Chapter 1

Chapter 1

 

A GREAT CROWD WAS GATHERED in the imperial capital’s finest theater, hearts swelling with anticipation for tonight’s performance. In a lobby past the VIP entrance, nobles mingled in fine dress, exchanging social pleasantries before the show. The atmosphere in the lobby was relaxed, but there was a faint ripple of excitement in the air—until all eyes turned to the newest arrivals.

“Rishe, your hand.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Rishe took Arnold’s hand at his urging. When she did, she sensed the amicable chatter of the lobby shift. Her ears picked up all sorts of gasps and murmurs.

Well, yes, I suppose they would be surprised…

The nobles scrutinized Rishe, all dressed up for the theater, and then Arnold beside her. Wearing formal attire with black gloves and a red cloak, Arnold appeared as if he’d rather be anywhere but here.

For the royalty and nobility, the theater was a social venue. But from what Rishe heard, Arnold had never so much as shown his face at a party before Rishe’s arrival—including events at the imperial palace. The nobles must’ve been quite shocked to see the antisocial prince escorting a lady to the theater.

I only just mentioned the theater, and he was able to get seats in a matter of days?

As she walked across the red carpet, Rishe thought back to a few days before.

It was less than a month until their wedding now, and the preparations were picking up fast. Having borrowed Arnold’s office to go over some things with Oliver, Rishe had spontaneously let slip a wish: “They’re showing an opera in the imperial capital’s theater? Oh, I’d love to go…”

She hadn’t even intended to be heard, but Arnold lifted his head from the documents at his desk as the words left her lips. She’d looked up from her own work in response.

He said, “Very well. Give me some time.”

“Huh?”

“Oliver.”

“Of course. As you wish, my lord.”

Rishe had merely blinked, thinking, Surely not. Yet just a few days later, they had secured seats for the opera.

I understand how His Highness works so quickly now… Once he makes a decision, he acts on it without a moment’s delay.

One peek at Arnold’s profile revealed his immense displeasure. He must have found all the attention irritating. When he noticed Rishe’s gaze, however, his severe expression suddenly softened. He remained silent and stoic, but there was a look of tranquility in his eyes. Arnold reached out with his free hand and touched Rishe’s earring.

“Eep!”

“Your hair’s getting caught in this thin chain,” he said, gently running a finger over the earring chain before tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. The sensation tickled her even though it was dulled by his gloves.

The surrounding nobles reacted as if they’d witnessed something they shouldn’t have, and the buzz in the lobby grew louder. It all felt oddly embarrassing to Rishe.

“Thank you, Your Highness…”

“Mm.”

Rishe’s cheeks were flushed, but Arnold was as unflappable as ever. The two of them climbed a staircase to the upper level, hand in hand, when someone called out to them.

“Prince Arnold! Lady Rishe!”

They turned in unison to face a tall man with cropped brown hair and a stick-straight posture. He was clad in the uniform of Galkhein’s knights.

“Rudolf Gert Gutheil, at your service.”

Rishe stiffened at the name. She could only hope that Arnold hadn’t noticed.

“I appreciate you appointing me for your security for today. I will work with your Imperial Guard to ensure the safety of this floor.”

“I’ve reserved the entire top level, so you’re not to allow a single person entry. No exceptions will be made, noble or otherwise.”

“Yes, Your Highness. As you command.”

Their exchange finished, Rishe curtsied to the man who’d introduced himself as Gutheil. “Thank you, Sir Gutheil.”

“I will put my very life on the line so you may enjoy tonight’s performance with no interruptions.” Gutheil delivered the somewhat overblown line without a hint of insincerity. There was a firm will in his almond-shaped eyes, and Rishe knew he was both a skilled swordsman and a talented commander on the battlefield.

This man will be Prince Arnold’s direct subordinate in the future, a key figure in his world conquest.

Rishe didn’t allow her misgivings to show on her face, of course. She let Arnold escort her to the top floor. It was unlikely that anyone noticed Rishe’s wariness of their appointed guard tonight.

