Chapter 20
No, I Love You
Daphne held onto his broad shoulders, her face just a few centimeters from his. She blinked slowly, trying to grasp the situation.
A strand of her fiery red hair slid lazily down her cheek, brushing against Celestian’s face. Irritated by the tickle, he closed one eye.
Celestian’s hand rested on Daphne’s waist. He was trapped in her arms, held firmly in place.
In the peculiar stillness, the faint buzz of a flickering light bulb was the only sound marking the passage of time.
The man tilting his head back to meet her gaze was the same one who had haunted her dreams—always there, an infuriating obstacle she could never quite avoid.
“This is way too close.”
The golden hair that shone like sunlight, the pale skin as if he’d never seen the sun, the flawless features devoid of any hint of shadow, and the tiny mole perched perfectly above his right eyebrow like the final touch on a masterpiece.
Why are the edges of his eyes so red? His face was so striking it made her want to reach out and touch it.
“Is there a single human alive who wouldn’t fall in love with these green eyes?”
The thought shocked her so much that she sprang to her feet. In her haste, her knee bumped against the edge of the table, nearly sending her tumbling forward.
Celestian caught her gently, guiding her to sit on his lap.
“Careful.”
“I don’t like this.”
Daphne’s stomach churned. If someone asked her to spit out her heart, she felt like she might actually do it.
Her thin nightgown didn’t help; every part of his body beneath her was acutely perceptible. Daphne tried to slide off his lap, but her legs still ended up draped over his thighs.
“Stop pulling me around and moving me like you own me. Do you think I’m your doll?”
“No.”
The single reprimand was enough to make him shake his head like a chastened child. Seizing the moment, Daphne swung her legs up onto the table. Celestian absently rubbed his now-empty lap.
“You don’t love me,” he said firmly, his cheeks puffing slightly as if sulking.
“No, I love you.”
Daphne’s eyes widened as she blurted the words.
Celestian visibly flinched, then let out the smallest sigh. Without another word, he stood, walked back to the bed, and flopped onto it sideways, one long leg sticking out awkwardly.
“What’s with the sudden dramatics now?”
Daphne let out a deep sigh, pressing a hand to her chest to calm her racing heart. She poured herself another glass of water, took a sip, and picked up her paperwork.
****
Daphne dropped five thick folders onto the table with a satisfying thud.
“Why can’t people just do what they’re told? So much whining. Maybe I should just kill them all and then die myself…”
Finally, she was done for the day. Stretching over the sofa’s backrest, Daphne glanced behind her. Celestian was lying on his side, one arm outstretched, reading a book.
“Hey, Prince.”
Silence.
“Cele.”
“..…”
“Celestian Theriosa.”
Not a word.
“Hello? Are you just going to ignore me?”
For a moment, Daphne almost called him something cute and silly—like how she addressed her close friends—but caught herself, awkwardly fumbling for a save.
“Celeste.”
“Yeah.”
Oh, he’s sulking.
Daphne crawled across the floor and lay down beside him, propped on her side. This was only the second time they’d ever shared the same bed.
“That’s a romance novel you’re reading, isn’t it? Where’d you get it? Don’t tell me you swiped it from Narid.”
Celestian shot her a sidelong glance, then lowered the book. Daphne tapped his shoulder lightly with her fist.
“From the library.”
“What’s it called? Any good?”
He tilted the pink-covered book to glance at the title and answered.
“The Rain Falling on Claudia.”
The title was written in the empire’s language, but the content was in Secradian. Daphne knew the phrase falling rain had a certain risqué connotation, and hearing it in Celestian’s voice hit differently.
“And? What’s your impression?”
“A third-rate smut novel.”
“You think that’s smutty?”
“Who even writes or reads this stuff? Is it yours?”
“Of course, I read it. Everything in this house is mine.”
Calling the pink ones smutty? Those were the mild ones! The red editions? Nearly impossible to find, no matter how much money you had.
“You should try the red ones. They’ll blow your mind.”
“No interest.”
His response remained cold and indifferent.
What’s he even sulking about?
If it was because she’d interrupted him earlier, it made even less sense. Stretching her arms, Daphne grabbed a sheer robe from the foot of the bed and stood.
“Fine, stay mad. Sleep tight. Tomorrow, sleep in until the afternoon… then let’s go shopping.”
“Where are you going?”
“For a drink.”
Today had been one of those days where alcohol felt like the only answer. Narid was likely waiting in the glass garden with everything already prepared.
“When will you be back?”
“I won’t. We sleep separately anyway, so why do you care?”
“It’s raining, Beaucater.”
Daphne paused. Sure enough, the sound of heavy rain was pounding down outside. She hadn’t even noticed until now, though it was loud enough to be impossible to ignore. Still, with an umbrella in hand and the garden just a stone’s throw away, it didn’t seem like a big deal.
“Hey, I just realized something.”
Suddenly, it occurred to her that Celestian had never once called her by name.
“Do you even know my name?”
When she turned to look, there was a flicker of alarm in his golden eyes. Daphne felt a wave of disbelief rise in her chest.
“Don’t tell me… you don’t know?”
“Of course, I do. It’s… Da…”
A flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed by a deafening clap of thunder that rattled the windows.
“Diana.”
“Oh…”
Daphne raised a hand to cover her mouth, pretending to be impressed. Celestian’s lips curved into a faintly smug smile, clearly proud of himself.
