Chapter 50
Outside, he maintained a composed demeanor. Yet, once they were alone, he began to let out low, pained groans.
“What can I do to help?” Edith asked softly, her concern evident.
“Just let me lean on you,” Clyde replied quietly.
“Besides that?”
Resting his cheek against her shoulder, Clyde slowly shook his head. Drops of blood clung to his sweat-soaked skin, coloring his face crimson.
“Edith.”
He spoke her name like a soft, magical whisper, and a brief silence followed.
“The truly pathetic one is me, not you,” he said finally.
“Why do you say that, Clyde?” she asked after a pause, her voice trembling slightly.
Inside the carriage, the silence was only interrupted by the occasional commands of the guards as they cleared the way outside. Once the carriage gained speed, the outside noise began to fade into the background.
Clyde’s soft words, carried by the monotonous creaking of the carriage, pierced the quiet:
“Seeing you cry for me, it’s strange. It makes me feel… pathetic, really.”
He said the words aloud and then chuckled bitterly, shaking his head as he rested it against her shoulder. Sweat continued to bead on his temples, indicating the severity of his condition.
“You’re supposed to make me smile, not cry,” he said, his voice gradually lowering into exhaustion.
Edith considered countering his thoughts—perhaps she should insist otherwise or argue that it was his fault—but no words came easily to her. The weight of the situation and the complicated emotions left her speechless.
The carriage, bearing both of them, moved smoothly through the quiet streets. Neither agreeing nor disagreeing, they simply continued on.
—
The injury was more severe than anticipated. The bullet had torn through Clyde’s upper left arm, stripping away a chunk of flesh.
Had the shot been any deeper, it could have been fatal. The surgeon stitched him up with care, warning repeatedly of the need for complete rest.
After the surgery and the administration of pain relief, Clyde finally began to regain some clarity. Yet, as soon as he was conscious, he made a surprising demand.
“While I’m at it, have the doctor check on Edith. She hasn’t been showing much improvement with her omega traits,” he insisted.
Edith quickly interjected, feeling exasperation rising.
“Is that really a priority right now? We can deal with that later!”
“But Edith, you’re too carefree about it.”
“No, we need to focus on your injury first!” she insisted firmly.
The decision to keep his injury a secret felt increasingly wrong. With the demanding schedule and the ongoing trials at the tournament, it seemed impossible to manage everything in such a condition. And the tournament had only just begun.
None dared to challenge the prince’s orders, and everyone diligently kept the secret. Yet, it was Edith who finally voiced her concerns after the doctor left.
“Clyde, this is too much. You need to cancel everything. You can’t handle this schedule.”
Still under the influence of the painkillers, Clyde’s lips curled into a relaxed, almost smug smile.
“A good rest will fix everything.”
“Rest won’t heal a bullet wound! That’s ridiculous!” Edith snapped.
“Complaining… it’s kind of nice,” he murmured with a playful grin.
“Cl—” Edith began again, her frustration mounting.
A deep sigh escaped her lips. This man was really a handful.
The more Clyde displayed his assertiveness, the further Edith’s resolve seemed to slip away. The emotions he offered so earnestly felt like heavy burdens to her. Gifts that couldn’t be handled weren’t meant to be received, and Clyde was exactly that weight—a burden too heavy to bear.
“How about we at least change the schedule with some other excuse? Like a simple cold?” Edith suggested.
“We can leave it as if nothing happened.”
“Really? You’re just going to keep doing this?”
“Alright, just the cold.”
There was hesitation in his tone, wary of showing weakness, aware of the risk it posed to his position. But even with his body in this state, how could he continue pushing forward with his usual schedule of meetings and duties?
As Clyde reached for the stack of documents next to his bedside, Edith swiftly snatched them away.
Crossing her arms, she glared at him. The smug smile on Clyde’s face only irritated her further. What a helpless man.
“Fine, how about I help with your work instead?”
“No, it’s alright. You’re focused on the tournament.”
“Thanks to you, I’ve already offloaded the paperwork. I’m barely doing anything here anyway.”
She shot a sly glance at Clyde, who gave her a knowing look in return.
“Really?”
“Just tell me what you want me to do. Do you want me to read through these documents out loud? Let’s see… the subject is… here.”
She carefully began reading the top line of the report, moving through a few pages before Clyde lightly raised his uninjured hand.
“That’s enough.”
“Seems like this isn’t much help.”
“It’s not about reading out loud. You can handle it,” he said softly.
“…What?”
Clyde turned his head calmly, his blue hair spreading gracefully across the plush pillow. His gaze wandered toward the documents and the room beyond before settling back on Edith.
“Having someone with the same perspective is a great support. You’d make decisions almost as if they were mine. So just take care of it.”
“But Clyde, this is a final approval document. Signing this means it gets executed.”
“I know. And unfortunately, I’m making you work overtime again,” he said with a slight smirk.
“That’s not the issue…”
“Just handle the current document. The part that needs to be processed immediately is this.”
Before Edith could protest further, Clyde attempted to sit up, but she pushed him back down gently.