 

---

 

Emperor Arnold Hein had five retainers who answered directly to him on the battlefield. Whenever Arnold wasn’t there, they carried out his orders and delivered him whatever victories he requested in the war. It was thanks to the support of these five knights that Arnold was able to conquer the world in such a short time. One of them was Rudolf Gert Gutheil, who had introduced himself to Rishe and Arnold as their guard for the evening.

I never imagined I’d meet him here…

Rishe sat in the royal box seat on the fourth floor of the theater and cast her gaze down. The red velour seating was fluffy, with cushions here and there throughout the box. It was couch seating, not individual seats, so she sat beside Arnold. There was plenty of room in the box, but she found herself easing into a spot where she would be shoulder to shoulder with him.

She flipped through the program, pretending to read it. None of Prince Arnold’s future retainers currently serve him. I thought I still had time before I needed to keep an eye on them.

Rishe lowered the program and said, “May I ask how Sir Gutheil came to be our security for this evening, Prince Arnold? I noticed there were many who are not of your Imperial Guard among the forces stationed in the hall.”

Arnold stared at her in surprise.

“Your Highness?”

“There are some fifty knights in my Imperial Guard. There must be ones you haven’t spoken to yet. You don’t mean to say you’ve memorized all their faces, do you?”

“Hmm? Of course I did. The Imperial Guard are the retainers you’ve personally acknowledged, are they not?”

The Imperial Guard were knights Arnold had chosen to report to him. Rishe knew that, despite appearances, Arnold cared a great deal for his subordinates. As his future empress, she would never forget their names or faces, even if she’d only met them once before.

His expression tender, Arnold replied, “My Imperial Guard are somewhat short-staffed now that I’ve sent a number of them to Coyolles. As such, I decided it was time to expand their scale.”

“You’re choosing new Imperial Guards, then…”

She was getting a bad feeling about this. Arnold’s Imperial Guard currently numbered fifty, but even in a small nation like Hermity, it was normal for a force of a hundred or more to protect the crown prince.

Fifty Imperial Guards are simply too few for a huge country like Galkhein, much less one with such a military focus. I understand that, but I have no way of knowing whether that’s the only reason behind this. In all my past lives, Prince Arnold killed his own father two years from now and became the emperor… I’m sure the forces he used to achieve it were his Imperial Guards.

Ergo, Arnold’s “expanding the scale” of his Imperial Guards might have been a necessary step toward his future war.

I’ll have to gather more information while preparing for the wedding.

Now was not the time to be thinking about this, however. Arnold was sure to be suspicious if she appeared too fixated on the matter, so she schooled her expression and traced over the names on the program.

“I didn’t know Sylvia was the star of tonight’s show. It’s been so long since I’ve heard her sing! I’m really looking forward to this.”

“You’ve seen the leading lady perform before?”

“Yes. It was, um…” She paused for a moment to make sure she wasn’t getting any of her past-life memories confused. “…with my previous fiancé, Prince Dietrich!”

Arnold fell silent.

“It should be a different show tonight, but she was the prima donna in that production as well. Her voice was so clear and powerful, it really moved me.”

Still the prince said nothing.

“Even Prince Dietrich enjoyed it. He would always get bored in the middle of any other shows.”

Once she finished speaking, Arnold’s gaze dropped.

Will he enjoy the opera? Rishe wondered as she flipped back to the previous page in the program. He doesn’t seem very interested, but he said this was his first time attending an opera. I think he should at least experience it before he makes a decision, rather than writing it off without trying it.

Something occurred to Rishe then. “Do you have any questions about opera, Your Highness? If I’m able to answer, I—”

A heavy weight settled on her, and she gasped. Huh?!

As she blinked in surprise, Arnold laid his head on her shoulder. He had reclined against the backrest and was looking down at his own program languidly, snuggled against Rishe. His elbow rested on a cushion between them, and he had put most of his weight on it, so he wasn’t terribly heavy. But she could definitely feel a weight—his weight—on her shoulder.

Heat suffused Rishe’s cheeks. Somehow, it wasn’t just their bodies that were close but their hearts as well. “Um, Your Highness…?” she whispered. They were in the theater, after all. They couldn’t make too much noise.

