Chapter 4
“I don't think I can quite match your consistency. Hasn’t your penchant for murder remained steadfast from then until now? Who would have guessed that a guest would meet their end on Christmas Eve? Chief, did you come to interrogate this friend, or are you here to protect him as a fellow comrade-in-arms, as you always do?”
Was it a misunderstanding—or perhaps wounded pride—that drove Knoxus to attempt my demise alongside the hotel incident?
Assad, not the Chief, responded to Knoxus’s rare openly picking on Benya.
“Your tongue seemingly itches when a day passes and you haven't picked a fight.”
“What fight? Isn’t it natural to suspect the host first when a noble is murdered during a hotel reception? Especially if the host has a strained relationship with the victim. I heard he didn’t even make an appearance during the reception. So where was he, and what was he up to?”
“Prince Serpente is far too elegant to resort to bottle-based killings.”
Assad’s tone wavered between jest and sarcasm, and both the Chief and I nodded in agreement. It was true.
Knoxus twisted his mouth into a sneer.
“Well, shooting might suit you better. Just like your penchant for lining up prisoners and executing them with a bullet to the back of the head.”
I discreetly shifted my other hand, wrapping it tightly around Benya’s. Benya chuckled softly, maintaining his unwavering gaze on Knoxus.
“I recall that Your Highness preferred internal skirmishes with our own army over battles against external enemies. So, Your Highness, where were you and what were you doing throughout the reception?”
“What…?”
This time, Knoxus’s cloudy purple eyes turned frigid.
In stark contrast to Knoxus, who glared at Benya as if poised to attack, Benya maintained his cold sneer.
Then, Knoxus’s gaze shifted to me. Simultaneously, Benya released my hand and draped his arm over my shoulder. I squeezed my eyes shut, feigning disinterest.
“Why the sudden silence? Suspicious, isn’t it? Chief, which of us do you think is closer to being the culprit?”
“Hmm, in cases like this, the Duke of Flame and Fury tends to be the prime suspect. Alcohol and assault are involved, after all…”
“True. I thought he'd keep quiet for a while.”
As the Crown Prince and the Police Chief exchanged leisurely banter, Knoxus’s eyes bore into mine, trembling wildly. Abruptly, he ran his hand through his hair, muttering something incomprehensible, and left his seat. Suppressing a chuckle, I watched his retreating figure.
After the parade, I requested permission to use the restroom and slipped away. Amid the bustling crowd, I reached the entrance to the restroom within the grand hall. There, I heard an odd sound.
Initially, I assumed it was an amorous couple seeking privacy. But as I stood before the door, listening intently, I realized it was someone sobbing.
Who on earth hides in the bathroom, crying, during New Year’s Eve festivities?
I quietly turned the doorknob and pushed. The woman—previously standing by the washbasin, head bowed, tears flowing—turned toward me immediately.
She turned her head away again, continuing to cry. Should I simply leave?
“Princess? What’s troubling you?”
Her tears flowed unabated.
I closed the restroom door behind me, rummaged through my handbag, and pulled out a handkerchief. A small act of kindness, just as I’d done before.
Adriana, however, slapped my hand away when I offered her the handkerchief—just as she had before. Our interactions remained consistent.
“Go away! I don’t need your sympathy!”
“I’m not particularly sympathetic… What happened?”
“It’s none of your business!”
Her tear-streaked face and smeared makeup told a story. As I gently scratched her head, she snatched the handkerchief from my hand. What now?
“Is something troubling you at home?”
“Sniff… It’s all because of you.”
“Why am I involved in this?”
“Everything changed after you appeared… Sniff. Isn’t what you have already enough? Why are you so greedy that you’re even taking someone else’s?”
“If the Princess claims it as hers…”
“It’s not enough that you stole my friends; now you’re taking my brother!”
“…”
“Why are people like you so insatiable? Why am I always like this…?”
“I am not the Princess’s stepmother. Benya is not the Princess’s father. If that were the case, the Princess’s leg would be broken by now.”
My sullen tone seemed to stun Adriana. Her tear-soaked pink eyes sparkled—an unexpected sight. Had she also quarreled with Juan?
"You don't know anything about me, so don't you dare to be condescending towards me."
“Your makeup is smudged.”
“…”
“You can use my cosmetics. I can’t guarantee they’ll suit your taste, though.”
