A Barbaric Proposal Chapter 104

※A Half-Chance※

[Liene] "Madam."

She gently pulled her hand away from Madam Flambard’s grasp, only to take the older woman’s hands in her own once more. Her movements were slightly clumsy due to the thick bandages.

[Liene] "Even if it is true, it doesn't mean everyone with Gainers blood will suffer the same fate. Look at Lord Tiwakan. He looks like a man who couldn't die even if he wanted to. A man that healthy wouldn't suddenly fall ill."

[Flambard] "I... I want to believe that, too. I do."

Her words almost brought Liene to tears. Steeling her heart, Liene released the Madam’s hands.

[Liene] "Then pray for us. Pray that nothing happens, and that all this worry turns out to be for nothing. Even if—and this is a huge 'if'—Lord Tiwakan does fall ill, I will stay by his side. That would make me far happier than being apart. I can promise you that."

[Flambard] "Your Highness..."

Tears began to stream down her face.

[Liene] "Don't cry, Madam. You mustn't do this to me. You are supposed to be on my side."

She handed a large, heavy volume of the royal records to the weeping woman.

[Liene] "Find the records of the deaths of the past Gainers kings in here. We will see for ourselves if they all died young from illness or not. Do not even think of leaving until you have combed through every record."

The Madam nodded weakly, her face still wet with tears.

[Liene] "Goodness. You mustn't get the records wet. Please, stop crying."

She used the bandages on the back of her hand to gently dab away the Madam’s tears.

You mustn't cry, Madam. If you do, I’ll want to cry too.

And I refuse to cry over something that hasn't even been proven true yet.

[Liene] "Quickly now."

[Flambard] "......Yes, Your Highness."

With the Madam’s help, Liene organized the records of thirteen kings.

Out of nineteen, nine had died at a young age. While the specific causes of death weren't always detailed, similar patterns emerged in the entries.

The kings who died early had avoided meeting people and kept themselves hidden. They would fall into unnaturally long periods of sleep, yet go for days without any rest at all.

There were records scattered throughout describing frequent searches for the king after he had vanished without a trace within the castle.

Nine out of nineteen. The probability of the illness manifesting was fifty percent.

[Wistard] "......Pardon?"

Wistard, Laffit’s maternal uncle, pressed his lips together as if they were stuck with molasses.

The Sharka Kingdom was currently in an uproar following the sudden death of Prince Vasheyd. To make matters worse, the return of fifty Sharka soldiers—or rather, forty-nine corpses—had sent the royal court into another frenzy.

The sole survivor was currently locked in a dungeon, scheduled to be dragged before the royal tribunal in a few hours to recount exactly what had happened.

In the meantime, the Princess Consort had summoned Wistard.

Wistard had done his best to enter the Prince’s Palace undetected.

The palace, having lost its master, was draped in black—the color of mourning. Tables, cabinets, and even the Prince’s bed were covered in black cloth. The Prince’s portrait was no exception. All flowers had been removed, and the windows were tightly shut.

In this stiflingly gloomy and depressing palace, only the Princess Consort stood out, as vibrant as a blooming poppy. Even mourning clothes could not diminish her devastating beauty.

Perhaps because she was in her own home, Blini looked more relaxed than usual today.

She leaned back on a sofa with one leg resting on a footstool; her skirt had slipped slightly, revealing a slender white leg and a bare foot.

[Blini] "Why do you keep asking me?"

Blini turned her head, lifting a lukewarm teacup.

She had offered him tea, but Wistard couldn't bring himself to touch it. Instead, his entire focus was drawn to the opening of her mourning gown. Every time she exhaled a thin breath, her young, firm chest rose and fell.

[Blini] "I am simply saying that the man you introduced to me before was useless."

The Sharka royal family had always been scandalous, but since Blini’s arrival, they were writing an entirely new history of depravity.

Rumors whispered that Blini herself had killed Prince Vasheyd, and that she remained safe only because the King had turned a blind eye.

Wistard could think of only one reason why a father would ignore the death of his son: that impossibly beautiful body.