“What is it?” Arnold’s tone was the same as ever. He spoke as if he’d always sat this way, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Yet there was also a certain listlessness to his voice.

Her heart pounding, Rishe gazed down at Arnold and asked him, “Are…are you sleepy?”

Arnold’s eyes flicked toward her. Rishe normally had to crane her neck to look at him; it was her first time seeing him from this angle. Her heart throbbed as she stared down into his beautiful, sea-blue eyes.

“That’s not it.”

Then what is it?

Paying no mind to Rishe’s bewilderment, Arnold said to her, “You’ll answer my questions, won’t you?”

Of course, but why in this position?! she thought, but she didn’t have the courage to ask out loud. She was certain that Arnold had noticed both her surprise and her flushed cheeks. In fact, he looked like the cat that got the cream as he observed her from his current position. Still, he made no move except to study his program again.

“What is an opera, anyway?”

“Erm…”

Arnold’s breath tickled her ear. Did his voice sound deeper than usual because of the theater’s acoustics? Her pulse quickened at the sound. As she’d been asked a question, however, she intended to answer it in good faith.

“In theater, the story is only told through acting. In opera, the performers also sing.”

“Huh,” Arnold grunted. He shifted, and Rishe heard the rustling of his hair. She could feel his body heat on her shoulder, which just reminded her of their closeness.

Arnold peeled off one of his black gloves. The movement was slow and somehow picturesque. Rishe gulped, watching him. His large, bare hand slunk to Rishe’s lap and flipped the pages of the program resting there.

“Do you like this particular show?”

“W-well…this troupe doesn’t publicize the contents of the show beforehand. Not knowing the story until it begins is part of the appeal.” Rishe remembered Dietrich complaining about that. The memory rose to mind at the exact same time Arnold’s eyes slid toward hers again.

“What kind of stories have you seen before?”

He must have wanted to guess tonight’s show. Rishe met his gaze and took a deep breath to calm herself.

“One was about a wedding in a world with magic. A princess had a political marriage, and the story told of a vow they would share in the form of a kiss…”

She trailed off, staring into Arnold’s blue eyes. The candlelight from their box seat danced on his long lashes, casting shadows over his pale cheeks. Even in the dim lighting, his eyes called to mind gemstones.

Unable to tear her gaze away from his, Rishe thought, Wait. Marriage rites?

In less than a month, Rishe would be married to Arnold. She knew that, of course, and she was busy getting ready for the event each day. The details of the ceremony were quite similar to those in Rishe’s homeland. Thus, she’d only briefly scanned the itinerary and instead prioritized preventing Arnold’s war.

At that moment, however, Rishe became newly aware of one fact.

Exchanging a kiss in a wedding ceremony… Won’t we be doing that as well?

“…Rishe?” She had frozen in place, and Arnold’s gaze turned dubious.

In Galkhein’s wedding ceremony, the bride and groom say their vows in front of the goddess and become husband and wife… In the palace chapel, they exchange vows, and then…

They kissed.

Rishe blinked, registering the fact anew. A vow in the form of a kiss? Between Prince Arnold and me? In front of all the guests attending our wedding?

“Hey. What’s wrong?” Arnold sat up and studied her face.

She’d been freed from the weight on her shoulder, but they were still close. And because their faces were but a hair’s breadth apart, she was vividly reminded of an incident two months ago: Theodore had called Rishe to the chapel, and she and Arnold had spoken there. After that, he had taken her chin in his hand and kissed her.

“Hngh…”

Her already hot face burned even hotter. Rishe shoved the moment to the back of her mind. She knew there must have been some reason Arnold did it. But puzzling it out overwhelmed her, so she’d avoided it altogether.

“What? Don’t tell me you have a fever.”

“Y-Your Highness, I…!”

Arnold reached out to touch her forehead. Rishe grabbed his hand and brought it down to her lap. She squeezed it between her own hands. It didn’t change the fact that they were touching now, but initiating it herself was much better for her heart than letting Arnold touch her at will.

