Remorse Strikes the Reincarnated Princess

Remorse Strikes the Reincarnated Princess

I was in my bedroom, three days after Nicholas had attacked Hilde.

I’d been told that Hilde’s wound wasn’t too deep, so she was already on her feet. The royal guard was apparently about to start their inquiries with her, with a doctor present.

Nicholas had been confined to his quarters under supervision, but it appeared that proof of his collusion with foreign powers still remained elusive. Hilde’s testimony wasn’t sufficient on its own—she couldn’t prove that his attempt on her life was for the purpose of concealing the evidence of his treachery. If Nicholas brushed off her story as fiction designed to frame him, there would only be a case of he said, she said.

Besides that, and most importantly, the chances were high that Nicholas hadn’t informed Hilde of any important parts of the Lutz abduction plan.

It would be difficult to put Nicholas to trial without any evidence, though not because of an “innocent until proven guilty” tenet. Rather, he was the son of a count, and held all the social power of that title.

Even so, botching Hilde’s murder had probably disquieted Nicholas. He’d have trouble making any further moves while under surveillance and suspicion, and the Kingdom of Skelluts was liable to abandon him.

That situation wouldn’t suit the royal guard either; I doubted that they’d conducted the investigation for this long, just to let some small fry like Nicholas take all the blame.

If I hadn’t interfered, would this whole affair have concluded more smoothly? I asked this of myself, but my introspection yielded no answers. I wanna prove useful and make up for the mess I’ve made, but what on earth can I even do?

The thought left me depressed, so I heaved a sigh from inside my bed.

Another day had ended without me leaving my room. Though night had come, I’d hardly moved all day, so I didn’t feel the least bit sleepy. I read a book to pass the time, but I couldn’t really get my mind into the story.

Just as I was about to go to sleep, a little after midnight, there was a knock at the door to my room. Nobody with any common sense would visit an unmarried girl—and a princess at that—this late.

I wondered who it was, and put myself on guard, until my ears registered the voice of someone from whom I hadn’t expected to hear.

“Rose, it’s me. Can I come in?”

“Chris?”

I hastily donned a thin shawl and slipped out of bed. When I opened the door, Chris was standing there sporting his usual deadpan expression. I surmised that he’d only just finished working, because he was still dressed impeccably—he wore a deep-blue justaucorps made of velvet with a light-gray gilet, and a cravat was tied around his neck.

“Come in,” I said.

I was a ten-year-old girl and his sister, but that didn’t make visiting a woman’s bedroom at night any more proper. This act seemed out of character for my upstanding older brother, but in the end, I let him inside all the same.

Well, it is Chris.

“Should I have some tea poured for you?” I asked.

Chris’s expression was difficult to read. His complexion looked poor though, and I could sense his fatigue. I’d have preferred for him to return to his room for some rest, but if there was something pressing that he needed to tell me, then I’d at least want him to have a sip of tea first. That’s why I offered, but Chris only declined with a slight wave of his hand.

“I’m fine,” Chris said. He sloppily removed his cravat and loosened his collar. He slumped onto the sofa, breathed out a long sigh, and then turned his gaze to me.

“Come here.” He narrowed his eyes gently and motioned me over.

I began to step over hesitantly. He softly took my hand and planted me beside himself. I had no reason to resist, so I submitted and sat right next to him.

What’s this all about?

I tilted my head, puzzled, and looked up to him where he was sitting by my side. His face was much closer to mine than I’d anticipated. I immediately lurched backwards in surprise, but he still held my hand, so I didn’t manage to put much distance between us.

I couldn’t remember ever being this close to him, let alone sharing this level of physical contact. I could see every detail in his irises, and make out the texture of his almost-transparent skin. I realized that, from a certain angle, his ice-blue eyes could appear gray.

Chris didn’t seem disturbed by my in-depth examination of his face. He soon flung his arms around my shoulders. At some point, while I was entranced by Chris’s handsome features, my body had been laid prone on top of the sofa. My head was positioned to rest on Chris’s lap.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say this was one of those “lap pillows” I’ve been hearing about.

“Ch-Chris?” I asked, floundering.

“Yes?” he returned, his voice gentle.

Am I the weird one for getting flustered?

“Let’s have a little talk.” Chris addressed me, acting as though everything were completely normal, in stark contrast to my attitude and my blushing cheeks. While I was discomposed, his attitude seemed so business-as-usual that I couldn’t help but feel sorry for myself.

“Sure, I don’t mind,” I responded. “But why do we have to talk in this position?”

Maybe it’s actually normal for siblings to give each other lap pillows? I suppose I can’t say I’ve never given Johan one.

A passing observer might find the image delightful—a doting brother giving his young sister a lap pillow. But that would really only work from the viewpoint of a third party. Now that this was happening to me, things felt different.

“It’s late,” remarked Chris, “so if you get tired, feel free to go to sleep right here.”

“Well...” I murmured.

You’re asking the impossible, Chris, I retorted in my mind.