“The doctor said absolute rest. You need to stay in bed.”
“Just for a moment, I need to get something.”
“Do you need to go to the bathroom? Should I call someone?”
He gave a dismissive laugh but lay back down, his smile playful.
“I’m not so helpless that I can’t go to the bathroom alone. I’ve only brushed up against a little.”
“You’ve barely brushed up against anything,” Edith countered.
“Then will you help me? Just open the drawer at the end—get the key for me.”
“Key?”
Following Clyde’s instructions, Edith carefully unlocked the complex mechanism of the drawer. Inside was a beautifully crafted, highly unique key case.
“Look behind Heliodor IV’s portrait in the private chamber. There’s a safe. The code is 36, 21, 9. Align the dials and insert the key.”
“Why are you giving me this?”
“My seal is in the safe. Use it whenever you need to. I can’t have Edith forging my signature,” Clyde explained calmly.
Edith’s brow furrowed in confusion and frustration. She had not expected to handle such responsibility. Documents that typically went through various departments and levels—when it reached Clyde’s bedside, it implied utmost importance.
“But—”
“Trusting you is better than trusting anyone else,” Clyde said, his gaze unwavering.
“But I’m always losing things and making mistakes.”
“You get lost in more important thoughts. Only those who lack understanding criticize the small flaws,” Clyde assured her.
“You expect me to handle this perfectly?” she asked, still uneasy.
“You’ll do fine. Just don’t overdo it,” he said with a relaxed tone.
Far off, the clock chimed the hour. The sound echoed through the grand palace courtyard as the bell rang precisely at the top of the hour. Clyde glanced at his watch, shifting the cushion behind him for comfort.
“Bedtime’s not far now. Let’s shut everything down on time,” he said with a satisfied grin.
Edith’s mind snapped back into focus.
“Wait, bedtime?!” she exclaimed, disbelief evident.
“Just like usual. I’m the patient,” Clyde replied smugly.
“But, but we still have an hour left!”
With a mischievous expression, Clyde gently pinched the bridge of his nose, causing a playful wrinkle to form.
“Yep, good night.”
The endless gaze of trust should not be this annoying. Struggling to suppress the impulse to poke his handsome face with a finger, Edith glared at him. Still, there was no room to act on it—his arm was not just wrapped in bandages, but securely bound to his body to prevent any movement.
It came down to two choices: either leave the Crown Prince’s urgent matters to be handled later, or let Edith take care of them. There was no time for hesitation. She hurriedly searched the safe in the private chamber to unlock the locked door.
At a glance, it was clear these items were incredibly important. Elegantly aged documents, likely tied to the fate of the nation, were neatly stacked. A massive treasure chest stood prominently in the corner. There was probably something too valuable to be stored in the palace’s designated treasury, housed safely here instead.
There was no time to leisurely inspect the safe’s contents. Clyde had boasted about turning off the lights exactly an hour from now, making the room pitch black.
“My mouth is a disaster,” Edith thought, regretting her decision to help, creating this last-minute rush akin to a cram session before an exam.
“What did you say?” Clyde called out from beyond the partition.
“Nothing.”
“Go ahead and open the treasure chest if you want. Just let me know if there’s something you’d like.”
Even though he rushed her with document reviews, Clyde’s magnanimous offer to browse a treasure chest was infuriating. Edith quickly retrieved the seal, frantically pressing it onto each document.
Once she sat at the desk, the room quieted. The only sounds were the occasional rustling of papers.
After carefully reviewing each document, she pressed the Crown Prince’s seal firmly onto them. Any section she deemed inappropriate was marked with notes that would likely spark gossip among the court officials later, but it was nothing new—they would pass it off after some discussion.
The sound of a distant chime floated through the open window.
“Is it all done?” Clyde’s confident voice echoed as he sauntered into the room. His earlier request for her to remain still was now meaningless as he brazenly rose from the bed.
If he was going to handle the seal himself, he might as well do the work himself too. Grumbling under her breath, Edith couldn’t take her eyes off the pile of documents.
“Not yet. Just one more.”
“Let me turn off the lights. Take your time.”
Was that even reasonable? He was already moving to turn off the lights while she hurriedly skimmed through the final document, finally pressing the seal at the bottom. By the time the chamber’s lights were nearly extinguished, Edith’s desk was a complete mess.
With no time to arrange anything neatly, papers flew everywhere. Surrounded by scattered white sheets, Edith looked like a disaster. The ink-stained papers crumpled against her elbow and the papers piled awkwardly behind her on the chair were particularly disheveled.
Clyde’s relentless movements caused the candle on the desk to flicker and lose its light.
“No, seriously, just a moment. Let me tidy up.”
“Leave it. I’ll get another servant for that. You don’t need to be dealing with document organization.”
“But this isn’t exactly work,” she protested.
It was just messy work of her own desk, carelessly left in disarray.
“Regardless.”
He urged her along, but still managed to step behind her chair to pull it out in a gentlemanly gesture. With that, she had to leave the desk—its appearance like the aftermath of a battlefield.
