HTPLHSL 5

Chapter 5

The empress bit her lower lip hard. Now, only one task remained: make Volterr crown prince before the Papiran Duchy, the late empress’s family, and the Serpice Marquisate, the late crown princess’s family, caught the scent of “foul play” in that “accident.”

Once Volterr was crown prince, she could rally the neutral nobles and suppress the Papiran and Serpice families.

Only by crushing their influence would she and her son be safe.

But to think a three-year-old brat would become an obstacle!

“A milk-smelling whelp, daring to—hiss!”

Kiyen trashed her room for a long while, venting her fury.

Even after that fool Volterr left, Grandfather didn’t stop the card game.

I’d gotten quite used to this game by now.

Not the rules, mind you—I’d grown accustomed to being indifferent to winning, mindlessly matching cards to mimic a three-year-old’s intelligence.

This time, too, I barely won. Or rather, Grandfather let me win by a hair.

“Oh, my little one’s too much for her old grandpapa to handle. Haha!”

Grandfather set down his cards, scooped me into his arms, and rubbed his cheek against mine.

“Eek! That tickles!”

He looked startled and tried to soothe me.

“What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? I’m exhausted, that’s what.

“Boring.”

Even playing thoughtlessly, winning so easily was no fun. And I was thoroughly sick of this mindless card-matching game.

I locked eyes with Grandfather, who seemed at a loss, and turned my head sharply.

“Grandpapa’s boring.”

“Your grandpapa’s so bad at this it’s boring?”

I nodded vigorously.

So stop it, Grandpapa!

As I waged this silent battle of wills with him, Count Maron, caught in the middle, turned pale. The attendant tasked with shuffling the cards stared at the scattered deck, as if wondering, Should I shuffle or not?

Just then, a voice came from outside the door.

“Your Majesty.”

It was a sound that saved us all. Every gaze turned to the door.

“Duke Croizen has arrived.”

“My, has time passed so quickly? Bring him in!”

Duke Croizen.

The Croizen Ducal House, a founding family of the empire, was known for its loyalty to the imperial family until the very end in my past life.

The door opened, and he entered.

But… who’s this old man?

In my memories, Duke Croizen was far younger than the elderly figure before me. I’d heard he’d been a close friend of my father when he was crown prince.

But this old man… no matter how I looked at him, he didn’t seem like my father’s friend. Could he be the previous duke?

Supported by attendants, the duke could barely walk without a cane. His hair was snow-white, and his dark brown eyes, tinged with cataracts, looked almost gray.

“Your Majesty, have you been well?”

“I’m still hale and hearty. Sit, sit. How have you been lately?”

At Grandfather’s question, the duke sank heavily into a chair brought by an attendant.

“Haha, same as always. I’ll soon pass the title to my son or grandson and retire to the estate’s villa.”

“Tch! You’ve been saying that for ten years. I don’t believe you anymore.”

Grandfather snorted. I quietly sifted through my memories.

No, Grandpapa. If my memory’s correct, the Duke of Croizen will change hands next year or the year after. To my father’s friend.

But I couldn’t say that aloud, so I just stared blankly at the duke, pretending ignorance.

“Oh! The imperial granddaughter is here too.”

“Haha! Isn’t she lovely? She’s grown so much lately. And she’s quite good at this.”

Grandfather openly showed the cards to the duke.

The underlying message was clear:

You know what this game means, don’t you? I’m planning to make her the future emperor, so you’d better think carefully about whose side you’re on.

The duke’s eyes, clouded with age and cataracts, narrowed.

“Hmm… I see.”

“Haha! She takes after her father—quite skilled, isn’t she?”

Grandfather laughed heartily, boasting proudly.

“The recommended age for that game is twelve. It must be quite challenging, so it’s wonderful to hear she plays so well,” Duke Croizen said, subtly urging Grandfather to ease off, having caught the hint.

But our dear Grandpapa didn’t budge an inch.

“Recommended, sure, but is there a law saying it’s only for that age? My little one’s something of a genius, if I do say so myself.”

Pausing briefly, Grandfather lifted me and set me on the desk, right in front of the duke.

“Duke Croizen, doesn’t she catch your eye?”

Huh? Catch his eye? What does? Me?

Thinking I’d misheard, I tilted my head up to look at Grandfather, then at the duke.

“Your Majesty, I’m deeply honored,” the duke replied.

Why’s he talking about honor now? Huh?

“Yes, that’s the spirit,” Grandfather said, nodding with a satisfied smile.

“I’ll soon have my grandson’s portrait and betrothal documents sent over.”

