The Kidnapped Prince is Mine Now - Chapter 53

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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 53
“Where is Rotar Eisenrit?”
I caught hold of one of the maidservants setting out the food and asked.
As if there were a predetermined answer, the maidservant opened her mouth without hesitation.
“His Highness has gone out to find an answer that would satisfy the Imperial Consort.”
“This insane bastard….”
I barely stopped the curse from spilling past my lips unbidden. The maidservant’s eyes rolled, as if she’d already caught wind of the word I was about to spit out.
“If there is anything you require, please do not hesitate to call for us.”
Once the maidservants had finished laying out all the food, they bowed their heads and quietly withdrew from the bedroom.
Through the narrow gap of the briefly opened door, I could make out a couple of soldiers standing guard.
In other words, he’d even stationed sentries to ensure I couldn’t slip out of the bedroom.
‘I’m not some criminal.’
I ground my teeth and pulled out a chair from the table to sit.
Then I stabbed a perfectly cooked piece of meat with my fork and shoved it into my mouth, glaring at the motionless bedroom door.
‘Rotar, do you really think gallivanting around outside will solve this problem?’
If it could be solved that way, I would have tried it myself first.
Confining me to this corner wouldn’t improve anything whatsoever.
Yet this imperial imprisonment had already stretched into its second week. At this rate, my already meager patience would only reach its breaking point all the sooner.
Just then, a knock sounded—tap tap—and I called out while chewing the meat.
“Come in!”
The one who poked his head in was a bright-faced man: Konrad.
“Imperial Consort, does the meal suit your palate?”
Rotar Eisenrit knew it well. That I wouldn’t resort to reckless measures using Konrad out of guilt over his arm.
‘That cunning bastard!’
In other words, neither Wolfgang Lichtenbrun nor the Staufen Margrave had been permitted to visit.
I could only guess at the criteria. Both men had likely been classified as dangerous elements prone to impulsive action.
I had no way of knowing what commotion might have erupted outside regarding this matter.
Why? Because I’m the one being imprisoned!
“I can’t even tell if the meat is going into my mouth or my nose.”
“Yet it seems you’re eating quite well, if I may say so….”
“Konrad.”
“Yes, yes. Your heart is quite troubled, I understand completely.”
Still, I appreciated this about Konrad.
Unlike the nobles who had lived only as they pleased since birth, he possessed a remarkable skill for reading and accommodating my moods.
I continued our conversation while putting the food into my mouth one piece at a time.
“Is it true that Rotar Eisenrit isn’t in the castle?”
“Ah, yes. He is genuinely occupied. He’s been visiting the nearby nobility to rebuild the forces that were once scattered.”
“Hmm.”
I stirred the soup with my spoon and nodded. On the surface, it sounded like productive activity.
However.
“What do you think, Lord Konrad? Does this feel like something worthwhile?”
“Hmm, it will certainly prove useful by the time I become Emperor.”
“Yes. If you’re still alive by then.”
Konrad spoke in roundabout terms, but he knew the truth. Noble connections, a solid power base—all of it would be worthless scraps of paper before a Demon Lord’s strength.
Here lay the real problem: Did Rotar Eisenrit not know what both Konrad and I already understood?
‘There’s no way he doesn’t.’
My appetite vanished. I set down my fork and thought of the gun hidden in my clothes.
Yes, escaping this mockery of confinement and overturning the table would be absurdly easy.
I could shoot through the door and run. If anyone tried to stop me, I’d simply shoot them dead.
But then—what would be the point?
‘Where would I go if I left here?’
Home.
From the first cycle to the fifth, there were precious few places I could truly call home. The Orphanage and the Cathedral were places where I had to watch my step, always tense.
Then there was the manor where I lived with my husband in the second cycle. The small, shabby cottage in the Birellia Kingdom where I lived alone in the third.
Those spaces I could call home were destroyed far too easily. After that, I was dragged to the Imperial Palace—a hell worse than hell itself—and lived crawling on the ground.
And then in this life, I reached Graupels.
A harsh yet solid land of the North.
