Author: Eica

Chapter 97

“You’re saying things that would make you a public enemy among dark romance lovers. You’re so stubbornly old-fashioned.”

Lulu skipped down the hallway, her earlier gloom forgotten.

Her reunion with her brother was finally sinking in, and she was ecstatic.

She was now, unofficially, her favorite character’s sister-in-law. Or… what was the term? Wife’s younger sister ^[1] . Yes, that was it.

“My brother, my ultimate cheat code.”

Even when she was Jeon Jae-young, her brother had been her hope, her savior.

He’d always rushed to her defense, always reassuring her, always on her side. He’d helped her heal from every hardship, every wound, even the gaping hole left by their parents’ absence.

She hadn’t properly expressed her gratitude, blinded by her own teenage angst. It was her biggest regret.

She’d been so afraid to say those three simple words: Thank you. I love you.

She thought she’d lost her chance, but now…

Lulu hummed happily, wandering down the hallway, then stopped abruptly.

“Ah!”

A thought struck her, a sudden realization.

There was a major obstacle in her plan to fully support their relationship.

Jeon Jae-young’s fantasies involved a dominant, experienced top taking charge of a naive, innocent bottom, who mistakenly believed he was the one in control.

Her brother, however, was as old-fashioned as they came, his Omega body notwithstanding. He was far more likely to be the one being led.

Was that why they hadn’t… consummated their relationship?

What if their story ended up being a PG-13 romance, two virgins fumbling around and getting nowhere?

Lulu frowned, massaging her temples.

“I’ll have to… coach them.”

“Coach who?”

Marco, who’d been watching Lulu’s dramatic display, her furrowed brow and head shaking, spoke up, his tone sharp.

“Whatever you’re planning, I suggest you drop it, witch.”

He’d left Elizabeth in the garden and returned to the castle alone, keeping an eye on Lulu.

“Oh, it’s you.”

Lulu’s indifferent tone irked him.

“My name is Marco. Use it. And stop addressing me so casually. We might be commoners, but I’m the prince’s attendant. You’re… nothing.”

Lulu clicked her tongue at his sharp words.

“Just because the prince treats you like a friend doesn’t mean everyone else has to.”

She smirked, tilting her head.

She might have been disrespectful to Prince Carl Lindbergh, but the only ones who could rightfully reprimand her were her favorite character, her second favorite, and… well, her brother, Carl Lindbergh.

“I don’t need anyone’s approval.”

Marco’s eyebrows twitched. He strode towards her.

He’d been promoted from a mere servant to an official attendant after Carl and Adrian’s engagement ceremony.

He might not have the experience of the older servants, but he was, officially, the closest person to the prince.

Despite his youthful appearance, his reddish curls and scattering of freckles, he’d grown taller and broader during his time in Heineken, and was well-fed and rested.

The prince might tease him for being skinny, but that was simply because Carl admired the muscular knights.

While Elizabeth had grown into a large, imposing wolf, Marco had matured into a young man.

Lulu had to admit, he was quite handsome.

“Stop being so insolent. While the prince might not touch you, I have no such reservations. I still have some… street smarts, you know.”

His threat, delivered with surprising ease, made Lulu pause.

His ‘street smarts’ were no joke.

Pickpocketing corpses, raiding empty homes for food, snatching coins from unsuspecting passersby and running…

That had been Marco’s life before he’d entered the castle walls.

He’d done what he had to survive. He had no regrets. But it was a part of himself he preferred to keep hidden from the prince.

He’d endured the prince’s initial cruelty because, despite everything, Carl Lindbergh had saved him from the slums.

And because he saw a reflection of his own struggles, his own resilience, in the prince’s prickly demeanor.

His loyalty had only deepened after the prince lost his memories.

The current Carl Lindbergh was constantly putting himself in harm’s way, seemingly oblivious to the dangers.

“I’m training. I’m the only one who can protect him.”

He wouldn’t let anyone hurt the prince, especially not this careless, unpredictable witch.

Marco gritted his teeth, and Lulu, watching him intently, suddenly exclaimed, “Ah!”

“So that’s why you keep coming back injured.”

“What?”

She boldly grabbed his wrist, her fingers probing gently.

“Hey! What are you doing?!”

Marco yanked his hand away.

She shrugged, unfazed.

“You’re always disappearing whenever the prince is in his room. Secret training sessions, right?”

Marco didn’t answer.

