<Episode 565> The Swamp of Great Delusion
Those who can avoid the shout to flee already know how to flee before hearing such a sound.
Despite the engulfing flames, Julia Helena stood frozen in place like a pillar of salt, unable to move an inch. She was like a deer startled by the light.
Cesare threw himself forward without thinking twice. Something soft filled his open arms. It was the body of a small-framed girl.
However, he had no time to savor the sensation. Immediately, he crashed into the ground, and a powerful impact resonated through his entire body, starting from his shoulder. It was a terrible, dull ache
"Ugh-!"
Just because it was a sandy beach rather than a stone floor did not make it any less painful. He embraced her and rolled around on the beautiful white sand three or four times.
Something like this had happened once before.
However, he had no time to think about it for long. The flames were redder than his hair.
The fire, which had spread to his red hair and the hem of his elegant clothes and boasted an even fiery intensity, died down as he rolled on the ground.
The snow-white sand cut off the air and suffocated the embers. However, rolling once did not completely extinguish the embers.
He sprang up and vigorously shook his clothes. He caught the small embers with his hands. He shook his hair as well. Fine white sand flew up along with the ash from the dead sparks.
Julia Helena sat slumped on the sand, trembling uncontrollably. The only bare parts of the Princess's skin, wrapped deep in her sable cloak, were her face and both hands, and the flames were engulfing the hem of her left sleeve.
Cesare was terrified and stomped wildly on the Princess's sleeve. Fortunately, there was no need to throw her into the seawater. The fire on the sleeve was quickly extinguished by the kicks.
"Princess, are you alright?!"
Even as he spoke, a strange sense of deja vu continued to follow him. She was different. Something uncomfortably different.
He supported the trembling Julia Helena, who could not even answer, and helped her to her feet. It was an ordinary act of assistance, yet something felt off.
Cesare continued to search for the source of this unease. The Princess of Manchike staggered to her feet, gripping his arms tightly.
Leaning her entire body weight on Cesare, she barely managed to stand upright. In the life of this noble jewel, the only heir, her parents' beloved only daughter, and the highest-ranking lady in the country, she had never faced such an ordeal.
She lifted her brown-green eyes to meet Cesare's watery gaze directly. A tearful expression overlapped with the olive-colored skin and exotic features, resembling a very expensive cat.
And the moment their eyes met properly, Julia Helena burst into tears.
"Waaah!"
Julia Helena immediately threw herself into Cesare's arms. Cesare was extremely flustered. Without a moment to think deeply, the 27-year-old Grand Duke mechanically patted the back of the 16-year-old girl in his arms.
"Shhh, good girl."
"Ughhhh-!"
The Princess did not calm down easily. Cesare repeatedly stroked her back with awkward movements.
He was afraid to touch anything else, including the Princess's disheveled dark brown hair that had fallen down. He stood there awkwardly for quite a while.
At first, he was simply flustered. Comforting a woman was a very unfamiliar task to him.
His way of life had always been to commit wrongdoings and then run away as if nothing had happened, without cleaning up the mess.
He had never even comforted a woman he had made cry, let alone comfort a woman crying for something other than his fault; his experience was close to zero.
Except for instances where he deliberately targeted her when she was vulnerable to seduce her, it was truly zero. Now that he had absolutely no intention of bewitching the Princess, this was an unprecedented undertaking.
"It's okay, it's okay."
It felt less like comforting a woman and more like raising a child. If he had an older brother and a niece, they would be around the same age as the tribute girl.
Thinking that way made it a little more manageable. This is not cleaning up the mess caused by others. It is the protection and upbringing of a child growing up normally
"Take a deep breath. That's right. Good job."
Even as he tried to comfort her, he couldn't quite grasp if he was doing it right. No matter what Cesare said, Julia Helena sobbed, her back shaking.
After waiting for a while, her crying finally subsided. However, he couldn't tell if it was due to his efforts or simply because time had helped. It was terribly uncomfortable.
Then, in a split second, Cesare suddenly blinked.
A single tear streamed down his face.
It was because he realized what was wrong.
Everything was wrong.
After he had embraced her and rolled over, this woman should have fled from his embrace on her own two feet.
Instead of comforting her in her shock, she should have been the one brandishing a knife, claiming she would splint his broken arm.
Far from being afraid, she should have boldly extorted his belongings, and even though she was the one in danger, she should have looked after his safety first.
No, her actions didn't matter.
It wasn't her.
Tears welled up in Cesare's watery eyes. Because she wasn't her, because she couldn't be her, he couldn't help but shed tears.
His heart tightened so much he couldn't breathe. Everything was wrong. This life was a complete failure.
