“Episode 6”
The bed, rolling around together
‘Where’s the gun…?’
Some people become unusually calm when they’re extremely pissed off. Daphne was one of those people.
The Vucater estate didn’t house any cheap artwork, but this portrait was especially valuable because it had been a gift from Daphne’s mother.
Crafted on carefully woven canvas with meticulously selected pigments blended over months, the painting was exquisitely detailed and refined. It was twice the height of Daphne herself, and when it was completed, it had been displayed in the main hall for half a year, boasting its perfect value.
Daphne pressed her forefinger to her temple and exhaled a silent, long sigh. Fortunately, the prince couldn’t see her face as she had her back to him. If she saw his handsome face in her current unsettled state, she would undoubtedly lose her composure.
‘Should I just shoot him? Maybe in the leg or something?’
Daphne was somewhat impulsive.
‘No.’
But her concern for her social image made her remarkably patient.
She raised her head again and looked at the portrait of the red-haired woman, now grotesque with bullet holes.
Daphne knew this was supposed to be a dark romance novel, but this portrait made it look like a horror story.
“Amen,” Daphne muttered. She heard the rustling of bedding as the prince moved behind her.
“Celestian.”
“Don’t be mad, Vucater. I was bored.”
He answered with a tone that almost sounded playful.
‘That damned boredom!’
Was it a common trait of the Rodriguez bloodline to act out when bored? Their father gambled away and accrued unmanageable debts. One brother, a lunatic, blew up a garden, and their oldest sibling, an idiot…
She felt it was her fault for showing them any leniency in the first place.
‘So this is self-defense.’
She took a few steps forward and pressed the tip of her shoe against the bottom of the portrait frame. With a click, a secret compartment opened, and Daphne pulled out a long box, swiftly assembling the contents.
Click, clack, click, click. Clack.
The sound of metal pieces fitting together was crisp and satisfying.
“Vucater.”
The prince seemed puzzled by Daphne’s lack of reaction to the trashed bedroom. After only two days of enduring her slapping and scolding, he seemed to have grown accustomed to simple violence.
Clack, clack.
“Yes, Celestian?”
She turned around and stood up, cradling the heavy metal object in her left arm while inserting earplugs with her right. She looked at him.
“Oh…”
Celestian, who had been sitting arrogantly on her bed, looked incredibly handsome as always. His tousled golden hair and a shirt with its front completely torn off added to his allure. Daphne took a moment to admire him, her hand on her chin.
The prince, with his overall bright color palette, looked almost sacred with the light from the cracked window scattering around him like a halo.
“What’s that?”
He eyed the Winchester rifle in Daphne’s arms.
“What do you think it is? It’s a gun.”
The Winchester rifle, entirely black with a lion’s emblem engraved in gold on the stock, signified that it belonged to Romeo Rodriguez.
“I won this at a hunting contest. I really wanted it.”
Daphne bragged, rubbing her cheek against the barrel, then positioned herself with her feet apart in a shooting stance. The prince’s handsome brow furrowed slightly before he smirked.
“Not scared?”
Despite being a fool, the prince was certainly brave.
“Do you even know how to shoot?”
She sensed an implied ‘for a girl’ in his tone. Instead of answering, Daphne expertly levered the rifle, chambered a round, and fired at the window. She immediately chambered another round and shot a spot near the ceiling.
The already cracked glass shattered with a clear sound, cascading to the floor like waves.
The long view of the Angel River, previously obscured, now stretched out vividly. The warm red sunset light and a gentle breeze rushed into the room.
“My lady!”
Startled by the gunshot, the servants burst through the mahogany door. Daphne set the rifle down on a chair and arrogantly clasped her hands behind her back.
Seeing the abstract chaos that was once her bedroom, the servants stood with their mouths agape. With a single nod from Daphne, they retreated behind the door. She caught a glimpse of Misha’s face, who looked genuinely on the verge of tears.
“Are you hurt?”
“Does it look like I am?”
But the Daphne in the portrait was not unscathed.
“Could you close the door? I have some words for my dear.”
The Sasha brothers hovered foolishly, repeating their offer to help. Before Daphne could finish sighing in exasperation, Narid stepped forward and diligently closed the door.
‘Narid just earned herself a bonus.’
She kicked aside the glass shards that had spread to the center of the room with her shoe and advanced. Where the prince had once sat arrogantly on the bed, now there was no sign of him. Instead, a pitiable, handsome man had hidden his head under the white duvet.
Daphne watched his broad back heave up and down rapidly and scratched her nose.
“Prince.”
There was no answer.
“Celestian?”
Princess Terriosa had been mercilessly shot through the chest and waist with a rifle similar to Daphne’s. It was the work of royalist extremists, and unfortunately, the ten-year-old prince had to witness his mother’s brutal death up close.
