Chapter 47
Hot War or Cold War
Gentlemen in similarly colored suits sat one by one on tiered steps, smoking and chatting leisurely. The carriage yard was thick with cigarette smoke, its air laced with the pungent scent of wine.
In front of them were gambling tables resembling those of a casino, alongside several billiard tables.
‘A date? What date?’
Celestian scoffed, tearing off the bottom of the note and handing it to the chip exchange counter.
In this life, Celestian attended only the bare minimum of banquets and parties that the king requested of him, simplifying his appearances as much as possible to avoid running into Daphne.
‘If I’d known she held feelings for me, I wouldn’t have acted that way.’
Regret left a sharp ache in his throat. Moving slowly, Celestian approached a poker table where a familiar man was seated.
“Brother.”
Romeo, the only man in the room with a neat appearance, waved at Celestian first. His golden eyes, though the same color as Daphne’s, carried an entirely different aura.
“Hello, brother.”
Celestian sat across from Romeo, who gestured for him to take the seat. Surveying the room briefly, Celestian watched as a dealer with a meticulously trimmed mustache dealt the first cards.
For the first four rounds, Celestian folded without betting.
Many of the men wore flushed expressions, sporting lipstick marks scattered across their skin. Some hadn’t even bothered to straighten their clothes, puffing thick cigars while slouched in their seats as if it were a badge of honor.
Celestian lightly tapped his cheek with his index finger, where the sensation of Daphne’s lips still lingered.
The men shared bawdy conversations about passion and indifference between men and women, the tone coarse and vulgar. Disgusted, Celestian held his silence, wishing he could wash the filth from his ears.
Romeo dominated the games thus far, winning round after round. Assessing the tide of the game, Celestian checked his cards and bet five black chips.
“The infamous Lady Beaucater somehow managed to attend the wedding—and with a traitor at her side, no less.”
Celestian’s head turned at the comment.
As always, Daphne Beaucater—envied by women and feared by men—was the main topic. The boldness of these men speaking of the crown prince’s cousin so casually was almost impressive.
At bachelor parties like this, any conversation stayed within the room, forgotten by the end of the night. This unspoken rule allowed for all manner of lowly chatter.
Until last year, the hot topic had been the rivalry between the daughters of a marquis and a count.
But since this was the crown prince’s bachelor party, the soon-to-be crown princess was conspicuously excluded from discussion. The targets today were Daphne, her rumored lover Celestian Theriosa, and Romeo Rodriguez, attending what would likely be his last bachelor party.
“His Highness the Crown Prince must have seen her cry often.”
“Haven’t we all? At banquets, by the lake, wherever she appeared, tears weren’t far behind.”
Celestian paused his movements. Muttering “fold,” he looked up at the man who had made the remark.
‘Not me, though.’
Celestian’s green eyes held no light.
It wasn’t unusual for Daphne’s name to be dragged into such tasteless gossip. In the past, Celestian had no right to intervene. Now, however, things were different.
He was here as her lover.
“I still remember how she sobbed uncontrollably, wailing about how His Highness wouldn’t return her affections. It was such a spectacle.”
“It’s a shame that show’s over. It was entertaining.”
Romeo smirked as he raised his glass to his lips, stealing a glance at Celestian. Their sunken green eyes met sharp golden ones.
What are you looking at?
Celestian mouthed the words, curling his lips into a grin. His expression was a deliberate imitation of Daphne’s, causing Romeo to arch a brow in response.
Celestian won the next round without a word, his bet multiplying the chips beneath his hand several times over.
“You spent the afternoon with His Highness the Crown Prince. What did you talk about?”
“Oh, nothing much.”
Romeo answered lightly, but Celestian hadn’t known about this meeting.
‘So that sour expression wasn’t just from the sunlight.’
Romeo claimed he had no interest in the crown princess, but Celestian could never fully trust him. Daphne’s unpredictable nature constantly created variables that unsettled him.
“Hmm.”
A dull ache throbbed in Celestian’s chest.
“What’s she thinking, showing up at her rival’s wedding? Planning to cause a scene?”
“She truly lives up to her reputation as the craziest woman in the royal capital.”
“Your Grace, Duke Theriosa.”
Celestian looked up at the voice addressing him. The speaker was a man with a slick, butter-smooth appearance, his forehead fully exposed.
“Pleased to meet you. I am Wiers.”
More precisely, the husband of Count Wiers.
Despite being a commoner by birth, he had the audacity not to use the full honorific when addressing a count. Just a nouveau riche who got lucky marrying well.
‘What was it he’s doing now? A third-rate gossip rag?’
Celestian sipped from the square glass of whiskey, raising an eyebrow as if to say, What do you want?
