Chapter 43
The faint scent of Omega drifted into his nostrils.
Edith, unaware, was releasing pheromones even in her sleep. It was dangerous. Her presence alone made his heart ache, and the fact that she exuded a lethal scent made it almost unbearable.
Clyde clenched his teeth.
As he slowly straightened up and backed away, it felt as if her scent was pursuing him like a thread of fate.
‘I need to take care of the Omega pheromones myself.’
Safety was, of course, a priority, and he didn’t want any other Alpha to smell this scent.
He wanted everything about Edith. Whether it was sitting beside her during an escort or sharing a pillow on the bed. He even wanted to own every bit of her scent.
The reality was that it was hard to even be close to her. He was anxious about her possibly quitting her position and running away.
* * *
Edith, upon hearing that the Crown Prince had gone to the shooting range first, hurriedly mounted her horse.
The person who woke her in the morning wasn’t him but a palace attendant. There were no traces on the auxiliary bed. It was impossible that Clyde had already calmed down. Understanding Clyde’s feelings only made her feel worse.
But it wasn’t something to be hastily reconciled. It was more a matter of choice rather than right or wrong.
She approached Clyde, who was standing at the shooting range and firing, hesitantly.
After giving a quick nod of greeting, she took her place. He also responded with a brief nod.
Edith took the loaded gun from the range manager. While Clyde handled the gun himself, she always used a gun prepared by someone else and just pulled the trigger. With the preparation time being short, she was instructed to focus solely on accuracy.
The noise of the gunshots was helpful today. She could concentrate on practicing without distraction.
They took turns firing. One person shot, checked the results, and then the next person shot.
She had become quite skilled now, hitting the target as well as any seasoned shooter. Thanks to that, Clyde, who used to coach her frequently, had stopped giving instructions recently.
Since conversation was awkward anyway, it was fortunate that the atmosphere focused solely on shooting.
“Don’t lower your elbows until the end.”
His calm voice startled her. She felt like she had done something wrong on her own.
“Yes.”
A moment of silence passed.
“I understand that you have no choice but to use the current gun until the one you ordered arrives. Just wait a little longer, and it will be easier for you.”
This meant that the reason her posture often wavered wasn’t her fault but the equipment’s. The gun was indeed too heavy and large for her.
After Clyde continued with his extra shots, Edith asked as an excuse to start a conversation.
“When will my gun be finished?”
“This week. At the latest, early next week.”
It was Edith’s turn to shoot now. She focused and aimed, hitting the center of the target.
When the firing sessions ended and it was time for a break, the palace attendant took the targets from the board and recorded the scores meticulously in a notebook.
Clyde examined the densely numbered target sheet.
“You’re steadily improving. I’m surprised every time I see how well you’re doing, even better than I expected.”
Neither of them showed any sign of the previous day’s argument. They intentionally kept their conversation focused on shooting.
“But what if I don’t make it to the finals?”
“Edith, as I’ve emphasized repeatedly, it’s fine to be eliminated early. The point of participating is to observe whether the competition goes off without a hitch.”
“Even so.”
“Even if you don’t make it to the finals, just understanding the flow of the preliminary rounds is enough. In fact, accidents are more likely to happen in the preliminaries. Your task is to blend in with the competitors and check for any significant issues that the organizers might have missed.”
Clyde had frequently said similar things. He had never told her to achieve results, always reducing the pressure on her.
But now that she had signed up for the competition, it was impossible not to feel some ambition. She wanted to make it to the finals if possible.
“Do you think my performance will be enough for the finals?”
“You want to make it to the finals?”
“Of course, it would be nice to do well.”
“There’s no need for that. You’re already working so hard that I almost want to stop you.”
The pressure-free challenge actually motivated Edith. She was the only one filled with enthusiasm.
Competitions tend to ignite a sense of rivalry. She didn’t want to be eliminated early.
She was someone who, even when playing games, would get completely absorbed once she got fired up. In the real world, she had been so deeply into a mobile game that her character’s name was recognized on the server.
Clyde had teased her about having a desire for success, but it was more about her competitive nature. She hated to lose.
He looked up from Edith’s shooting data and gazed at the distant target board.
“To be honest, Edith, not only the finals but even the final round is within your reach.”
“Really?”
“It’s not easy to improve so quickly. Your concentration is remarkable. Shooting might be the area where your strengths are best utilized.”
Surprised by the unexpected praise, she jumped up in joy. Although she often heard that she was doing well, it was the first time she had heard such high expectations for her performance in the competition.
Her skirt fluttered in the breeze. Clyde glanced back at the sight.
In trying to maintain a composed atmosphere, she had suddenly acted somewhat recklessly. Edith, a bit embarrassed, pretended otherwise. A faint clearing of the throat was heard from the side.
Although still awkward, her mood seemed to improve a bit.
“Um, about yesterday, when I went to Peyton’s house…”
He noticed his shoulders stiffening abruptly. Not wanting to return to a state of cold war, Edith quickly got to the point.
