I Proposed to My Childhood Friend After Regressing - Chapter 49

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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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After My Regression, I Confessed to My Childhood Friend
Chapter 49
“What!”
At the maid’s news, Beatrice sprang from her chair as if launched.
She had forgotten the Marquess standing before her entirely, and spoke with rapid urgency.
“When did he wake? How is he? He’s not still in withdrawal, is he? His voice—how does it sound? Has he spoken at all?”
“Well…”
Without waiting for an answer, Beatrice tumbled the words out in a rush, then waved her hand as if to dismiss her own flood of questions.
“Never mind. I’ll go see him myself.”
She had to see his face with her own eyes to put her mind at ease. She bolted from her seat, only to freeze mid-stride.
“…Ahem!”
“Ah, haha…”
In that instant, she remembered that the Marquess was still present in the room.
Heat rushed to her ears at having forgotten something so crucial.
‘How am I supposed to explain this?’
Clyde might be safe—he believed her to be Dalia Dalton—but the Marquess could find her behavior suspicious.
She was considering what to say, her lips working soundlessly, when—
The Marquess, who had been observing her with narrowed eyes, raised an eyebrow and nodded with evident satisfaction.
“Indeed! One must never forget loyalty—that is the way of honor.”
“…I beg your pardon?”
“How could you not rush to check on him after Clyde shielded you so thoroughly during the interrogation?”
The Marquess’s approval seemed to exceed mere liking; he looked genuinely pleased.
‘Something feels… off about this.’
The unease was nearly as troublesome as Clyde’s misunderstanding, but Beatrice pushed the thought aside.
Seeing Clyde was the priority.
“Thank you very much!”
With that brief expression of gratitude, Beatrice left the Annex Building.
* * *
The maid’s arrival with news meant someone had already checked on his condition.
Beatrice pushed open the already-ajar door and took in the gathered faces.
Crown Prince Crowell, Head Maid Nao, Advisor Sharon, and several others.
Familiar faces, all of them—people who either knew her true identity or would accept it without issue.
And among those faces…
“Clyde, you must have at least five spare lives. What’s the matter with you? If you’re going to pull a mad stunt like that, at least give fair warning!”
“Ha, yes, quite right. I apologize for causing such worry.”
An even more familiar voice—one that calmed her racing heart.
Though gaunt from lying abed, Clyde’s eyes were open and lucid.
The moment she confirmed this, Beatrice felt a tight pull in her chest—a heat behind her eyes that she hadn’t felt even when he first collapsed.
‘So I really…’
With the certainty that there was no need to hesitate, her worries melted away, and she stepped inside.
Her conspicuous entrance drew all eyes to her, but she paid no mind.
She simply kept her gaze fixed on the bed, on a pair of blue eyes that turned toward her, and—
“You…”
“Bea.”
“I told you I’d kill you.”
With those rash words, she rushed forward and threw her arms around his neck.
“Urgh—cough, cough! Bea, I—I really can’t breathe—”
His usual dramatics only tightened her embrace.
“Apologize first. You broke every promise you made.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I made you that ring. If you promised not to hide things, you should have told me everything—no matter how many possibilities or how slim the odds!”
“You’re right. I was wrong.”
“I was so frightened, and you—”
Before she could finish, warm arms encircled her back.
Clyde’s hands stroked her gently, as if trying to convey his remorse through touch.
“I’m sorry. I really messed up this time.”
“…Are those just words?”
“Never. Ask me for anything you want.”
“Good. Then you’ll be my test subject. I needed one anyway.”
“…Your test subject?”
As the two of them spoke as naturally as ever, the room’s atmosphere softened.
The others knew how tirelessly Beatrice had labored while Clyde lay unconscious.
Quiet laughter rippled through the gathered group—all save one.
“…Wait. What exactly is happening here?”
Crown Prince Crowell’s brows furrowed slightly.
He looked between the still-embracing pair, his voice dropping low.
“Bea…?”
“…Oh, well—”
“Didn’t Clyde just call Lia Kruger ‘Bea’?”
“Mm…”
Head Maid Nao gave a delicate cough and closed the door, then took position at the entrance to guard against any unwelcome interruption.
“I…”
Advisor Sharon, who understood the situation fully, began to step forward with an explanation—
But Beatrice moved first.
“I’m terribly sorry, Your Highness. I meant to tell you when Clyde collapsed in the Corridor, but the attack came so suddenly.”
“An attack?”
Clyde, unaware of the details, echoed her words, but Beatrice bowed her head and continued.
“After that, I was shut away in the Annex Building conducting research and had no chance to inform you.”
“…So what you’re saying is, you really…”
“Yes.”
Beatrice nodded, then removed her spectacles before Crown Prince Crowell.
As the magic dissipated, her Disguise fell away, revealing her true appearance.
She smiled sheepishly at him.
“I am Beatrice, Your Highness.”
“…But why is no one surprised? Surely…”
“Well, Clyde didn’t know at first either, but then…”
“I saw through our Beatrice’s disguise through the power of love alone.”
“…Yes, that’s… roughly correct.”
Unable to state the full truth, Beatrice assented to Clyde’s words while the advisors beside her bowed apologetically to the Crown Prince.
“We sincerely beg your pardon, Your Highness. The Empress requested our assistance and asked that we keep it confidential.”
“And the maids as well?”
“Yes, Your Highness. We would never have agreed had it posed any risk to you. But we believed it would benefit you instead, so we accepted.”
Beginning with an apology to the Crown Prince, Advisor Sharon laid out everything that had transpired.
From Beatrice being the Empress’s special envoy to her arrival to investigate the Marquessate’s plague.
Now fully apprised, the Crown Prince glared at those around him.
“Traitors, the lot of you.”
It was, of course, a jest.
The Crown Prince began listing the suspicious details that now made sense to him.
After mentioning several such points, he suddenly turned to Beatrice.
“Speaking of which, there was that research you were conducting in the Annex. Is there anything we should know?”
“Ah.”
Beatrice paused, recalling the information she’d shared with the Marquess—Lumenbark, the patients’ recovery, and so forth—then shook her head quickly.
But for those gathered here, a different matter took precedence.
“I believe the Cult—or rather, a faction within it—is the true architect behind the Marquessate’s crisis.”
This was what demanded their attention.
“Under the guise of Famine Relief, they distributed Lumenbark to spread the illness. They detonated dolls containing Orharhkon to deftly pin all the blame on Monsters and their Demonic Energy.”
“So the internal chaos in the Marquessate was their doing too.”
“Pardon? By internal problems, you mean… the Cult orchestrated external problems as well?”
Before the Crown Prince could answer Beatrice’s question, Clyde spoke first.
“The reason Monster attacks grew frequent in the Marquessate, and the attempts on you and me—those are part of the broader scheme.”
“Wait, I don’t know about the former, but the latter wasn’t the Cult; I thought it was—”
“The Traditionalist Faction and Crown Princess Elodi, you mean?”
Beatrice’s eyes widened at Clyde’s straightforward reply.
Though ultimately the root cause was Crown Princess Elodi, she hadn’t expected him to speak so plainly with others present.

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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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