Chapter 9
Deception or Opportunity
Romeo leaned in closer to Daphne, his voice dripping with mischief. His single dimple, deeply etched on one side, made her want to punch him even more.
“I told you, I missed you.”
She hated that even more.
The goosebumps on her arms traveled up to her ears. Letting out a short yelp, Daphne crossed her arms and frantically rubbed her forearms.
“Your dimples are gross,” Romeo shrugged.
“It was for the sake of our secret meeting,” he added.
“Don’t use such words!” Daphne raised her voice, pounding her chest twice with her fist.
Daphne thumped her chest twice with her fist, her voice rising in frustration.
“Because of you, I almost got into a fight with Stella!”
Even though Daphne enjoyed the king’s favor, harming a royal family was a serious offense. So, even though Daphne wanted to punch Romeo’s handsome face since childhood, she had to restrain herself.
Daphne racked her brain for a suitable sport. She felt like she needed to win somehow to ease her frustration.
“Your Highness, how about we drop the titles and settle this? I’ll choose the game.”
As Daphne debated between injuring, beating, or outright destroying him, Romeo let out an exaggerated sigh, raking his bangs back with annoyance.
“Daphne.”
Once again, goosebumps crept up Daphne’s forearm.
“Why are you calling me by name? Ugh, I just got chills.”
The shifting shadows on Romeo’s face due to the lights beginning to illuminate in the garden made Daphne wonder if they were dimmed.
“Did I turn them off?”
For a brief moment, Daphne thought of Celestian—how the high bridge of his nose would cast half his face into shadow, and those flickering green eyes under the lamplight.
“Daphne, Daphne, Daphne.”
Her wretched cousin never let her linger in nostalgia.
“Why are you acting so creepy?”
A cool breeze swept in from the forest behind the manor, rustling the violet curtains drawn over the windows.
“I’ve been in the capital for just two days.”
“You should’ve stayed away forever. I can take care of Psyche for you.”
Thanks to his reckless father, Romeo, acting as regent, was burdened with maintaining good relations with neighboring countries—more than anyone else.
Daphne, too, played her part to some extent. It wasn’t necessarily for the kingdom and its people, but for herself, considering she had a lot to lose.
“To think my wife rushed in and the first thing she did was kiss me, saying she missed me….”
“If you’re going to rub it in, at least wire me some money first.”
“…She talks about you.”
“What?”
Daphne blinked in surprise.
“Gossip about me?”
“If it were, I’d have welcomed it.”
Romeo sighed deeply before continuing.
“‘Romeo, Daphne hasn’t contacted me. Daphne must hate me. Actually, I hate Daphne too… No, I don’t. I want to make up with her. Romeo, what if Daphne never speaks to me again?’”
He mimicked Psyche’s voice with an exaggeratedly dramatic tone, his golden eyes narrowing at Daphne’s stunned reaction.
Daphne burst into laughter at Romeo’s attempt to mimic Psyche with a delicate voice. Her head tilted back as her laughter rang out, carefree and unrestrained.
Romeo, watching her, continued his string of complaints.
“Damn it, last night I nearly chopped your head off and threw it onto my bed.”
“Oh, did I come up in your dreams or something?”
It was meant as a joke, but Romeo gave no reply.
“Ahaha, okay, sure.”
Daphne realized then that the reason this insufferable crown prince had personally come to talk to her, after shoving her into a back-row seat, wasn’t because of some mere traitor like Celestian.
“Of course. As if he’d ever feel threatened by an idiot like Celestian.”
Romeo had always been utterly captivated by Psyche. Daphne kept forgetting that the world she’d been reborn into revolved around the heroine of this novel, with everything bending to her orbit.
“But who am I to judge? She’s much prettier than him.”
Although tempted to mock her gloomy cousin in this moment of vulnerability, she refrained.
Instead, she approached cautiously, extending her right hand and presenting her middle finger from her clasped left hand as if offering a gift.
“My deepest apologies. I’ll kneel and beg for forgiveness right away. Here, take this and cheer up, okay?”
Romeo silently nodded, lifting his own middle finger to mirror hers, holding it up in front of her face.
“You’re not going to back down?”
“No, I won’t.”
With his shield-like hand, Romeo left Daphne feeling as though she’d just been served a giant slice of humble pie.
******
The bedroom was a stark contrast to the usual velvet wallpaper and grand furnishings. The walls and ceiling were painted with soft pinks and pale yellows, depicting a dreamy sky in oil paint. The furniture was small, warm-toned, and cozy.
