Celine still hasn't recovered from the wounds she received from Lieutenant Colonel Groenendaal.
At nineteen this year, she was old enough to marry. Countless proposals and advances from handsome men flooded her, but she was attracted to a lieutenant colonel, and the admiral wasn't ready to give his daughter a hand in marriage.
People around him thought he was a very patriarchal father who did not want to marry off his daughter because he was too fond of her, or that he did not have a suitable partner yet.
Celine was relieved, in many ways, that Diana was gone. She had been well aware that the Duke of Frogen had taken her away.
The woman he risked his life to save ended up following the man who kidnapped her, so perhaps the lieutenant colonel was also hurt.
Celine headed to her father's room to meet him. She had something to ask him: why did he want to kill Diana?
Her steps toward her father's room were heavy. The creaking sound of the stairs was annoying with every step she took.
Celine knocked and opened the door slightly, but the admiral's room was empty.
Knowing full well that it would be rude to enter an unoccupied room, she walked slowly inside. Perhaps impulsively.
Celine, who was sitting on the sofa quietly looking around her father's old-fashioned, oak-scented room, still impulsively opened the bottom drawer.
It was the kind of behavior a trusted and beloved daughter could do. Her bright green eyes turned to a single, crumpled letter.
The wax seal that had held the envelope in place had been neatly cut with a paper knife. The letter, nestled awkwardly among the neat, crisp documents, seemed to hold some important meaning.
Celine looked around for a moment and began to open the letter.
"When on earth are you going to do it? I have to give up the throne immediately.
You say there's a suitable successor to the throne? If he marries another woman, I can no longer cooperate. If you don't do it, I'll do as I please."
What does this mean?
Celine put the letter back where it was, closed the drawer, and left the room. Entering her own room, Celine pulled back her long, platinum-blond hair and thought over the contents of the letter.
Renunciation of the right to the throne, a suitable successor to the throne, or someone's marriage.
“The Princess of Medea sent it.”
This must have been sent by Medea's heir to the throne, who cannot marry whomever she wants. She is willing to give up her queenship because she loves someone other than Medea.
Are you so blinded by love that you're so stupid? Celine sneered, thinking of the Princess who must be in agony.
Judging by the fact that she sent her father a letter with all the details written out so openly, she doesn't think she's very smart. She's just a reckless Princess who throws a tantrum, saying she wants what she wants.
Another successor? You don't intend to send her to Medea's throne, do you? After all, I've rejected countless advances.
However, she is not of the Medean race, and her appearance is very different from that of the Medeans.
Celine was quite astute. As she tilted her head in puzzlement, a forgotten entity suddenly flashed through her mind.
Diana.
She was deeply engrossed in her thoughts and covered her mouth with a gasp.
Celine jumped to her feet and looked around. She now understood why her father had mistreated Diana and had tried to kill her.
The current Queen was not first in line to the throne. There was already a Crown Prince, and when he died suddenly from illness, Princess Grace II ascended to the throne.
Could Diana possibly be a member of the royal family of Medea Spencer?
With pitch-black hair that is unlikely to be born to blonde parents, she has a distinctly different appearance from the Belford people.
The thought that Diana might have been adopted is likely true. Celine heard her father had briefly stayed in Medea when he was young. For whatever reason, it's possible he brought Diana here.
Since he is currently an enemy of Medea, it must be for diplomatic or political reasons.
Princess Medea seems to know nothing about Diana.
If the current Princess had known Diana was a royal, she would have already handed over her inheritance. Her father, unable to respond, must have been frantically crumpling up the letter.
Perhaps the reason Diana was kept with him until now was to blackmail or otherwise exploit the Queen of Medea.
After she was kidnapped by the Duke, he may have tried to kill her because if she went to Medea on her own, all his plans would go awry.
There is no confirmation of any kind of deal between Medea's Princess and her father, only speculation.
“I have to help my father.”
Her desire to know why her father was trying to kill Diana wasn't motivated by conscience or a sense of justice. It was to effectively assist her father.
Because the Admiral is her beloved father.
I was held captive by Noah. This deadly man had locked me in his room.
I stared at him, mouth agape. I must have looked stupid. Noah stroked my chin with his finger, his gaze never leaving my face.
He spoke as he looked at me with admiration.
"Pretty."
Are you saying that because you see my stupid face? I clenched my jaw and tightened my grip on my loose lips.
The surroundings were quiet, and the sound of geese hooting and flying outside the window could be heard. The room was filled with late afternoon sunlight, its colors reflecting the warm tones of the wood floor. His and my shadows, cast on the warm wooden floor, grew longer and longer.