“I’m fine… Nothing’s wrong…”

Arnold was frowning, a complex expression on his face. He was a swordsman, so he probably hated having his hands bound. Rishe was sorry to make him uncomfortable, but she really didn’t want him to touch her any further. She was sure she would cry if she thought about that kiss again when they were this close.

A bell rang, signaling the start of the performance. Rishe did her best to act like nothing happened and put on a brave face. “I-It’s starting!”

“…”

The theater staff extinguished the lamps here and there among the seats. As the venue dimmed, the buzz of the crowd rose in anticipation. A moment later, silence fell as if on cue. But while this silence normally excited Rishe, right now it was just another inconvenience.

Prince Arnold will be able to hear my heart pounding!

Although the opera was about to begin, she couldn’t even concentrate on the stage. She wanted to see Arnold’s expression, but she didn’t have the courage to meet his gaze. As her thoughts spun, the thick red curtain went up.

A lone woman stood on the stage, illuminated by a chandelier. Rishe and Arnold were up on the fourth floor, so they couldn’t see her face without opera glasses. Still, the woman resembled a blooming flower. Her bewitching beauty was obvious even at this distance. Her long, glossy hair was almost crimson, her dress a vibrant red. She sauntered forward, slowly extending an arm.

At that moment, Rishe noticed something strange. Arnold seemed to have sensed the same thing. Rishe shook off her confusion and focused on the diva.

Something’s wrong…

Just when Rishe picked up some opera glasses to get a closer look…

“Ah!”

Sylvia collapsed.

Rishe leapt to her feet and spun around. Arnold seemed to know exactly what she wished to ask without her saying anything. “You’re free to act as you wish.”

“Thank you, Your Highness!” Grateful to Arnold from the bottom of her heart, Rishe rushed out of the royal box. She pushed through the first of the double doors, then the second, emerging in the hall. An unfamiliar knight guarding the room let out a cry of surprise. Apologizing to him, Rishe looked down the hall.

I only sense knights on this floor and the lower one… There’s no time to run down the stairs!

Heading for the spiral staircase, she kicked off her shoes and jumped up onto the handrail, her dress fluttering behind her.

“Wha—?! Lady Rishe?!”

She ignored the knight’s voice as she sailed down the railing. In less than a minute, she arrived on the first floor, where her usual guards were stationed. Though they were surprised to see her, they were also accustomed to her behavior. They quickly got over their shock. “An emergency, Lady Rishe?! I will take your shoes. This way.”

“Thank you, Kamil! You as well, Dennis!” She pressed her shoes into the guard’s waiting hands and ran off, calling to them as she passed, “Please summon a doctor! Contact the theater staff and the opera troupe! Prince Arnold will have his own instructions, so someone please join him on the fourth floor!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Arnold’s Imperial Guards acted immediately. Parting with them, Rishe headed straight for the greenroom. Due to her habit of confirming the emergency exits in every new place, she’d already studied the theater’s floor plan from a map posted on one of the walls. Arnold had the same habit; their security detail had been startled when they both met in front of the stairs.

She arrived at the greenroom door, finding it deserted where she expected to see theater security posted.

“Sylvia! Sylvia, pull yourself together!”

“Pardon me!” Rishe said, and the pale faces of the opera troupe all turned to her. “I have some training as an apothecary. Please allow me to perform first aid until a doctor arrives!”

“Agh… Yes, please!” A panicked man quickly moved aside for Rishe.

Sylvia lay on the greenroom floor, her face white as a sheet even under the vibrant theatrical makeup.

“Miss Sylvia, please respond in some way if you can hear my voice.”

Sylvia’s face was creased with pain, but she managed a small nod.

She’s conscious and not bleeding, but her pulse is rapid. More than anything, her breathing was shallow.

As gently as she could so as not to distress the songstress further, Rishe asked, “Does your head hurt, Miss Sylvia? I’m going to touch your shoulders. Did you feel that on both sides?”

“Yes…I just…can’t breathe…”

“Got it. One moment.” Rishe grabbed a nearby shawl—supposedly a prop—and draped it over Sylvia. She reached behind Sylvia’s dress and loosened her corset, lifting her into a sitting position with the shawl covering her for modesty.

