A Barbaric Proposal Chapter 89

※The Cursed Prince※

[Liene] “How... how could someone do such a thing?”

Madam Flambard listened to the full account of what had happened to Madam Henton, her face turning even paler than the victim’s. Her hands shook as she reached out to stroke the back of Henton’s hand.

[Black] “It was him.”

The realization hung heavy in the room. After Lyndon and Laffit Kleinfelter had been exiled, the one pulling the strings of House Kleinfelter from the shadows was none other than the resurrected former Patriarch.

Fermos rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

[Fermos] “It seems so. Once Madam Henton left the estate, he must have finally received proper medication. It’s a miracle he recovered enough to move, honestly. A dark one, but a miracle nonetheless.”

Madam Henton ground her teeth, the sound harsh in the quiet room.

[Henton] “I should have finished him. I should have driven a blade through his heart before I ever set foot outside that house.”

Klima shook his head frantically, his face contorted with a mixture of grief and fear for his mother’s soul.

[Klima] “Mother, please... don't say that. It’s not right. You shouldn't have to carry that burden... You shouldn't have to pray for forgiveness for such thoughts. Please, Mother.”

Liene watched them, her heart aching for the rage in the mother and the desperation in the son.

[Liene] “We have to find him.”

She stood up, her voice ringing with a new resolve.

[Liene] “Kleinfelter. He won't just stay hidden. A man like that doesn't disappear quietly into the night.”

Fermos nodded in grim agreement.

[Fermos] “I concur. He likely knows everything that happened twenty-one years ago. He may have even been the architect of the entire rebellion.”

[Liene] “As the head of House Kleinfelter back then, he would have been the center of gravity. He would have been the one moving the other nobles like chess pieces.”

A sudden chill raced down Liene’s spine, as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her.

The past wasn't dead; it wasn't even buried. It was standing right in front of them.

[Liene] “Then it’s time Kleinfelters finally paid their debts.”

They had no choice but to face it head-on.

---

[Dieren] “What are you doing here?”

Another failure. Dieren ground his teeth, careful to keep the frustration from showing on his face.

He had intended to confront Princess Liene today.

He couldn't understand how this kingdom functioned; even living in the castle, it was nearly impossible to run into a member of the royal family.

The royalty he knew was different. To Dieren, being a royal meant lounging in luxury and commanding underlings—it was the very purpose of existence.

Looking at this modest castle, he understood they didn't have much money, but it wasn't as if the Princess was out in the fields digging for potatoes like a commoner.

Why was she always so busy? It was beyond his comprehension.

He had heard she’d returned from an outing, only to barricade herself in the Head Maid’s quarters.

Now is the time. The Princess must be reaching her breaking point, unable to stand another moment with that barbarian she calls a husband. 

To win her over, he had to strike while the iron was hot.

[Dieren] “Have you finally decided to treat me like a proper guest? Hmm?”

Dieren turned, expecting a servant, but his smirk vanished when he saw Black standing in the doorway.

Why did this man always have to interfere?

[Dieren] “Actually, I’ve lost interest in your 'hospitality.' Why don't you just leave?”

Dieren didn't care why Black was there. He assumed the man had come to offer some pathetic apology for his previous rudeness.

[Dieren] “I have business to attend to.”

Dieren turned back to the mirror, adjusting the heavy pendant that hung against his chest. He was dressed even more flamboyantly than usual.

He couldn't rot in this backwater forever; he needed to seduce Liene and get out as quickly as possible.

[Dieren] “Well? I told you to get out.”

Through the mirror, Dieren watched Black. The man remained leaning against the doorframe, silent and unmoving.

[Dieren] “Are you deaf?”

[Black] “...I can hear you.”

[Dieren] “Then why are you standing there like a statue?”

[Black] “I was thinking.”

[Dieren] “Thinking? About what?”

Dieren let out a derisive snort. The subtext was clear:

Do creatures like you even have thoughts?

He didn't know Black. He had always found his father and sister pathetic for being intimidated by a mere mercenary just because he commanded a few well-trained hounds.

[Black] “I was thinking about what to do with you. It’s the first time I’ve felt the urge to do something so... unnecessary.”

[Dieren] “What? What are you talking about?”

Thump. Thump.

Black pushed off the doorframe and began to walk toward him. The servant standing in the corner, who had been holding his breath, turned deathly pale.

[Black] “I know my wife has zero interest in you. To her, you’re probably just a gnat. An annoyance. Something she could crush, but feels too much pity for actually do it. I know ignoring you is the easiest path.”

[Black] “If I break you, the Grand Duke will complain, and that’s just more paperwork for me. So, snapping your wrist—or maybe your ankle would be better—is a waste of effort. It’s not like I find breaking human bones particularly entertaining.”

[Dieren] “What... what are you saying?”

The weight of Black’s words finally began to sink in, though it was the suffocating pressure of his physical presence that terrified Dieren.

Those pale blue eyes were chilling. Dieren felt a visceral instinct that if those eyes narrowed any further, some part of him was going to be torn away.

[Black] “And yet, I find I really don't like you loitering around my wife.”

[Dieren] “W-what... I never...”

[Black] “Those ridiculous clothes are an eyesore. And the way you try to offer that filthy, over-pampered hand of yours as a greeting... I hate that, too.”

Dieren began to stumble backward. With a sudden, blur-like speed, Black reached out and snatched his wrist.

[Dieren] “Aggkh! Let go!”

The threat of being "broken" was no longer a metaphor. Dieren thrashed, trying to shake his arm loose, but Black’s grip was like an iron shackle.

[Black] “Go home.”

Those icy blue eyes bored into Dieren’s from across their locked limbs.