Just as Daphne reached out to pull the blanket, Celestian swiftly grabbed her wrist, overpowering her. Her red hair fell into her inverted view, obscuring her vision of the prince’s face, which was backlit by the window.
“So, the bed is the only thing left intact. Was that a signal that you wanted to sleep with me, and I missed it? My bad.”
Her wrist throbbed where he gripped it. With her free hand, she pushed her hair back from her eyes.
“Celeste, I told you not to look down on me. Seriously.”
She was about to reprimand him, but Celestian pressed the barrel of a revolver against her forehead. Daphne quickly calculated the number of bullets that might be left in the gun.
“Should I just kill you?”
‘Surprisingly steady,’ she thought. The revolver typically held seven rounds. There were seven holes in the face of her portrait, one shot through the nose, and one in the window. This gun had to be empty. Her lingering doubt vanished.
“If you’re going to kill me, do it quickly.”
She wasn’t afraid of his limited bravado.
“Celeste, even if you kill me and manage to overpower all the servants in this room and escape, what will you do then? Do you have anywhere to go?”
“There’s nothing next.”
“What?”
“…I’d seek Psyche’s help.”
Even in this situation, he mentioned Psyche. Daphne squinted, trying not to laugh.
“Before you reach Psyche, what about the royalists outside? How will you get past them, and what about Romeo?”
The prince chose to remain silent. Daphne wanted to hug his tense, warm body, but instead, she raised a hand to grasp the barrel of the gun and lowered it to her mouth. Despite the tension, Celestian had relaxed the lever, which made her want to applaud his composure.
“If you want to kill in one shot, aim inside the mouth rather than the head. Now, try it.”
When she opened her mouth, Celestian gasped. The backlighting made his expression hard to see, which annoyed her.
“…You’re crazy.”
“Why? Say it’s a wave.”
“Value your life a bit more.”
‘This from the guy who risked his life for a woman he loved and started a rebellion?’
His dramatic monologue while holding a gun was almost pitiful.
“Why? I don’t think it’s bad to die by the hand of someone I love.”
“You don’t love me.”
She squinted harder, trying to see his face.
“Ugh, I really do love you. I’ve said it ninety-six times; four more and it’ll be a hundred. I could have fired a hundred shots in this time. Are you going to shoot or should I do it for you?”
Now that she looked, Celestian didn’t even have his finger on the trigger. His green eyes quietly stared down at her, looking completely composed.
‘This is disgusting.’
Daphne shoved Celestian with all her might, climbing onto his waist. Now, she could see his face clearly, and not just his surprised expression, but also his finely sculpted, muscular chest.
She licked her lips and put her index finger through the trigger guard.
“Vucater.”
Their eyes locked. Celestian pulled the revolver towards himself, while Daphne kept trying to pull the trigger.
“Let go.”
“No, let me do it for you.”
“I said, let go!”
“Why are you so scared? This gun is empty anyway…”
Bang!
A shot rang out, and an orange flame sparked. Daphne clutched her ear and cheek, unceremoniously falling off the bed. She blinked several times in shock.
The bullet had flown right past her ear, piercing the canopy and embedding itself in the ceiling. If Celestian hadn’t been weaker or hadn’t managed to knock her away, it would have gone through her eye.
Silence hung between them. The prince, his face a mix of shock and disbelief, stared at Daphne sprawled on the floor.
“Where did you get the guts to rush at a man with a gun?”
“Well, revolvers usually hold seven rounds.”
“This one was fully loaded with seven rounds. It’s Maril’s. How could you not know that?”
Daphne clutched her chest, trying to calm her racing heart.
“How was I supposed to know our butler keeps the gun fully loaded at home?”
“You almost really died.”
Celestian should be happy if Daphne died. The Vucater estate was close to the harbor, offering a perfect escape route overseas if needed.
‘Why does he look so shocked?’
However, what Daphne saw in his green eyes was not anger but confusion and anxiety. Staring directly into his irises, which flickered with those two emotions, made Daphne feel even more bewildered.
“You’re the one who pointed a loaded gun at my head, so why are you scolding me, Prince?”
Her cheek throbbed where Celestian had struck her. Daphne pressed her knuckles to her cheek, complaining indignantly. Her palm stung, likely from a shard of glass embedded in it.
“I had no intention of shooting you.”
“Really? Why not?”
“If you died…”
Even as he stood up and brushed the glass shards off his trousers, he seemed hesitant, his lips moving as if to say something but never quite speaking. The pause was unnecessarily long.
“I’m listening. Just say it.”
At Daphne’s prompting, Celestian finally muttered softly.
“Because Psyche would be sad.”
