Chapter 22
Your Prince
“Take your own life? Do they know how much I paid for him? Who do they think they are to suggest that?”
Daphne’s brow twitched, and her grip on Celestian’s wrist tightened. Celestian glanced at her pale knuckles as her hand clenched around his wrist.
“A rebel, alive and breathing—how can this be justified?”
“Why shouldn’t it be?”
“The villainess of Secradion, tarnishing her reputation by playing at love! Have you no shame?”
“Reputation? I don’t even have one worth selling. And since when is being called a villainess a badge of honor?”
The incessant shouting grated on Daphne’s nerves. She turned sharply and glared at the group. They met her steely, yellow gaze and flinched. Judging by their hesitance, they weren’t armed.
Daphne glanced up at the building where Kisha’s team was stationed. A glint of reflected light flickered twice, signaling that there was no imminent danger.
Seeing that Daphne neither approached them nor appeared particularly threatened, the men resumed their ranting. They raved about how shameful it was to harbor a rebel and play out some mockery of romance, even adding sordid details about an imaginary relationship between Daphne and Celestian.
“Don’t listen to that nonsense. Just throw it out of your mind,” Daphne muttered, embarrassed. She grabbed her sunglasses and carelessly placed them on Celestian’s face.
“[Should we do as they say?]”
Celestian nodded slightly and murmured something in a language Daphne didn’t recognize, his long legs crossing leisurely.
“What language is that? You just insulted me, didn’t you? Your tone went up at the end.”
“Theriosia. I said I wouldn’t listen to them.”
His reply was matter-of-fact.
“I’ve got a good memory, you know. [Do as they say…] I’m holding on to that. If it’s an insult, you’re dead.”
Celestian chuckled and shook his head.
With his slicked-back golden hair, which looked darker today, and a perfectly fitted gray suit, he resembled a professional athlete. Perhaps unintentionally, he crossed his legs and gave a playful twitch of his nose.
“Aahhh!”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, what now? Where’s the driver?” Daphne muttered a string of curses under her breath and covered her ears. While she stared them down, Celestian’s shoe grazed her calf.
“Why did you kick me?”
“Accident,” Celestian replied, brushing off her calf with his hand.
The group at the center of the plaza raised their voices even louder. A black carriage drawn by three dark horses clattered around the circular plaza, completing a loop before vanishing down the street it came from.
Daphne longed to disappear just as quickly, but the driver seemed to have no intention of returning. Glancing at the driver’s seat, she noticed the key was still in place.
“Helena Theriosa! That wretched princess dared to seduce our king and nearly disrupted the great hierarchy!”
A raspy voice bellowed from the crowd.
“Ah, so that’s the story.”
Daphne clicked her tongue silently. Two people were involved in making a child, so why is the princess the only one being blamed?
But wasn’t it a bit impolite to insult someone’s mother to their face? Out of curiosity, she glanced at Celestian. As always, he gazed up at her with a calm expression.
Don’t men usually explode when someone insults their mother?
When their eyes met, he lifted one corner of his mouth in a faint smile. Whatever he was thinking, it was beyond Daphne’s understanding.
“Beaucater, I’m not that small.”
Celestian raised his hand, gesturing for her to move aside. The implication was clear: her stance didn’t hide him at all.
“Besides, the princess left behind such a handsome son, didn’t she? That’s practically a patriotic act.”
Daphne pressed a finger to his lips.
“Shh.”
Celestian removed the sunglasses, folded them neatly, and placed them on his lap. Clearing his throat, he squinted at her.
“Beaucater.”
“Let’s just go inside somewhere and wait. There’s a café right behind us.”
Daphne held out her hand as if inviting him to take it. But when he reached for her hand, she pulled it back with a mocking “Ah!” gesture, clasping her hands behind her back. His right eyebrow arched.
“Apologies for pretending to be close, Your Highness. How rude of me to offend someone so lofty they don’t even know my noble name.”
Celestian clenched his fist briefly before rising to his full height. Daphne had to crane her neck again to look up at him.
“I told you, stop looking down on me.”
Daphne felt the strain in her neck as she looked up at him, her eyebrows knitting together. She took a step back.
“So, aren’t you going to formally introduce yourself to me, your ‘prince’?”
Celestian spoke with an air of arrogance.
“Oh my, Your Highness, so clueless about the world. Don’t you ever think about picking up a newspaper to read?”
Daphne retorted, refusing to back down.
“As you so kindly pointed out, I’m just a dumb blonde with nothing to my name.”
Hearing her own sarcastic remarks, usually reserved for jokes among her staff, come from his mouth left her momentarily disoriented.
“Isn’t that right?”