It was the kind of room that felt more like an oversized dollhouse than a noble’s bedroom. Rather, it felt like a dollhouse enlarged for humans. Each bedroom in the annex had its own distinct concept. Celestian recalled the infernal bedroom he’d been confined to just yesterday, where the view beyond the windows was stunningly beautiful, but the room itself was a nightmare. Scorching by day and freezing by night, it had been unbearable.
His mind wandered briefly to the gallows, to the sight of shrouded corpses, and the figure who had marched boldly toward him.
“Hello, Prince.”
The blazing sun and unrelenting torture had left Celestian’s face so stiff he couldn’t even make out who had come to save him. Speaking was impossible.
But the radiant red hair, unique to one person in the kingdom, had made him freeze momentarily.
The infamous villainess of gossip—who was said to be greedy, to torment Psyche in the capital, and to covet her cousin the crown prince—had looked anything but vindictive at that moment.
In fact…
“This feels unfamiliar.”
When he had been feverish and clenching his jaw in agony, her cool hand had touched his cheek, easing the tension in his face.
She had made him drink some strange strawberry-flavored medicine, wiped his sweat with steady breaths, and leaned her arm on the bedframe to study his face.
“Something about this is different.”
When he opened his eyes, the woman, who had brought a chair next to the bed, was casually flipping through documents in a light purple evening dress. The sound of papers being turned over filled the quiet room.
“Prince, are you awake? Are you in a lot of pain?”
Their eyes met, and the cold palm quickly reached for his forehead, with the back of the hand touching his cheek.
Celestian involuntarily brushed Daphne’s hand against his cheek, despite the gesture being more of a concern, she somehow seemed pleased.
“Prince, you absolutely cannot die.”
And yet, wasn’t this the same woman who had once claimed that if he died, his corpse would belong to her?
She had treated him like a subordinate ever since she brought him here, giving orders, slapping him if she was displeased, but occasionally speaking with a strange reverence.
At first, Celestian was fooled several times, wondering if it was sincere. But now, he knew it was just mocking him. So he closed his eyes without a response.
Blinking, he found the bedroom empty. It felt painfully empty.
He felt an unexpected loneliness. Rising from the bed, which seemed slightly too small for him, he noticed that the chair she’d been sitting on had been moved to the window.
Celestian slumped into the velvet chair and ran his hand repeatedly over its armrest.
Night had fallen, and the Anghel River was illuminated by streetlights, its surface glowing orange.
He mulled over the names that had haunted him:
Rodriguez, Green, Endiwin, Windfall, Galahad, Baldwin, Chadwick, Elta, Julius.
“Beaucater.”
The families of Secradion, who ruined Theriosa. These were the names he once had been marked for revenge. But now, even the reasons behind his hatred had begun to fade.
It was all becoming tiresome.
“What am I even thinking about?”
As he blinked, an image lingered in his mind like an afterimage: a woman with blazing golden eyes, arms outstretched as if to embrace him.
―Today, Psyche hugged me.
“She always says things I can’t understand…”
―Ah, it still feels like Psyche’s warmth is lingering in my arms. Cele, want to try being hugged too?
A sudden burst of laughter escaped Celestian, uncontainable. He covered his mouth with his hand, chuckling quietly for a moment.
“Should I pretend to love Denver now?”
Humming softly, Celestian pulled a pale pink silk glove from his pocket and laid it across his hand.
The glove was two fingers shorter than his own and so thin it seemed as if it might crumble under the slightest pressure.
He had never dared to hold the hand that had slipped in and out of this glove so many times, fearing he might wear it down somehow.
Only a few weeks ago, he couldn’t have so much as brushed against the ends of Daphne’s hair. The letters he had written, countless in number, had never reached her.
Had he hoped for something closer? If asked, his answer would have been a firm no. Watching her from afar had been happiness enough.
Setting his own boundaries, he lived reasonably.
“Daphne.”
Reflecting on the fleeting moments, he suddenly felt dizzy. Celestian murmured as he rubbed his temples.
“I don’t know if this is an opportunity or deception…”
In his memories, Daphne had been nothing but disdainful of him. Yet, inexplicably, his feelings refused to wither away.
“Alright, Daphne.”
It was a name he could say a thousand times and still feel unsatisfied.
“If that’s what you want, then I’ll do it.”
As long as he was alive, there was a chance to clear up misunderstandings. He was confident he could protect her. For now, he would let himself be content with even this small measure of closeness.
Celestian pressed his lips to the space between the ring and pinky fingers of the delicate glove. The cool night breeze, carrying hints of river water and grass, brushed through his golden hair like threads of silk.
