I Proposed to My Childhood Friend After Regressing - Chapter 42

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

After My Regression, I Proposed to My Childhood Friend
Episode 42
With the Grand Duke’s words, a strange silence fell over the Corridor for a moment.
Beatrice blinked, a beat too late.
“Huh…? Truly, Your Highness?”
Wondering if she’d seen him wrong, she rubbed her eyes instinctively and opened her mouth slightly.
The handsome face and voice that were difficult to mimic, along with features resembling Crown Prince Crowel—no matter how she looked, it was certainly Grand Duke Alec.
‘…What is this? Why is he here?’
He’d slipped in so naturally that she’d nearly forgotten—but hadn’t he left for the Border with the Marquis?
Fortunately, it seemed she wasn’t the only one puzzled by his arrival.
“Uncle, how did you come to be here? Weren’t you supposed to go to the Border to assist the Marquis?”
“Yes, that’s correct. However, matters there were resolved more quickly than expected. Perhaps because you are here, the Marquis moved with greater vigor than usual. Ah, the Marquis went directly to the Training Ground.”
“I see.”
“It seems your presence has acted as a stroke of luck. Don’t you think erecting a statue of you might be wise—as a sort of talisman?”
“Uncle, you do jest.”
The Crown Prince laughed awkwardly, as this wasn’t the moment for such levity, and the Grand Duke’s expression hardened once more. He lowered himself to sit.
“Your Highness, why…?”
“Are you curious why I insist on examining him myself, Marcel the healer?”
The healer’s body stiffened, as if surprised the Grand Duke even knew his name.
The Grand Duke paid no mind to the healer’s reaction and examined Clyde with calm attention.
With hands as careful as one handling precious jewels, he checked the young man’s wounds, eye condition, and body temperature before speaking.
“I won’t boast, but I possessed qualities sufficient to become Emperor.”
“…”
“Save for one thing—my health.”
It was the truth.
That Grand Duke Alec had surrendered the Imperial Throne to his younger brother Veylen for reasons of health was already widely known.
Not merely known?
The unshakeable trust between the two brothers and the beautifully orchestrated transfer of the throne had become material for countless plays and epics.
From the very process of relinquishing the throne onward, the Grand Duke’s unwavering loyalty deserved emulation.
‘Besides, he’s undeniably handsome.’
Beatrice privately thought that must have played a part as well.
‘An Emperor must dedicate himself to the Empire for long years. I wish to entrust the Empire I love to one whose hands are stronger and more enduring than mine.’
The famous line from the play drifted through her mind—words no citizen of the Edvein Empire could have failed to know.
Though the performance was naturally exaggerated, even from this line alone one could understand why the current Emperor, Elvarius II, was so indulgent toward Grand Duke Alec.
‘As for Valois Crawford…’
As Beatrice’s mind conjured Valois’s image, the Grand Duke withdrew a small glass vial from his breast.
Pouring a blue-tinted liquid into the corner of Clyde’s mouth, he continued.
“When one lives long in a position of power yet remains chronically ill, one becomes well-versed in poisons and antidotes whether one wishes to or not. I’ve come to carry far more remedies than most.”
“Your Highness, I…”
“Marcel, you said you’d already administered the antidote, didn’t you? Show me the vial, would you?”
“…”
At the healer’s reluctance to obey the command, Grand Duke Alec’s golden eyes turned cold and sharp.
“House Dalton is a family of merit to the Empire, long serving its interests. To attempt to harm such a noble bloodline through deception is hardly acceptable.”
“I was only…!”
“If you mean to offer more pitiful excuses, shall I explain matters in detail?”
Even as he spoke thus, the Grand Duke’s hands did not cease their work.
Using the damp handkerchief Beatrice had bitten earlier, he gently cleaned the area around the wounds, then withdrew a small container from his breast.
So he truly did carry many remedies with him, it seemed.
Applying a pungent salve to the wounds, the Grand Duke opened his mouth coldly.
