more than a cheeky little pest.
Heliote clicked his tongue, releasing Beriette’s wrist and taking a step back. Roy caught Beriette as he stumbled and asked gently,
“Are you alright, Princess Berieta?”
Beriette turned his face and hugged Roy tightly.
My mountain dove!
Whenever Roy summoned the Holy Sword, a silvery-gray glow would radiate from his shoulder blades, sprouting small wings. Reflected in sunlight, his soft ash-brown hair made him look like a gentle dove. Beriette nuzzled his cheek into Roy’s fluffy hair.
“Thank you for saving me, my knight!”
“U-uh, P-Princess…”
“Berieta was berry berry scared~!”
“P-please… let go…”
Roy flushed bright red, flailing awkwardly. Drunk on the joy of finally meeting Roy, Beriette babbled in a babyish tone full of affection.
Then Beriette put one foot up on the terrace railing, flipped Heliote the middle finger, and shaped a perfectly clear curse with his cherry lips:
“You son of a bitch, I’m outta here!”
Gripping his cane, he began chanting a spell.
“That brat again…!”
Heliote scoffed and drew the scimitar from his waist.
Roy Dover—Heliote’s second-most hated enemy, right after Tessarion.
The eldest son of a fallen noble family, never even formally knighted. He gained fame by pure chance when chosen by a Sacred Relic and rose fast—only to die young on the battlefield.
Heliote thought that was the end of him.
But then in the next life.
And the one after that.
And even after that…!
Roy kept reappearing to stand in his way, drawing the Holy Sword to pierce his heart or slice his neck. He’d even snuck into the palace as Tessarion’s lackey and poisoned Heliote’s food and drink, or dropped onto his bed in a surprise assassination attempt.
Red energy crackled along the elegant curve of Heliote’s blade like a web of lightning.
“Do not let the princess or the kidnapper escape!”
Heliote’s roar shook the entire mansion. The 1st Division of the Imperial Knights, stationed around the Shinnevan manor, drew their swords and spears.
Roy grit his teeth. There was no escape—he couldn’t flee with Beriette through the window, either.
A crackling red current lashed out beside Roy. It was Beriette’s cane deflecting Heliote’s strike. Sparks flew onto the fluttering curtains, leaving a burn mark on the wall.
“You dare raise a blade to the Crown Prince of Bellettinaum and think you’ll get away with it?!”
“So embarrassing…”
Beriette frowned and spun his cane, slamming it into the ground. In the next instant, he lunged forward, and with a fist charged with green magic, uppercut Heliote in the jaw. He then spun and smacked away the scimitar with his cane.
Thud. Clang!
Roy stared blankly at Beriette and Heliote, then slowly lowered his Holy Sword.