“Did you know that Lady Beaucater was originally betrothed to His Highness the Crown Prince?”
“Oh, right. I almost forgot. It caused such a commotion last year. Imagine the gall—how could Lady Beaucater chase after her cousin like that?”
“She’s been infamous since childhood. Honestly, I was afraid she might even try to follow him to the Libyan campaign.”
“Good thing she broke her leg. Otherwise, she’d have crawled after him. That kind of tenacity is terrifying.”
Endywin, a distant member of the royal family, chimed in.
“Sir Endywin, we all know Daphne’s always been like that. As if a mere injury would stop her. She often turns even her misfortunes into opportunities for profit. She hasn’t changed a bit.”
Oscar joined in, prompting Celestian to shift his gaze toward him.
‘Should I just tear them apart?’
Propping his chin lazily on his hand, Celestian mused. His indifferent green eyes momentarily startled the men, but they quickly laughed it off, raising their hands as if in surrender. The subject of conversation soon shifted.
“It’s all because His Highness the Crown Prince is the most handsome man across the continent. My darling can’t stop raving about his looks whenever she sees him. It’s exhausting.”
“Oh, I suppose I’ll have to start hiding my face.”
Romeo grinned, brushing his gloved hand over his face dramatically.
“That might spark a new trend among the gentlemen of the capital.”
“Lady Beaucater’s personality is just as fiery as her hair color, isn’t it?”
“I wonder what she’s like in bed.”
At last, the men’s gazes turned toward Celestian. Casually, he pushed his chips into the pot.
Men who boasted of being loved by women now entertained themselves by tearing women down. The hypocrisy wasn’t lost on Celestian, but it was nauseating nonetheless.
The game continued—call, raise, raise again, call…
“What’s so special about Lady Beaucater, anyway? My wife keeps begging me to take a mistress like her.”
“Oh, but she’s just a placeholder—a substitute at best.”
Their dull gazes flitted toward the prince, catching the light of the chandelier. Celestian crossed his legs and idly rolled his chips between his fingers, memorizing the faces of those running their mouths.
Even after countless lifetimes, there seemed to be a dozen or so people here who always ended up dead by his hand, no matter the circumstances.
‘How tiresome.’
Right now, though, he’d rather be exchanging playful banter with Daphne.
“She’s like a pair of stockings—worn once and discarded.”
“Stockings, you say…”
Laughter rippled through the group, one man’s joke egging on the others.
‘Idiots.’
Celestian scratched his cheek. Romeo, too, seemed fed up with the endless rally of insults, loosening his already undone collar and shaking his head in exasperation.
Cards flipped effortlessly, chips slid easily into Celestian’s possession, and his crimson eyes gleamed under the dim, golden lights. His indifferent gaze fell on the green felt of the poker table.
Since his first bet, Celestian had been placing all the winnings—precious jewels, luxury items, and more—under Daphne’s name.
“Duke Theriosa… or should I address you as Your Highness, the Prince?”
Celestian had amassed an overwhelming stack of chips—black, blue, and red—making his dominance over the table undeniable. Yet the other men, undeterred by their losses, kept running their mouths as if entitled to do so.
“No, no. He should be addressed by the nickname gracing the headlines.”
“Ah, the Red Lady’s lover.”
The group erupted in crude laughter.
“I doubt His Highness has ever seen her cry. He’d be too busy trying to make that sharp-tongued woman smile.”
“And risking having his limbs torn off in the process.”
“There’s a rumor they roll around together day and night. Care to confirm it? Why not share a bit, Your Highness?”
“Hm?”
Celestian finally lifted his head, glancing at the man who had been speaking.
His expression was serene, as if he hadn’t heard—or had chosen to ignore—the insults until now. The ease of his smile sent a chill down their spines, freezing their laughter. Romeo hesitated briefly, then shook his head as though conceding there was no stopping Celestian.
“Are you referring to my relationship with Lady Daphne? Wondering if it’s a cold war or a hot war?”
“Oh, my princess.”
Celestian’s voice was low and rich, the kind that was meant to be heard. The men turned to look at the platinum-haired traitor.
Celestian, deep in thought, slowly lowered the hand propping up his chin. With deliberate slowness, he flipped over his cards.
“She tells me every night how much she adores me—and cries herself to sleep.”
He mimicked wiping tears from the corner of his eye with a clenched fist, pouting his lips mockingly as if pretending to sob.
“And when she faints, I spend the rest of the night comforting her. It’s exhausting.”
Drawing out his words for effect, he exuded the kind of confidence born from having nothing yet owning everything.
“Whether what we have is a hot war or a cold war, I can’t quite tell myself.”
