RAMHM Chapter 34

Who's Seducing Whom

Early morning. Rhodness's palace was just as busy. Their master was taking the unprecedented step of attending the Crown Prince's birthday celebration two days in a row—celebrations he hadn't attended in years.

Rhodness stood with his brow deeply furrowed, agonizing over several jackets laid on the bed. He'd bathed without any separate bathing attendance and stood wearing only a roughly wrapped towel. Rhodness's back, packed tight with muscle, still held moisture and gleamed in the sunlight. Neil, who'd burst into the Prince's bedroom looking for new clothes, naturally frowned.

"You have plenty of fancy clothes, Your Highness. Just because you don't wear them..."

"Pick the fanciest, best-looking one."

Rhodness, stopping his deliberation, stretched himself long across a couch sofa far too small for his frame.

"You should have attendants do this kind of thing. The attendants in the Second Prince's palace must be happy. All these high-skilled people doing work they should be doing."

"Shut up and just pick one."

"Well, I do have an aesthetic eye."

Neil, who boasted the best aesthetic sense within the Imperial Second Knight Order teeming with dark men, grinned and winked one eye. His lord truly was picture-perfect in anything.

'If only he'd keep his mouth shut.'

"But don't you normally just wear whatever attendants put on you? Why call me here this early... attending the birthday celebration two days in a row... other imperial family members won't even all attend. It's not even a date. Are you truly thinking of finding a bride?"

Finding his own thought amusing, Neil chuckled as he looked forward to dressing up Rhodness, who was suddenly concerned with appearance.

"A date... well, something like that."

"...Pardon?"

Watching Rhodness twist his lips in a smile, Neil got goosebumps.

"A... what?"

"I'm dating Countess Acacia, so make me as fancy as possible."

"Good heavens!"

Neil, nearly throwing the jacket, strode with blazing eyes toward Rhodness lying like a statue.

"In the end! In the end! You're getting entangled like this? Even if this country has somewhat dissolute corners! Even if everyone chatters that Your Highness stands at that pinnacle! Even if the Grand Duke Trovika is only a half-uncle! He's still your uncle! How can you, with that mistress...!"

As Neil shouted in a low voice, clutching a crimson jacket and hopping about, Rhodness, who'd been half-listening to the nagging with slitted eyes, suddenly sat up and grabbed it.

"Are you listening to me?"

As if he absolutely wouldn't hand over the jacket, Neil gripped it tight. Rhodness, wearing a languid smile he never showed Neil normally, easily snatched it away. Did men on dates smile like that?

'This atmosphere—surely not...?'

"...It's not a date, is it?"

With no excitement on Rhodness's face, only a relaxed smile flowing, Neil, calming momentarily, opened his mouth.

"A honey trap...?"

"Now you're thinking like someone who can do work. If you'd chattered one more time..."

"My skull would've been planted in the ground. Or my shin bone snapped in two."

Neil, face flushed, brought over a shirt scattered on the bed and offered it. Rhodness accepted his attendance without comment and threaded his long arms through the shirt. As his perpetually angry back muscles rippled, Neil, involuntarily swallowing, stared blankly at Rhodness's wet golden hair still dripping water.

"That face isn't there for you to look at."

"A-a honey trap—what are you planning with that lady?"

"Since she's coming at me that way, I'm just striking first."

When his reluctance to explain in detail expressed itself through his crumpled brow, Neil caught on like a ghost.

"That lying lady tried to seduce Your Highness!"

To dare try to entice the wastrel prince who spouted nonsense about women all looking the same! Neil, muttering alone, clenched his fist dramatically and didn't extend the jacket to Rhodness reaching out his hand.

"?"

"Your Highness."

"What."

"Your Highness actually looks best wearing nothing."

"?"

Neil, setting the jacket carefully on the couch with a heated face, quickly unbuttoned the shirt buttoned to the top and spread the collar wide on both sides. Snap!

"Perfect!"

The less he wore, the more beautiful the man. That was the Imperial family's greatest rake, Rhodness Casmir de Ronteaux.

"Your Highness?"

Rhodness came to his senses, thinking about the morning's situation. Bliea, her luxuriant black hair half-twisted up, was looking at him. Contrary to expectation, the noblewoman's outfit, while not modest, wasn't the kind meant to deliberately seduce someone.

"Are you uncomfortable somewhere?"

"You're beautiful."

When he stared and spoke out of nowhere, Bliea's eyes widened round before she smiled.

"I put some effort in today. Even if we're playing lovers, you have your dignity too. And it's still debutante season..."

When he said someone was beautiful, most women rapidly flushed and grew shy. If he spoke to them then, one hundred out of one hundred would babble incoherently, spilling information freely without even knowing they'd spoken, their wits that scattered. But this woman, while bashful, seemed to regard the compliment as if it weren't for her—composed, even somewhat dignified.

"You don't need to think about my dignity. As you know, my reputation in the Empire isn't particularly good."

"So I've heard. But since your prestige is equally high, I think just a tiny bit of image management might be necessary."

Ha.

'So I've heard?'

