Chapter 8: “She’ll Be the Crown Prince’s Wife!”
It seemed the secret conversation among the king, the prime minister, and Demetrio had finally ended, because the reading of the will resumed.
The rest of the wills mostly dealt with inheritance and property.
Each person who received one would smile, laugh, or even shed a few tears as they read.
Watching them made my heart feel warm—seeing how deeply connected Grandpa had been to everyone.
I already knew he wasn’t the kind of king to act all proud and commanding.
Even when he was with me, he had always just been “Grandpa”—free-spirited and kind.
It made me happy to know he’d been the same even among his family.
***
“And finally, to Lady Emma of House Lucientes.”
“Y–Yes!”
My voice cracked a little as I nervously broke the wax seal.
Inside were a sheet of stationery and a small, slightly puffy envelope.
I figured I should start with the letter, so I carefully unfolded the paper.
The quiet rustle echoed through the silent audience chamber.
Everyone’s eyes turned toward me—clearly thinking “Who on earth is that?”
Slowly, I opened the folded will—
“…What…?”
I snapped it shut so fast it made a smack sound.
Did I just see something I wasn’t supposed to?
Please, please let me be mistaken.
I opened it again—just a tiny peek this time.
Nope. I hadn’t misread it.
In bold, unmistakable handwriting were the words:
“She will be the Crown Prince’s wife!”
I blinked.
What!? What does that even mean!?
The “Crown Prince” has to be… Demetrio, right?
Wait—why!?
It’s a will! Doesn’t that mean it can’t be refused!?
Isn’t a royal will basically higher than a royal command!?
What am I supposed to do—!?
—The Crown Prince’s wife!?
When I whipped my head up, Demetrio was massaging his forehead with one hand, covering his eyes.
Oh no, I’d seen that exact pose before—the “this is giving me a headache” one.
“Lady Emma, what does it say?”
“Uh… it just says… ‘She will be the Crown Prince’s wife!’”
The entire audience chamber erupted.
Forget murmurs—this was chaos.
Even the maids beside me were staring so hard it felt like lasers.
Do royal palace maids have to train their eye strength too!?
“Ah, it seems there’s a second page?”
“Eh? Oh—there is.”
One of the sharp-eyed maids pointed it out, and when I turned to the second sheet,
it was mostly a letter of thanks from Grandpa.
He wrote about our peaceful days in the garden—well, they were more lively than peaceful.
He called them happy times spent with his “granddaughter”—though we argued a lot.
He even mentioned our “fierce chess battles.” …Except, he was actually terrible at chess.
The letter was full of “thank you”s, and before I knew it, my tears were falling again.
Good thing I still had Demetrio’s handkerchief—it was working overtime.
“…Oh, he says here he’s giving me his chessboard and pieces.
Huh? It also says to ‘look inside the envelope’?”
Right, there was that small puffy envelope.
I opened it and tipped it out—
Clink.
Out fell a ring.
A delicate band set with a sparkling pale pink gemstone, about a centimeter wide,
cut into a round, multi-faceted shape that shimmered beautifully.
“That’s…! Prime Minister!”
Before I could react, the maid beside me grabbed my arm in a death grip
and dragged me straight toward the Prime Minister.
Next thing I knew, I was standing right in front of all the royals and high nobles.
Every pair of eyes in the room was locked on me.
It was… painful.
“I see. Your Highness, if you please.”
“Tch.”
The Prime Minister handed the ring—my ring—to Demetrio.
I mean, sure, the ring screamed “I was made for a noblewoman’s finger!”
It was obviously far too fancy for me,
so I didn’t mind if he wanted to take it back…
But why did he have to click his tongue at me while doing it!?
