Chapter 53
Baileon lightened the mood with a small joke before adding,
“I’m sorry. I made you go see someone you’re afraid of—and even listen to her give orders about our relationship.”
“Well, it’s not like I was planning to break up anyway.”
“Still.”
Baileon smiled gently.
“It’s different when you decide something on your own versus when someone else orders you to do it.”
Exactly. That’s what I’ve been saying!
Marienne felt grateful to have a partner who understood the situation so clearly.
“I always figured the Fourth Princess’s Palace would summon you sooner or later. I just didn’t think it would be this soon.”
Baileon’s voice lowered, calm and thoughtful.
“I did hit Blackwood pretty hard, sure. But that can’t be the reason she called you. It’s not like she summoned you just because she’s curious about my lover.”
Correct.
Marienne recalled her audience with Odette—her flashbacks, her surprising praise of the usually tight-lipped Cloiz, and that troubling remark about how she and Baileon were in the same boat now.
Odette had even told her, “You’ve already boarded the ship, too.”
If the conversation had gone on any longer, she might have even been asked whether she knew how to play chess.
And if she’d said no, Odette would probably have sighed, Didn’t Baileon teach you? He’s quite the formidable opponent, you know.
But what about that northern bastard? During the whole conversation, Odette hadn’t even mentioned Blackwood.
In the original story, by now Odette and the northern man should have shared several deep, passionate kisses.
Yet that day, Odette hadn’t even brought up Marienne’s supposed “obsessive fixation” on her fiancé’s hair.
Unlike Marienne, Odette had a perfect poker face.
There were so many strange details—was it possible that Odette’s real focus that day was recruiting Marienne?
No… it felt more like… indifference. Almost cold detachment.
Could it be that the northern bastard had finally fallen out of her favor?
Even after she’d covered up the stolen earring incident for him—he repaid her by tossing her precious heirloom necklace into a pond.
That act had angered even Baileon, who’d otherwise stayed out of it.
Given Odette’s personality, if Cain Blackwood weren’t Cain Blackwood, she would’ve already hacked him to pieces and fed him to the palace swans.
“Big man, small brain. Guess the swans didn’t finish him—better dump the leftovers in the pig slop.”
Just imagining that her affection for him might have cooled made Marienne’s heart race a little.
It wasn’t about her and Baileon—it was about not having to watch that bastard parade around beside Odette, pretending to be a grand duke.
Wishful thinking, maybe. But still—what if?
“I must’ve let something slip. A tiny mistake in my words or behavior.”
“Ah…”
“That’s probably why Her Highness summoned you.”
Marienne hesitated. Should she tell him that the coachman handling their commute worked for Odette?
“Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned that strategy to Her Highness in the first place… But it’s strange. Thinking back, there wasn’t a single thing she could’ve used against me.”
Then Baileon suddenly went,
“Ah.”
“Did I just say something I shouldn’t have?”
“Mm-hm. You did.”
“You’re not mad, are you?”
“Me? Not at all. Besides, Her Highness already knew. That it was me who brought it up first.”
Baileon frowned slightly.
“Which is exactly what’s strange. How did that information get out?”
He had already grasped that a leak had reached Odette.
Baileon was sharp—if she left him alone, he’d probably uncover the coachman’s secret soon enough.
She wouldn’t even need to take the risk of revealing it herself.
And yet… Marienne changed her mind.
There was only one reason why:
Romance Law, Article 1 — If you really love someone, hide the truth for their sake.
The smaller the secret, the better. One little lie leads to a bigger one, and before you know it, you’re drowning in a swamp of misunderstandings.
“Actually, Her Highness told me. Our coachman—the one who drives us every day—he’s her eyes and ears.”
Baileon froze.
“Shocking, right? That’s why I’ve been chatting about random nonsense in the carriage lately.”
Marienne went on, half amused.
“When you think about it, it’s actually very fitting for the Fourth Princess. Classic move, really.”
“I’ve been debating whether to tell you. You trust my ridiculous stories without question, and here I was, hiding everything I heard from Her Highness. I’m sorr—”
“If you say ‘sorry,’ I’m going to kiss you.”
Marienne quickly covered her mouth with her empty ice cream cup.
“Th-that’s… a joke, right?”
“If you want to know whether it’s a joke or not, try saying ‘sorry.’”
“That’s—”
“If you say it now, my first kiss will taste like a rainbow.”
The fruity flavor lingering on her tongue suddenly became vivid again. Her gaze drifted to Baileon’s lips. They looked soft.
If I touch them… they’ll be even softer.
A mental image flashed: the red, orange, and yellow food coloring melting together on Baileon’s tongue.
A rainbow-flavored first kiss.
That line was so powerful, Marienne forgot what she was going to say next.
“You mean, actually here—right now?”
“As long as you don’t say you’re sorry.”
“Ah…”
Why was she about to apologize again?
“As long as I don’t say—”
Baileon leaned closer.
