TKMLTE 113

CHAPTER 113

Translator: Rae

***

Do You Hate Being Alone With Me?

With the winner’s announcement, the atmosphere of the banquet shifted. Princess Violet seemed to be moving away from Carl, avoiding his presence. His burning red eyes made it seem as though he might lash out at her at any moment.

Of course, ensuring her safe return to Phaetonthra was crucial for maintaining diplomatic relations between the two nations, so he wouldn’t act recklessly. However, considering Carl’s increasingly unstable demeanor of late, there was no telling what he might attempt.

“Sir Zegmon, I’d like you to escort Her Highness Princess Violet along with Sir Randy.”

“Understood. I will station knights around Her Highness as well.”

“Just in case, it would be best to move with the Royal Guard. Even if His Highness Prince Carl tries to do something, it won’t be easy for you to interene on your own.”

"I'll check with the captain of the Royal Guard before making any moves.”

Whitney nodded and let out a deep breath. The banquet, now resumed, was lively once again, as if the earlier commotion had been completely forgotten. She finally could exhale in relief only after seeing Sir Zegmon and Sir Randy head in the direction Violet had disappeared.

Perhaps it was the large amount of wine she had consumed in such a short time, but her vision swayed slightly. Maintaining an unshaken posture, she walked leisurely toward the terrace. However, just as her legs gave way beneath her and she stumbled, a firm hand swiftly wrapped around her waist, steadying her.

"Duchess Regent, are you all right?"

"Oh…”

Am I?

Whitney tried to assess her condition in response to Cheston’s question. She didn’t think she was fine, because his handsome face seemed to blur before her eyes. It felt like it was shifting, moving from side to side, almost as if he were dancing. The dizziness was unsettling.

“You don’t seem fine,”

Without waiting for her response, he nodded to himself and guided her toward the terrace, supporting her gently. Whitney let herself be led without resistance. 

A lukewarm breeze brushed against her face, but the haziness in her mind lingered. She had never drunk this much before, so she hadn’t realized it—her body didn’t seem to handle alcohol well.

She propped both elbows on her knees and rested her chin on her hands. Her head drooped weakly as she let out a weary breath.

“Here, drink this.”

"I, I can't. Ugh. Your Highness, do you not feel anything at all?”

She was amazed that Cheston, who had drunk even more than she had, remained completely unaffected. Shaking her head against her blurred vision, she sighed.

Even the cold water he offered seemed to carry the scent of wine. Every time she exhaled, she felt as if the fragrance of wine lingered in the air. She inhaled deeply, then exhaled again, repeating the motion several times.

“Not so fast—breathe in and out slowly. It’ll help you feel better.”

Following his advice, Whitney ignored the pounding heartbeat in her ears and exhaled slowly.

‘My heart feels like it’s about to burst.’

To be fair, this wasn’t the first time her heart raced like this around him, so it wasn’t entirely strange. But she couldn’t quite tell whether it was because of Cheston or the amount of wine she had drunk. Either way, it wasn’t unpleasant, so did it really matter?

“Duchess Regnant?”

Cheston leaned in slightly, as if checking to see if she was fine, his gaze meeting hers. Whitney took in the sight of him sitting in front of her and smiled softly.

‘He’s so handsome.’

So, the reason her heart pounding so fast is because of Cheston, huh?

No matter how many times she saw him, his appearance always felt like a new revelation. Bathed in the soft moonlight, he shimmered in a way no one else in this world ever could.

Whitney reached out and cupped his cheek.

“You’re cold.”

“That’s because your hands are warm.”

“...Oh. Is that so?”

Now that she thought about it, her heart was racing, and heat was rising in her body. Maybe it really was just the wine after all.

She hadn’t expected the intoxication to hit all at once. She had only done it to prove to everyone that the wine was safe. Yes, Whitney admitted to herself—she hadn’t thought about the consequences at all.

‘Hmm, I should’ve drunk less.’

Oh well, as long as everything worked out in the end!

Thankfully, she wasn’t feeling sick, nor did she have a pounding headache. Instead, she just felt… pleasantly light. No, very light.

She enjoyed the cool breeze against her skin, the way his worried gaze lingered on her, and how, when she tilted her head up, she could take in the vast night sky scattered with countless stars.

“Have you ever drunk this much wine before, Your Highness?”

“Not quite like you did, all at once. And I’ve never been drunk, either.”

He brought her palm to his lips, brushing a feather-light kiss against it before letting his fingers intertwine with hers. A quiet chuckle escaped him as he tilted his head.

“We shouldn’t stay out here too long. Shall we go back inside?”

“...Hm. The thought of all those eyes on me is a bit overwhelming. I’d like to stay just a little longer.”

Whitney shook her head, deliberately ignoring the outstretched hand he offered. Instead, she averted her gaze, her lips pursed in a slight pout as she looked up at him.

"Do you hate being alone with me, Your Highness?”

“How could I?”

His voice was steady, unwavering, as he leaned in. With gentle fingers, he lifted her chin and pressed a careful kiss to her lips. Whitney let her eyes flutter shut, melting into the warmth that brushed against her. The rapid thrum of her heartbeat settled into a soothing rhythm, a melody that resonated between them.

His large hand cradled her nape, ensuring she wouldn’t strain as she tilted her head back. The other rested firmly on the back of the chair, enclosing her in a space where only he existed.

Warm breath mingled between their parted lips, and every time their loweres gazes met, a deep flush crept up Whitney’s ears.

“Whitney, I said we should leave this place.”

His voice was low, almost indulgent, yet it carried a quiet warning. But Whitney only smiled, bright and unwavering, as if to reassure him. How cou;d anyone be intimidated when he looked down at her with such tenderness?

