About Becoming My Ex-Husband's Mistress - Chapter 47

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 47. A Pointless Affair
Eclite was known as a fair imperial prince, but in reality, he was no different from a madman wielding power.
“I can’t do anything about the illegitimate older brother at this point, but I didn’t want to take in a woman of low status as my sister-in-law. Well, it worked out. Still, if my brother insists on meeting that woman, I’ll defer to the Former King’s wishes.”
Eclite’s words dripped with malice, and Luderne had no strength to suppress him.
Above all, the fact that Priscilla had remarried left him with no choice but to bury his feelings.
All he could do was moor the Quindel Ship at Roban Harbor, the closest port to where Priscilla was, and drink.
I had to forget.
I had to let go of memories from the past.
Even when I happened to encounter Priscilla on the deck of the Quindel Ship heading toward the Capital.
I turned away so she wouldn’t see my expression, biting my lip until blood flowed without even noticing.
I had to pretend not to know her.
Meeting Priscilla again on Heril Island was nearly a miracle.
Luderne immediately sent all the mansion’s servants to the Capital on holiday, except for the mute Lesha.
So that no one would see Priscilla.
And while Priscilla was ill, I conducted my own investigation.
The forged identity papers showed that Priscilla herself had gone with her husband to obtain them. It was a ship route departing from the Capital, passing through Heril Island, and heading to the small city of Roban.
Even though Priscilla was lying in my mansion.
Brissel Mohr jumped in shock upon arriving at the island and learning the situation.
“What will you do if the imperial prince finds out? It’s dangerous, Your Highness.”
“That’s why I’ve kept her confined to the island for now. This island is relatively safe, isn’t it?”
“Well… I suppose that’s true, but…”
“So you’ll discreetly find out how the impostor is faring.”
I promised Brissel Mohr that I would never speak of the past to Priscilla, nor would I reveal my emotions.
“Please remember that the families of those who follow Your Highness are scattered throughout the Empire. You know the imperial prince’s temperament.”
After his warning, Brissel Mohr ascertained the whereabouts of the fake Priscilla.
“There were witnesses who saw a woman with blonde hair and emerald eyes boarding the ship. Apparently, she was delighted each time she was called the Countess. It seems someone lured her in by promising to make her a countess.”
The fake Priscilla never appeared again after that.
The truth was uncertain, but she had apparently gone mad from the stress of becoming pregnant and miscarrying, and was confined to a room in Count Genoma’s Estate.
Then, three months later, she escaped the mansion.
Count Genoma’s Estate was naturally turned upside down searching for her.
Count Genoma decided it was hopeless and called the Security Force.
And around the time the Security Force arrived, it was Matilda who reported finding her first.
“Ahhhhh! My daughter! My daughter is trapped in the swamp! What do I do! Please save Priscilla! Priscillaaaa!”
The Security Force and the mansion’s servants discovered a right arm protruding above the swamp behind the mansion.
Matilda screamed as if her soul had left her body.
Based on the scratch marks on the ground, the Security Force and servants determined it was a slip, and hastily tried to rescue the fake Priscilla by looping a rope around her arm.
But it was already too late.
The fake Priscilla’s identity was erased that way.
Upon hearing that the impostor had died, I found myself clutching my head without thinking. I remembered the severe headache that had struck when Priscilla mentioned the swamp.
But this time, my head didn’t ache.
Was it because she wasn’t Priscilla?
Yet hope bloomed within me. Perhaps I could welcome Priscilla back as my consort, pretending she was someone else entirely.
In that moment, Brissel offered his counsel.
“Even so, Your Majesty, the moment the Empire sets eyes upon her, they will recognize the truth. And fabricating a suitable station for her? That is hardly a simple matter. You must never allow her to leave Heril Island.”
“……”
“Your Majesty, we do not yet possess the strength to protect her. Should she venture beyond Heril Island, there is no telling what might befall her.”