I slowly lowered my posture to avoid the persistent gaze and tried to pick up the blanket that had fallen on the floor.
Noah had already picked up the blanket and tie, his arms longer than mine. He shook them out and folded them neatly.
The shadows from his lowered eyelashes, cast by his concentration, fell cleanly on his cheeks. The sight of him matching blankets placed on the light blue console was quite adorable.
“Who taught you that? You’re really good at folding clothes and blankets.”
“Mom. She said If you do this well, your wife will love you.”
As expected, his manners, gentlemanly behavior, and neat habits are all evidence of his good upbringing.
“You are a really nice person.”
Noah smiled briefly at my words, then picked me up and sat me down gently on the edge of the bed.
He sat quietly next to me and took my hand. A moment of silence fell between us. The mansion was so eerily quiet that it almost felt like it was just the two of us.
Knock knock.
A loud knock on the door, as if to dispel the illusion, rang out. The door opened, and Molly, her face expressionless, stood in.
“The Queen wishes to meet you, young lady.”
"Yes?"
Noah's expression looked somewhat displeased.
“I guess Her Majesty is curious about the Count’s fiancée, whom she treated like a younger brother.”
"Count?"
Molly smiled faintly at me as I tilted my head in question.
“In Medea, His Excellency has the title of Count. It's an honorary title. He's been knighted.”
He's said to be close to the Queen here, so he must have a more solid background than I thought. Noah's expression was not good. At first glance, he seemed nervous.
He looked as if he was greatly disturbed by the words, 'The Queen wants to meet you.'
Molly reported a few more things and left the room.
We were still sitting side by side, holding hands. I looked down at our intertwined hands. His fingernails were always trimmed short and neat.
I was sneaking a glance at Noah's shirt collar, which was more undone than usual, and my eyes met his.
“Why do you keep peeking?”
My shameless gaze was caught without a filter. Noah covered his mouth and stifled a laugh.
“I keep looking at you...”
I reached out and buttoned up the shirt button that kept stealing my attention.
“Imagine me doing this. Wouldn’t you look at me?”
Noah nodded with a low laugh at the thoughtless remark.
“You see. I’m a man too.”
The overly honest answer was embarrassing. I felt like I'd said something wrong. A strange tension swirled between Noah and me, and he raised his hand and slowly ran his hand through my hair.
“I do expect more because I’m a man.”
“What do you want?”
Even though I knew him well, I couldn't quite grasp his thoughts, so I asked cautiously, a little nervously.
“What could it be?”
He asked simply and clearly, in a somewhat nonchalant tone. I know what most adults want, but I don't know what this man wants.
I tried to keep a straight face and looked down at the hand I was holding.
“I don’t know.”
Noah leaned toward me, one of his hands resting on my shoulder. His mouth curved seductively as he stared at me closely, face to face.
“I want to dirty you, ruin you, and make you completely mine. I want to monopolize you.”
The eyes that swept over me coolly became clouded. A shiver ran from the nape of my neck to the tips of my toes, making me flinch.
At nineteen this year, she was old enough to marry. Countless proposals and advances from handsome men flooded her, but she was attracted to a lieutenant colonel, and the admiral wasn't ready to give his daughter a hand in marriage.
People around him thought he was a very patriarchal father who did not want to marry off his daughter because he was too fond of her, or that he did not have a suitable partner yet.
Celine was relieved, in many ways, that Diana was gone. She had been well aware that the Duke of Frogen had taken her away.
The woman he risked his life to save ended up following the man who kidnapped her, so perhaps the lieutenant colonel was also hurt.
Celine headed to her father's room to meet him. She had something to ask him: why did he want to kill Diana?
Her steps toward her father's room were heavy. The creaking sound of the stairs was annoying with every step she took.
Celine knocked and opened the door slightly, but the admiral's room was empty.
Knowing full well that it would be rude to enter an unoccupied room, she walked slowly inside. Perhaps impulsively.
Celine, who was sitting on the sofa quietly looking around her father's old-fashioned, oak-scented room, still impulsively opened the bottom drawer.
It was the kind of behavior a trusted and beloved daughter could do. Her bright green eyes turned to a single, crumpled letter.
The wax seal that had held the envelope in place had been neatly cut with a paper knife. The letter, nestled awkwardly among the neat, crisp documents, seemed to hold some important meaning.
Celine looked around for a moment and began to open the letter.
"When on earth are you going to do it? I have to give up the throne immediately.
