The Kidnapped Prince is Mine Now - Chapter 23

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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 23
Maximilian reading was, as always, hauntingly beautiful. Wasn’t he tired?
Despite reaching the vicinity of Graupels the previous evening, he had insisted on camping instead.
One would have expected him to lose sleep on such an uncomfortable bedroll, yet not a single shadow of exhaustion darkened the skin beneath his eyes.
Wasn’t that strange? Humans weren’t dolls, after all. Martha was rubbing her own rough cheek, letting such presumptuous thoughts slip away, when—
“Martha.”
“Yes?”
The sudden call snapped her attention back into focus. She immediately straightened her spine and turned her gaze toward her lord.
She had been on edge ever since he’d singled her out from the servants’ carriage and had her ride in his own. Had he been any other prince, she might have dared hope for favor, but…
Maximilian, however, kept his eyes fixed on the book in his hands.
*Breeding and Observation*. It was a book that suited him disturbingly well, despite his keeping no animals whatsoever.
He spoke in a gentle voice.
“Have you ever met Elise?”
“No, I haven’t.”
Elise.
The mention of that woman’s name—one brought up with tiresome frequency—sharpened Martha’s nerves further.
Now that she looked, a smile played at the corners of Maximilian’s lips.
Was the book amusing him? Hardly. He was clearly delighted at the prospect of a toy soon falling into his hands.
“You’ll become close soon enough. She’s a woman with grit, just like you.”
Why should I befriend the Saint? Martha swallowed the fundamental question before it could escape her throat.
Just then, a heavy sound echoed from outside the carriage. A grinding noise, as if something massive were being dragged.
She didn’t need to look out the window to know. The castle gates of Graupels had opened with almost laughable ease.
The carriage wheels, which had been still, began to roll forward once more.
Maximilian snapped his book shut with a sharp sound, and his dark laughter met Martha’s eyes.
“There’s no need to pity her carelessly.”
“….”
How much did he see through?
Martha barely managed to part her lips in response.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
No need to pity her carelessly.
Was he saying one shouldn’t pity others so easily?
No. It simply meant Martha had no authority to do so.
Because Elise was special. She was not a position to be pitied by humans worth less than a single ant.
As Martha’s back grew damp with perspiration in the suffocating silence, the carriage door opened. Maximilian rose first and turned to Martha with playful intent.
“Shall I have you escort me?”
“Please kill me.”
At her sharp reply, Maximilian asked nothing further and descended from the carriage first.
Martha followed with her head bowed, thinking she would finally see the legendary Saint.
But when she stepped down and lifted her gaze, what entered Martha’s eyes was—
‘Servants. Knights, and….’
A man with a meek expression and glasses?
I knew who he was. Every year or so when he appeared at Imperial Palace banquets, the nobles gossiped about him—the husband of the Margrave of the Borderlands, was he not?
However, the Saint, who should have been leading the procession as the Second Prince’s wife, was nowhere to be found. Nowhere at all.
“Konrad Staufen pays his respects to the Empire’s little sun.”
The Margrave’s husband was composed. He offered his greeting with proper etiquette and waited for Maximilian’s response, his expression betraying no tension whatsoever.
No, rather, that was what seemed strange. He appeared so unruffled, as though he had known long ago that Maximilian would arrive at this place.
“Where is the Second Princess Consort?”
Maximilian could not possibly have overlooked this detail.
Martha held her breath at the Prince’s voice, which still carried a hint of laughter, as though she anticipated what answer would follow.
Did the Margrave’s husband know? The lives of everyone here hung upon his single response.
Would it be the sacrifice of one Saint, or the annihilation of all?
“I beg your pardon, Your Highness, but I must report grave news.”
It was then that sorrow etched itself across Konrad Staufen’s face.
“Her Highness the Princess Consort is hovering at death’s door.”
….
…What?
***
The pain. I could think of nothing but the pain.
Am I dying like this? Without firing a single bullet into Maximilian’s head, lying here in bed?
This cannot be. With my eyes closed, I contemplated what final words I would leave behind.
‘Maximilian Eisenrit’s manhood is no bigger than a pinky nail.’
Yes, that would do nicely.