Wait a second! What’s this? This feels weird! A portrait and betrothal documents?

Grandpapa? You’re making decisions like this without even asking me?

So, it wasn’t Aunt Eonel who arranged my betrothal in my past life—it was Grandfather, before he passed away?

That’s right. In my future—or rather, my past—I had a blasted fiancé.

The grandson of the Duke Croizen sitting before me, the second son of the next Duke Croizen, Lloyd von Croizen. In other words, my “father’s friend’s second son.”

And why was this guy a blasted nuisance? Because of his “free spirit.” That nickname was, frankly, a grossly polite euphemism.

To put it bluntly, he was an incorrigible flirt. He insisted it wasn’t flirting, and if you heard his excuses, you might almost believe it wasn’t.

He claimed he was merely being kind to everyone, that his smiles were just overly generous!

And by “everyone,” he meant ladies exclusively.

Yes, he had a certain charm that left women confused, mistaking his attention for something more.

Because of this, he was constantly entangled in unwanted scandals, earning the moniker “free spirit.”

If he weren’t the second son of a ducal house and my fiancé, he’d have been buried in high society as a shameless womanizer.

Fine, let’s say I could stretch my understanding to that point. Is being kind a crime? And the women who fell for a man with a fiancée weren’t exactly blameless either.

Nor were the gossip-mongers who spread and inflated rumors for their own amusement, treating it as someone else’s drama.

In my past life, I must’ve fended off at least a hundred noble ladies for him—okay, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration.

The problem with Lloyd was this: he didn’t fend them off himself. I had to do it for him!

One day, a count’s daughter had the audacity to declare in front of me, “Lord Lloyd loves me, and I adore him!”

Lloyd looked at me with a pitiful, When did I ever? expression.

Then say so! Tell that delusional count’s daughter it’s a misunderstanding, you idiot! I wanted to scream, but the words caught in my throat.

Because that crazy girl shouted first: “So please break off the engagement!”

At that outrageous, disrespectful demand—utterly lacking in propriety toward royalty—I lost it. I slapped both their faces with both hands, snatched the parasol from the countess’s grip, and swung it with all my might at Lloyd’s… delicate area.

The count’s daughter screamed, “Eek! Aaah!” and fled, while Lloyd foamed at the mouth, collapsed, and then clung to my skirt, whining about how unjust it was.

And my knight, Ar, who was also my guard back then, threw his glove in Lloyd’s face right there.

Naturally, Lloyd was beaten to a pulp by Ar in the garden that day.

The next day, Aunt Eonel sent formal complaints to both the count’s and duke’s houses. The ducal house begged her to hush it up, and thanks to that, Ar, a commoner who’d nearly killed a duke’s son, escaped punishment.

So…

Grandpapa! This is all wrong. That guy’s a walking disaster!

I stared up at Grandfather with wide, teary eyes.

He rubbed his cheek against mine, squishing my face so I could barely speak.

“Abubu!”

“Hahaha, your grandpapa’s picked out a fine husband from a good family for you.”

No, Grandpapa! He’s a disaster that doesn’t even roll properly!

And so, at the tender age of three, my betrothal to a future catastrophe was sealed.

Today, as usual, I ate breakfast and headed to Grandfather’s palace.

Holding my nurse’s hand, I toddled down the corridor, climbed the stairs… or not?

Huh? We’re not going up?

As I waddled toward the stairs, my nurse scooped me up.

“We’re not going to His Majesty’s study today.”

“Then where?”

“The grand hall.”

Soon, a massive red door loomed before me.

The door, framed with polished wood, was covered in crimson velvet at its center, with sparkling gemstones embedded like vines at the base.

Two knights in white uniforms stood guard in front of it.

In my past life, I’d passed this place often, but I’d never thought of it as this grand. Now, shrunken to a three-year-old’s size, the sheer majesty of it felt suffocating, pressing down on me.

Footsteps echoed from a distance, and the knights, my maids, and my nurse turned toward the sound.

“We greet His Majesty. Glory to the empire!”

They knelt or bowed in unison, a breathtaking sight. I stood there, dazed, taking it all in.

Then Grandfather came bounding toward me.

“Oh, my! My precious little darling got here before her old grandpapa? Aren’t you cold?”

No, it’s toasty warm in here. Look at this dress and fox-fur cape I’m bundled in!

I spread my arms wide and shook my head vigorously. Grandfather slid his hands under my armpits and hoisted me up.

“Let’s go in!”

Nestled against his chest, I looked ahead.

My view was suddenly much higher, and it felt great.

An attendant shouted toward the grand hall.

“His Majesty the Emperor enters!”