You say there's a suitable successor to the throne? If he marries another woman, I can no longer cooperate. If you don't do it, I'll do as I please."
What does this mean?
Celine put the letter back where it was, closed the drawer, and left the room. Entering her own room, Celine pulled back her long, platinum-blond hair and thought over the contents of the letter.
Renunciation of the right to the throne, a suitable successor to the throne, or someone's marriage.
“The Princess of Medea sent it.”
This must have been sent by Medea's heir to the throne, who cannot marry whomever she wants. She is willing to give up her queenship because she loves someone other than Medea.
Are you so blinded by love that you're so stupid? Celine sneered, thinking of the Princess who must be in agony.
Judging by the fact that she sent her father a letter with all the details written out so openly, she doesn't think she's very smart. She's just a reckless Princess who throws a tantrum, saying she wants what she wants.
Another successor? You don't intend to send her to Medea's throne, do you? After all, I've rejected countless advances.
However, she is not of the Medean race, and her appearance is very different from that of the Medeans.
Celine was quite astute. As she tilted her head in puzzlement, a forgotten entity suddenly flashed through her mind.
Diana.
She was deeply engrossed in her thoughts and covered her mouth with a gasp.
Celine jumped to her feet and looked around. She now understood why her father had mistreated Diana and had tried to kill her.
The current Queen was not first in line to the throne. There was already a Crown Prince, and when he died suddenly from illness, Princess Grace II ascended to the throne.
Could Diana possibly be a member of the royal family of Medea Spencer?
With pitch-black hair that is unlikely to be born to blonde parents, she has a distinctly different appearance from the Belford people.
The thought that Diana might have been adopted is likely true. Celine heard her father had briefly stayed in Medea when he was young. For whatever reason, it's possible he brought Diana here.
Since he is currently an enemy of Medea, it must be for diplomatic or political reasons.
Princess Medea seems to know nothing about Diana.
If the current Princess had known Diana was a royal, she would have already handed over her inheritance. Her father, unable to respond, must have been frantically crumpling up the letter.
Perhaps the reason Diana was kept with him until now was to blackmail or otherwise exploit the Queen of Medea.
After she was kidnapped by the Duke, he may have tried to kill her because if she went to Medea on her own, all his plans would go awry.
There is no confirmation of any kind of deal between Medea's Princess and her father, only speculation.
“I have to help my father.”
Her desire to know why her father was trying to kill Diana wasn't motivated by conscience or a sense of justice. It was to effectively assist her father.
Because the Admiral is her beloved father.
***
I was held captive by Noah. This deadly man had locked me in his room.
I stared at him, mouth agape. I must have looked stupid. Noah stroked my chin with his finger, his gaze never leaving my face.
He spoke as he looked at me with admiration.
"Pretty."
Are you saying that because you see my stupid face? I clenched my jaw and tightened my grip on my loose lips.
The surroundings were quiet, and the sound of geese hooting and flying outside the window could be heard. The room was filled with late afternoon sunlight, its colors reflecting the warm tones of the wood floor. His and my shadows, cast on the warm wooden floor, grew longer and longer.
I slowly lowered my posture to avoid the persistent gaze and tried to pick up the blanket that had fallen on the floor.
Noah had already picked up the blanket and tie, his arms longer than mine. He shook them out and folded them neatly.
The shadows from his lowered eyelashes, cast by his concentration, fell cleanly on his cheeks. The sight of him matching blankets placed on the light blue console was quite adorable.
“Who taught you that? You’re really good at folding clothes and blankets.”
“Mom. She said If you do this well, your wife will love you.”
As expected, his manners, gentlemanly behavior, and neat habits are all evidence of his good upbringing.
“You are a really nice person.”
Noah smiled briefly at my words, then picked me up and sat me down gently on the edge of the bed.
He sat quietly next to me and took my hand. A moment of silence fell between us. The mansion was so eerily quiet that it almost felt like it was just the two of us.
Knock knock.
A loud knock on the door, as if to dispel the illusion, rang out. The door opened, and Molly, her face expressionless, stood in.
“The Queen wishes to meet you, young lady.”
"Yes?"
Noah's expression looked somewhat displeased.
“I guess Her Majesty is curious about the Count’s fiancée, whom she treated like a younger brother.”
"Count?"
Molly smiled faintly at me as I tilted my head in question.
“In Medea, His Excellency has the title of Count. It's an honorary title. He's been knighted.”
He's said to be close to the Queen here, so he must have a more solid background than I thought. Noah's expression was not good. At first glance, he seemed nervous.