Rumors spread regardless of truth. Since I’m dying anyway, I care not for charges of lèse-majesté against the Imperial Family.
And yet.
‘Hold on, Elise. Hold on.’
Who said anything about dying? I had to survive to the very end.
Through my fragmenting consciousness, I recalled the last conversation I had with Konrad.
‘I think it would be best if I ingested poison.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
I had to persuade the shocked Konrad, whose face had gone pale as though he’d heard something impossible.
‘It’s the only way to buy time while evading Maximilian’s interrogation.’
‘But Your Highness, surely it would be safer to escape through the castle’s secret passages to the village….’
‘I considered that too, but it’s far too dangerous. If necessary, he’ll summon demons right in the middle of the village.’
If that happened, not only would my escape be for nothing, but innocent Empire citizens would die needlessly. It was right to avoid unnecessary sacrifice.
Even now, Konrad’s reaction remained skeptical.
‘Your Highness the Princess Consort. No matter what….’
‘Think about it carefully, Lord Konrad. Poison is convenient. How would he interrogate someone suffering in a state near death? He wouldn’t even be able to count his own fingers properly. It’s perfect for buying time while bedridden.’
‘But… you’re saying you would ingest the poison yourself?’
‘Don’t worry. I’m not saying this without knowing how agonizing it will be.’
I knew far too well—the sensation of every nerve in my body going numb, darkness swallowing my vision, my insides burning as though consumed by fire.
“What on earth… wait, Your Highness. What happened to you at the Grand Cathedral?”
“…”
I chose silence at that moment.
Even if the Archbishop had lost his mind, he wouldn’t have such vulgar tastes.
It wasn’t something that happened at the Grand Cathedral. In my past life, I had merely danced on the edge of death countless times from Maximilian’s petty pranks.
But since there was no way to explain my previous life differently, I let Konrad misunderstand on his own.
“Archbishop, I never thought that pious old man would go that far…!”
I felt little sympathy for the Archbishop, who had suddenly become a madman torturing a Holy Maiden. After all, it was true that the old man was overrated in society’s eyes.
In any case, after conducting an intense discussion with Konrad, I succeeded in selecting an appropriate poison—a rare substance that the physicians of the Imperial Capital had never encountered.
“This is a poison that His Highness Rotar obtained through his own sacrifice during the Southern War.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means Your Highness was poisoned by a spy. Afterward, when he released the Prince of Birelia as a hostage, he obtained both the special poison and antidote of that nation… but in truth, Your Highness recovered quickly.”
“…?”
“Don’t worry. We tested it on ordinary people as well. With a minimal dose, one can endure for about four days.”
And now. I felt like I wanted to bite my own tongue to end this agony.
My entire body ached. It felt as though a dozen people wielding enormous needles had swarmed me, piercing my skin and organs repeatedly.
It was remarkable that Rotar, who had endured a far greater quantity of poison, recovered so quickly. He must be nearly semi-divine at this point.
“To endure four days like this…”
Was there no poison that would let me lose consciousness like death for all four days? Why must suffering always accompany it?
I stared at the ceiling with tears streaming down my face. This was all Maximilian’s fault. Because of that wretched bastard, I swallowed the poison myself and caused all this chaos…
“You cannot enter, Your Highness!”
At the sound of the bedroom door opening with a bang, I quickly shut my eyes. How startling.
They say even a tiger comes when you speak of it. There was only one person who would make such an impolite visit to the bedroom of the Second Imperial Consort teetering on death’s door.
“Your Highness!”
“Be quiet. The Holy Maiden is resting, is she not?”
The approaching voice was familiar, dismissing Konrad’s shout with ease. That clear, songbird-like tenor sounded to me like the voice of the Grim Reaper himself.
I cracked open my eyes just enough to peek. Maximilian stood beside the bed, his gaze sweeping over me as he smiled. Soon he spoke.
“How amusing. The Holy Maiden always brings me joy.”
“What are you saying in front of someone who is dying!”
Maximilian merely furrowed his brow slightly at Konrad’s protest, responding as though he were hearing a dog bark.
Instead, he leaned down and whispered so only I could hear.
“I want to put myself inside you while you lie there helpless, like a corpse.”

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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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