Chapter 18
The Never-Ending Love Triangle
Finally, Psyche’s red lips parted to speak.
“Daphne, actually… This is the third time someone has sent poisoned wine since we officially announced our engagement.”
She added that ever since the rebellion, security in the palace had become even tighter. Food and drinks were only consumed after being tested with silver or tasted by tasters.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry, but still…”
As she spoke, Psyche’s face grew paler, almost bluish. Daphne tried to lighten the mood, opening her mouth to say something—anything—but found no words.
‘I’m at a loss for words, how unlike me.’
Psyche glanced at Daphne, who was uncharacteristically silent, and gave her a small smile.
“We’re continuing the investigation. It’s probably the same person as before. So, let’s not cause unnecessary alarm—it’s dangerous. Let’s say my fiancé just overindulged tonight.”
Daphne understood the unsaid implications in Psyche’s words. Unnecessary alarm would be dangerous for you, Daphne. And just as clearly, the word “we” no longer included Daphne.
“Romeo, can you stand?”
Romeo groaned, leaning against Psyche for support. Despite his struggles, he tried to open his eyes and stand upright. His dark-haired head—so often a target for Daphne’s irritation—suddenly looked pitiful.
“I should be the one escorting Daphne out,” Romeo murmured.
“If the crown princess-to-be is seen helping a villainess, the nobles won’t like it. I have someone with me, anyway…”
At the mention of her “companion,” Psyche’s eyes narrowed. Daphne averted her gaze, pretending to think about where Celestian might be hiding in the villa. Then, a sudden realization hit her.
‘What if he ran away?’
His sudden disappearance earlier had been strange.
‘Why did I assume he wouldn’t just leave?’
Letting out a deep sigh, Psyche helped Romeo to his feet while Daphne opened the window for them.
When the curtains parted, the nobles expecting to see Daphne emerge with her fiery red hair were instead met with the sight of the crown prince and Psyche. They awkwardly coughed into fans or gloved hands, clearly uncomfortable.
“Didn’t she leave with Miss Buchanan?”
“I was told you saw wrong.”
“I didn’t see wrong—there she is!”
Amid the murmuring nobles, large bodyguards appeared and escorted the unsteady Romeo away. Playing along, Romeo greeted people with a drunken, sheepish grin. Daphne mentally sent him applause for his performance.
Once the nobles returned to their seats, Psyche gracefully lifted the hem of her dress and curtsied.
“Thank you all for coming. Please enjoy yourselves and have a restful evening.”
Her radiant smile was the kind that everyone adored.
Walking down a dimly lit hallway, Daphne felt like she was trapped in a small maze. The lack of paintings or decorations on the walls only added to the stifling atmosphere.
There were only about three people in this kingdom who could replenish Daphne’s faith in humanity, and Psyche was one of them. Her cheerful spirit and their friendship were invaluable. Yet, every time she got entangled with Psyche in situations like this, Daphne was left feeling miserable. Perhaps it was because of the official “villainess versus heroine” narrative that clung to them.
‘Maybe I should emigrate after all.’
Even as she left the banquet hall, she felt the sharp, disdainful stares trailing her. She told herself she didn’t care, but the weight of them was impossible to ignore.
Desperate to leave the cliffside villa, she flung open the door to the guest room where Misha was supposed to be waiting.
Instead, she found two men tangled in a strange position, and every thought she’d been having evaporated instantly.
“What are you two doing?”
Celestian had Misha pinned by the back of his neck, forcing him down against the desk. Misha, red-faced and flustered, was using both hands to push against Celestian’s left hand, but it didn’t budge.
“Boss! Look! This rebel is trying to kill me!”
Misha squirmed desperately, looking to Daphne for salvation. Only when she entered the room did Celestian let go, his tone gentle as if soothing a child.
“I wasn’t even holding you that hard, Misha. Don’t be so dramatic.”
Celestian blew a strand of hair from his face before ruffling Misha’s already-messy hair even more.
Misha let out a shrill yelp, leapt to his feet, and immediately hid behind Daphne, flattening his disheveled black hair as he wheezed.
‘At least he didn’t run off.’
Daphne felt a wave of relief wash over her.
“He said he was bored, so I decided to entertain him,” Celestian explained, perching casually on the edge of the desk. He adjusted his slightly wrinkled vest and picked up a piece of paper, pretending to read. His nonchalant tone must have irked Misha, who raised his voice.
“He’s lying! He tried to kill me! He was serious about it, I swear!”
‘If he were serious, he would’ve just snapped your neck,’ Daphne thought but refrained from saying aloud.
She turned to Misha and brushed the wrinkles out of his collar. In moments like this, it was obvious how young Misha still was, despite his usual maturity. His gray eyes darted nervously toward the blond man, and he continued huffing.
“Boss!”
Usually calm and level-headed, Misha was having a hard time cooling down this time.
“Why are you yelling at me?” Daphne asked, covering her left ear with a finger and frowning. Only then did Misha clear his throat and try to regain his composure.
“You reek of wine. Did you overindulge?”
“No? I went one-on-seventy and stomped on some arrogant noblemen. This isn’t wine—it’s their blood.”
Lifting the side of her skirt, Daphne revealed the tips of her pale blue velvet shoes, now stained purple. Misha stared down at them.
“Please tell me this won’t end up in tomorrow’s paper. I need time to prepare.”
