The Kidnapped Prince is Mine Now - Chapter 5

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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 5
Before the pointless bickering could escalate further, I handed the signed letter to Wolfgang.
“Send it to the Grand Cathedral. You have ten seconds.”
“…Yes, as you command.”
Fortunately, he offered no real resistance. I’d been ready to throw a punch if he’d complained further, but he wasn’t the type to completely miss the atmosphere. Wolfgang accepted the letter obediently and withdrew.
I drew a deep breath, then turned my gaze toward Lothar, the source of the problem.
“Do you have a problem with Wolfgang?”
“No, I do not.”
He clearly did, though. That sullen expression was oddly irritating.
“If you have something to say, say it in the carriage.”
There was no time to hash out every grievance. I was moving toward the waiting carriage when—
Lothar overtook me and opened the carriage door, asking:
“Where is our destination?”
“Ah, the destination, you mean.”
I extended my hand mechanically, choosing my words carefully.
I’d expected a different question first—something about our plans ahead, or how to deal with Maximilian.
His instincts were sharp. There had to be a reason he’d survived every battlefield I’d sent him to die on.
I paused, then answered:
“Graupels.”
“…I beg your pardon?”
His voice froze in an instant, piercing my ears.
Graupels.
The domain of the Staufen family—his maternal relatives, the ones who had betrayed him first—was to be our destination.
I waited for Lothar to move, still standing there staring down at me, then shoved his chest. “If you’re not going to escort me, get out of the way.”
“If you’re not going to escort me, get out of the way.”
Unfortunately, Lothar didn’t accept my suggestion gracefully.
His hand, which had been gripping the carriage door, simply crumpled its edge instead… Wait. Wasn’t that iron?
‘Good heavens.’
Wounds healing in an instant, and all that—did he nurse on Heracles’ milk as a child?
Witnessing firsthand the abilities of the Second Prince I’d only heard rumors about, Lothar’s face drew suddenly closer.
His lips parted at a distance where our noses nearly touched.
“Are you joking with me?”
So he did know how to be angry. I’d thought him an emotionless fool, always following behind with that blank expression.
This was better than being completely hollow. Without the fury and thirst for vengeance buried deep within, there was no way he could defeat Maximilian.
The surroundings had gone eerily silent. Every member of the Holy Knight Order had drawn their swords and was waiting for Wolfgang’s signal.
I shook my head at Wolfgang, whose gaze had fixed on me from beyond Lothar’s back. This wasn’t a matter to be settled by force.
Still, his face was far too close. A faint scent of mint drifted from his warm breath.
I reached up and pinched Lothar’s cheek—barely skin and bone.
“…!”
“Move your face. Do you want me to kiss you?”
For a warrior who had danced across battlefields, it was hardly a source of pain. His startled expression—as though he’d been struck by a fist—was almost amusing.
Still, the effect was excellent. The fury swirling in those green eyes had faltered.
“Just get in. We don’t have time for this.”
“….”
Rothar released the carriage door with a rigid expression. The way it hung warped in his grip suggested wind would seep through the gap.
I’d have to squeeze the repair costs out of him later. I released his cheek while mentally tallying the damages, about to snap at him to hurry up and sit down without expecting an escort, when—
“…My apologies.”
A brief apology accompanied an extended palm. The same hand that had damaged the door.
I gazed down at that large, solid-looking hand. This man possessed the strength to crush all five of my fingers without much effort.
Still.
“You should have done that from the start.”
I placed my own irritatingly pale and slender hand atop his. He wasn’t the type to injure a woman simply because he couldn’t control his temper.
With Rothar’s assistance, I boarded the carriage safely. As he followed and attempted to close the door, the seams naturally didn’t align cleanly. However—
“I suppose I should compensate you for this.”
I stared at the door, which unfolded somewhat smoothly in Rothar’s hands.
Right. If something can be crumpled, it can be uncrumpled. How could I have forgotten such a simple principle?
The door closed somehow. As we’d lost time, the carriage began moving swiftly.