A member of the opera troupe stammered, “Sh-shouldn’t she lie down?”

“It’s easier to breathe in a sitting position than lying down. Well, depending on external wounds, of course. Does Miss Sylvia have any chronic conditions?”

“I don’t think so, but she hadn’t seemed well these last few days…”

Sylvia was breathing easier with Rishe supporting her upright.

“You’re all right. You’ll be all right. Breathe slowly, and just focus on staying comfortable as much as you can.” Rishe rubbed Sylvia’s shoulders. She seemed to have brought the songstress some relief; her quick, shallow breaths were gradually slowing.

Her life doesn’t seem to be in danger, and whatever this is, I don’t think it will cause lasting harm… That said, she’ll need to be treated someplace she can relax.

They weren’t far from the audience seats, so the murmuring of the crowd drifted into the room. Rishe couldn’t pick out individual voices, but surprise, confusion, and discontent were apparent at the curtain’s abrupt lowering. Those voices would only serve to worsen Sylvia’s condition.

It would take too long to bring her somewhere she can rest while we wait for the doctor to arrive, but I have no medicine or tools here to treat her with.

The door to the greenroom opened, and Rishe raised her head. “Prince Arnold.”

“Th-the prince?!” A commotion rose up around them.

Arnold’s eyes swept over the greenroom before settling on Rishe. “Entrust the patient to the knights. They’ll carry her to our carriage.”

“But what about the doctor?”

“You’ve examined her, haven’t you? If you’ve taken care of her preliminary treatment, it’ll be faster to bring her to a doctor than wait for one.”

Rishe nodded, sensing the trust in his voice. “We’ll have to ask the audience to remain in their seats. If even a tenth of them leave, we won’t be able to transport Miss Sylvia.”

“I’ve already asked my knights to instruct the audience to remain seated. They’ve also been ordered to restrict traffic on the street from here to the clinic.”

It was just like Arnold to make such quick judgments and act on them just as fast. He’d handled everything Rishe herself hadn’t had time to get to.

“Do we need to construct something to get her to the carriage?”

“No, that would take too long. It would be better to have someone carry her instead.”

“Understood.” Arnold turned to the hallway and ordered one of the knights there, “Move the patient to the carriage.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rishe balked at the knight who’d responded: It was Gutheil, Arnold’s future retainer, who strode into the room.

But why?

He shouldn’t have even been one of Arnold’s Imperial Guards at the moment. Who exactly was responsible for getting him so close to Arnold so quickly, and why?

Was it Prince Arnold who brought Sir Gutheil here? Does he already plan to make Sir Gutheil one of his Imperial Guard?

That meant Arnold was one step closer to killing his father and starting the war that would ravage the world.

As Rishe silently regarded the man, Gutheil crouched before Sylvia. “Pardon me, my lady… I hope you’ll forgive a boorish man like myself laying his hands on you.”

With that preface, Gutheil cradled Sylvia in his arms like she might break with the slightest jolt. He had her in a very stable hold that didn’t cause any undue suffering.

For now, Rishe left her to him and stood. “Take her to the carriage. My knights know where we’re going.”

“Understood. I’ll head there now.”

Rishe caught her breath and watched Gutheil leave. Part of her wanted to board the carriage as well, but she knew more people riding in it would only slow it down. Sylvia’s condition didn’t seem to require constant attention, and Rishe was sure that any doctor Arnold had arranged for would have reliable skills.

I should leave the rest to the knights.

Left behind in the room, Rishe felt the eyes of everyone present shifting to her and Arnold. A well-dressed, middle-aged man stepped up to Arnold and bowed to him, his expression stiff.

“Y-Your Highness…thank you so much for visiting our theater today. As the director of the venue, I must express my sincerest appreciation and apologies. I planned to visit you after the show, but for something like this to happen when you were here personally, I…”

“…”

“Er, please pardon the impertinent question, but this lovely maiden who was so kind as to attend to Sylvia? Might she be…?”

Grimacing, Arnold responded, “My wife,” without sparing so much as a glance at Rishe.

I’m not your wife yet! Rishe spluttered internally while the color drained from the director’s face.