Seeing the wine stains splattered all the way up to the waist of her blue dress, Misha looked worried. Daphne simply shrugged.
“Who knows? It’s just another day, isn’t it?”
****
“When will it ever be enough for my daughter to stop dragging around these scandals?”
Daphne’s mother, Amber Green, slammed the gray tabloid she had been reading onto the table. Daphne flinched as the paper landed in front of her.
It was a freshly printed tabloid, less than an hour old.
“It only shows that your daughter still holds influence, yet you dismiss it as mere scandal-mongering. That hurts my feelings,” Daphne replied coolly, pouring a generous amount of honey into a square glass of whiskey.
As Misha had feared, the headline blared: “Broken Glass Bottles and an Unending Love Triangle.” The story was accompanied by a photo—no doubt snapped from somewhere discreet—of Romeo leaning against Daphne for support.
Glancing at the paper sideways, Daphne skimmed the text. It was the usual drivel about her “scandals” and nothing about the poisoning.
‘At least I’m not being accused of attempting regicide.’
Amber, whose hair seemed to lighten and darken with her mood, stood in the lavish sitting room, muttering to herself. She was starting to calm down, but as soon as she did, she clicked her tongue again and referred to the crown princess-to-be as that pebble.
“It’s her fault for being too pretty. Romeo needs someone upright, strong-willed, and kind like Psyche to fix his violent streak.”
As she spoke, Daphne rubbed her bruised shoulder and wrist. She lit a mint cigarette and placed it between her lips.
Amber, meanwhile, puffed on a cigar whose tip had been neatly sliced by the butler, Maril. White smoke swirled as the snake-shaped signet ring on Amber’s left index finger gleamed, catching Daphne’s eye.
“You’re upright, strong-willed, and kind too.”
“Hmm, Amber Green, are you truly being sincere?” Daphne lowered her voice and mimicked a deep, dramatic tone, raising one hand theatrically.
Amber, clearly annoyed, pressed her fingers to her temple, lowering her head to hide her expression.
The same Amber who had praised Daphne for “wisely purchasing” Celestian had vanished without a trace.
“How do you plan to repay me for the gold mine I gave up to buy that golden pig?”
Daphne looked up at the towering shelves filled with rows upon rows of sparkling jewels. The reception room in the main house was so gaudy that it felt oppressive.
“Who am I supposed to repay, exactly?” Daphne tilted her head.
“The debt my daughter owes to Amber Green, from the day she was born.”
Daphne was momentarily speechless.
“Wow, Mother… What’s upsetting you this time?”
She forced a playful smile and shrugged her shoulders.
“There’s no point in investing in something useless. I’ll need to collect it back—with interest.”
Amber was the type who valued wealth and power far more than Daphne ever could. Her outbursts about repayment were just another symptom of her obsession.
Daphne had long since learned to brush it off, her skin thickened by years of experience.
Amber sighed once more, glancing at Daphne’s smiling face.
“Celestian Theriosa carries Rodriguez blood too. Rebellious as it may be. Are you planning to make him king?”
Amber gestured toward the butler. A nearly black tea was brought to her, its aroma strong and rich.
“Huh? No.”
Daphne widened her eyes in mock innocence. Amber paused mid-motion, honey-laden spoon in hand, the clinking of her stirring momentarily halted.
“… Then why did you buy a rebel with all that money?”
“Because he looked pretty when he cried.”
“What?”
“I saw him briefly about two years ago, at Uncle’s birthday. Back then, he was all haughty and untouchable, so I couldn’t approach him.”
Daphne emphasized the word haughty by flexing and relaxing her fingers.
She briefly pictured Celestian on the night of the firework display—his elegant demeanor, the stoic beauty of his face. The memory made her let out a soft groan of appreciation. If she had shown her mother a photograph of that moment, Amber would have acknowledged Celestian’s worth.
“Then make him king. I’ll help you,” Amber said, her red lips curving into a calculating smile as new schemes began forming in her mind.
“No thanks. I’d rather be king myself.”
“How could a girl become king? There’s never been a queen in Secradion’s history. You think you can overcome centuries of tradition? There would be an uproar.”
‘Unbelievable. Who even said I wanted to be king?’
Daphne rolled her eyes, amazed at how little her own mother seemed to understand her after more than twenty years.
“Celestian has the perfect image for royalty, Mother. He’s prettier than me. Should I parade him around every morning for greetings?”
“Stop joking.”
Amber sipped her strong tea, nodding in approval at the taste. Maril quietly stepped back, pushing the tray away.
“I have no desire to leave my name in this dynasty. And I certainly don’t want to be a queen, stuck in a palace, waiting for an endlessly busy husband. That’s the last thing I want.”
“Why do you lack ambition?”
Lack ambition? Daphne tilted her head, genuinely puzzled.
“Mother~ I have a title, I’ve been engaged before, and the talk about me being the ex-fiancée of the crown prince has finally died down. There’s no suitable match for me in the capital’s social circles anymore. Can’t we just live comfortably and spend our money in peace?”
“The crown prince of Azentar has reportedly divorced his primary consort.”
“The crown prince? That’s quite sudden.”
“Becoming empress of a larger empire sounds like a better plan than settling for a queen’s title in this small kingdom.”
Amber had been waiting for the perfect moment to drop this new proposal. Daphne tilted her head, as if not fully understanding.
“I’ll request a marriage proposal on your behalf. Marry him.”