“Tenebrisia is a colorless, odorless poison that causes internal injury and can fell a person swiftly. When it contacts blood, it even causes mild burning.”
“…”
“However, mere contact alone does not cause poisoning. It must touch a wound or mucous membrane to take effect—it is a poison that only activates when mixed with blood.”
“Ah. Now I remember. Small amounts pose little danger, but beyond a certain dose it becomes hazardous, so a small test reagent is used to confirm it before the tea is served…”
Though she’d murmured this almost inaudibly, the Grand Duke’s ears caught it.
He shifted his gaze toward her slightly, offered a faint smile, and nodded.
“I heard from my nephew that the young lady serving him is one the head maid pays special attention to. It shows, doesn’t it—Miss Cruger.”
“Ah… Yes, thank you.”
“In any case, while exposure to Tenebrisia can cause sudden incapacitation and collapse, as Marcel claims, it does not lead directly to dire consequences. Nor does prolonged exposure cause lasting harm.”
“…”
“That a maid knows this much and a trained healer does not strains credibility. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Having finished applying salve to all the wounds, the Grand Duke reached out toward Marcel without hesitation.
“Wh—what!”
“Be still.”
As he searched inside Marcel’s waistcoat, a small glass vial clattered loose and was drawn out.
The vial, with only traces of liquid remaining at its bottom, was transparent—unlike the blue-tinted one the Grand Duke had used moments before.
The Grand Duke said nothing. He merely held the vial he’d found in his palm, rolling it gently while fixing his gaze upon the man.
As Marcel began to tremble slightly, Crown Prince Crowel, who had been quietly observing the situation, stepped forward.
“Let’s verify it.”
Casually removing the earring that hung from his ear, he unhesitatingly pricked his own finger.
And when he let the blood that welled up crimson drip into the vial the Grand Duke handed him…
—Hiss!
A faint sizzling sound emerged. It was exactly the sound Beatrice had heard.
In that same instant, the healer spat a curse and twisted away.
“Damn it! It’s not what I was told!”
As if escape was all that mattered, he cursed and bolted down the Corridor.
Of course, it was meaningless resistance.
“Pointless. Seize him.”
The Grand Duke’s single command was all that was needed; his guards moved at once.
Moreover, at the only exit—the entrance to the Corridor—stood Cassian, who had followed Beatrice here.
“Miss Cruger, something’s happened to Lord Clyde… Hm? Marcel?”
“Lord Cassian!”
“Out of the way! Move—ugh!”
“Tsk.”
His reaction was swift, befitting a man hardened on the battlefield.
Clyde lay collapsed, held by Beatrice, while the Grand Duke’s guards pursued Marcel.
In a moment’s judgment, Cassian reached out his hand.
With a movement that precisely unbalanced him, Marcel finally lost his footing and stumbled forward.
“Ugh! Let—let go! Let me go!”
Seizing Marcel with his arms wrenched back, Cassian looked down at him with an expression of complicated weariness.
“…Marcel. What exactly have you done?”
“What have I done? Ha, haha! Don’t you think it’s far too late to ask such a thing, young master?”
“…You may have a point.”
Cassian, after staring down at him briefly, tightened his grip.
There came a sharp crack as bone dislocated.
“Ahhhhh!”
A scream of agony tore from Marcel’s lips.
The Grand Duke’s guards swiftly closed in and subdued him completely.
Pinned to the floor and writhing, Marcel shrieked at Cassian with a voice twisted by malice.
“Capturing me and digging for the mastermind changes nothing! Whether the assassination succeeds or not, it’s already begun!”
“Already begun? What’s begun?”
“Kheh, khehehe! In the end, it will all be his glory. And Your Highness, haha! You will…!”
Marcel did not finish his sentence. He was rendered physically unable to.
Whether the ‘Your Highness’ he’d addressed was Crowel or Grand Duke Alec remained unclear, but the moment the title escaped his lips, a guard slit his throat.
As Beatrice froze at the bloodshed more brutal than she’d anticipated—
—Whiiiiiiii!
A piercing wail rent the air, echoing across the entire Marquis Territory.

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