“Next time. When we’re alone… I’ll do it then.”
His sweet, low voice tickled her ear. Marienne nodded like a broken doll. Baileon chuckled softly and leaned back.
“Remember what I said before? Every time you say ‘sorry,’ it makes me feel like I’m some kind of terrible man.”
“But… I was the one who did wrong, so why are you—”
“Huh?”
Marienne, startled, snatched her cup back up.
Pull yourself together. He’s your superior. Stop the sudden romantic impulse. Control yourself.
“Wait, was that you admitting fault? Isn’t that basically the same as saying ‘sorry’?”
“No! Completely different!”
“I’ll let it slide this time.”
Baileon took the cup from her hands and set it down.
“If only I could show you what kind of impure thoughts are running through my head right now.”
He sighed shortly.
“Anyway, so it was the coachman who leaked our conversation. Thanks for telling me. And…”
Marienne waited for him to continue.
“…And now I understand why you kept it secret for a few days. That’s why I didn’t say anything either—until you brought it up first.”
“As expected… Romance Law.”
See? They’d almost perfectly reenacted Article 1.
Marienne felt relieved—and decided she’d try to be more open in the future.
Especially with someone like Baileon, who always thought several steps ahead.
“Now everything makes sense. Her Highness liked my plan quite a bit—but once she found out it came from you, that changed everything.”
“So I’m going to be exploited to the bone too, like you?”
“Yes, most likely.”
Maybe she’d phrased that too harshly. It was his first love, after all—he might have felt uncomfortable.
But apparently not.
First love was first love, and recognizing that she was good at being used was another matter entirely.
At least he was realistic. Thank goodness.
After all, Odette had already taken interest in Marienne—so it was better to empower her than to leave her vulnerable.
If Marienne proved herself capable, her worth in Odette’s eyes would rise too.
That was Baileon’s reasoning.
“Since we’re on the topic of my ‘talents’…”
Marienne looked around carefully before lowering her voice.
“That food poisoning incident—it seems suspicious to me. I think someone might have done it on purpose. What do you think, Lord Beers?”
“Actually, I had the same suspicion.”
“We’re in sync again.”
Marienne smiled brightly.
“The timing was too convenient. If everyone’s living in shared quarters, it’d be easy to spread something. It didn’t even have to be the salad.”
“But we’ll never find the exact cause, will we?”
Their eyes met.
“In sync again.”
“At this rate, Her Highness will never let you go.”
“Ugh, that’s creepy.”
The two stood up. The topic was too dangerous to keep discussing in public.
In the distance, the coachman—Odette’s spy—started leading the carriage toward them. Baileon waited until it drew close.
“Are you going to ride?” Marienne whispered.
“Shh. I have an idea.”
The coachman stopped in front of them and prepared to step down to open the door, but Baileon raised a hand.
“No need. Head to the Ministry of State and take care of some paperwork for me. Tell Deputy DiDi that we finished field work and went home early.”
“Understood. Shall I take you to the count’s manor first, then?”
“No need. The weather’s nice—I’ll walk.”
“It’s quite a distance, sir. Are you sure?”
“I’ll take it slow.”
“…Very well. I’ll return to the palace then.”
The coachman left, looking faintly disappointed. Marienne waited until the carriage vanished from sight before exclaiming,
“Wow! You got rid of him so cleanly!”
“Rank has its privileges. Even if he’s Her Highness’s man, right here and now, I’m his superior. He can’t defy my orders.”
“Thanks to that, we can talk freely.”
A young couple passed by, the woman clinging to her partner’s arm and laughing.
The sight made Marienne want to link her arm with Baileon’s too—but there were too many onlookers. What a shame.
“Do you think it’s the Crown Prince behind it, trying to mess with his half-sister? Or maybe the Second Prince’s doing? It bothers me that he chose you as the final inspector—he’s barely ever interacted with you.”
“It sounds cold to say this, but…”
Baileon began calmly,
“The Crown Prince isn’t capable of something like that. Food poisoning is too sophisticated for him. If he wanted to ruin things, he’d have just set fire to the dormitory.”
Marienne blinked. So that’s where this is going.
“So… you’re saying he’s stupid and violent.”
“Extremely.”
“Then the Second Prince’s self-staged scheme seems more likely.”
After all, he’d created a mess that was too big to cover up or redo—and made Baileon the final inspector.
Would anyone in the organizing committee dare admit their blunder now?
And even if they did—what could they do, with only three days left before the festival?
“I bet they never expected us to turn the whole thing into a beauty pageant.”
Baileon chuckled.
“That idea could only have come from you. Even the crafty Priest Anais wouldn’t have thought of it.”
“Still, the Second Prince did outsmart his brother. If we fail to manage this, he’ll blame you and the committee—but if we succeed, he’ll take all the credit. Annoying.”
Baileon tilted his head thoughtfully.
“So then—what if I entered the Imperial Flower Pageant myself?”