“I saw something strange. I thought I should tell you about it.”
As the title changed to “Your Highness,” his tone of voice also became serious.
“What kind of strange thing?”
“Peyton, like other nobles, was preparing to enter his relatives and acquaintances in the shooting competition. He boasted that he aimed for victory, so I watched for a moment. But…”
Edith checked that no one else was around, then leaned close to his ear.
“There were bullet holes on the shooting targets that were intentionally off-center.”
“……!”
“Some papers were almost perfect, while others were complete misses. The difference was too great to be a mistake.”
“So, it means they were intentionally missed.”
“I’m sure of it. If it were inconsistent shooting, it might be attributed to skill variability, but if all the shots were off-center, it’s clearly intentional.”
His expression, furrowing his brow in displeasure, was unusual. He muttered something low under his tightly shut lips.
As Clyde fell deep into thought, Edith also tried to predict his line of reasoning, hoping it might align with her own thoughts. She waited for his response.
“It seems that Lord Graves will start moving as soon as he receives his title.”
“Is that what you think too?”
“I had anticipated that they wouldn’t just sit idly by during the shooting competition, and sure enough…”
“Why are they practicing like this? What’s the point of scoring low?”
“There are many possibilities. They could stage a firearms accident and injure someone.”
Edith sighed deeply, envisioning the chaos that could ensue if casualties occurred and the competition was thrown into disarray.
“That would be a serious problem.”
“Or something unexpected might happen at the competition. Their goal is likely to see the shooting competition fail.”
Although she referred to ‘them’ vaguely, Edith didn’t question whom she meant.
After working tirelessly day and night, she was now quite aware of the inner workings of the imperial court and beyond. Sharing their analysis results, she and Clyde almost had the same political perspective.
Without speaking, Clyde began counting on his fingers. As he pondered and folded three fingers, Edith spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, as if solving a quiz.
“Count Victor, Count Dietrian. And the rising noble faction’s sacred Peyton.”
He snapped his fingers as he counted. It matched the individuals Clyde had internally identified.
The Graves family of Peyton had a history and tradition as an influential noble house. Among the noble factions, they were considered a leading force. They had wielded power for generations, playing a significant role in countering the imperial family’s influence.
Even the late Duke of Graves was a major figure among the nobility. Had he not disappeared in the New World, he would have likely opposed Clyde’s actions as Crown Prince at every turn.
It was clear who among the noble factions were closely aligned with Peyton. They were once vassals centuries ago and are now entangled in business dealings.
“Is this all because of the slave issue?”
“Probably… And besides the slaves, there are various other issues they might exploit.”
The Graves family had accumulated wealth using slaves from the New World. Although slavery was illegal in the Lagrande Empire, it was legal and actively practiced in the New World, where they ran large-scale farms with slave labor. Other families involved in business there faced similar situations.
The Empire fundamentally opposed slavery. The disputes extended beyond human rights to trade, rights, and territorial issues.
As a result, relations between the imperial family and the nobility were far from cordial.
“They probably dislike the fact that the Crown Prince is gaining power.”
“Yes.”
“Clyde, you seem a bit down.”
“It’s not new to face opposition. It’s frustrating, but it’s part of reality. I need to accept it and prevent any accidents from happening.”
He seemed momentarily gloomy. Edith glanced at the palace attendants adjusting the guns and occasionally observed Clyde’s mood.
She was cautious about offering words of comfort. The reality of enemies disguised as servants always lurking around Clyde couldn’t be easily covered with a few words.
In a few days’ national policy meeting, she would encounter him again. Instead of using direct expressions, Edith chose to speak indirectly.
“It would be nice if they could keep their boundaries, but it seems they have ambitions.”
“Is that your assessment of Peyton?”
“Yes?”
“Should I assume the marriage talks aren’t going well then?”
His gaze, now fixed and earnest, seemed to indicate his focus. Clyde seemed to be more concerned with the marriage talks than the shooting competition.
“Well… I saw that scene when I went to have tea. Practicing off-center shots—it’s not a good sign.”
“Has the marriage proposal not been completely broken off yet?”
A slight smile seemed to appear. Clyde was focusing on the marriage talks.
“Clyde, weren’t we discussing the shooting competition?”
“Looks like it hasn’t been broken off yet.”
He grumbled with a sullen face.
It would have been better if they had discussed Peyton’s schemes yesterday, but she was too overwhelmed at the time. When Clyde had confronted her on the way back to the palace, she was unable to say anything.
As they moved to continue the shooting practice, Clyde kept grumbling and making excuses. He criticized Peyton but then seemed surprised at his own outburst and retracted his words.
Edith couldn’t help but find Clyde’s fluctuating emotions somewhat endearing. His attempts to manage a rival’s interference seemed a bit cute.
Fearing that laughing might make him stop his endearing antics, Edith pretended not to notice and focused solely on shooting.
