CHAPTER 100
Translator: Rae
***
Kidnapping
Startled by Cheston’s close proximity, Whitney parted her lips slightly as if to speak but hesitated.
“…Your Highness?"
"I want to kiss you."
“…”
She was speechless at his sudden remark and looked at his red lips that could coincide with hers at any moment.
His blue eyes, fixed solely on her, seemed to be waiting for her permission. Between the gaps of his long lashes, the vast blue sky stretched out, its brilliance mirrored in his gaze. His face, bathed in light as if it held the sun itself, made her swallow dryly.
"No one else can see us anyway. It's covered."
Whitney closed her eyes gently at Cheston’s low voice.
Their lips finally met. Under the blazing sun, the parasol cast a cool shade over them as their faces tilted while leaning against each other. Their breaths mingled, spilling into the almost
non-existent space between them.
They surely have blocked the sunlight, yet the heat between them refused to fade.
He kissed her carefully, yet with an unrelenting persistence. Her legs threatened to lose their strength, but the firm arms supporting her waist were the only reason she was still standing straight.
Even as their breaths grew rapid and unsteady, neither of them pulled away. Hidden within the small space of shade marked by the parasol, they surrendered entirely to the moment.
The warm breeze swept past and dishevelled their hair, yet they only became more eager to mingle even as their skin burned from the growing heat.
Was it because she looked so fragile, clutching desperately at his collar as if the dizziness might sweep her off her feet?
"Haa."
Cheston finally released her, his expression mirrored a satiated predator who had its fill. He brushed his fingers over her lips lightly, as if to wipe away the last traces of their kiss.
Witney, who barely managed to stay upright, looked up at him with ragged breaths.
“It might be nice to take a walk together like this from time to time.”
They weren’t even walking!
Whitney narrowed her eyes and shot him a glare, but that only seemed to amuse him more. His lips remained curved in an irrepressible smile as if he found the entire situation utterly delightful.
As he lifted the tilted parasol, the golden strands of his sunlit hair fluttered in the breeze. Then, before straightening himself, he leaned in once more, pressing a light kiss to her forehead.
“I wouldn’t mind resting a little longer. What do you think?”
“I believe Your Highness and I have different ideas of what ‘rest’ means, so I think we should stop here for today.”
“But no matter what we do, as long as I’m with you, my heart feels full. Isn’t that rest?”
He gazed at her with a teasing smile, utterly brazen. His audacity was so exasperating that Whitney couldn’t refrain from heaving out a short sigh.
***
In the afternoon, as he had said, the gift arrived at the estate.
It was none other than a dress from Monsieur Lebron. He had successfully made a name for himself, and due to his rising fame, one had to make a reservation just to have a dress tailored by him.
Whitney felt genuinely pleased about his success. She had refrained from reaching out, not wanting to trouble him when he was so busy, yet now, she unexpectedly had a dress to wear for tomorrow’s event.
‘He was upset when I didn't ask him to come as my partner right away.’
Whitney smiled as she recalled him asking if she had anything else to talk about with him. She had received Helene’s invitation, but with everything on her mind lately, she had completely forgotten to mention it to him.
Who else would accompany her if not Cheston? She felt a little guilty, realizing she had taken it for granted.
As she lifted the dress from the box, her fingers brushed against the folded note tucked inside.
[I always wish for you to shine the brightest, Your Grace. Congratulations on becoming the head of the family. You are always welcome to visit, as making dresses for Your Grace will be the utmost honor I can ever be granted for. This design was inspired by the one who received it. —Monsieur Lebron.]
Whitney smiled as she admired the increasingly refined craftsmanship of his work. The pale blue dress rippled like water, its delicate layers flowing gracefully with every movement, resembling clouds drifting in the wind. Wisps of sheer chiffon draped over smooth silk, adding an airy volume that made the gown feel almost weightless.
The off-shoulder design elegantly exposed her neckline, highlighting the clean, graceful slope of her shoulders. It was a dress made to embody effortless beauty.
The sapphire brooch rested just above the gently curved neckline, adding a touch of elegance to the already exquisite dress.
It was a perfect choice for midsummer, and Whitney couldn’t help but admire it. With a pleased smile, she sat down and penned a note of gratitude to Monsieur Lebron.
Since he had designed it with her in mind, it was only natural that she loved him.
***
The next day, Whitney stepped out of the duke’s residence, dressed in the gown Cheston had sent, ready to attend the banquet hosted by Helene.
She was about to board the carriage when her steps came to an abrupt halt. Before her stood an unmistakably extravagant carriage, one that drew attention no matter who looked at it.
"His Highness Prince Cheston is here."
“He didn’t announce his arrival. Just how long has he been waiting?”
“He said there was no need to hurry and that he would wait patiently, so I didn’t think of informing you,”
Whitney pressed a hand to her forehead at the butler’s words. How long had he been waiting without a word, not knowing how much time her preparations would take?
Without further delay, she made her way toward the carriage.
As the coachman opened the door, Cheston turned his gaze from the window to her. His eyes flickered with unmistakable satisfaction as he took in her appearance.
"As expected, it suits you perfectly.”
“I like it. I heard this dress was designed with Your Grace in mind.”
Whitney said as she climbed into the carriage. Cheston’s gaze slowly scanned her.
“Honestly, you’d look beautiful in anything. But Monsieur Lebron truly has a good eye—knowing it was inspired by me makes me like it even more.”
