ORHML 09

Chapter 9

“Where are you going?”

“To somewhere the Duke de Lavoie isn’t.”

It was uncomfortable having him block my way, so I stepped aside. But he blocked me again. I tried another direction—again, he blocked me. Once more—I was blocked again.

“Why?”

The words Get lost almost burst out of my throat, but I couldn’t say them. First, I knew I couldn’t win, and second, his build was sturdier than Lady Triangle’s.

“Because I don’t want to be with you.”

“So why not?”

The weather was so bright and clear. If not for this situation, I would have been admiring how beautiful the gardens behind the main palace were. And here I was, with not just one but two handsome men.

On the surface, it looked like a perfect picture.

“And you, Duke de Lavoie—do you want to be with me?”

“Yeah.”

His immediate reply nearly left me speechless. But I had my secret weapon.

“Then why’d you trample all the flowers?”

“……”

“And why did you humiliate me in front of everyone?”

It seemed to work—he pressed his lips together. His eyes, tinged red, looked strangely beautiful today, almost pretty.

“You… you started it first, didn’t you?”

“I’ll apologize for that. I was young back then.”

Not knowing the full details made it easier to apologize. Please, give me a quest where I can check memories. I’m suffocating here.

“I’ll accept your apology. Then can I hear your answer now?”

“What did you say back then?”

“Are you pretending not to remember?”

“I really don’t remember.”

Clayton’s stare was so intense it felt like he might devour me. His eyes were sky-blue, matching the heavens above, and that almost mesmerizing beauty made it worse—I didn’t hate it.

Keep this up and you’ll be shooting lasers from your eyes, won’t you?

“After me, is it Francis Patella?”

“What are you talking about?”

It felt like I was the only one clueless, left out. When he drew closer, I tried to step back, but he caught my arm. He didn’t grip hard, just gently, but his warmth seeped through.

I tried to shake him off but thought better of provoking him, so I turned to look at Francis.

You’re my guard, aren’t you? Save me!

“Hey. Where are you looking?”

Unhappy that I’d met Francis’s eyes, his grip tightened. It still didn’t hurt, but the pressure made me want to pull away.

“What does it matter to you where I look?”

“Why wouldn’t it matter?”

“It doesn’t.”

“It does.”

“Oh really? How so?”

“Because I’ll take responsibility for you.”

Are you insane?!

If you’re taking responsibility, then just end the damn game already!

I’m sick to death of this rotten game!

“Sorry, but I think Lord Russell is the one who’ll take responsibility for me.”

And also—I’ll take responsibility for myself, thank you very much. Who else? My life is mine!

So let me go, you cursed game!

“You just made a mistake saying that.”

He let go of my hand—just as my guard dropped, he snatched off my mask. Startled, I reached for it, but he grabbed my hand too.

Then suddenly his hand was on my chin, pulling me close until his face was right in front of mine.

No way—I can’t have my first kiss like this!

I turned my head, and his lips landed on my cheek. The warmth shocked me. And his ridiculously handsome face made my heart race against my will. I must be crazy.

This is cheating!

If he looked ordinary, at least this wouldn’t be so absurd!

Out of all the people I’ve met, he’s the most handsome—and he’s doing this? I was going to lose my mind. My head screamed it was wrong, but my heart pounded wildly.

“Are you crazy?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t!”

“No. I’ll kiss you, so don’t dodge.”

I pummeled his shoulder with my one free hand, but it was useless. I shifted to hitting his chest, harder—but God, he was solid.

A perfect wall of muscle.

A glorious, flawless chest!

“N-no, stop!”

Unexpectedly, it was Francis who intervened. His voice surprised me. Clayton’s blue eyes shifted from me to Francis.

“Why do you keep interfering with me?”

“I’m not!”

“Then why keep getting in the way?”

“How is protecting my charge ‘getting in the way’?”

Clayton’s icy eyes turned back to me, colder than frost against skin.

“You said you needed me, didn’t you?”

Quest!

Oh, f**k. Now?!

Duke Clayton de Lavoie is angry! Choose one option to calm him down:

1. Cry.

2. Kiss him.

3. Hug him.

4. Beg him for a kiss.

Beg him?! I’d rather strangle him!

But out of fear, I chose 1.

“I-if you keep doing this… I’ll be in trouble…!”

Think sad thoughts. Losing seventy billion. Clearing this damn game only to lose the prize after 366 days. G Corp abandoning me…

The tears came on their own.

“You’re crying?”

“Sob… hic…”

He let go completely, staring at me with pity. Turns out he really is weak to tears. Some war hero—how’d you survive a battlefield like this?

Quest completed. Reward granted!

I clicked the arrow eagerly.

Now displaying: Duke Clayton de Lavoie’s affection rating.

Screw that! I don’t need it! Teleport me to my room instead!

“I’m sorry.”

He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped my face—it was fine silk, of course.

“Gracie.”

My breath caught—his chest muscles pressed against my lips as he hugged me. His enormous, solid chest even smelled good. I felt like I should run away immediately, but I couldn’t.

Affection level: 99%.

It had to be 99 out of 1000, right? Otherwise how could he act like this while claiming to care?

“I was wrong. So forgive me.”

I still had to keep pretending to cry, gasping for breath. His hand patting my back, holding me—it was gradually calming me down, which was even more frustrating.

Yesterday, it was my sister. Today, it’s Clayton.

Do they both know my weak spots? Why do they twist me up like this?

“Next time, I’ll be careful. So… so please, don’t say you’ll marry Russell. I’m begging you.”

A lion’s “plea”—is that really a plea? I’m just a helpless deer. And a deer can’t refuse a lion. So I had no choice but to nod.

He stroked my cheek.

Now go, you lunatic.

The reason I didn’t want to doubt my sister was different.

As an orphan, I worked hard to hide it. I wore donated clothes, so wearing something new was rare.

‘Hey, that’s the outfit my mom threw out, isn’t it?’

Rich kids sometimes donated perfectly fine clothes.

That’s how it started—I was the poor kid wearing other people’s throwaways.

When it rained, parents came to fetch the others. I had no such parents. On rainy or snowy days, I trudged home soaked to the bone. Soon, everyone knew I was parentless.

The orphanage’s umbrellas were always scarce. Even if I woke early to grab one, the intact ones rarely ended up in my hands.

That day was P.E. class. I locked the classroom after changing, but when I came back, the door was open. Someone had stolen things. Of course, the expensive stuff was gone.

‘My wallet’s gone!’
‘Mine too!’
‘Me too!’
‘Check your stuff, guys!’

I hadn’t worried at first. What could they steal from me? At best, a textbook. Even my gym clothes were hand-me-downs from a graduate.

‘Wasn’t it you?’
‘You’re an orphan. Who else would steal from our class but you?’

The accusations flew straight at me. The injustice stung. Looking for the culprit among classmates was idiotic in the first place.

‘I was with you all in class. If you don’t believe me, search my locker and bag.’

‘You probably hid it somewhere else, beggar.’
‘Wow, she even talks back.’

It’s fine. That was the past. Stay calm. Wait until it’s clear. There’s nothing I can’t endure. I uncovered the truth even back then.

I gathered myself and returned to my room—only to find someone unfamiliar waiting.

Another devastatingly handsome man.

His hair was soft pink, like spun wool, fine as lamb’s fleece. His eyes were another shade of blue, different from Clayton’s icy laser-like glare—this one was like emerald blue.

Leonil Graham
: Strategist / Affection Level Unavailable ▼

“I greet Your Highness the Princess.”