It was said that Blini had never been interested in her husband from the start. Some rumored that the Prince, frustrated at his inability to possess his own wife, had brought prostitutes into the palace every day.

In response, Blini had openly consorted with the King’s younger cousins. Wistard was one of them, but he had never before been granted the opportunity to be alone with her.

Blini was notoriously picky about the looks of the men she kept around her. Knowing this, Wistard had often cursed the gods and his mother for his unremarkable appearance.

[Wistard] "It... It was Your Highness who w-wanted my nephew."

He stammered after a long silence.

[Wistard] "You said you had business with him first..."

[Blini] "I need someone useful."

[Wistard] "H-How so...?"

[Blini] "I wonder."

Blini chuckled, a purring sound as she swirled the tea in her cup. The liquid tilted precariously, as if it might spill onto her chest at any moment.

[Blini] "Since I am now a widow, I suppose I must choose a new husband as soon as possible."

[Wistard] "Th-That is..."

Wistard swallowed hard. He was confused—was she suggesting that he was being considered as the next husband?

[Blini] "There is still a man I cannot forget."

[Wistard] "I see..."

Wistard fell silent, unable to grasp the context of her words.

Seeing him hold his tongue, Blini gave a flower-like smile.

Men in this world were all the same, with one exception. Because of this, Blini preferred a man who was obedient and listened well. Someone quick-witted, but not too clever or stubborn. Unless he was a male intended to warm her bed when she was bored, his looks didn't matter in the slightest.

Laffit’s face had been decent enough, but he hadn't been satisfying. In truth, it was unlikely any man could ever truly satisfy her. She had taken Laffit to her bed for one reason: he possessed a brand of reckless bravado she found amusing.

But bravado was just that—bravado. He had been captured because he couldn't even manage to steal a single woman. Laffit, too, had become just another useless man.

The more she was disappointed by men, the more the scales in her heart tilted sharply in one direction.

[Blini] "Women are such pitiful creatures. To think a 'first man' could mean so much."

[Wistard] "Ah..."

He let out a vague groan. Her gaze sharpened.

[Blini] "It was the year I turned twenty. I wanted to choose my first man with my own hands."

And so she had chosen. Or perhaps, fate had chosen for her. Because at that very moment, a man appeared—a man she wanted to devour from head to toe.

[Blini] "If only he had been a slave."

Had he been, he might have lived.

[Wistard] "D-Did he cause you pain, Your Highness?"

[Blini] "Pain?"

She burst into a fit of laughter.

[Blini] "And if he did, what would you do about it?"

[Wistard] "Then I would repay that pain on your behalf."

He summoned his courage to offer a seductive promise.

[Blini] "Mmm... that is a bit overstepping. What I desire isn't something like that."

She let out a mocking sneer.

She found it hilarious when men tried to act like "males" in front of her. After all, none of them would be able to drag that man here and offer him to her.

Her first man. The man who was like death to her.

[Blini] "I desire something small."

Blini shifted her leg, revealing more of her bare skin. Wistard’s eyes hungrily followed the movement of her skirt. It was only natural.

[Blini] "There is a trial soon, isn't there?"

[Wistard] "Th-That is correct."

[Blini] "I do not wish for a man who failed his task and returned alive to wag his tongue. He will surely mention my name, and that would be unfair. I gained nothing from this, after all."

[Wistard] "That... then..."

Wistard stood with his mouth agape like a fool. Looking at him, it was clear he was obedient but lacked any real courage.

Blini clicked her tongue inwardly. She would have to manufacture some courage for him.

[Blini] "Time is short."

Splash!

She poured the cold tea directly onto her chest.

[Wistard] "Oh! Your... Your clothes are soaked..."

He looked around frantically.

She reached out and tugged at the edge of his sleeve. He noticed a crude, heavy ring on her thumb. Upon closer inspection, the ring was turned so the ornament was hidden against her palm.

[Blini] "Won't you dry it for me?"

Wistard swallowed his dry spit. His stubby hands touched her wet clothes.

Blini smiled thinly, stroking his brown hair—the only trait he shared with her nephew.