Was she picking a fight? But Bliea's face was far too calm, her tone as if offering him advice.

"I have no intention of managing my image."

"?"

"It means I won't be choosy about methods to gain the title of 'newly starting lovers.'"

Newly starting lovers. Those words made me realize Rhodness was far more serious about this performance than I'd thought.

The word "lovers" flowing from his lips strangely parched my throat tight. When the conversation didn't continue further, his outfit naturally caught my eye.

The Crown Prince's birthday celebration lasted three full days—on the first day, all the capital's nobles and imperial family attended together; on the second day, imperial family members mostly skipped it. Naturally on the first day, everyone came in perfect attire bordering on excessive. Not a single hair out of place, in somewhat classical styles.

On the second day, people came in slightly freer, more fashionable styles—I didn't know men's clothes well, but I had the sense that even so, no one would be as freewheeling in their dress as Rhodness.

His unbuttoned shirt kept drawing my eyes. His jacket lay carelessly abandoned in one corner of the carriage, neglected by its owner, and his cravat was nowhere to be seen. Because of his broad shoulders, between the gaping shirt, his hollowed collarbones pulled the gaze. Even trying to turn my eyes elsewhere—the presence was tremendous. The white shirt he wore was crisply pressed without a single wrinkle, but it pulled slightly taut to fit his frame.

Is that why it feels stuffy?

Because the clothes are small for his solid body? As I seriously studied the gaping shirt, thinking hard, I felt a piercing gaze.

Ah!

I'd stared too openly at a man's bare skin. Feeling my face heat crimson, I glanced up at him. Our eyes met precisely—bright red eyes. The lips that had held a thin smile like a scentless silk flower stretched slightly longer. His eyebrow twitching faintly, he smoothly swept back disheveled hair and slowly buttoned his shirt.

"...?"

One corner of his mouth lifted slightly—the smile of a satiated predator after a satisfying meal. As if—as if he'd achieved his purpose...

...What purpose?

When the carriage stopped, the thoughts pouring out chaotically halted simultaneously. Rhodness, having somehow thrown on his cravat and jacket haphazardly, had already descended from the carriage and was extending his hand.

The moment he descended, a small commotion arose around us. Reactions close to low screams. Outside was now covered in complete darkness, but Atilchard Hall's entrance sparkled romantically with glittering lights and decorations.

"Shall we go, my lady?"

The hand he extended was far too large for me—thick-jointed, long, beautiful. I grasped that hand with slightly trembling fingers. Through the thin gloves touching, I could feel his callused, rough palm directly.

But simultaneously my head went a bit white. The heat felt in the hand pressing down intimately, not a polite courtesy grasp—it was so hot it felt like my hand might melt richly away.

Atilchard Hall already teemed with people. The moment we entered the entrance, after a brief silence, the hall grew noisy again. But even within that, there existed people whose eyes shone particularly bright watching us.

"Baroness Giusetta seems quite interested in us."

"That lady with scarlet hair is Baroness Giusetta?"

"Nora Giusetta. She's also an attendant to Her Highness the Crown Princess."

Only then did I realize why she'd shown such keen interest in me after I'd been summoned by Doris yesterday. The moment Rhodness finished speaking, her eyes met mine again. I reflexively smiled. As if she hadn't expected me to do so, she let out an awkward smile and turned her head back to her group.

"Is there another reason you wanted to attend the party? Besides showing yourself to Novian Trovika."

Where he gestured slightly with his chin stood a very familiar person in a corner.

"Why is he...?"

It was Sir Jimskehr, Novian's aide-de-camp.

"Just because he doesn't attend doesn't mean he doesn't keep eyes here."

"I didn't expect Sir Jimskehr to be here."

"The plan to appear side by side in gossip papers and grate on the Grand Duke's nerves is quite clever and gutsy, but I see no need to go roundabout."

"What do you mean...?"

"Sometimes showing him right before his eyes isn't bad either."

As soon as he finished speaking, Rhodness stopped a passing attendant carrying a tray full of champagne glasses with one finger. He'd stopped one attendant—but the gazes of all surrounding nobles concentrated on his fingertip.

"Let's drink. To our romance."

"!"

Ignoring the pouring gazes, Rhodness ostentatiously clinked the champagne glass he'd pressed into my hand against his own. With the hand that had been escorting me, he naturally pulled my arm close and intertwined our arms—drinking in a posture you'd only use in private settings.

I couldn't properly drink the foam-crowned, gently swaying liquor at his sudden action, barely touching my lips to the glass. In contrast, Rhodness, emptying his glass in one gulp, swept back his gleaming golden hair and enjoyed the low sighs of onlookers.

And within the crowd gradually pressing in, a low voice audible only to me flowed from his lengthened lips.

"It's only just beginning..."

Rhodness powerfully gripped my shoulder, protecting me from an attendant hurrying past. Before I could be startled by the hot warmth, hot breath touched my ear.

"...You mustn't stiffen up like this."

His lips were clearly several finger-widths away—yet a tingling sensation like he'd pressed them against my ear traced down my spine.