Thus I devoted myself to accumulating greater power.
I amassed wealth with fervent intensity and quietly built my military forces. By now, my mercenaries lay concealed across countless territories, borders notwithstanding.
When Brissel learned that Priscilla had become my secret mistress, he nodded with resignation.
His only stipulation: that I not get her with child.
Nearly four years had elapsed since then, and now we had arrived at this moment.
Both Prince Eclite and King Zerox dismissed me, a man preoccupied with commerce rather than statecraft.
They failed to recognize the true extent of my influence.
I believed that if I could endure merely five more years, I would command military forces formidable enough to overthrow anyone.
Yet Priscilla would die in three years.
Regret consumed me.
Those days when I had spoken harshly to her on purpose, lest she grow attached to me. And the times I had not allowed her to finish what she wished to say.
Now, of all moments, I had uttered words I should never have spoken…
Countless thoughts assailed me.
Should I chase after her now and persuade her to bear my child within three years? If she refused, would I kneel and beg until she relented?
Yet I found myself paralyzed by despair.
‘Even if she agreed, what concrete course of action do I possess at this very moment?’
As I remained lost in contemplation, Brissel ventured cautiously, “Your Majesty, we could summon Lord Walter. Shall we ascertain whether he departed with her?”
“Your Highness, we can summon Sir Walter. Shall we check if he went with them?”
But I lacked the strength to protect Priscilla. Worse still, now that she had ventured beyond the island, I possessed no safeguards.
Should I move carelessly and draw the Empire’s attention to her, should my connection to her be exposed, she would surely perish.
That terror gripped me like madness. Thus, avoiding her altogether seemed the wisest course.
Yet I was troubled by how swiftly she had departed upon my refusal.
How was I to interpret such haste?
Did it mean she had abandoned her feelings for me and sought to find new love elsewhere?
‘Perhaps she always possessed the means to leave. But even if that were true…’
Soon enough, an answer crystallized within me.
Thus I shook my head.
“Pointless.”
My brief reply gave way to prolonged silence.
After observing my reaction for some time, Brissel cautiously spoke again.
“If I may be so bold, Your Majesty, it seems you have lingered on Heril Island far longer than intended.”
I nodded once.
“Indeed. The respite has been quite extended. There remains work to be done.”
Work to be done.
It was about drawing the nobility of the Arde Kingdom into business ventures.
When nobles engaged in business with Luderne, the outcome was always one of two things.
Ruin, or standing by Luderne’s side.
Luderne withdrew a document from his drawer, signed it, sealed it with his stamp, and handed it to Brissel Mohr.
“Send it to the Empire. And have all related correspondence forwarded to my town house in the Capital from now on. Inform Egardt of the same, and relocate Walter to a tavern in the Capital. And… bring me whiskey.”
Luderne’s voice was remarkably low.
Yet Brissel Mohr bowed deeply, for these were the instructions he had been waiting for.
“Understood.”
* * *
After finishing our meal at the ship’s restaurant, Walter moved to a third-class cabin while Madame Laber and I proceeded to a first-class cabin.
Seated across from me in the cabin, Madame Laber spent considerable time discussing the Royal Elegance Contest.
The Royal Elegance Contest was held once a year in the Royal Palace Banquet Hall, and approximately one month remained until this year’s competition.
As an excellent opportunity to build reputation, every salon in the Capital recruited a strikingly beautiful pair—one man and one woman—as models, adorned them beautifully, and presented them at the banquet hall.
Since all attendees received colorful jeweled ornaments on their shoulders upon entry, no one could discern which salon each contestant represented until the event concluded.
The nobility then voted with their tickets for whoever they deemed most beautiful and elegant.
The salon receiving the most votes claimed victory.
The models’ origins were irrelevant.
“As I mentioned before, I want my salon to score higher than the Eleonora Salon.”