He looked as if he was greatly disturbed by the words, 'The Queen wants to meet you.'
Molly reported a few more things and left the room.
We were still sitting side by side, holding hands. I looked down at our intertwined hands. His fingernails were always trimmed short and neat.
I was sneaking a glance at Noah's shirt collar, which was more undone than usual, and my eyes met his.
“Why do you keep peeking?”
My shameless gaze was caught without a filter. Noah covered his mouth and stifled a laugh.
“I keep looking at you...”
I reached out and buttoned up the shirt button that kept stealing my attention.
“Imagine me doing this. Wouldn’t you look at me?”
Noah nodded with a low laugh at the thoughtless remark.
“You see. I’m a man too.”
The overly honest answer was embarrassing. I felt like I'd said something wrong. A strange tension swirled between Noah and me, and he raised his hand and slowly ran his hand through my hair.
“I do expect more because I’m a man.”
“What do you want?”
Even though I knew him well, I couldn't quite grasp his thoughts, so I asked cautiously, a little nervously.
“What could it be?”
He asked simply and clearly, in a somewhat nonchalant tone. I know what most adults want, but I don't know what this man wants.
I tried to keep a straight face and looked down at the hand I was holding.
“I don’t know.”
Noah leaned toward me, one of his hands resting on my shoulder. His mouth curved seductively as he stared at me closely, face to face.
“I want to dirty you, ruin you, and make you completely mine. I want to monopolize you.”
The eyes that swept over me coolly became clouded. A shiver ran from the nape of my neck to the tips of my toes, making me flinch.
“I guess everyone does. It’s instinct.”
His voice, dramatically lowered, conveyed the exact meaning. Despite the somewhat harsh language, it was so seductive that even my fingertips tingled.
Each word seemed to pierce every nook and cranny of my body and slowly slip away, leaving me thirsty and my mouth feeling parched.
“Why are you scaring me?”
“That’s why I’m saying I won’t do anything. Because it’s precious.”
“Is it something precious?”
"Yes."
He tilted his head, our faces close together, our gazes overlapping. His expression was calm, but there was a subtle shift. In another way, my heart raced. His sweet breath warmed my face. We were close enough that our noses were almost touching.
“I want to do what I couldn’t do that day.”
He paused, as if waiting for a response. He was asking for my opinion in a noble manner. His breathy, soft voice sounded too close.
I knew full well what it was, and my heart skipped a beat, but I didn't insist any longer.
"Yes."
Noah took a deep breath and kissed me lightly. It was urgent, yet sweet and slow.
My lips, once cold, became warm and sweet. He wrapped his arms around my waist, cupped my cheek with one hand, and gently pulled away from my lips.
“Put your arms around my neck. You can hug me.”
As if captivated by the whispered request, I obediently wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him, bringing our bodies close together.
The room, bathed in the quiet afternoon sunlight, was bright enough to see the floating dust, but all I could see was Noah's face.
Blue eyes glimpsed beneath lowered eyelashes, a delicate facial line, and a bandage on his cheek filled my vision.
Not far from the quiet mansion, I could hear the reeds swaying in the breeze. Slowly, I closed my eyes, narrowing my vision, and all other sensations faded away.
His straight chin tilted elegantly. Our thick, gulping breaths mingled subtly. Noah's hand, wrapped around my waist, radiated a strange warmth.
He was so skilled that it was mind-boggling. His hands were held with restraint and strength.
It was our first kiss.
It was a fleeting moment, like a light that flashed and then disappeared, but the moment felt like eternity.
“Diana.”
Noah, who had opened his mouth slightly, gently brushed his lips against mine. His affectionate eyes curved gently, and the bags under his eyes grew plump.
My consciousness, immersed in sweetness, was spinning. I barely managed to regain my senses and answered.
"... Yes?"
"It's okay if you don't value me. I just want to be unique."
Actually, I don't know what "unique" means. While I rubbed my face, trying to think of a response, Noah continued.
“I’ll do whatever you want, so don’t leave.”
“Why do you always think I’m going to leave?”
“You’d leave me for a reason, no matter what.”
Was it because I left him behind then? Even though there were unavoidable reasons, we parted ways anyway. I took Noah's hand, intertwined with his pinky, and gave it a gentle shake.
“Noah, I won’t let that happen. I promise.”
“I wish there was nothing but you and me.”
Noah spoke, kissing my eyelids. His words, though unintelligible, felt quite desperate, as if he were clinging to someone who was about to leave. But the words he added were quite shocking.
“And since we kissed, our acquaintanceship is over.”
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