CHAPTER 106
Translator: Rae
***
Maybe You Like It Because You Like Me?
"Duchess Regnant of Orleans."
“…”
“It’s a nice day today. Why don’t we take a boat out on the lake? How about taking a boat ride on the lake since the weather is nice today? There’s nothing better for clearing your mind.”
Cheston halted his steps as he watched Whitney, lost in thought. She walked forward absentmindedly, unaware of her surroundings, unaware of his gaze. Then, he reached out and caught her hand with his long strides.
"Ah!"
Her eyes widened in surprise.
“You seemed too deep in thought,”
“I’m sorry. I was worried about what the King said.”
“That Maurice’s pregnancy might not be true?”
She nodded.
“If it’s Maurice, that honestly wouldn’t be surprising. She might have lied to the queen just to survive, begging for her life.”
“If Her Highness the Queen believed it, then I doubt the pregnancy is a lie.”
Cheston tilted his head slightly as he watched Whitney, her thoughts still entirely consumed by Maurice. He knew exactly what was weighing on her mind.
Even if Cheston were to seize power through this ordeal, the birth of Carl’s child could mean history repeating itself all over again.
"Whitney.”
He called her name softly—perhaps for the first time. Holding her small, delicate hand tightly, he turned her to face him.
“No matter what happens to that woman, it has nothing to do with you. It won’t affect you in any way.”
She had already been moved elsewhere, and if the king came forward, she would likely be confined, unable to meet anyone. Worrying about her wouldn’t change a thing.
“So instead of thinking about her, why don’t you focus on this moment with me?”
“Are we really going to ride a boat?”
Cheston gently took her hand. He wanted her to be comfortable, even if just for a moment. He told Sir Zegmon to wait here with Sir Aaron and then walked with her to the lake.
"Lake Frend. You said you like it."
“…”
“Maybe you like it because you like me?”
At his words, a rosy blush spread across her pale face. Intertwining their fingers, she gazed at him in silence. Just looking at him made her feel as if she had the whole world in her hands.
***
Watching the rippling water as the boat glided across the lake, she felt her mind relax.
Perhaps it was because Cheston, sitting across from her, seemed to blend seamlessly with the surrounding scenery. Though he looked slightly awkward handling the oars himself, the sight was oddly pleasant. Dressed in a crisp white uniform, he seemed to glow even as they passed under the shade of the trees, as if the sunlight followed him wherever he went.
Whitney wrapped her arms around her knees and quietly took in his image. His golden hair, shimmering under the sun, reminded her of a sunlit shoreline, making her feel as though she were gazing out at the sea. The sound of birds chirping filled her ears, their melodies mingling with the occasional splash of water as the boat cut through the still lake.
As the oars moved smoothly in his hands, a gentle breeze brushed against her face. Cheston ran a hand through his hair before lifting the oars and resting it across the boat.
Perhaps feeling the heat started to rise, he shrugged off his uniform jacket and set it aside. With an absent-minded motion, he unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up before leaning back slightly. His languid posture, utterly comfortable, brought an unconscious smile to Whitney’s lips.
“You’re not planning to jump into the water again, are you?”
"It's not particularly hot today, so I don't feel like swimming. Is that a relief?"
“Are you not worried, Your Highness?”
His clear blue eyes looked as if he was registering her questions before his gaze curved into an innocent, carefree expression, as if he truly didn’t know what she meant. For a moment, her worries seemed to fade. A brief silence settled between them, carried by the gentle ripples of the lake.
“Not really.”
At his firm yet composed response, Whitney’s eyes widened in surprise. However, his gaze truly held no trace of worry. He was someone who always seemed both carefree and languid.
He looked so carefree, so effortlessly at ease.
“I always worry that you might run away.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m serious.”
Whitney’s heart pounded wildly once more as their eyes met. He leaned in, gently caressing her cheek. She knew he could see the flush spreading across her face, yet she didn’t turn away. The sunlight bathed her eyes so fully that she could hardly keep them open.
More than the dazzling reflection of the lake before her, it was the way he looked at her that shone even brighter.
"Oh, no."
He raised his hand to create shade for her. Whitney eventually opened her narrowed eyes completely and gazed directly at his face. His bright smile was utterly endearing.
"Is it still too bright?"
"Yes, a little bit."
A soft chuckle escaped him as he shifted slightly, moving closer. The shadow he cast now fully shielded her from the sunlight, allowing the tension in her face to ease.