By the time only the rattling of wheels broke the silence, I called to Rothar while sitting with my legs crossed.
“Listen.”
“Will you continue addressing me that way?”
“What else would you prefer? Should I call you ‘Your Imperial Highness’? Or perhaps speak to you with formal deference?”
I wouldn’t do either. He couldn’t even report me for lèse-majesté.
In truth, mutual informality wouldn’t have bothered me. Rothar was simply maintaining his respectful tone.
“I do have a name, however.”
Yes. Everyone has a name. By the time I grew accustomed to speaking it, either he would be dead or I would be—that was the only problem.
Still, since we were nominally husband and wife, it seemed worthwhile to practice being intimate. After a moment’s hesitation, I spoke.
“…Rothar?”
“Yes. Then, Elise.”
The moment Rothar finished establishing this awkward familiarity, he called my name.
“Tell me.”
His face was solemn as he waited for my explanation, hands clasped together. It seemed he was resolving that whatever I said, he would not harm the woman before him.
Should I match his seriousness? The only thought that crossed my mind was: that man is truly handsome.
“Where should I begin this story?”
I scratched the bridge of my nose as I opened my mouth.
“Do you believe in regression?”
“Pardon?”
“If I told you I’m currently living my sixth life, would you believe me?”
“….”
Rothar’s brow furrowed slightly. Yet his reaction wasn’t one of disbelief at an absurd claim.
The reason was clear.
“Is that a power of the Saint?”
I am a Saint, after all. A divine vessel chosen by the noble Pelmira herself for the first time in a hundred years.
In a world where monsters, dragons, and such things exist, temporal regression didn’t seem entirely impossible either.
So it wouldn’t be unreasonable to nod in agreement here.
“But it doesn’t seem to be.”
I answered honestly.
If regression were a Saint’s power, my divine energy should have diminished each time I returned to the past. There had been no sign of that whatsoever.
Lothar, who had been stroking his chin with one hand, finally spoke again after a long pause.
“Did I always die in Elise’s past?”
He wasn’t a fool, it seemed. I answered without hesitation once more.
“Yes.”
There had been no exception. The flow of the past never changed unless I intervened.
But truthfully.
“That’s not really the important part.”
“….”
Lothar stared at me as though I were a psychopath. I continued without concern.
“In the fourth cycle, I succeeded.”
“…What do you mean?”
The carriage jolted as it struck a stone in the road.
“I killed that bastard Maximilian.”
***
The first time. I was dragged away knowing nothing and experienced hell.
The second time. My husband died bearing false charges.
The third time. The foreign land I fled to was conquered by Maximilian.
The fourth time.
‘I’m going to kill him.’
What remained was pure murderous intent.
So I didn’t run. I willingly became Maximilian’s possession and clung to his feet.
‘I love you, Maximilian!’
I labored long and hard. To make him cherish me. To ensure he never tired of me as a mere plaything.
I never even met the eyes of Maximilian’s maidservant who had offered him poisoned tea. Lest I become an object of pity.
Thus ten years passed.
‘Your Majesty!’
It took ten years before I could drive blades into Maximilian’s body as he slept, trusting in me.
‘I won.’
Even as I ascended the scaffold, the profound sense of fulfillment that filled me to the crown of my head never faded.
In the moment my neck was severed, I made one final wish.
That I would never open my eyes in this hell again.
And yet.
‘…Again?’
My second wish was never granted.
***
“What did you do during the fifth cycle?”
“I set fire to the Temple and was executed.”
“How dreadful.”
I didn’t reveal the possession itself. It seemed like excessive information.
Maximilian remained composed despite hearing such a shocking account.
He scrutinized me with an odd expression, lost in thought, and I wondered if he was calculating his chances to escape from this mad woman right then and there.
That wouldn’t do. He’d already stamped the contract.
Then Maximilian suddenly spoke.
“If regression isn’t the Saint’s divine power, then what is Elise’s true ability?”

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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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