“I knew it. No one in the castle would dare to harm the prince’s attendant, yet you’re always limping or sporting bruised knuckles.”

“How… How did you know?”

Lulu, seeing him bristle like a wary cat, shook her head.

“People with too much free time tend to be observant.”

“…Keep it to yourself.”

Marco’s bravado had deflated slightly. Lulu simply shrugged. “Sure, whatever.”

He turned to leave, heading towards the prince’s room, but she grabbed his wrist again. This time, he didn’t pull away.

“You should find a proper teacher. Your technique is sloppy, you’re only hurting yourself, not improving.”

“How would you know if I’m improving or not?”

Lulu smirked.

Marco frowned, unnerved by her smile.

“It’s obvious. Your tense trapezius muscles, your bruised knuckles, your uncalloused palms, your limp…”

She might look like a harmless little girl, but she’d been a promising athlete in her previous life.

Lulu’s eyes gleamed, seeing Marco frozen in place, clearly caught off guard.

❖ ❖ ❖

Though they’d finished their meal long ago, neither Carl Lindbergh nor Belfry had left the kitchen. The chef and several servants hovered nervously, entering and exiting the room.

“…Do you love the Crown Prince?”

Belfry, who’d been silently watching Carl as the prince filled a kettle with water and placed it on the stove, suddenly asked.

“Yes.”

Carl’s immediate, unwavering response filled Belfry with a strange mix of disappointment and relief.

It was a bit late for coffee, but neither of them seemed likely to fall asleep anytime soon.

“I’m making coffee. What about you, Belfry? You haven’t eaten much. Perhaps some chamomile tea?”

He’d planned to offer him chamomile tea regardless of his answer.

Belfry, about to request the same drink, simply said, “Anything is fine,” seeing the prince’s resolute demeanor, his tone suggesting the decision had already been made.

Carl Lindbergh poured hot water into their cups and returned to the table. Belfry, fiddling with a hangnail, finally asked, “How… did you fall in love?”

“Fall in love?”

Carl, surprised by the question, echoed his words, and Belfry nodded.

He seemed genuinely curious, not trying to pry or provoke.

Carl decided to be honest about his feelings, hoping it would dissuade Belfry from pursuing Adrian.

Or perhaps, it was a way to explore the depths of his own heart, to understand his own emotions.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Is it possible to… not know?”

“They say love and hate have no reason. I think that’s true. There are many reasons, small and insignificant reasons, but no single, grand reason.”

“Does unconditional love… exist?”

This was the kind of conversation only two romantically inept individuals could have.

One, who’d lived a life of emotional detachment, and the other, the sheltered youngest son of one of the most powerful families in the Empire, whose understanding of love came solely from books.

Carl, struggling to articulate his feelings, thought of Adrian.

Why him? Why Adrian, out of all the people he could have met?

He hummed thoughtfully, and Belfry, as if sensing his struggle, offered an explanation.

“Well, the Crown Prince is skilled in both the literary and martial arts, and his magical abilities are exceptional. It’s only natural for Your Highness to be captivated by him.”

Belfry, secretly confident in his own attractiveness, conveniently omitted any mention of physical appearance.

“And Your Highness is beautiful, talented, kind, and a dominant Omega on top of that. It’s only natural for you both to…”

He trailed off, his shoulders slumping.

Just like his parents, they were… destined to be together.

He was in no position to compete with Adrian, and now, as an Omega, he felt even more inadequate, their differences even more pronounced.

This was the source of his despair.

He rubbed his chest, his heart aching.

Carl Lindbergh, watching him, shook his head.

“I thought the same, at first. Before I truly understood my own feelings, I thought there had to be a reason why Adrian was attracted to me. That otherwise, we would never have… connected.”

He traced the rim of his warm cup with his fingertip.

“You called me… a good person, Belfry.”

Those words… had struck a chord.

He chuckled softly, taking a sip of his coffee.

Belfry’s cheeks flushed.

“I apologize, Your Highness. That was… insensitive of me. I was merely…”

“No, you were right. I… I wanted to be a good person to everyone. I was desperate for their approval.”

“What?”

He’d originally planned to share this with Adrian, but…

“We’re all aware of our own flaws. For me, it was… my lack of family, and my inability to… commit.”

Belfry remembered Carl’s past, the surface of love and affection that hid a deep-seated loneliness.

Material possessions and empty gestures couldn’t replace genuine affection.