Dressed in a crisp white uniform adorned with striking red accents, Chestern exuded an air of regal elegance. Whitney, meeting his gaze, responded in kind.
"Your Highness looks quite impressive yourself. You could have at least informed me when you arrived.”
"It's okay because I'm not bored waiting for you. It gives me something to look forward to.”
“You say such shameless things so easily.”
"Wouldn’t it be sad if lovers couldn’t say things like this to each other?"
He spoke with complete sincerity as if embarrassment were a foreign concept to him. Whitney, realizing she wouldn’t win this exchange, let out a soft sigh. “Alright, alright. Now stop staring at me like that.” She flicked open her fan, half-hiding her face as if to shield herself from the weight of his unwavering gaze.
Cheston’s body knocked against the wall and the carriage set off. He covered his mouth and shrugged.
"Don't laugh!"
"What can I do? You’re so cute.”
He closed his eyes and smiled, but he didn't stop smiling until they arrived at the Count’s mansion.
***
"Welcome, Duchess Regnant of Orléans, and His Royal Highness, Prince Cheston."
Helene lifted up the hem of her dress and bowed her head. The people in the banquet hall were busy glancing at the two of them.
It seemed as if they were timing their arrival to greet each other.
"Lady Helene. This is my little gift. Thank you for inviting me."
"It's an honor for me to have Your Grace here. Thank you for taking the time to visit despite your busy schedule. How could I possibly repay the two of you for gracing this occasion with your presence?”
Witney handed Helene a box of wine.
“This is for the new wine business we’re launching. I wanted you to have a taste. The quality is pretty good, and I expect it will be well received.”
“Oh my! Thank you. I was actually running low on wine. Is this the one that will be served at the royal banquet?”
Helene’s voice dropped into a whisper as she asked, curiosity evident in it. As expected from a noble house close to the king, news travelled fast within their circles.
"That's right. But before then, I wanted to gauge some reactions, that’s why I brought some today.”
“I’m sure everyone will be completely captivated. I was astonished after just one bottle myself.”
She beckoned to a servant, instructing them to have the wine distributed throughout the banquet hall. Whitney also handed a small box containing opal.
"This is a gift, in honor of our friendship.”
Helene’s eyes widened in surprise. Having already seen the opal gifted to the king, she understood just how precious those gemstones were.
“If there’s anything Your Grace ever needs, please don’t hesitate to come to me. I’d love to offer you a gift as well, in honor of our friendship.”
"I'll keep that in mind.”
Whitney replied with a warm smile. Then, she turned her attention to the banquet, observing the atmosphere alongside Cheston. As she watched the expressions of those who had tasted the wine brighten, a sense of relief washed over her.
Their reaction to the wine was beyond her expectations—an instant success. Of course, the fact that it was the Orléans ducal house’s venture that played the role in it, but there was no denying that her position as Cheston’s fiancée also added to the intrigue and enthusiasm.
“I’ll need to step away for a moment. The Count of Owen wishes to speak with me privately.”
"It's alright, go ahead."
Despite his confident demeanor, Cheston kept glancing back at her as if reluctant to leave. She smiled at him, silently urging him on.
“Duchess Regnant of Orléans, I’m Weilin Ephirenne, the daughter of Baron of Ephirenne. My father is eager to meet Your Grace.”
However, the sheer number of people crowding around her made it nearly impossible to even spot Sir Zegmon.
Eventually, Whitney slipped away into the garden for a while to escape the overwhelming attention.
"Haa. It’s a relief that the response is positive, but…”
She could already tell that things were only going to get more chaotic from here. The fresh air outside helped ease her mind. With a deep breath, she turned around, ready to head back inside.
However, before she could take another step, a hand suddenly clamped over her mouth.
She hadn’t sensed anyone nearby—not a single trace of movement—yet somehow, this person had approached her without making any sound. Had they been here all along? Or had they been waiting for the perfect moment? Either way, something about the situation felt dangerously strange.
"Shh, you'll be in trouble if you scream at least."
A low voice murmured against her ear, sending a sharp chill down her spine. Her breath hitched. Cold sweat trickled down her back as her heart pounded violently, every instinct screaming at her—this was dangerous.
'Run, I have to run away.'
She bit down hard on the hand covering her mouth, sinking her teeth in until she tasted blood. drops of it dripped down, staining the skin—but the man didn’t even flinch.
"Tch!"
He yanked her hair back roughly with a grunt, forcing her head to tilt. His breath was hot against her ear as he growled.
"Try that again, and I’ll make sure that pretty face of yours doesn’t stay so pretty. Now, be a good girl and come quietly."
A shiver ran down her spine—not just from fear, but from the chilling certainty that he meant every word.
Whitney quickly scanned her surroundings, but no one had stepped out into the garden. As she was helplessly dragged along, one of her shoes slipped off. The man, seemingly unfazed, moved to hoist her over his shoulder.
"Let me go! I said let go!"
Struggling was useless, but she couldn’t afford to be taken away without a fight. She didn’t know what would happen if she was captured. Her clothes snagged on branches, tearing and becoming a mess, but she pushed herself to break free with all her might.
“AHH!”
A sharp blade flew through the air, grazing the man’s arm as it passed. A loud scream erupted from him, and in the next moment, Whitney’s body was released, dropping to the ground. Yet, she felt no pain.
Through her tear-blurred vision, a shadowy figure appeared—a stranger.
***
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