Beguiling the Enemy’s Patriarch - Chapter 62

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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 62
Even on ordinary days, he occupied more than half of my thoughts, but lately it had become far worse.
I hadn’t seen him again since that brief tea time four days ago. I’d retreated back into my room, and I was avoiding him so deliberately that even I could recognize my own excess. I simply lacked the confidence to face him as naturally as I once had. I muttered to myself in a melancholy tone.
“Right, well… I never actually expected him to marry me anyway.”
At least I’d managed to prevent the marriage of the century by sacrificing myself somewhat—or so I tried to console myself, though it hardly helped.
In truth, I’d been rejected that day all over again. Auredhian never called my name until the very end. I’d wanted so desperately to hear it again. My name.
“Ah, my head aches.”
Eventually, I buried my forehead against the table. It was true that returning to Lebovni immediately would be the safer path for me. And it was obvious that Auredhian was already scheming to send me back. Yet somehow, I didn’t want to go. Not even after being so thoroughly rejected!
[Hmm. You’re less persistent than I thought, little one.]
In the midst of all this, Raulus was absolutely scratching at my nerves.
[I thought you were a more spirited and bold child.]
I thought so too. I pressed my cheeks against the table alternately in dejection. Where had all that unparalleled adaptability and drive evaporated to?
[Hmm.]
Raulus seemed to be pondering something as he observed my limp form sprawled across the table.
[From what I can see, that boy doesn’t seem entirely sincere.]
“Pardon?”
I lifted my eyes, pausing mid-press of my face against the table.
“What do you mean by that?”
[I wish that boy would try a bit harder to win you over.]
“Mm…?”
Win me over. As if I wasn’t the one being tossed about recklessly right now. I pressed my left cheek against the table again with a deflated expression.
“What are you talking about…”
Raulus spouting nonsense was nothing new. I sank back into my thoughts. My mind felt hazy, perhaps from lack of sleep the night before.
“When did things become like this…?”
My heart was clearly broken in some fundamental way. It raced uncontrollably several times a day. It must have started from that day when I suffered through Soleia’s nightmare and opened my eyes in Auredhian’s bedchamber.
Countless moments of contact from the past came flooding back like a panorama. My heart, which had been perfectly steady until now, suddenly began to race like this! What could this physiological response possibly mean? Why was I so devastated that Auredhian didn’t call my name? What exactly was I hoping for?
I flailed my arm and caught a quill pen rolling across the table. I pulled over a sheet of paper from the pile already stacked in the corner and began scribbling meaninglessly. The plans that had been etched into my mind like formulas spilled out onto the paper in a list.
Plan A. Prevent Belgot from invading Lebovni.
Plan B. Prevent my sister Tezebia from being kidnapped to Belgot.
“…Ugh.”
These were operations that had failed ages ago. I scribbled over them viciously until they were completely black. And Plan C. Seduce Auredhian to prevent the marriage. I hesitated for a moment, then crossed that out as well. That was a plan I’d partially achieved. So now Plan D…
“…”
…needed to be devised. But the pen was writing something entirely different. Crooked, scattered words without any context. ‘Auredhian Belgot.’ ‘Sacred.’ ‘Human tonic.’ ‘Rapid charger.’ ‘An iron wall that hurts when you collide with it.’ ‘I don’t want to bounce back.’ ‘Then why be kind in the first place.’ ‘Why do I keep feeling excited.’ ‘What does it mean?’
Raulus pointed it out with a snicker.
[Will writing it down actually solve anything, little crumb?]
“…”
That paper too became the 105th sheet to be wretchedly crumpled in my hands. I gathered it into a ball without energy and tossed it away. The paper hit the terrace railing and dropped down below.
[Hey, you shouldn’t just throw—.]
“I don’t care anymore.”
I felt like pounding on the office door right then and there.
“Isn’t it wasteful to leave such a precious name in a place like this?”