[Black] “While your arms and legs are still in one piece.”

[Dieren] “You... you’re insane! You’re a barbarian who has no concept of diplomatic etiquette—”

[Black] “Answer me. When are you leaving?”

Black tightened his grip.

[Dieren] “Aaaaagh!”

Dieren screamed. The servant was so paralyzed by terror that he couldn't even make a sound.

[Black] “I’d prefer it if your answer was 'now.'”

[Dieren] “Let go! You madman!”

Dieren might have finally realized Black was deadly serious if Liene hadn't appeared at that exact moment.

She hadn't come for Dieren; she had been looking for Black.

[Liene] “Lord Tiwakan?”

[Black] “...”

As if by magic, the crushing pressure on Dieren’s wrist vanished.

[Black] “What brings you here, Liene?”

[Liene] “I was looking for you. Were you two having a chat?”

Dieren’s eyes bulged.

[Dieren] “A chat? He was—!”

Black was faster. As he turned toward Liene, he brought his boot down hard on the bridge of Dieren’s foot. It happened so quickly, and with such casual precision, that Liene didn't even notice.

Dieren’s words died in a choked gasp of pain.

[Black] “The Prince was just telling me he’s decided to return to the Grand Duchy. We were saying our goodbyes.”

[Liene] “Oh, I see. I thought I heard a shout. I was worried there might have been a disagreement.”

[Black] “We aren't exactly close, so our tone tends to get a bit rough.”

[Liene] "Is it because you’re sworn brothers? I don't have siblings, but I’ve heard that brothers can be quite blunt with one another when they’re close.”

[Black] “We are not close.”

Dieren was speechless—not just from the pain in his foot, but from the sheer audacity of the man.

The servant, finally sensing the atmosphere, clutched Dieren’s sleeve, silently pleading with his master not to say anything that would get them both killed.

[Liene] “Well, since you're leaving, I should offer my farewells. It’s late, so I assume you'll be departing tomorrow morning?”

[Dieren] “...”

Dieren’s eyes darted back and forth. His wrist was throbbing with a dull ache that made him wonder if the bone was already cracked.

[Liene] “Prince Dieren...?”

[Dieren] “I’ll... see.”

It was the only scrap of pride Dieren could muster. He refused to say he was leaving immediately.

[Dieren] “It depends on the weather. I can’t travel if it rains.”

Liene offered a bitter, weary smile that she didn't bother to hide.

[Liene] “Then I suppose you’ll be leaving tomorrow. It’s a drought in Nauk.”

That expression was his undoing.

[Dieren] “If it’s what the Princess desires, I will stay.”

Dieren’s lack of knowledge about the local crisis was his greatest mistake. He mistook her look of weary disgust for a lingering sadness over his departure.

[Dieren] “No matter what anyone says, I will remain by your side.”

[Liene] “If rain is the only reason you have to stay in Nauk, then I would wish for it more fervently than anything else. But I don't think that’s going to happen.”

[Dieren] “So you're saying—”

[Liene] “I wish you a safe and peaceful journey back to your own lands.”

Liene hadn't intended to be harsh, but she was genuinely offended. To talk about rain in a country that had suffered for twenty-one years felt like a cruel joke.

Turning her back on Dieren, Liene took Black’s hand.

[Liene] “Are you sad that your brother is leaving so soon? Should I ask him to stay a little longer?”

[Black] “Hardly.”

[Liene] “You can be honest with me.”

[Black] “I don't hide my feelings about trivial things. We’re newlyweds; I don't want to waste any more time playing host to uninvited guests.”

Not that he ever actually played the host. Dieren thought bitterly.

[Liene] “The timing was unfortunate. I don't like other things stealing you away from me, either.”

They leaned into each other, the space between them disappearing.

[Black] “Is that why you came to fetch me?”

[Liene] “Not exactly... I have something to tell you. It’s important.”

[Black] “Then we should go to our room.”

[Liene] “Yes.”

The two of them vanished from the room, leaving Dieren staring at the empty doorway.

[Dieren] “Why...?”

It took a long moment for the word to escape his lips.

Unfortunately, the servant knew exactly what he meant. He was asking why they looked so happy together.

The servant wisely kept the obvious answer to himself:

Because everyone but you realized they are in love.

[Servant] “I’ll pack the trunks, Your Highness.”

They needed to leave tomorrow, before Dieren ended up being carried to the carriage with actual broken limbs.

---

Ternan Kleinfelter.

The name was a jagged fragment in Black’s memory. He had met the man before. The memory wasn't clear, but it wasn't total darkness either.

The man had come to find him at the temple. He had come for the boy, not the King.

—The Cursed Prince.

That had been his greeting.

—This is all the King’s fault.

Black’s brow furrowed as he chased the fading images. Liene reached out, her fingers gently smoothing the tension between his eyes. Black caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingertips.

—The King stole the power of the gods, and now the Prince must suffer the punishment in his stead.

Prince Fernand had remembered the words, even if he hadn't understood them.

—You must ask the gods for forgiveness, my Prince.

Ternan had sat beside his bed, leaning in to whisper the poison into his ear.

—The next time the King visits, you must steal the key. The key to the place where he hides the power of the gods.

Which key? Prince Fernand had known his father carried many.

—Offer the key upon the altar of the temple. It is the only way to break the curse.

Ternan had disappeared, leaving behind words that tasted like forbidden fruit.

Whenever the pain became unbearable, the boy thought of those words. He had been told that offering the key would end his agony.

A year later, while suffering from a feverish bout of measles, Prince Fernand had asked the King for the key.

Three days later, the King was dead.

Back then, the boy hadn't known.

He hadn't realized he was the final stroke in a master plan of treason.

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