Chapter 2
Chloe had started her career in the navy—the Ivanes Kingdom’s infamous collection of weaklings. The reason for that reputation was so well-known it needed no explanation. The point was, unlike the army, the navy was a gathering of losers.
But three months ago, a peculiar notice was posted in the Navy.
Recruiting volunteers for the Kingdom Army’s Royal Guard. Direct report to Curtis Sean Berk. Limited to ranks of Warrant Officer to First Lieutenant.
It was a post recruiting a direct subordinate for the hero of the Royal Army, Curtis Sean Berk.
Everyone stared in disbelief.
Grand Duke Berk. The King’s half-brother. Effectively the man closest to the throne, excluding the King and the Prince, should an emergency arise.
His face, inherited from the late queen who had captivated the former king at first sight, and his magnificent physique were objects of admiration for all. He was also a war hero who had won decisive victories in three separate border disputes.
So why on earth was his adjutant being recruited from the Navy? And there were other conditions.
Quarterly incentive of 400% of base pay upon appointment.
At this point, it was suspicious beyond measure.
“Sounds like a cannon fodder position.”
“It’s probably a scam. You show up, and next thing you know, you’re on a shrimping boat.”
But one person was tempted: twenty-six-year-old Chloe Amboise.
At the tender age of eighteen, she had volunteered for the ramshackle Ivanes navy. She was the legendary officer who had exasperated her peers by stating that her sole reason for enlisting was “for the steady paycheck.” A 400 percent quarterly bonus was 160,000 Sings—enough to feed a family of six for three months.
There’s no reason not to go, she had thought at the time.
Now, Chloe Amboise had something she desperately wanted to tell her past self. “Chloe, my dear girl. That was the price of your life…”
“Excuse me?” Second Lieutenant Noel, standing beside her, blinked.
Startled, Chloe waved her hands dismissively. “Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself.”
“I see,” Noel said with a gentle smile. “His Highness the Grand Duke will be out shortly.”
Embarrassed, Chloe clasped her hands behind her back and straightened her posture. They were in the courtyard of Curtis Sean Berk’s residence as the late afternoon sun began to set. She had arrived long before the appointed time, terrified of the retaliation she might face for being even a minute late. Noel, one of Curtis’s closest aides, stood with her.
“The Berk residence is exquisite at sunset,” he offered. “Please, feel free to enjoy the view until His Highness arrives.”
“Ah, yes…”
The magnificent Berk residence was renowned throughout the capital for its beauty. With its white, noble exterior, added to the story that a tragic queen once resided there, it was a place that made onlookers marvel.
But even such a Berk residence failed to inspire any emotion in Chloe right now. What good is a beautiful workplace to the eyes of someone working on their day off?
It was my day off!
It was hard to say if this was good luck or bad. Working on a day off typically meant earning 150 percent of her usual pay, a fact that appealed to Chloe’s inner miser. But the human part of her, Chloe Amboise, desperately wanted to refuse. Hadn’t she just endured her third sleepless night?
Beside her, Noel clicked his tongue. “So, he intends to take you to the banquet after all, Warrant Officer Amboise.”
Chloe tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
“…Did His Highness not tell you anything?” Noel hesitated.
Chloe blinked. “…Is there something I should know?”
“No, it’s nothing.” He shook his head.
Something felt off, but Chloe decided not to press him. If it were truly important, Noel would have told her. In her three months here, she had found him to be kind, straightforward, and an excellent communicator. Moreover, while he couldn’t compare to the kingdom-renowned beauty of Curtis, Noel was quite handsome in his own right. At first, she had nearly mistaken his kindness for something more. But after getting to know Curtis, she understood. Noel’s kindness was born of the sympathetic bond shared by those who suffer under the same bastard of a boss.
Since Noel had clammed up, it must be something she didn’t need to know. She had learned in the navy that it was best not to pry.
“Do you know what tonight’s banquet is for?” Noel asked.
“Only that it’s a preliminary event before the diplomatic function with Glintland.”
“Ah. Well, it’s actually something of a pre-matchmaking party for His Highness’s marriage.”
“…Who’s doing what now?” Chloe stared up at him, her eyes wide with disbelief.
Looking down into her doubtful pink eyes, Noel offered a smile that seemed to say, I knew you’d react that way. “It means His Highness will soon be meeting with the Duchess of Glintland as a potential bride.”
“Judging by her title, she must be Glintland royalty. She can’t be wanting for anything, can she? I don’t know who she is, but does she really have to go through with this?” Chloe’s voice was laced with pity for the foreign duchess she’d never met.
Noel replied softly, “She’s not exactly in a position to want for nothing.”
“Is she being blackmailed?”
“Not exactly. In fact, you could say it’s our Highness who’s been caught.”
“That man… my apologies. His Highness?” The idea of the great Curtis Sean Berk having a weakness was so unheard of that the words slipped out before she could stop them.