“P-p-please forgive my rudeness!”

Everyone in the room hung their heads so fast, Rishe almost felt a gust of wind. She rushed to assuage their worries. “Please, think nothing of it! In fact, I appreciate you allowing me to perform first aid after bursting into the room completely unannounced.”

It was a crisis involving a popular diva, and a complete stranger barged onto the scene. It wouldn’t have been odd if they’d found her suspicious and thrown her out instead of letting her do first aid.

This exchange was of no interest to Arnold, who told the director, “Henceforth, you should have staff in place should anyone in the theater suddenly fall ill. Let’s go, Rishe. I can’t imagine they’ll put on the show without their star.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Rishe acquiesced, though she couldn’t get Gutheil out of her mind. It would be unnatural for me to ask after him for no particular reason. She padded to Arnold’s side before remembering that she wasn’t wearing any shoes.

Arnold noticed at the same moment. “Kamil.”

“Yes, sir. Lady Rishe, I have your footwear here.”

“Sorry about that. Thank you, Kami—”

Rishe reached out for the shoes, but Arnold snatched them first. In one fluid motion, he sat Rishe down in a nearby chair and knelt in front of her before she could even recover from her surprise.

“Y-Your Highness, please!”

No sooner than she yelped had Arnold slipped the first shoe onto her foot. He’d done it like it was completely natural, but this was an absurd turn of events. Arnold was kneeling on the floor, helping a woman into her shoes!

“Um, you don’t need to do that! I-I can put them on myself!”

“It’s fine. Stay still.”

“Ugh…”

The director, the performers, and all the knights in the hallway gaped at Arnold, but the crown prince paid them no mind.

“There,” he said when he was finished, standing and holding his hand out to Rishe.

“Thank you…” Rishe was dizzy with embarrassment and awkwardness, but she took his hand to stand, grateful all the same.

He’s always been rather lenient with me, but he seems almost sweet lately…or maybe coddling’s the word?

She curtsied to the opera troupe, who scrambled to return the gesture instead of just gawking at her. They headed into the hallway followed by four Imperial Guards. As Arnold escorted her, Rishe looked up at his profile. Why was Arnold so kind to her?

“Er, Your Highness—”

But before she could ask him, a disgruntled shout cut through the hallway: “Argh! I’m telling you to let me through!”

Down the hall, someone was arguing with Arnold’s knights.

“Again, there’s been an emergency! If you would please just understand—”

“It is precisely because it is an emergency that I must act! How could you not understand that?!”

Is someone from the audience trying to get outside? Their voice, though… Rishe felt a strange sensation coming over her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just…feel like that voice sounds very familiar…”

Rishe peered down the hall, and Arnold followed her gaze. The hallway curved to match the round shape of the stage, so they couldn’t see all the way to its end. But as they drew closer to the source of the voice, Rishe heard it loud and clear.

The color drained from her face. “It couldn’t be…”

Arnold eyed her with curiosity as she stopped in her tracks. She needed time to process this information. Time that she didn’t have, as a familiar head of lustrous blond hair was already coming into view.

“Damn it, how dare you stand in my way?! I didn’t want to resort to this, but if you would obstruct justice itself, then I must put my illustrious skill with a sword to—hmm?”

Aaaaah, our eyes met!

Rishe nearly jolted the moment those emerald eyes ensnared her. Simultaneously, the temperature around Arnold dropped several degrees. The Imperial Guards went rigid with fright, but the one arguing with them didn’t even seem to notice.

There’s no mistaking it. Even if I wish there were!

“Huh?! What are you doing here?! Aha, I know! The very goddess herself has proven to be my ally, hasn’t she?! Would you let me go, you blasted knights?! Who the hell do you think I am?!”

I see he still has plenty of unearned confidence…

“Rishe! Don’t just stand there! Do something about these men! Don’t you hear me?!”

“I’m the one who wants to know what you’re doing here.” Rishe sighed, holding her forehead. “Prince Dietrich…”

“Hah!” The man puffing his chest out, even as the knights around him pushed him back, was Rishe’s former fiancé. “Why, because it’s me, of course!”