Chapter 5

　　"Because that…" The king gestured toward the adjutant who had suddenly become Curtis’s fiancée, then faltered.

　　Curtis stood with his hands clasped behind his back. "Warrant Officer Amboise," he supplied smoothly.

　　Ah. He hesitated because he didn’t know my name.

　　"Yes, Warrant Officer Amboise!" the king snapped, rubbing his forehead in frustration before turning his attention to Chloe. "How many years have you served?"

　　"Unfortunately, as she is from the navy, she was deemed an unsuitable match for His Highness Prince Frederick and was thus excluded from the list of candidates for Crown Princess," Curtis interjected again. "It was a most fortunate turn of events for me."

　　His chin was tilted in an expression of such smug confidence that it was utterly infuriating.

　　The king’s frustration boiled over. "The fact that she is such a perfect candidate only makes this more suspicious!"

　　And he was right. It was absurd, but Chloe’s status and background fit Curtis’s needs perfectly. As a minor noble, she was not a commoner, so the marriage wouldn’t result in him being stripped of his title. And she was from the navy. For reasons that would be explained later, female officers in the Ivanes navy were not considered prime candidates for marriage. The king himself had been the one to order that all navy personnel be excluded from the list of potential brides for the prince.

　　Cunning bastard…

　　A suspicion began to dawn on Chloe. At first, she’d thought the Grand Duke had simply lost his mind. But the more she thought about it, the more this felt like a carefully orchestrated plot.

　　As if oblivious to her wary gaze, Curtis smiled at the king. "Does one look at her beauty and intelligence not dispel all doubt?"

　　Chloe squeezed her eyes shut. The king looked as if his blood pressure was about to send him into orbit, making a show of stumbling backward. Curtis, having delivered his brazen lie, took Chloe’s hand and laced their fingers together. A murmur rippled through the assembled nobles.

　　The king pressed a hand to his forehead and groaned. Then, he turned his piercing gaze on Chloe once more. "Warrant Officer Amboise, you will answer me yourself. Swear on the endless horizon, are you that wretch’s—my brother’s—lover?"

　　If you were about to say ‘wretch,’ then I, as a proud soldier of Ivanes, must express my profound agreement with Your Majesty’s esteemed opinion, Chloe thought. Others might not know it, but as she stood there, hand-in-hand with her detestable superior while being framed as his lover in front of the king, this was her reality.

　　Of course, being a sharp and resourceful adjutant, she didn’t say that aloud. Instead, she looked at Curtis with a carefully crafted expression of distress. "Your Highness…"

　　Curtis was smiling at her, but his eyes were cold as ice. He gave a suave, almost imperceptible nod. To anyone else, he must have looked impossibly dashing—the splendid uniform, the handsome face, the sudden warmth on features that were usually so frigid.

　　But to Chloe, it was a simple, brutal message.

　　You’d better answer with caution.

　　It was nothing less than a threat wrapped in a smile.

　　God, the temptation is exquisite. Chloe hesitated, a wicked thought flashing through her mind. One simple phrase—That’s not true—and Curtis Sean Berk, the man who’d run her ragged on the training grounds just this afternoon, would be utterly screwed.

　　But the moment stretched no further.

　　"Warrant Officer Amboise, can you not answer me?" the King pressed, his voice sharp.

　　The scene felt unnervingly familiar. A distant part of her recalled being rushed in much the same way by the official who’d shoved the appointment papers under her nose. Damn it, she thought, a familiar regret surfacing. You don’t negotiate after you’ve already paid the price. It had only been three months since she’d lamented signing that contract without thinking it through.

　　But what choice did she have? She was a proud soldier of Ivanes, but not brave enough to ask the King of Ivanes to please hold while I consult my commanding officer.

　　Swallowing hard, she finally spoke.

　　"Your Majesty, I must first ask for your generous understanding," she began, her voice trembling with practiced emotion. "I was momentarily hesitant, simply overwhelmed that someone of my humble station would be in a position to answer you at all."

　　"Cut the theatrics. Is it true?" the King demanded.

　　As he spoke, the hand holding hers tightened its grip. It was a firm, painful squeeze—a clear warning.

　　Chloe risked a glance at Curtis. To an onlooker, it might have seemed like the adoring gaze of a lover. But the look he returned was pure murder. She arched a single, defiant eyebrow at him before turning back to the King.

　　"…It is true. I recently received a proposal of marriage from His Highness, Brigadier General Curtis Sean Berk."

　　A vein pulsed on the King’s forehead as gasps of "Oh my!" and "Good heavens!" rippled through the assembled nobles.

　　Chloe pressed on, her voice laced with false humility.

　　"However, the House of Amboise’s only distinction is a first-class order of merit from three generations past. As our stations are hardly a match, I… I initially refused His Highness, the Grand Duke."

　　"Warrant Officer," Curtis ground out, the sound of his teeth grating together sharp enough to cut glass.

　　The King, however, straightened up, looking triumphant.

　　"Setting aside whether those absurd lies are true, you heard her, Grand Duke!"

　　His victory was short-lived. A soft sob cut through the tension.

　　The King’s eyes widened. A sob? A whimper? He turned toward the sound, and his jaw dropped. Curtis’s aide was dabbing at her eyes, gazing up at the Grand Duke with a tear-streaked face.

　　But the true spectacle was yet to come. The pink-eyed woman buried her face in Curtis’s arm.

　　"How could you force my hand in front of His Majesty like this… darling!"

　　Darling.

　　The word was so unthinkable, so utterly alien when directed at Curtis Sean Berk, that for a moment, every noble in the room shared the King’s profound state of shock.

　　"I’m so moved!" Chloe cried out, her voice ringing with feigned ecstasy.

　　"Yes! Let’s get married!"

　　The declaration was so staggering that the King, and nearly everyone else present, could have sworn their ears were playing tricks on them. Naturally, the scandal sent Ivanes’ high society into an absolute tailspin.

* * *

　　Night had fallen, the hour well past midnight.

　　"We need to talk."

　　The four words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken threats. As soon as the banquet ended, they had marched in weary silence to his office in the Royal Guard building.

　　It was a space with a dignity befitting the Grand Duke of Berk. A celestial scene unfolded across the vast ceiling, and the walls were paneled in rich silk. The desk, carved from ancient oak, featured a decorative, high-relief arch in a style at least three decades old. Its craftsmanship screamed its expense. The rest of the room was filled with antique furniture, arranged with tasteful and meticulous care.

　　Anyone entering for the first time would have been awestruck by the room’s refined elegance. But to Chloe, who had been stationed here for three long months, it was nothing more than her overtime prison—a place so dreadfully familiar it made her skin crawl. The beautiful desk, the priceless furniture, the plush chairs… they were all just instruments of torture for late-night work.

　　And the culprit behind her misery plopped down at that magnificent desk the moment they entered.

　　Chloe strode forward, unpinned the brooch from her collar, and held it out to him.

　　"Hm." Curtis’s brow furrowed as he recognized it. With that single, thoughtlessly given brooch, Chloe had brought the day’s chaos to a perfect, infuriating conclusion.

　　How, exactly?

　　Well, despite her award-winning performance, the King had still been apoplectic, refusing to believe they were lovers.

　　"Warrant Officer Amboise," he had thundered, "are you aware that lying before your King is tantamount to treason? If you two intended to marry, why was it kept a secret?!"

　　But Chloe was, as always, a clever and quick-witted adjutant. Instead of confessing, she had simply fumbled with the front of her uniform, removing something small and brilliant.