“Are you mocking me? Why do you care whether they do or not?”
“I don’t particularly care, but I’ll cut you some slack.”
“Did you come to the Parliament House just so I could see you?”
“I’m not that conscious with the Princess.”
Silence hung between us. Then Adriana, still sniffling, rummaged through my purse and spoke again.
“No matter how hard I tried… I lived a good life, but now I’m going going through this ordeal…”
“It would have been nice if I could have lived a good life.”
Adria fell silent. As she wiped her tears and fixed her makeup, I felt a strange mixture of amusement and bitterness—like watching a child sitting at a dressing table.
That must have been the most significant deviation you could make…
Honestly, she must have been anxious—the sensation of her flower field dwindling, one bloom at a time. Fear crept in—the dread of returning to days when her garden was forcibly taken away.
Let her linger in that flower garden.
Let’s not shatter that intrusive naivety; instead, let’s leave her be.
At least one of us will honor that choice.
With those thoughts, I held my tongue. After adjusting her makeup and smoothing her hair, Adriana turned to face me, her bloodshot eyes the only sign of her distress. Otherwise, she remained the picture-perfect princess.
“Thank you for lending it to me.”
“…”
“Don’t underestimate me—I merely stumbled briefly while running.”
Where had she picked up that line? Or perhaps she’d coined it herself. Either way, it was impressive. As I continued my silence, she shifted her steps and walked past me, adding one last remark.
“Juan is on my side no matter what. Whatever you’ve said to him, I’ll put an end to it. Not just to him…”
“You exude confidence.”
“Virtuous intentions will always prevail over malicious ones. I hope you realize this before it’s too late.”
My soul seemed to twist in a vortex of time and space. How did she maintain such unwavering beliefs? Or perhaps it was I who was just weird?.
Well, I am the wicked woman herself, steeped in malice. Perhaps understanding this eludes me by design.
Because we are fundamentally different people, destined along divergent paths. It’s only natural that our mere existence grates on each other.
Would the world have been better off without me?
From the start, I never sought to impose my will like a lily blooming in noble purity…
Left alone after Adriana departed, I approached the washbasin and rinsed my fingertips under cold water until they reddened.
Then, I discarded the cosmetics from my handbag into the trash can beneath the sink and exited the bathroom.
The benevolent smile of the Virgin Mary in the painting on the corridor wall felt almost mocking. Perhaps I shouldn’t have discarded my lipstick.
Even if it were merely to deface it, to evoke blood and tears from those eyes. Perhaps rumors would spread that the Blessed Mother wept tears of blood. Hehehe.
“Sasha…?”
I blinked and turned my head. At the far end of the corridor, a certain siscon Prince approached. This was the only women’s bathroom. Had he come searching for his sister?
“The Princess left a little while ago.”
Juan, drawing closer, halted and fixed his gaze on me. His expression seemed indifferent to the events of Christmas Eve. Or was it all a facade?
“Why are you hurt?”
“What?”
“You were at the synagogue earlier. You seem injured…”
Had he followed his sister there as well? Everyone looked very closely at me in just a moment.
“It’s nothing. What about you and your sister? She didn’t appear well, so you should hurry and find her…”
“I didn’t come looking for her.”
His tone carried weight. Those pink eyes, resolute yet seemingly veiled in blood, held a mystery I couldn’t fathom.
What is this again, chuunibyou Ducal Prince?
Did you even make up your mind to awaken yourself after getting blood on your hands?
Or are you just repeating an experience?
Why are you being so uselessly confident?
It’s quite telling that he seems to have successfully justified it.
“On Christmas Eve…”
“Enough. Just drop it.”
“But…”
“I told you nothing happened. Forget about it. When you look back later, you’ll be surprised at how insignificant it feels.”
I offered my advice, and Juan’s handsome face flinched, his pride seemingly wounded.
“Is that what worries you? Are you afraid I’ll entangle you in this mess due to my guilt?”
“…”
“I’m not spineless or devoid of responsibility. While I won’t claim to be guilt-free, it’s ultimately my burden. Even if it was an inadvertent mistake, I did what needed to be done.”
I just did what I had to do.
It struck me as both absurd and oddly self-assuring. Perhaps he was saying it more to convince himself than to convince me.
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