“Is that it? Diana…?”
“Not even close.”
Diana? Seriously?
“Do you really not know? Don’t lie to me. You said royals don’t lie.”
“I do know. It’s Da… Da…”
“Forget it. You’re terrible at this. Don’t even try.”
Celestian bit his lower lip, visibly uncomfortable. Daphne swept her bangs aside and gave a dry laugh. She suddenly remembered that ridiculous royal creed: A royal conceals nothing and tells no lies.
“If I had a stone tablet in my hand, I’d smash it right now. Wait, no, that’s Anne. Anyway, you should be thankful I don’t have a tray in my hand, at least.”
“You never told me your name. What is it?”
“Do I know?”
“How do you not know your own name?”
“As a noble entrepreneur from Secradian, I have no name to share with a humble prince like you.”
“Are you mad?”
“Nope.”
“You seem mad…”
“Goodnight.”
Daphne swiftly left the room.
She felt a pang of sadness. After all her efforts to make her presence known to her favorite person, all he could remember was the syllable Da. To make it worse, there was no bodyguard or secretary around to quietly correct him.
“Fangirls never win the lottery.”
It seemed this universal truth applied even in this lifetime.
“And yet he tries to seduce me?”
The image of the prince willingly entering her embrace resurfaced in her mind, making her heart race for a moment before petty frustration took over.
Daphne, umbrella in hand, paused on her way out and instead headed for the study.
Inside, Kisha was slumped over a desk, scrawling a love letter in messy, crooked handwriting.
“Kisha, you know my name, right?”
Startled by her sudden arrival, Kisha quickly flipped the letter over, his face wary.
“Of course I do. Should I start calling you by it?”
Kisha’s playful grin earned him a brief glare and an almost-flick to the forehead before Daphne growled.
“Don’t push your luck.”
“What’s wrong this time?”
“From now on, never tell the prince my name. Just pretend you don’t know it either.”
“The Prince doesn’t know your name?”
Kisha tilted his head in confusion, and Daphne’s expression darkened ominously.
“Right.”
As if on cue, a loud crack of thunder and lightning filled the room. Kisha immediately nodded in agreement.
*****
Celestian tossed the book he was holding. The pink-covered novel skidded under the sofa, disappearing from view.
“Daphne, you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”
Frustrated, he ruffled his hair, then glanced down at his chest. With a quick motion, he fastened the three buttons of his shirt that had been left undone.
Despite her words, Daphne’s actions were always so kind. Too kind. And the fact that her warmth wasn’t exclusive to him drove him to irritation. She smiled with sparkling eyes when coaxing him closer, yet always left him hanging in the end. It was maddening.
At least, it was for Celestian.
“This is impossible.”
He grumbled aloud, though there was no one around to hear him.
The romance novel recommended by one of the housemaids as a way to kill time had been painfully predictable. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say it contained every trope he had already encountered in real life.
Now, after his recent interaction with Daphne, Celestian understood one thing clearly: her actions followed no discernible logic. She had a way of being unpredictably kind yet elusive, leaving him feeling exasperated and restless.
He recalled a thought he’d once had in this very room: “For now, I can be satisfied with this.”
What a foolish, naive notion. She was right there, beside him, within reach. How could he be content without holding onto her?
Idiot.
Faint echoes of Daphne’s soft voice lingered in his mind.
Shaking off his thoughts, Celestian pushed the door open and descended to the first floor. Rain hammered wildly against the window as he reached the bottom of the stairs, the downpour almost deafening.
His right palm, where an old scar rested, throbbed faintly. Clenching and unclenching his fist, he turned and made his way toward the study.
By evening, the household staff had either returned to their quarters or left for the day. The result was a near silence that blanketed the mansion, leaving Daphne’s room eerily empty.
The sound of Celestian’s steps on the blue marble floor was almost imperceptible. The quiet, combined with the storm raging outside, made the empty halls feel even larger.
But his resolve was unwavering.
****
The crumpled letter Kisha had been folding into a paper airplane fell from his hands as he shot to his feet in less than a second. Celestian gestured for him to sit, and Kisha stiffly straightened his back as he obeyed.
“That was surprisingly smooth.”
Kisha scratched the back of his neck where his hair tickled, then picked up his pen again. A glance to the side revealed Celestian holding a red-covered book he’d somehow acquired.
“The lady is in the greenhouse.”
“I know.”
“Will you be following her? Should I get you an umbrella?”
Celestian shook his head once and sank into the central couch. Habitually, he clenched and unclenched his fist as he turned the pages of the book. Meanwhile, Kisha resumed writing his letter, starting with “To my dearest”, blissfully unaware that his spelling was off.
A few minutes passed before Celestian placed the book on the table and broke the silence.
“Where do her letters go? There are so many annexes.”
“Misha reviews all incoming mail for the lady and burns anything unnecessary. A lot of creeps send her garbage. Why? Are you expecting a letter?”
Celestian rubbed the side of his neck, lowering his gaze. After a moment, he shook his head.
“Does your lady often say ‘I love you’?”
“What makes you ask?”
Celestian’s green eyes shifted downward. Kisha finally pieced together the puzzle—the earlier tension between the growling Daphne and the hesitant, quiet duke in front of him.
“I’ve never heard it. Not even when we’ve shared a bed.”
The golden-haired man’s mouth snapped shut, and as if on cue, another loud clap of thunder echoed through the room.