A short while later, Wistard left the Prince’s Palace.

The next thing he did was bribe the prison guards in the name of the King’s cousin.

---

The letter written in the dungeon was finished. Dieren’s servant set off for the Sharka Kingdom with the message.

Dieren would have to endure an indefinite amount of time alone until the servant returned with a reply.

[Black] "This isn't necessary."

He spoke with a displeased expression, crossing his arms as he watched Liene move busily.

She had already removed her bandages. Thanks to Black’s excessive care, the wounds had healed far faster than usual.

She was still wearing slippers instead of shoes, but her feet no longer pained her.

[Liene] "It is necessary."

She was packing food and blankets to send to Dieren’s cell.

[Liene] "We mustn't let him die if we want to make use of the Grand Duke of Alito."

The situation involving three nations was becoming quite complex. For the first time in a while, the Tiwakan’s information network was buzzing. They had to keep a keen eye on the Sharka Kingdom while preparing for the Grand Duke of Alito’s next move.

Fermos and Black had already calculated for the worst-case scenario. Blini might not hand over the ring so easily. She could deny everything and pretend she didn't know Dieren at all.

If that happened, finding the ring would become complicated. At that point, they would have to use the Grand Duke.

The Grand Duke would want his son back. They had to let him know that the only way to get him back was to return the ring. While the Grand Duke could refuse the trade and send an army, Fermos and Black believed that wouldn't happen, given the man's personality.

Besides, the distance was too great; it would be far cheaper for the Grand Duke to simply take the ring back from his daughter.

[Black] "I am making sure he doesn't die. And Dieren isn't the only thing we can trade for the ring. If we look, we’ll find something else eventually."

[Liene] "The Prince is the most certain means we have. And wounds aren't just physical. If we want to use the Grand Duke, we have to win the Prince over to our side first."

He didn't think Liene was wrong. He just didn't like it.

[Black] "Fine, then. But can't I be the one who goes to Dieren instead?"

She chuckled.

[Liene] "With that attitude? I think not. You can't even hide how much you dislike him."

[Black] "He is a man I have no reason to like."

[Liene] "I know. I have no reason to like him either. I didn't care for him from the moment we met. He had the nerve to judge my face right off the bat—as if that were a compliment."

[Black] "An excellent attitude. Dieren should remain, someone you dislike."

[Liene] "I don't necessarily like him, but I don't exactly hate him either."

He furrowed his brows, showing his displeasure.

[Black] "Make an effort to hate him. He isn't a man worth any emotion beyond that."

[Liene] "We are trying to use the Prince right now."

[Black] "......I know. But it still irritates me."

Liene, feeling that Black was being unusually stubborn today, asked playfully.

[Liene] "Why do you hate the Prince so much...? Are you perhaps jealous?"

[Black] "......"

He avoided the question. His silence was an answer in itself.

She burst into laughter at the absurdity.

[Liene] "This is so strange. Do you think I’m a fool? There’s no way I could feel anything remotely like affection for a man who did what he did in Nauk."

[Black] "......And yet you don't hate him."

[Liene] "And besides, I have you. Prince Dieren isn't an unattractive man, but he looks plain when he’s standing next to you. Unfortunately for the Prince, I have very keen eyes."

[Black] "So you did think he isn't unattractive."

She could see the muscle in his cheek twitching ever so slightly. She gave his cheek a light pat with her palm.

[Liene] "Yes, as I said, my eyes are keen. If Prince Dieren isn't unattractive, what does that say about you?"

The twitching in his cheek stopped.

Liene couldn't stop smiling.

It was so strange to hear him say things like this—knowing he was being unreasonable, yet showing his raw emotions so stubbornly. It felt as though he had no walls left where she was concerned.

[Black] "Then I am going with you."

He said after a moment, pulling her hand into his.

[Liene] "I never imagined for a second that you would let me go alone."

At that, he smiled briefly.

Their time together was sweet and precious.

Thoughts of a hereditary curse with a half chance of manifesting found no room to linger in their hearts.

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