A place where I could relax without worry, with warm food and a cozy blanket.
So when asked where home was, I could only think of Graupels.
‘But who gets confined in their own home?’
That was why I couldn’t destroy the bedroom door or harm the people here.
Rotar Eisenrit’s confinement was essentially a message.
‘Don’t do anything.’
And I knew the price of defiance was death.
I felt no real urge to resist.
Perhaps Rotar Eisenrit needed time to struggle before accepting reality.
After rinsing my mouth with water, I shared these thoughts with Konrad.
But then Konrad asked with a peculiar expression.
“Do you believe His Highness Rotar will break your will, Your Highness the Crown Princess?”
“…What?”
“I’m asking whether you think he’ll accept your death in the end.”
“What do you…”
The words rose to my throat: ‘What else can he do?’
But then I understood.
I understood what Konrad meant.
“…You’re saying he might choose a result where we all die instead of just me?”
“….”
Konrad adjusted his slipping glasses and said nothing. That silence was answer enough.
Thud. It felt like a massive stone had settled onto my heart.
I had thought Rotar Eisenrit’s stubbornness was something I couldn’t help. There was no alternative, after all.
In such moments, one had to choose the lesser evil over the worst. It meant that one person’s sacrifice was preferable to everyone perishing like dogs.
I had already resolved to become that sacrificial lamb. I would turn back time and live again.
‘Everything would return to its former state.’
A powerless Holy Maiden with no foundation or influence.
And Rotar Eisenrit, who did not love me.
Yet that was acceptable. I possessed certainty. The certainty that he would come to love me again.
However, this life’s Rotar Eisenrit….
‘Would never see me again.’
That was why I could not even be angry with him. His reality was far too cruel.
But had there ever been a time when Rotar Eisenrit’s reality was not cruel?
“…If Rotar truly attempts to make a misguided choice, stop him as his vassal. Strike him if you must.”
“Hmm, yes. Though I doubt my striking him would have any effect.”
Konrad replied with reluctance, then withdrew something from his breast pocket.
“What is that?”
“A letter from the Grand Cathedral.”
I quickly accepted the envelope from Konrad’s hands.
The quality of the paper alone—the sort only wealthy nobility would use—revealed who had sent it.
‘The Archbishop.’
During my time away at Drakenloch, I had reviewed all accumulated correspondence on the first day. Among them was a command from the Archbishop demanding I fulfill my duties as the Holy Maiden.
But how could one who had embarked on a lengthy expedition heed the Archbishop’s wishes? After Konrad, with his administrative acumen, sent an appropriate response, no further letters or official documents arrived.
Yet here I was, receiving a letter just a week after returning from Drakenloch. It was certain the Archbishop had informants within the castle.
‘Though this had not yet become a problem.’
I carefully opened the envelope. Inside lay a letter that gleamed as though dusted with gold powder.
When would this old man come to his senses? I clicked my tongue inwardly and unfolded the letter.
「Elise, I shall not mince words.」
What?
It was an opening uncharacteristic of the Archbishop—devoid of flowery language, proceeding directly to the matter at hand.
「Maximilian I has sold his soul to a demon.
At this rate, the Empire will be consumed by forces of evil.」
Ah. So the Archbishop had finally become aware of the approaching crisis.
‘I wonder how he discovered this.’
He likely had quite a few informants planted even within the Imperial Palace. The man was skilled in politics, after all.
I gazed down at the Archbishop’s ornate, flourishing handwriting with a peculiar feeling.
In the past, I would never have received such a letter from that old man. At this point in my previous life, I would have been confined to Maximilian’s bedchamber.
It was precisely because I had survived without falling into Maximilian’s grasp that I could maintain contact with the Archbishop.
‘Though I have yet to determine what advantage I might gain from this.’
I suppressed my stirring emotions and continued reading the letter.
Then.
“…What?”
I nearly dropped the letter.
“I’ve heard that war will break out in the Southern Region soon.
Your husband, Maximilian II, will be summoned there as well.
Return to the Grand Cathedral. Before something greater unfolds.”

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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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