Then, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Under the blazing summer sun, his lips were warm—filled with heat, like biting into a ripe, sun-drenched peach, sweet and intoxicating.
***
The queen couldn’t hide her displeasure upon hearing that Whitney had visited the royal palace.
“Why on earth is he roaming the royal palace? What will you do if he gets caught? I can’t understand why we continue to keep alive someone who couldn’t even properly create a scandal with the duchess regnant!”
She frowned deeply at the sight of her son throwing a tantrum like a spoiled child. It seemed he had caught a glimpse of Petro stopping by briefly before leaving.
‘Even when told to use the back passages, he refuses to listen.’
The queen needed a dog who obeyed her every command. She had no intention of simply standing by and watching him roam around as he pleased.
“We can’t keep the Marquis of Aroche around forever, so we’ll have to make a decision.”
"You're not really going to make that lowly b*st*rd the Marquis, are you?”
Carl’s face twisted in an instant. He clenched his fists tightly and widened his eyes. If the king were to find out about all of this, not only would his mother be doomed, but he himself wouldn’t be safe either.
“Where exactly is all that money going? I need to know why you’re so obsessed with this business dealings.”
"Don't you see that it's all for you?”
Carl sat in the chair carelessly and scoffed. Everything revolved too much around his mother for it to be considered an action for himself. Even the fact that he had nearly d*ed had not been mentioned to him.
He only heard about things after they had already happened.
If this continued, he felt he would remain at his mother’s mercy. No—he was already just following her plans.
"From now on, you will consult with me before doing anything.”
“...What did you say? I don’t think you’re doing this because you don’t trust your mother, who has been doing your dirty work on your behalf the whole time.”
"I don't know how far she's involved, but I won't let Morris's go when he finds out. Please don't forget I have no connection."
“Son. it sounds to me as though you could abandon your mother any day.”
The queen’s fury flared as she saw Carl rush toward her under the light. How could he be so utterly foolish?
“If only you hadn’t embraced that w*nch, things wouldn’t have come to this. How could you be so vulgar…!”
"Don't you think that you’re in no position to say such things to me, Mother?”
Carl propped his feet up on the chair and clutched his stomach, laughing. For her to call him vulgar, when she had entertained so many men that it was shameful to even count—what a joke.
“Wasn’t it you who taught me that this is how everyone in the royal palace lives, Mother? You were the one who said that giving your heart only leads to wounds—yet you expected your son to be faithful? Then you should have taught me properly.”
"Watch your mouth."
“If you keep doing as you please, then I’ll have to reconsider my own stance, Mother. When I really think about it… there’s no guarantee that Maurice’s child is even mine, is there?”
He swung his foot lazily, continuing to sneer.
“You think I don’t know that you fear Petro? I even know exactly who that fear is truly directed at.”
The queen stepped closer, looking down at Carl with an icy gaze. With a flick of her fan, she tapped his foot.
“I’ve always told you—you must never lose your dignity, even when no one is watching.”
“...I suppose this is the kind of dignity I’ve learned from you, Mother. But do not worry. No one questions the excellence of my crown prince academy class.”
Carl rose from his seat, his gaze locking onto his mother’s. Now that he looked at her properly, he noticed the wrinkles on her once-flawless face. Even the once-unshakable intensity in her eyes now wavered ever so slightly.
“I won’t forget everything Mother has done for me. But if all of it comes back to me as a blade, then surely, I will have no choice but to act accordingly.”
“Carl, you must choose your words carefully. If your intentions are too obvious, who do you think will suffer in the end? Never forget—the only reason I do all this is to make you king.”
“I’m very aware of it. How could I not understand my own mother’s intentions as her son? But I can no longer stand by and watch that b*st*rd hold his head high and act like a noble in front of me.”
“It will all be over soon, so don’t waste your energy on trivial matters. You should be looking at the bigger picture.”
The queen smiled and took Carl's hand, tapping the back of it gently. A smile spread across his face in response to her touch.
“The Duchess Regnant of Orléans seems to have figured something out. I don’t know what exactly you’ve done, but you’d best deal with it quickly. She met with Father today—whatever it was about, it’s likely reached his ears by now.”
“Did you run into the Duchess Regnant? You didn’t do anything reckless again, did you?"
“Why are you being so sensitive about what I do? Wouldn’t everything be resolved much faster if I simply made sure she carried my child?”
Yes—why hadn’t he thought of this sooner?
Marrying her to Cheston was the simplest way to bring those who supported the House of Orléan to his side. Carl’s crimson eyes gleamed with a sharp, calculating glint.
***
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