AEVSM Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Am I in the Way?

 

Daphne briefly recalled her mother, Amber, bedridden and wailing after the engagement with Romeo was called off and his betrothal to Psyche was announced.

She had been surprisingly quiet for a year. Was she scheming behind the scenes during that time? Now, it was the divorcee crown prince on the table. His consort. Crown princess? Empress?

‘Such a colorful array of options.’

Daphne chuckled softly, loosening her crossed arms.

“If he’s a blond, handsome, and a virgin, I’ll gladly marry him.”

Amber’s golden eyes rolled upward, exasperated.

The royal family of Azentar was famously described as having sun-kissed, bronze skin and moon-blessed, silvery hair. They were also known for their polygamous traditions, with each wife expected to bear two to three children as standard.

Daphne giggled at her mother’s nonplussed expression.

“Riding camels, making porridge from goat’s milk, and sewing clothes from fur… Sounds romantic, doesn’t it? Do you think I’d thrive if I married into that?”

“You could transform the royal family into a beacon of modern civilization. If anyone could, it would be you.”

Amber sipped her tea, her unwavering confidence in Daphne shining through.

Though Amber’s faith in her daughter was undeniable, her obsession with marrying Daphne off was equally strong. No matter how hard Daphne worked to change that mindset, it remained unshaken after years of effort.

“In that case, I’ll just have a child with Celestian,” Daphne quipped.

“Then your child would carry both Rodriguez and Green blood—a natural-born ruler.”

‘Oh, so that’s how you’d spin it.’

Caught off guard, Daphne missed the chance to retort. She scratched her cheek and, pointing a finger at her mother, issued a warning.

“Don’t sell me out for your ambitions, Mother. Not me, not my child, and especially not for politics or succession fights. If I get caught up in that mess, I swear I’ll actually kill myself.”

Amber’s golden eyes flashed as she flicked tea at her insolent daughter. Daphne yelped and shrank back, but the tea was lukewarm and barely stung.

“Who do you take after to turn out like this?”

“Who else? A daughter is her mother’s reflection.”

Daphne mimed a finger gun, sending an imaginary “bullet of love” toward Amber, who chuckled softly and waved it away.

“I’m not as impulsive as you are.”

“Which is why you’re so calculated about treating me like a chess piece? No, scratch that—it feels more like you see me as a broodmare.”

“Daphne, stop.”

Amber paused, sighed, and finally relented.

“Let’s leave it at that.”

There isn’t a parent under the sky who can outpace their child when they shift gears like Daphne. She always won in the end.

“Once again, I win. Mother, you lose, Haha.”

Daphne waved a handkerchief dramatically in front of Amber’s face before darting out of the room with a triumphant grin.

 

*****

 

A familiar haze of cigarette smoke lingered in the pool hall as Daphne gathered with her close college friends.

“Why does Theriosa always wear the same outfit?”

Oddly, the topic of conversation had shifted to Celestian. Typically, these gatherings centered on Romeo Rodriguez, so bringing up Celestian felt unusual.

It was this peculiar shift that tipped Daphne off: she was dreaming.

“Pretty cutie?”

She muttered the words under her breath, knowing full well that her friends wouldn’t understand the modern slang. As expected, her comment was ignored. Daphne pretended not to care, lowering herself to line up her cue stick and aim carefully at the white ball.

“His face is ridiculously handsome, but I guess that’s just the way with bastards.”

El Alzeste, flicking a half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray, chimed in.

“One of my maids used to work at the Prince’s Palace. Apparently, their funding was so bad that the staff were hostile toward each other. Dust was rolling through the unused rooms. She said it was nearly impossible to get hired there, but once she did, it was such a dump that she quit immediately and came to work for my family.”

Angel Dawit, an aspiring actor, added his two cents.

“Yeah, I always thought it was weird that everyone else wore suits, but Theriosa stuck to his formal uniform.”

“Isn’t Theriosa way past the age to get married?”

“How old is he now? Twenty, twenty…?”

Another friend joined in, keeping the conversation alive.

“The crown prince is turning twenty-three this fall, so Theriosa can’t be much younger than Romeo, right?”

Daphne itched to chime in with Celestian’s exact birthdate and zodiac sign but held herself back.

“Who’d want to marry a bastard? His future’s as good as done.”

“Why? A man only needs to have a pretty face. I think Celestian’s fine.”

At that, Daphne’s cue stick slipped slightly.

“Says the one who married a guy with just a knight’s title.”

“A knight? That’s so unimpressive.”

“Hey, hold on! My husband’s handsome, he’s great at running the house, and he’s only two ranks below Theriosa as a swordsman. Isn’t that something?”

“Jenna, no matter how skilled a swordsman is, they can’t beat a gunman.”

“If it ever came to that, I’d just let him die, so don’t worry about it. Why are we talking about my husband when we started with Theriosa? Don’t go after someone else’s man.”

The chatter wasn’t about genuine interest in Celestian, and Daphne let out a small sigh of relief. Meanwhile, the white ball she had hit earlier rolled the black ball steadily into the pocket.

Her friends had grown up in wealth, their high standards nearly inevitable. Whenever they spotted a flaw in someone of higher status, they pounced like sharks, tearing into them for sport.

“What’s the point of being handsome if he looks so vacant? Blonds are always like that for some reason.”

‘Ugh, they don’t get it. That’s what makes him adorable.’

Daphne straightened her back and rested her hands on the top of her cue stick, quietly listening to their gossip. She was curious just how far they’d go.

