I Proposed to My Childhood Friend After Regressing - Chapter 7

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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 the Regression, I Proposed to My Childhood Friend
Chapter 7
The crushing helplessness that had overwhelmed me in solitude, the shock of realizing I’d been nothing but a pretty bauble all along—these thoughts crashed down on me whenever I let them.
Everything I’d believed was mine turned out to be nothing but sand and illusion, and no matter how hard I fought to change things, my own strength alone left me treading water.
‘Not that I’m about to wallow in self-pity, mind you.’
The past is the past, and failure is just failure. Nothing more to it than that.
It would’ve been such a waste to drown in old regrets when everything was still possible.
Beatrice’s pale green eyes fixed on the figure sitting across from her—more precisely, on the swirl of complex emotions rippling quietly in his blue gaze.
She clicked her tongue lightly and flicked his forehead with the back of her hand, opening her mouth to speak.
“My mother used to say the most thrilling thing is a turnaround victory. So why so serious? Did you die and come back to life or something?”
“Well, I suppose it’s rather like that, yes?”
“I do have an idea about how to build our strength, actually.”
“You do?”
Beatrice, who’d been systematically ignoring Clyde’s words, rolled her eyes and finally met his gaze.
The moment their eyes locked, the two of them broke into identical smiles—the same smile they’d worn as children when plotting mischief behind their parents’ backs.
Certain they were thinking the same thing, they both opened their mouths at once.
“We establish merit quickly and earn a Title, right?”
“We build ourselves a solid backing of allies, obviously.”
Wait—what?
A complete divergence. Silence fell inside the carriage.
They stared at each other in blank confusion for a moment, then burst into laughter at how utterly they’d misread the other.
“What, earn a Title through merit? The deeds a knight like you could manage are fighting in a war or maybe rescuing some region in dramatic fashion—but you, who whines over a scratch during training, claiming to be that impressive?”
“You’re one to talk, Beatrice. Gather allies? You don’t even know when the Social Season starts, and you couldn’t care less what anyone thinks of you.”
“Oh, so you’re keeping track? How fascinating. Kaelun is so absorbed in his training he barely knows when it is himself. Do you have time left over from your practice?”
“That’s low, dragging family into it. Fine, then should I tell you about Father? How impressive he really is?”
The argument had devolved into something a five-year-old wouldn’t stoop to—and that’s when it reached its peak.
“Anyway, what good is a Title on its own? My house and yours didn’t fall because we lacked one.”
“You think gathering people without direction is going to work? That’s what we call a rabble.”
Honestly, they both knew it was a chicken-and-egg problem. In the end, they’d have to do both. It was just… well, how to put it.
‘I got too caught up in the banter, didn’t I.’
It stung the pride a bit to concede now.
Still, they couldn’t stay like this forever. Beatrice cleared her throat with feigned casualness and offered a compromise.
“Alright! Then let’s test which plan is more effective at reaching our goal. But if we do it normally, we’ll just dig in our heels, so let’s do it opposite.”
“Opposite?”
“Yeah. I’ll earn my Title through merit. You build the allies.”
“Why the sudden change of plans?”
“Why? Afraid you’ll lose?”
“Me?”
Clyde swept his bangs back with one hand, as though he’d just heard the most absurd thing in the world.
Then he tilted his head with an easy smile.
“Fine. Give it a shot. Whoever loses becomes the winner’s attendant for a week.”
“Deal.”
Beatrice nodded readily and turned toward the window, letting out a soft laugh through her nose.
She had absolute confidence she wouldn’t lose.
There were roughly three ways to earn a Title in the Empire.
One was to accomplish something universally recognized as beneficial—saving lives or improving a system.
The second was to achieve military valor in war, raising the Empire’s name, or to defend and protect a region in danger from disaster, conflict, or invasion.
And the last was to create some remarkable achievement—a new Invention or theory that didn’t exist before.
Beatrice knew how to accomplish two of these three at once.
‘If I can help the Empress bring Magic into the framework of the law, my old Inventions alone would be more than enough to earn a Title!’
Some might call it underhanded to use things from before the Regression, but this—this gave her no conscience at all.
‘The Alchemy Father taught me is one of the few things I’ve built with my own hands and strength. I’m genuinely proud of that.’
What she didn’t know was that Clyde, standing beside her, was thinking exactly the same thing.
‘If I can save Marquis Downer, who was isolated before, so much will be solved. Honestly, beating Beatrice would almost be a bonus.’
Already convinced of total victory in their imaginations, both of them relaxed into kinder expressions, smiles playing at their lips.
The thought of putting the other to work on trivial tasks was lifting their spirits considerably.
Beatrice was humming softly as she sketched out the details of her plan when something occurred to her, and she let out a small exclamation.
“Oh, right. But before all that, there’s something we need to handle first for our plans to go smoothly.”
“Ah… that.”
This time Clyde nodded as if he genuinely knew what she meant, and he timed his words perfectly to speak alongside her.
“Valoré Edvain Crawford.”
“We need to neutralize Valoré! If it gets too complicated, we can just tie her up.”
Ah, finally they were on the same page!
Beatrice nodded vigorously, looking relieved.
“Valoré is… well, you know. She’s such an unpredictable variable—nobody knows where she’ll pop up next.”
“Today’s wedding made her even more dangerous.”
Since there was no telling where or how she might appear to sabotage them, removing her from sight was the best strategy.
“Is there… maybe a good way to do this? Should we think back to any incidents she got tangled up in before?”
“No. We don’t need to.”
“Hmm?”
“Valoré Edvain Crawford is brutally violent and temperamental, sure, but that’s exactly why her behavior is predictable—she’s simple.”
A person who acts on whim moves predictably when you touch that whim. That was probably how Princess Elody manipulated her as well.
“So you’re saying we set a trap and deliberately goad her into doing something bad?”
“Something like that, but we don’t need to be that active about it. We just have to be obviously newlyweds, disgustingly happy, flaunting it everywhere. I trust her, you see.”
“… Trust her?”
“Trust in her cruel nature. Just showing that we’re happy will make her self-destruct on her own. And it won’t take long.”
Beatrice caught the cynicism lacing his voice and tilted her head slightly.
‘Now that I think about it, he did seem pretty hostile toward Valoré at the wedding ceremony, didn’t he?’
Was there some past incident between them?
No matter how hard she racked her brain, she couldn’t recall any instance of Valoré doing anything to her. Unlike now, when she’d suddenly announced a marriage, the old Beatrice hadn’t been a thorn in Valoré’s side.
Beatrice abandoned the thought quickly and opened her mouth toward Clyde. It was best to just ask directly in situations like this.
“Clyde, what did Valoré do to you?”
“What’s this?”
“It’s not ‘what’s this’—you recoil the moment you see her, like you’re looking at something disgusting.”
Beatrice watched as Clyde’s blue eyes widened slightly, then grew calm again.
“Look at your face. Something definitely happened. What was it? Did she say you had to become her husband if you wanted to keep your life? Or did she treat you like a pet because your duchy had fallen, saying you were nothing?”
“…”
“What was it!”
Ignoring her pressing, he simply stared at her for a moment, then suddenly pressed both his palms against her cheeks.
Then, with his usual easy smile, he moved his lips.
“Forget about it. Kids don’t need to know.”
“… Kids…? What did you—”
“If you’ve got time to be curious about useless stuff, go practice more. Or maybe while we’re at it, we should practice kissing, my honey?”
“Ugh.”
Faced with a scenario that had all the déjà vu of the wedding ceremony, Beatrice’s face scrunched up.
Forget Valoré—her first war was with this man.

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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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