Noel graciously overlooked the former navy officer’s slip of the tongue. His gentle character had earned him a rare, esteemed reputation in the army, and he was well aware of the revolving door of aides who had served his friend.
“Well, in the end, it’s about his bloodline.”
“Wow,” Chloe said, unimpressed. Whatever that weakness was, she wouldn’t mind getting her hands on it herself.
Just then, a dazzling figure emerged from under the mansion’s facade, attended by a retinue of servants. A magnificent mansion under a brilliant blue sky, and a radiant man walking out from it, his blond hair catching the light like spun gold. It was Curtis.
“Speak of the devil, His Highness has arrived,” Noel murmured.
“Ugh,” Chloe groaned, sticking out her tongue.
Noel chuckled. “‘Ugh’? Chloe, what on earth do you see His Highness as?”
“Let’s see. A vending machine for disciplinary action?”
“A vending machine? Like that new contraption they installed in the capital’s fountain square? You put in a magic stone, press a button, and punishment comes out?”
Noel seemed to think she was joking, but Chloe was dead serious. The beverage vending machine in the capital was sparkly and pretty, designed to catch the eye. So was this man.
A handsome figure with neatly swept-back blond hair and piercing violet eyes. His broad, masculine shoulders and the navy blue Royal Guard uniform draped over them were striking enough to command any room. Not to mention the long, powerful legs extending from beneath his jacket. His posture was firm and straight, the very picture of a disciplined Royal Guard officer.
He wore the same uniform as her, yet the effect was so different it was almost comical. The epitome of “same outfit, different aura.”
Back in the Navy, my buddies used to tell me I looked like a sewer rat, she recalled.
It was mostly because Chloe’s dark blue hair and navy uniform blended together into a single, murky shade. Her superior, however, was devastatingly beautiful.
For Chloe, unfortunately, that fact was utterly useless.
Did push-ups feel any less grueling just because the commanding officer had a pretty face? Did overtime decrease because the boss was handsome?
Absolutely not.
He was nothing more than a handsome discipline vending machine that dispensed punishment at the press of a button. To Chloe, that was all Curtis Sean Berk was.
“Warrant Officer Amboise! If you’re here, get over here now! Are you crawling?” The fiery command erupted from the discipline vending machine, right on cue.
The nerve. No greeting, just a scolding. But Chloe was a soldier, and she did as she was told.
“Yes, sir! My apologies!” she yelled, breaking into a run.
“Running with no dignity whatsoever.” That was Curtis’s assessment as she panted to a halt before him. He frowned, his gaze sweeping over her.
Her heart sank. What now?
“What is the meaning of this uniform? Didn’t they teach you how to press your clothes in the navy?”
“My apologies, sir. It must have gotten wrinkled when I rushed over.”
“And where are your standard-issue ceremonial decorations?”
“Sir?” she asked blankly, then cursed herself. She vaguely remembered receiving a box of pins and braids with her uniform three months ago. She’d heard they were for major events and had promptly stashed them away. Apparently, today was one of those days.
Dammit, a navy vet wouldn’t know that! Coming from a branch with virtually no ceremony, the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. Besides, Curtis ran the Royal Guard so ragged under the pretext of “lacking discipline” that no one wore cumbersome decorations. She hadn’t given them a second thought in three months. He could have told me!
But she couldn’t say that to his face. Foreseeing another round of punishment after the banquet, she replied, “My apologies. I will correct it.”
To her surprise, Curtis did something completely unexpected. “Tsk.” He clicked his tongue and unpinned a decorative badge from his own jacket. It was a luxurious piece of silver and red jewels, clearly not standard issue. “Wear this, at least. It won’t do for my adjutant to look a mess at a royal function.”
And that wasn’t all. He actually pinned the decoration to her collar with his own hands.
Chloe’s eyes widened. Up close, she could see the Grand Duke’s crest delicately engraved within the jewel. It was his personal property. She gasped. “My apologies, sir!” Isn’t this incredibly expensive? she thought, flustered, as she stared down at it.
He’s personally adjusting my uniform? Brigadier General Berk? The shock was twofold, because Curtis was a notorious neat freak. For him to touch a stranger’s clothing was practically unheard of. Could it be… that he actually cares about me? Or did he get shot in the head?
Unaware of her inner turmoil, Curtis clicked his tongue again. “Like pearls on a swine.”
Nope, not shot in the head. With that single remark, any fledgling hope of affection was utterly obliterated. But it seemed he intended to leave the pearls on the swine, because he didn’t take the badge back. As his butler hurried over to attach another ceremonial pin to Curtis’s jacket, Chloe fiddled with her collar, muttering a hollow prayer.
Discharge. Discharge is my only salvation. Dear God, please just let me be discharged.
But her prayers went unanswered. The carriage departed, carrying an off-duty Chloe and the superior she wanted to beat to a pulp toward their shared fate.
* * *