“I said I don’t want to leave,”

At her quiet agreement, a crack formed in Cheston’s composed expression. And then, without warning, he lifted her from the chair, settling her securely onto his lap. The firmness of his thigh pressed against her legs, and as his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, their bodies instinctively molded together.

“…Cheston."

Whitney buried her face into his shoulder, her breath warm against his skin.

***

Cheston gazed down at the peacefully sleeping Whitney nestled in his arms, her soft breaths brushing against his chest. It was almost amusing—how she had been so brazen just moments ago, only to now look as innocent as a sleeping child.

Letting out a deep sigh, he lifted his gaze to the night sky, his hand unconsciously moving to stroke her back through the fabric of her dress. Even through his gloves, he could feel the warmth of her body. The pearls woven into her hair shimmered faintly under the moonlight, their luster complementing the rich brown of her locks. His eyes traced the delicate curve of her ear, still flushed pink from earlier.

His gaze lingered on her cheeks, their color resembling ripe peaches. If only she could stay like this—fast asleep, unaware of everything, safe in his arms.

Just then, as if the moment had been waiting for an interruption, Aaron’s voice rang out in the distance.

“Your Highness, I have an urgent matter to report. His Highness Prince Carl…”

“My dear brother couldn’t restrain himself for even a moment, could he?”

He turned to Aaron, nodding for him to come closer. Then, with the utmost care, he shifted Whitney in his arms, handing her over as gently as possible.

“Take her to the private lounge. Make sure she doesn’t wake up.”

“Understood, Your Highness. I’ll see to it personally.”

"What about Her Highness the Queen?"

“Her Highness is stuck by His Majesty the King’s side with no way to leave.”

Cheston pushed aside the curtains and stepped back into the banquet hall. His gaze lingered momentarily on Whitney, who was being carried away to the private lounge in Aaron’s arms. Then, guided by the royal guards, he made his way toward the exit—only to come to an abrupt halt.

‘How irritating.’

Cheston ran his gloved hand along his jaw before shifting his attention to the queen. Her eyes were bloodshot with veins visible beneath the surface. If a sword had been placed in her grasp at that very moment, she looked as though she wouldn’t hesitate to strike him down.

“Send men to search Her Highness the Queen’s palace.”

"Pardon? But…”

“I’ll take full responsibility. Make sure it’s done before the banquet ends.”

The royal guards nodded and swiftly moved away. Cheston smirked, wondering what kind of trouble his dear brother was stirring up this time. It was convenient, in a way—Carl always managed to create problems for himself.

As he walked down the hallway leading to the detached palace, a woman’s sharp scream pierced the air. Cheston quickened his pace and strode inside. What he saw was Carl, breathing heavily, his grip locked tightly around Violet’s wrist.

"Brother."

Cheston scanned his surroundings. It seemed Whitney had anticipated such a situation, as many guards were already present. However, since their opponent was a royal prince, they were struggling to intervene freely.

He called out to Carl, but rather than turning around, Carl only tightened his grip on the princess’ wrist. Her hand had gone pale from the pressure, and her face was filled with sheer disgust.

The red mark on Carl’s cheek suggested he had already been slapped. Violet trembled, trying to pull away from him.

“This kind of behavior is unacceptable.”

Whitney had worked hard to find common ground with Violet, and Cheston couldn’t let her efforts go to waste. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and firmly grasped Carl’s wrist.

“Let go. Harming a princess from foreign land would only bring disgrace to the Kingdom of Luowen. If Father hears of this, he won’t just be disappointed—he’ll strip you of every privilege you’ve been given.”

“Shut up. This is all your fault! Even this wench dares to look down on me and speak of breaking our engagement! Me, the future king?!! She should have been grateful to receive my favor and known her place!”

His red eyes burned with fury. The moment Cheston realized that reasoning was futile, he stepped closer to Carl, his expression almost amused as he leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“Well, if you actually understood what you’ve said, you wouldn’t be a beast—you’d be a man.”

With that, he dusted off Carl’s scruff with his gloved hand before gripping it. His sharp blue eyes gleamed as he spoke in a low, threatening voice.

“If someone were to suddenly drop d*ad here, I doubt anyone would notice. The whole palace is too caught up in the banquet, and the only witness would be a terrified princess who was just threatened by you… No one would shed a tear over the d*ath of a mad dog.”

“Are you seriously trying to threaten me right now?”

“Threats are meant for people. But all I see in front of me is a rabid beast.”

Cheston tightened his grip on Carl’s scruff and yanked him downward. Carl’s body lurched forward, his balance lost in an instant. He struggled to break free, but just as suddenly, Cheston let go.

"Argh!"

Carl tumbled to the ground, his fall ungraceful. Cheston gazed down at him with a chillingly indifferent expression.

“Y-Your Highness Prince Cheston!"

"You can’t do it!"

The knights’ urgent shouts were ignored as Cheston struck down hard with the blunt side of his sword. Carl’s body lurched forward and collapsed onto the ground with a heavy thud.

“Are you all right? Before you leave for Phaetonthra, it would be wise to have the royal guards escort you. It seems you’ve greatly displeased both the Queen and my dear brother.”

“Let’s pretend this never happened. I’ve already had the satisfaction of slapping him, so let’s consider my humiliation repaid. And while Phaetonthra won’t interfere in your kingdom’s internal affairs, if Cerulo sides with His Highness Prince Carl, then I shall stand with you, Your Highness.”

Princess Violet glanced at Carl, who lay sprawled on the ground, and stepped over him without a second thought. Cheston turned to the knights and spoke.

“There’s trash in the middle of the walkway. Why are you just standing there instead of cleaning it up?”

At his words, the knights hurriedly lifted Carl’s unconscious body.

***

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