For one thing, having such a pretty face so close to me set my nerves on edge. But more than that, his legs were hard and uncomfortable. He might’ve looked skinny, but his body was composed of lots of muscle and very little fat, probably thanks to his training. To be honest, he didn’t make a very good pillow.

When I looked up, ready to say something, he narrowed his eyes slightly and a grin broke across his face.

“You should let me act like a big brother every once in a while,” Chris said.

A wave of embarrassment washed over me. Hearing him say that and seeing the mature look on his face, I felt as if I was behaving like a whining child. I couldn’t keep looking straight at him.

My head darted to the side, and I heard a faint laugh.

“I’m always so strict with you and Johan. I never get the chance to spoil you, so I am now,” Chris explained.

“That’s not true,” I countered.

He indulges me plenty. He goes to the effort of checking in on me, and he works me into his busy schedule. He’ll even remember all the little things that I mention in our conversations, and then send me books on those topics, along with some candy.

He might’ve not been great at expressing his love in words, but he didn’t need to; his actions and the looks he gave me spoke volumes. I knew very well how dear I was to him.

Those were my true feelings, but Chris’s smile nonetheless grew strained.

“It is true. Ordinarily at your age, you should still have the right to dawdle on your mother’s lap, but because of me and your parents, you can’t open up honestly about what worries you, or angers you, or saddens you.” Chris continued, laying his thoughts bare with rare sentimental words.

“Johan had you to talk to, but you don’t have anyone. In fact, you were forced to act even more mature, like an adult, because you had to protect Johan. And yet, everyone around you, including me, had convinced ourselves that you could handle it all. We forced you to accept our faith in you, and failed to give you the chance to complain.”

“Chris...” I said, dumbfounded.

“All of this burden pressing upon you, even though you’re still just a ten-year-old girl,” Chris said, stroking my hair.

He didn’t seem used to acting this way—his palm was too firm and the action was clumsy. But even so, his touch was warm. His voice and gaze were affectionate and kind. For some reason, the corners of my eyes started to burn.

Why? I’m not sad. I don’t have any negative emotions like anger or irritation right now.

The soft, warm sensation which had slowly enveloped my chest now rose to my eyes. Tears threatened to fall. I shrouded my face with my hands to hide my wavering watery gaze, and then Chris’s finger brushed against my cheek.

“Tired?” he asked gently.

I feared that if I spoke, my voice would falter, so I only gave a slight nod in reply.

“Then sleep. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you tonight.” The tender tone of Chris’s voice caused my stiffened body to gradually relax.

However, the very next second, the shrill shattering of breaking glass erupted in the distance.

“What’s that?!” I bolted upright, but Chris pressed his hand on me and stopped my motion before I could jump from the sofa.

“Ch-Chris?” I shot him a questioning look, wanting to know why he’d stopped me, but he slowly shook his head.

“It’s all right,” Chris told me, entirely composed.

“What is...?” I asked, stunned. “What’s all right?!”

Chris had surely heard that noise too. He knows that something abnormal is currently happening. I don’t even need to use the past tense—we can still hear it. The whole palace is in uproar.

There were furious shouts that called people to action, and the noise of many footsteps running past the door.

Clearly, something’s going down, so what in God’s name is all right about this situation?

“Stay here. It’s all right.” Chris said again and looked straight at me. His eyes met mine, and I saw no trace of discomposure, just myself reflected back at me. “Rose.”

“Ch-Chris...”

He pulled at my arm and held me in an embrace. One of my ears was pressed against his chest, and he covered the other ear with his palm, cradling my head in order to distance me from the commotion.

I couldn’t hear anything anymore except Chris’s heartbeat, and my own.

As Chris was protecting me in his embrace, something was happening. Something was being set in motion, and I ascertained that it probably had to do with the Lutz abduction plan.

What was more, Chris was probably aware of it. He could only act this calmly if all of the commotion was firmly within the boundaries of his expectations. Nobody had come to report the occurrence to Chris, so the royal guard must’ve predicted this too. They’d have probably informed Lutz and Teo as well, since they were the enemy’s targets.

The only one not aware, the only one kept in the dark...was me.

Just me, the waste of space.

A muffled cry escaped my mouth. Hot drops of water poured from my closed eyes and slipped down my cheeks.

What was I thinking? That I could actually do something? I’m powerless. Sure, I’ve got memories from my last life, and I know the future, but what good is that? I can’t do anything myself.

Talk about conceit, thinking I’d solve anything on my own. The fact that I need Chris to protect me is the rebuttal to all of that. I’m absolutely helpless.

“Don’t cry.” Chris’s bitter voice struck at my earlobes.

His hand slipped away from the ear it had covered and wiped at my cheek. “I still end up making you cry—whether I’m forcing my expectations onto you, or keeping you in the dark to protect you. Some big brother I am.”

“Don’t say that,” I mumbled with a watery tone.

Chris isn’t at fault. I am.

I had neither the strength to live up to the faith he had placed in me, nor the flexibility to leave everything to him.

I could only manage half measures, so it was my fault.

I want to be stronger.

In addition to my irritation, a fierce longing welled up, deep inside of my heart.