Before he knew it, Cesare was holding the Princess, who had stopped crying and was weeping silently all alone.
Julia Helena, who had been crying in Cesare's arms, suddenly lifted her head to look up at his face.
The blindingly white sand reflected the early afternoon sunlight. The intense southern sun happened to be right behind Cesare's head.
It was backlighting. Nothing could be seen.
So Julia Helena listened. Above the sound of the waves, above the cawing of seagulls, the ragged, gasping breaths tickled her ears, overlapping with her own sniffling.
He was crying, too.
Suddenly, a huge thud echoed in Julia Helena's heart. Grand Duke Pisano, who had seemed uninterested in her, and Cesare, who had been nothing but cold all day long...
'This man, since I'm crying... please cry with me...'
Julia Helena shivered. It was moving. She had finally created a crack in that man, who was cold beyond measure!
'He was actually a warm-hearted man. He was cold to me when there were a lot of eyes watching, but look how affectionate he is now that we are alone!'
She began to ponder the reason.
'Is he still wary of his ex-fiancée? But why, even now? He can absolutely never be with his father's mistress.'
It was a massive swamp of delusion, one that did not know where to begin correcting.
***
Rubina swore to the Heavenly God that she never dreamed the tent would catch fire.
Had she known that the love house she had hastily constructed with all her might would completely collapse in flames less than thirty minutes after it was built, Rubina would have urgently devised another plan.
Love for her son was one thing, but first and foremost, he had to be alive to ascend the throne.
However, she firmly believed that she had safely secured everything on the island. No pirates, no people, no accommodations, no food. It was practically the first night of a newlywed couple.
'Enjoy yourself, Princess. This will be the last day you laugh in Etruscan.'
So, Rubina's current plan was to stall for time.
Her ideal schedule was to arrive in Taranto late in the evening, buy time by seeing a doctor and doing other things, and then issue the order to prepare the ship around midnight.
She calculated that if they frantically searched for crew, changed sails, and did other things at dawn, it would take several hours; since the voyage would only take a little over two hours, it would be perfect to go greet the new bride and groom around nine o'clock tomorrow morning.
The only variable she considered was Irene. It would become a headache if Viscountess Panamere arrived on land too early and launched a rescue operation for Princess Manchike.
Well, in that case, she could simply keep Irene detained on the ship for a long time. Rubina ordered the ship to be driven slowly on purpose.
In response, Viscountess Panamere attempted to hijack a lifeboat and head out to sea alone, but was stopped by the deckhands and confined to her cabin. That was a headache, too.
'Ugh, it's going to be a hassle if it gets noisy when I get back.'
In fact, Rubina was also a bit afraid of the consequences. She, too, was aware that she had provoked the Principality of Manchike on an international scale.
'But if she spends a night with my son, do you think they will be able to resist marrying off the tribute girl?'
A successful coup is not a coup, but a revolution. It didn't matter how you got there, as long as you reached Trevero, it was all good. All it took was one night to make it happen.
Then the power dynamics would completely change. If her son expelled the Princess, refusing to marry even after this scandal, it would become nearly impossible for Princess Manchike to find another high-ranking marriage partner.
'Shall we spend the night alone, just the two of us? From then on, I'm the absolute boss.'
A smile formed on Rubina's lips. She even fantasized that Marquis Manchike might be so anxious he would increase her dowry.
Moreover, upon reconsideration, she was actually grateful that Viscount Panamere had caused such a ruckus by threatening to steal the lifeboat.
In truth, taking a lifeboat for personal gain from a sailing ship is grounds for immediate execution under sailors' rules. She had let her off this time instead of executing her.
Later, if she picked a fight over the kidnapping of Princess Manchike, she could simply tell her that she would execute them all according to the rules.
However, something still felt a bit off. If those bastards went around shouting, her misdeeds would be exposed to the world in detail. Curtained in the best cabin, Rubina thought as she cleaned her fingernails.
'Shall I give you a lifeboat once you've come far enough out to sea?'
Just dig a hole in the ground. If all the subjects of the Manchike Principality sink to the bottom of the sea and become food for the fish, there won't be any rumors to spread.
Later, they can just conspire to say that they volunteered to spend the night here because they liked each other.
Swish, swish. Rubina's fingernail razor, focused elsewhere, ground down the entire white crescent.
'If the tribute girl spends the night on the island and all the subjects of the successor state die, what will Manchike say? Will the protests be fierce?'
However, Rubina actually had no need to go to such lengths today regarding Manchike's subjects. No one cared about what Rubina had done or about Manchike.
This was because the Winter Palace was in an uproar thanks to news from the north.
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