The Camellia Tattoo - Chapter 77
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
this book is completely translated on luna kofi (advanced chapters for the website will follow)
‘Even if treated poorly in the North, the Prince won’t be able to complain once he returns home.’
Just a few steps together made the Prince’s characteristics clear to Amber.
Impatient nature. A heart narrowed by hurt. Fear of death. And a sense of dread towards his higher-ranked siblings and the Emperor.
Judging by his hands, it seems he has been learning swordsmanship, but he had a small stature. It probably made him targeted by his brothers.
The pressure of being unable to move forward despite what he wanted to do must have turned into sensitivity…
Having completed her analysis, Amber still smiled gently as she opened the door for him.
“We’ve prepared everything to the best of our ability. I hope you find rest here.”
Her overall judgment was that the Prince was a foul-tempered little one, twisted by his upbringing, and what he needed was stability.
‘I can treat him like a teenager stepping into puberty.’
It wouldn’t be easy, but it was the situation at hand.
Amber quickly realized she needed to be the mediator in this gathering of unique individuals.
If she doesn’t, some incidents might happen.
* * *
The banquet table tonight groaned under the weight of an enormous array of dishes.
Amber had instructed the kitchen to prepare abundantly, stating they shouldn’t worry about any leftovers. The leftovers can be put into a wagon and sent to nearby villages after the banquet.
This turned out to be a wise decision. The Prince, who had been nothing but complaints, finally kept his mouth shut for the first time.
“We are deeply honored by such lavish hospitality. I am thankful to God and both of you as well.”
“Our chef has developed a few vegetarian dishes. I hope they suit your taste.”
The conversation at the head table was mainly driven by Mikael and Amber.
Regardless of Mikael’s hidden agenda for coming here, the conversation flowed well, and his demeanor seemed pleasant, making it easy to engage with him.
“May I ask why the bloodline verification tool was needed? I hope it’s not too forward to ask.”
Amid various useless conversations, it was towards the end of the meal that Mikael made a significant comment in a gentle tone.
Igmeyer responded to it.
“Because there’s someone in need.”
“Someone in need?”
“There’s no need to know today. I’ll call for him tomorrow, and you can meet him then.”
“Understood. There must be a significant reason.”
Igmeyer’s firm stance made Mikael back down. Amber, who was observing quietly, sighed in relief inside and clapped her hands.
It was time for dessert.
* * *
The slight clash occurred over ice cream.
“These days, I’m more drawn to Dasen’s realism than Salinas’s style. Painting me prettier than I am feels like a lie. I hate lies.”
“I see.”
“Salinas’s style still seems popular in Shardroch.”
“That was the case until I left. I still like its aestheticism.”
As the topic of painting came up, the Prince eagerly shared his thoughts.
There wouldn’t have been any issue if it had just ended there, but the Prince, like a heedless colt, also charged at Igmeyer.
“So, what’s your favorite style of painting, Grand Duke? I was thinking of gifting you a fine piece.”
That was a very rude remark, implying Igmeyer was ignorant about art.
His arrogant demeanor and annoying glance. A glance that seemed to be looking down on Igmeyer.
Though it was hardly pleasant, Igmeyer merely scoffed. Being disregarded was nothing new to him.
He often imagined how these nobles, who wield their so-called ‘culture’ like a weapon, would fare if thrown alive before a monster.
They wouldn’t last a minute before begging for their life from the very person they disregarded.
Culture and sophistication are worthless in the face of death. They only babble such nonsense because they’re living comfortably.
“Ah, you don’t know much about paintings, do you? What about music?”
“I don’t particularly enjoy either.”
Igmeyer didn’t want to stoop to the level of arguing with a child. So, he brushed it off with a casual response, but the Prince seemed to have other ideas.
“Tsk, tsk. But you’re living with a beauty from Shardroch. If your level of culture is low, you wouldn’t even be able to have a conversation with your wife. Perhaps your wife is doing a lot of accommodating?”
The atmosphere turned frosty. Yet, the Prince seemed oblivious, sending a look of superiority towards Igmeyer.
“Ha.”
Igmeyer couldn’t help but let out a sigh.
Pretending to be mature but utterly lacking in respect or consideration for his conversational partner—just a child.
Buzzing around, pricking with thorns everywhere. He was no different from a surly hedgehog.
‘A monster would just need to nibble on him slightly, and he’d die without a peep…’
What to say in response? He couldn’t just grab him and throw him into the training ground to beat some sense into him until he realized his mistake.
