I Proposed to My Childhood Friend After Regressing - Chapter 50

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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 Returning, I Proposed to My Childhood Friend
Chapter 50
Noticing the shift in Beatrice’s gaze, Clyde lifted the corner of his mouth slightly and toyed with a strand of her hair.
“You know as well as I do—being suspected is better than living with regret.”
Though brief, those words were easy enough for Beatrice to grasp as a fellow Regressor.
So without hesitation, she nodded.
“You’re right. That’s exactly it.”
At the sincerity in Beatrice’s voice, Crowell dragged a hand across his face as though it ached.
“Beatrice, if you’re going to nod along so readily, how am I supposed to rein in this madman? You should be the one keeping him in check.”
“Hm?”
Suspicion takes many forms. What courage does one need to suspect the Empire’s First Princess? Anyone else would’ve disappeared as dew upon the execution grounds before there was even time to verify whether the suspicion held truth.”
“Well…….”
Beatrice turned her eyes back to Clyde, her expression asking whether she hadn’t convinced him yet.
Clyde shrugged casually, then spoke the facts without emotion.
“Yes. Your Highness still doesn’t believe me. You’re reserving judgment, then?”
“Without any evidence to speak of, it’s not a matter to be decided on circumstantial details alone.”
Crowell exhaled deeply and tilted his head to the side.
“I’m not so naive as to overlook the other imperial heirs. Especially with someone like Elodie—born of the former empress, she’s no less legitimate than I am, so I watch her more carefully still.”
“…….”
“But what you’re describing isn’t merely a matter of power struggle.”
His gaze lowered.
“Once the flame is kindled, it could affect the entire Empire. It’s like the fragment of Orhargon you detonated, Beatrice.”
Beatrice read in Crowell’s violet eyes a tangle of emotion and responsibility.
Those who held power must possess such caution.
Every action he took sent out ripples of great consequence.
‘But…….’
Beatrice lowered her gaze briefly, fiddling with her fingers, then slowly raised her head again.
“But Your Highness.”
“What is it?”
“What if the flame has already been kindled?”
Beatrice’s pale green eyes fixed steadily on the Crown Prince.
“Valois Crofford told me so herself.”
‘If you have time to toy with me like this, go talk to your high-and-mighty master and your precious sister instead of wasting my breath.’
‘…….’
‘How dare you throw me into this rotting, doomed place while you waltz away unscathed?’
Yes, Valois had called this place a “rotting, doomed place.” But was that all?
“And Jeremy said this.”
‘Oh, you didn’t know? The rumor is that it was Valois Crofford herself who first suggested installing Dolls in the Marquisate.’
Beatrice trusted what she had seen and heard with her own eyes and ears.
“I believe the Orhargon has already detonated, Your Highness. It’s just that what I triggered appears to be only a small fragment still.”
“…….”
The atmosphere in the room grew awkward at Beatrice’s words.
She was frantically rolling her eyes, unsure how to recover from what she’d just said, when
Sharon, who had quietly stepped back from the conversation, spoke up.
“Forgive me for interrupting such a serious discussion, but there’s something I’d like to ask you privately, Beatrice.”
“Oh, yes!”
“Is it… Does that mean you can now cure the Mysterious Disease?”
Ah, of course.
For Astrid Sharon, this was the matter of greatest importance above all else. Her younger brother was afflicted by it.
Beatrice met her desperate gaze and nodded quickly.
“I can’t call it perfect yet—there are still things to verify—but that disease is no longer a mystery.”
“Calbarone be praised…!”
At Astrid’s fervent invocation of the divine, Beatrice’s expression turned slightly peculiar.
The Religious Order had spread the disease, and Lumene, its cause, was fundamentally opposed to that Holy Magic, so it seemed odd to thank the god at all.
‘Well, why not?’
Perhaps the god himself was dismayed enough to wish punishment upon his followers.
While Beatrice was mulling this over, Clyde tapped her shoulder and leaned in to speak.
“I have a question too.”
“Hm?”
“That test subject you mentioned earlier. Is that what you meant by ‘things to verify’?”
“Oh, yes.”
Beatrice nodded readily enough, but quickly shook her head.
“But I was only joking around, so don’t you dare actually agree to it.”
“You said ‘you too,’ which means someone else volunteered for the experiment?”
Before Beatrice could even open her mouth, light gasps erupted from various corners of the room.
“Oh…!”
“Could it be……”
“Hmm.”
At the vaguely uncomfortable expressions, Clyde’s brow furrowed slightly.
“…What is this reaction? Why—who is it?”
As Clyde’s eyes swept the room, they suddenly gleamed.
He’d just risen from his seat, his sharp bearing slightly disheveled, and he grinned.
“Don’t tell me—Cassian Downer?”
“…….”
In the odd silence that followed, only Beatrice nodded matter-of-factly and blinked.
“Right. Actually, that man’s different from the Marquis—he’s softer, easier around people. I could tell from when he saw me on my way to and from the territory, meeting the locals.”
“He brought you there and picked you up? Cassian Downer did?”
“Yes. Everyone was busy and short-handed.”
“Cassian Downer wasn’t busy? He just had nothing to do?”
“Well, there’s a reason for that. Somehow he ended up mistaking me for your younger sister—Daliah, that is—and he felt sorry toward the Duchy over it.”
For a moment, Clyde wondered if the man had truly been unconscious for so long.
Hearing Beatrice’s account, it seemed far more had happened than he’d realized.
“Anyway, listen. His argument was that if someone has to do it regardless, he might as well be the one. He’s the son of a wealthy house, and he has a research coordinator—meaning you—right beside him.”
When Beatrice finished speaking so casually, the air in the room became awkward in a different way entirely.
The attendants exchanged glances, their eyes meeting briefly.
“……Um.”
“Hmm.”
With vague coughs and short sighs, people began turning away naturally, one by one.
Like those who’d overheard a conversation they shouldn’t be part of.
Beatrice alone blinked in the suddenly shifted atmosphere.
“Where is everyone going?”
“Ah, well. We’ve confirmed Lord Dalton’s recovery, and we should return to our duties.”
“I see.”
That made sense.
Beatrice would be returning to the Annex Building herself soon. As he watched her wave goodbye, Crowell lightly tapped Clyde’s shoulder.
“I should be going as well. It’s fortunate you’ve recovered well. And…….”
The Crown Prince paused, then leaned in slightly to add:
“When I didn’t know that was Beatrice, I let it slide. But you should be more careful.”
That man definitely has feelings for her.
“…….”
Clyde didn’t answer differently to his friend’s counsel.
The Crown Prince tapped his shoulder again as if to say he understood, then, remembering something as he turned to leave, looked back.
“And Beatrice.”
“Yes?”
“I’ll assign you more trusted healers. And I’ll give serious thought to what you said. Thanks to you and Clyde, the Marquisate will soon find stability again. I’m grateful for your work, and I hope you’ll bear with us a bit longer.”
“…….”
“We’ll discuss the rest once everything is wrapped up. With good news, I hope.”
With those words, the Crown Prince and his attendants all took their leave.
In the space left for just the two of them, Beatrice slowly turned her head to look at Clyde.
What the Crown Prince had said was far too loaded to simply pass over.
While Beatrice was all excitement, Clyde seemed lost in other thoughts.

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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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