Judging by Misha and Irina’s reactions, the Eleonora Salon was the finest not only in the Capital but throughout the entire Arde Kingdom.
Yet she wanted to surpass the Eleonora Salon?
“I need you to become the lead designer for that contest and oversee the model’s styling.”
Madame Laber’s eyes gleamed sharply as she spoke.
Wasn’t this essentially a demand to win the championship?
I paused to consider before asking in return.
“How many consecutive years has the Eleonora Salon been winning?”
Madame Laber placed a cigarette holder to her lips and gazed into empty space for a moment.
“At most… ten years?”
That was quite a long streak.
“You’re asking me to defeat a salon with that kind of track record?”
She then exhaled a long plume of smoke.
“I saw the hairstyles you worked on at the island. I believe you have more than enough chance of winning. My skills may be lacking, but my eye for talent is precise.”
“Are you certain?”
When I asked again, Madame Laber’s voice grew slightly quieter.
“The young lady the Eleonora Salon has been showcasing as their flagship has caught the King’s eye, so it might be somewhat difficult… perhaps?”
A young lady who has caught the King’s eye.
My heart suddenly began to beat with an unpleasant rhythm.
“Could I possibly learn her name?”
“If you’ve read the newspapers, you would know. She’s the most popular young lady in the Capital these days, so her photograph appears in the papers constantly.”
Madame Laber crossed her arms and let out a scoff.
“Melissa Bilsty, the young lady of Count Bilsty. Both her makeup and hair are creations of the Eleonora Salon. They say despite being a country bumpkin, she has considerable wealth.”
Madame Laber lowered her voice.
“From what I can tell, she’s merely mediocre at best, but somehow the Eleonora Salon’s lavish grooming worked its magic—she even caught the eye of His Majesty the King.”
“Could you tell me more?”
Madame Laber exhaled a long plume of smoke and began her tale.
Melissa Bilsty had come to stay at the Capital’s Town House with Count Genoma and her mother.
At first, she received no invitations to the nobility’s gatherings. Conversely, when she sent out invitations, not a single noble deigned to respond.
The reason was simple.
She had no presence.
Despite her family’s reputation and modest wealth, no high-ranking noble bothered to associate with or take interest in a provincial, low-born aristocrat.
Melissa’s fortune began to shift when she enrolled in the full-course management package that noble ladies received at the Eleonora Salon.
“In fact, Princess Cherni was the one who favored that service the most at the time.”
There, Melissa cultivated a friendship with the princess and received an invitation to the Royal Palace Banquet Hall.
It was then that she encountered King Zerox.
A fateful meeting between the male and female leads, as it were.
“Once rumors spread that Miss Bilsty spent several days in His Majesty’s bedchamber, her presence skyrocketed overnight. As you know, His Majesty remains unmarried, yes? Yet he did not deny the rumors, which gave that young lady considerable standing.”
“Then isn’t this contest already decided in favor of the Eleonora Salon’s victory?”
Madame Laber’s crimson lips curled upward.
“That’s precisely why I sought out someone truly skilled. If Miss Bilsty fails to win, it means a more beautiful young lady has emerged. Since His Majesty favors beautiful women, his attention will naturally turn to the new champion.”
Madame Laber produced a contract.
“I’ve already given you the identity token in good faith, so you sign here as well.”
It concerned compensation.
Room and board for one month plus ten gold coins—quite a tidy sum. Should I win, an additional thirty gold coins would be added to the terms.
As I examined the contract, I recalled the life I had endured at Melissa’s hands.
‘What if I could prevent Melissa from winning here?’
It wouldn’t repay everything I’d suffered, but given Melissa’s pride, such a defeat would be devastating.
In a way, it would constitute my own form of revenge.
‘I owe it to Madame Laber for the identity token that freed me from the island, so I should do my utmost to defeat Melissa at least.’
I signed the contract she offered.
The moment I finished signing, Madame Laber slid another contract across to me.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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