“Oh! Did she just lose? What happened?”

But their debate ended abruptly as the black ball sank into the pocket.

The game was a wager: the loser would cover the cost of the drinks and buy everyone a new outfit. Daphne’s friends, who loved extravagant dresses and drank like fish, would likely blow through their daily allowance. Daphne, however, couldn’t care less.

“You’re all hypocrites.”

“What’s with you? Hurry up and pay. Stop changing the subject!”

All of them were practically desperate for a chance to talk to Celestian, their grins stretching like the Joker’s whenever the topic came up.

“I’ve never even danced with Celestian,” Daphne muttered.

But her friends were already poring over catalogs, choosing their next outfits, seemingly oblivious to her comment. Daphne pressed her tongue against the inside of her cheek, realizing something amusing before breaking into a laugh.

When it came down to it, Daphne herself was the biggest hypocrite of all.

 

*****

 

When Daphne opened her eyes, she was greeted by the unsettling sight of the pastel-painted ceiling.

“Ah… what the…”

After her exhausting exchange with her mother, Daphne had sat down on the landing outside her room and fallen asleep, deeply and unexpectedly.

Now, just like she had once done when he was sick, Celestian was sitting in a single-seater armchair beside her bed, reading a book.

She immediately knew who had carried her to bed.

“Cele.”

Seeing him right after waking up made everything feel like a dream. Daphne pressed her palm to her forehead, trying to gather her thoughts.

“Hm?”

“Sit down.”

Celestian closed his book and uncrossed his legs. The book, pink with golden embellishments, was undoubtedly a romance novel.

“I’m already sitting.”

“No, on the floor.”

“What?”

“The floor.”

Had their roles been reversed, Daphne would’ve cursed and stormed out, vowing never to return. That’s exactly what she had hoped for.

But, to her dismay, Celestian obediently got up and sat on the floor, leaning against the edge of the low bed. The positioning was such that he was still looking down at her.

He lowered himself further, resting his arms and face on the edge of the bed. The sudden closeness made Daphne’s nerves and blood pressure spike as if a red graph was surging uncontrollably.

“This is as low as I can go. The bed’s too short.”

Daphne extended her hand toward his cheek. He flinched briefly but allowed her palm to rest against his face.

“Who are you? Is this a dream?”

“What?”

“Ah, so it’s a dream?”

Supporting herself on her forearms, Daphne raised her upper body slightly. Then she lightly slapped his cheek, producing a small, crisp sound.

Celestian blinked in confusion and rubbed his cheek where she had struck him.

“…Why did you hit me?”

“To see if this is a dream.”

Now fully sitting up, Daphne realized she could feel sensations in her fingertips. It wasn’t a dream. Behind Celestian, she noticed the table was piled high with work. Misha had clearly left for the day.

“Most people slap themselves to check if they’re dreaming, you know.”

“I knew it wasn’t a dream, so I slapped you instead.”

“Why do your words keep changing?”

“Did it hurt?”

“Not really.”

“Then stop whining.”

“I wasn’t whining, I—”

Ignoring him, Daphne crawled over to the stack of files, grabbed a water bottle, and drained it in one go before collapsing onto the couch. Celestian, still seated with his back against the bed, let out a disbelieving laugh and stood up.

Taking a seat next to Daphne, he rummaged through the stack and pulled out a champagne bottle. He began pouring it into a faceted glass but stopped midway upon realizing it was lukewarm. With a sigh, he recapped the bottle.

Celestian didn’t drink. Not even the occasional cigarette touched his lips.

Clearly, the drink was meant for Daphne.

“What’s with the sweet gesture? Are you being nice because I let you see Psyche?”

At that, Celestian’s expression went blank.

“I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“Go ahead.”

“How did you know about me and Psyche… being that way?”

It was an odd question.

‘Doesn’t everyone know? Or… maybe not?’

Daphne tilted her head but answered simply.

“I can easily read the eyes of someone I like.”

“But that day was the first time we met up close, wasn’t it?”

“That day? Which day?”

Celestian fell silent, his fingers brushing over his lips as if searching for words.

‘The first time… he must mean the execution.’

The charm of a second male lead was exactly this:
Stunning looks paired with a captivating personality. Yet his heart was so singularly devoted to the heroine that everyone else barely registered.

To Celestian, Daphne might as well have been nothing more than a shadow—z in his alphabet.

“You cried at that recital, didn’t you? Because you were happy to see Psyche.”

Celestian frowned.

“And every time you catch her scent, you’re startled awake.”

It was almost poetic, his unrequited feelings. So poignant that Daphne, the unfilial daughter, was the only one fighting her mother tooth and nail to keep this man alive.

“Oh, Prince.”

With a teasing tone, Daphne pressed her finger against the beauty mark above his brow, then picked up a black file folder and pulled it toward her.

The prince, meanwhile, continued to stare out the window. The faint tapping of raindrops confirmed it was raining. Daphne reached out and patted his shoulder twice.

“Go to bed. I have work to do.”

“It’s still early.”

“Then go back to reading that pink book. You’re in the way.”

She waved him off dismissively.

“In the way?”

Their eyes met instantly—his green ones locking onto hers. It felt like the clinking gears of a clock suddenly meshing together. Celestian’s expression shifted into something unreadable.

Before Daphne could react, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto his lap.

“Am I in the way?”

Her vision flipped. Her knees landed on his solid thighs, and his face was suddenly between her arms. Blinking rapidly, Daphne tried to process what had just happened.