For a fleeting moment, Daphne almost confessed that this—his clueless, almost foolish charm—was precisely why she liked him. But she bit her lip and swallowed the words.
“That’s not about you. I was talking about princes in novels.”
“And yet, I’m still your prince, am I not?”
Celestian smirked, his smile warm and teasing.
Daphne lightly clenched her fist and playfully punched him on the shoulder. He immediately let out a dramatic “Oof!” and hunched his shoulder.
“Stop exaggerating.”
“It really hurts, though.”
*****
The two sat side by side at a long rectangular wooden table, gazing out the window. Daphne ordered a peach tart dusted with gold powder.
The café, decorated in warm brown tones, was spacious with a mezzanine structure. Nearby, two crossed longswords were mounted on the wall, and jazz music flowed softly from a gramophone. People dressed in black sat across from each other at square tables neatly arranged in rows.
Daphne rested her chin on her hand and glanced around. The somberly dressed patrons had all leaned long black umbrellas against the corners of their tables.
“Is it going to rain?”
However, Narid, who usually reminded her to dress for the weather, hadn’t said anything. Outside the window, past the buildings, the sky was a clear, vivid blue without a cloud in sight. After a moment of static, the music changed to a new track.
“Oh, I like this song,” she said, her earlier unease momentarily swept away. She tapped her shoe in rhythm with the singer’s voice blending smoothly with the saxophone.
Scooping up a bite of her tart, she held it out to Celestian’s lips, pretending to be amicable. His green eyes blinked slowly, as if trying to figure out her intentions.
“Open up.”
Daphne mimicked opening her mouth, and Celestian followed suit. She popped the bite into his mouth, a satisfied smile spreading across her face.
Just then, a clicking sound echoed faintly.
Thinking she’d misheard, Daphne shifted her chair closer to Celestian, only for another shutter sound to follow in quick succession.
“Journalists?”
Her gaze darted toward the source of the noise. A lady sitting outside in the open-air section adjusted her fedora, pressing it down firmly before abruptly pushing back her chair and hurrying away. Soon after, a black carriage similar to the one earlier strolled leisurely past.
“A black carriage…”
Daphne tilted her head, glancing at the prince beside her. When their eyes met—he had already been watching her—she felt momentarily flustered but quickly masked her expression.
“Celestian Theriosa.”
The gentle expression on his face shifted into one of irritation at her curt tone.
“What’s with that look?”
“What is it, Beaucater?” he asked, his pronunciation sharper than usual.
“Doesn’t this feel… odd to you?”
“Me?”
He raised a hand, brushing his palm over his cheek. His small face was briefly obscured by his large hand before reappearing. When his pale green eyes met hers again, Daphne widened her own briefly before shaking her head.
“This place is really popular, you know. Especially in the evenings, with couples.”
As soon as she said it, a sense of déjà vu crept in.
A café with a good atmosphere, located near the capital’s train station.
The plaza, which should’ve been bustling with people at this hour, was strangely empty. It was as though everyone had disappeared on cue, and her driver had left without a word.
“Hmm, you’re right.”
Daphne muttered under her breath. Celestian’s green eyes briefly flicked toward the other patrons in the café.
Perhaps she was overthinking.
But based on her experiences so far, there was only one way to describe this situation.
“I’m screwed.”
Daphne tried to remain calm.
“No, no, it’s fine. If something were really wrong, Kisha would’ve sent a signal by now. Maybe I’m just overreacting.”
Even so, an uncontrollable tension settled over her.
She realized her hands had gone uncomfortably cold. Acting on impulse, she grabbed Celestian’s wrist and stood abruptly.
“Celestian, let’s go.”
The moment she rose, all eyes in the café turned toward her. The patrons wore masks, their faces obscured. Daphne’s breath caught.
A black carriage adorned with elaborate silver accents reappeared, this time racing directly toward the café. The coachman jumped off after detaching the clutch connecting the horses to the carriage.
Daphne knew she should move. But instead, her body froze, paralyzed by a memory her instincts couldn’t forget. Celestian’s hand tugged at her arm, but she remained rooted to the spot, dazed.
It was eerily similar to years ago. A horseless, coachman-less carriage barreling forward at full speed. Every moment stretched into slow motion.
“Daphne, please, snap out of it. I…”
Someone called her name, desperate and pleading.
“Daphne.”
The jazz music grew louder, swallowing her senses like a wave.
“Daphne!”
Celestian’s voice was urgent, but she couldn’t move. She closed her eyes, trying to block out everything around her.
“Why does this feel so familiar?”
The way he called her name, the sense that everything was about to end—it all felt like something she had seen before.
Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a secure embrace. A deafening crash followed as the café’s window shattered with explosive force.