What on earth did that mean? Why did he have to confuse me like this…! The pen I’d set down limply rolled across the table. I exhaled a sigh and rose from my seat.
It had already been three days since I’d managed proper sleep, weighed down by overlapping worries. Unable to sleep at night, I’d taken to dozing during the day several times over, and now sleep came to me at the most inopportune moments. I rose unsteadily, opened the terrace door, and stepped into the room.
Since I truly had no idea, I might as well sleep first. I’d think about it after resting…
The fact that Raulus’s voice had trailed off in confusion no longer registered with me.
* * *
Thud.
A crumpled ball of paper shaped like a sphere fell from the sky and struck her head. Tap. It tumbled. The paper ball, having lightly struck her head, bounced off her shoulder once more before ricocheting to the ground.
“…What is this?”
Her reddish-brown hair, cascading in waves down to her lower back, gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight. Soleia Elad stopped and looked up at her head, then down at the crumpled paper that had fallen at her feet.
Her gaze shifted. It wasn’t difficult to discern where the paper debris had come from. Just above her head, beyond the third-floor terrace, a familiar pale pink hue fluttered gently. Then it vanished—deliberately slipping from view as if to provoke.
“…Still as charming as ever, Your Highness.”
How many times had she touched me like this? Each playful, reckless tap never failed to exasperate me.
‘Well, that’s precisely what makes her worth collecting.’
Her crimson lips curved into a deep smile. Soleia Elad bent down and picked up the crumpled paper from the ground. The paper was folded with remarkable precision into a sphere. She unfolded it without difficulty.
Heavy black ink covered more than half the paper, obscuring the original text entirely. Her obsidian eyes, gleaming like volcanic glass, traced the hastily scrawled characters beneath.
“…Aha.”
Soon, a crooked smile blossomed across the beautiful, elegant woman’s face. She was well aware of why the Emperor had summoned her to the Imperial Palace. She knew what suspicions he harbored. Of course, she had no intention of surrendering meekly to the Emperor’s grasp, but neither had she come prepared to abandon that man.
Rustle.
The crumpled paper smoothed flat within her pale, delicate hands.
“Perhaps it will be easier than I thought…”
The woman—beautiful as a flower, cunning as a serpent—hummed contentedly and tucked the folded paper into her dress.
[Irritating.]
A murky voice interjected abruptly. Soleia Elad’s expression darkened slightly.
[Irritating… Something. Constantly. Just kill her. I don’t know why, but she’s insufferable.]
“The Princess is too valuable to kill now. She has her uses.”
Soleia Elad answered with a sigh. The ‘voice’ bristled with irritation.
[Whenever I feel this irritated, things always go wrong.]
“It’s merely a feeling.”
[Enough. Hurry, Soleia Elad.]
Crack. Crack. The sound of skulls colliding and shattering echoed faintly in her ears. What followed was a single whispered command: hurry. As if she were being hunted by someone.
Soleia Elad pressed her temples, her expression troubled. She couldn’t afford to rush and ruin a plan she’d invested five years cultivating. Especially not now, when she’d just secured favorable terms for the arrangement.
With difficulty, Soleia Elad ignored her master’s whispers. Her footsteps resumed—heavy and deliberate. Her blood-red dress, as vivid as her hair color, trailed long across the grass.
The sun was slowly setting.
* * *
The setting sun cast long crimson shadows across the Emperor’s office as well. The spacious room was suffused entirely in vermillion light. The man leaning against the window frame, standing at an awkward angle, was immersed in the glow from head to toe. His pristine silver hair, which absorbed color so readily, gleamed with a reddish tint.
Rustle, rustle. In the quiet office, only the soft sound of turning documents broke the silence. Auredhian Belgot, still leaning against the window, turned through a stack of papers no thicker than two finger joints. They were documents related to the Glucaman Tripartite Agreement.
The delicate, endless tension between the three nations was now gradually approaching its conclusion.

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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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