“—Say, what revenge do you think would be best for that man?”

Another question was dropped abruptly.

Quentin was so overwhelmed with emotions that he had no time to regain his bearings. He couldn’t think straight, but he knew he had to answer. Charlotte demanded it with her gaze.

Sensing that she was prepared to wait no matter how long it took, Quentin somehow squeezed out an idea.

“…Destroy the kingdom?”

“No. Destroy his beloved daughter.”

Charlotte spoke as if it were obvious, the corners of her lips curling upward.

Quentin took a deep breath at the unexpected yet dangerous idea.

Even though destroying the kingdom would be crueler. Still, the “best revenge” she spoke of was too shocking. Confusion, agitation and fear welled up violently in his exhausted heart.

“Killing her isn’t enough, as he’ll only have to endure the loss. He has to remain by Juliet’s shattered side, his helplessness to do anything etched deep into his mind and body, suffering the pain until his last breath. This is also my revenge on you, who’s in love with her. Amazing, right?”

Charlotte was talking about something horrific with a great deal of delight.

“Hence why I originally thought of killing myself in front of her.”

“W-what…?”

Quentin was at a loss for words. The impact of the plan she so smoothly revealed was simply too immense.

“If I were to sear the moment of someone’s death into her mind—her sister whom she believed loved her, taking her own life—she’d never forget it. Her fragile heart, too weak from the start to bear such a weight, would remain shattered forever. Wouldn’t this have been the perfect way to ensure it?”

Juliet, who had been sheltered from all manner of suffering, was immature in every sense. Her heart was fragile and weak. Witnessing another’s suicide would have already been a huge psychological wound that’d never heal, so this would have been unbearable.

This would have been a far too effective way to grant Charlotte’s wish.

“But I decided against it.”

Quentin went limp as she continued to speak, and he felt weak from her words.

Even for Quentin, if his childhood friend were to choose to take her own life, the pain would be unforgettable. This was especially true now that he was aware that they would have been the ones who drove her to her death. He’d continue to live his life trapped by intense guilt and regret.

However, his relief that this wouldn’t happen was fleeting.

“I just can’t accept that I have to devote my last moments to that child. There had to be another way to implant a definitive trauma in her.”

Charlotte smiled gracefully, her eyes narrowing with dark emotions, reminding Quentin of the current situation.

Charlotte’s goal had already been achieved.

The revenge she desired most. Juliet’s broken heart would never recover. The innocent, bright, angelic princess she was before would never return. Having seen the malice harbored against her for so long, she could never return to her former ignorance.

Although Charlotte was definitely the one who started the rebellion, there was no doubt Juliet was the instigator.

“If I hadn’t betrayed my kingdom and we were instead discussing this in my office as usual, would you still be making that same expression?”

“…”

“When you return, check your face in the mirror. You look utterly pathetic.”

She didn’t need to point that out. He also didn’t need to look in a mirror to know. His heart was in complete shambles. The more he tried to stop thinking and escape reality, the more unsettled he became. He couldn’t stop feeling remorse over his own stupidity.

His complex, disorganized rage was transmitted to his fists, and his hands trembled. His nails dug into his palms, but he didn’t feel any pain.

“—It’s great that you’re here.”

Suddenly, a soft voice slipped into Quentin’s ears. He was confused, but he stared at Charlotte. Her expression was as gentle as her voice.

“If it had been anyone else, I wouldn’t have said anything. I wanted Juliet to break down, so I told her a few things, but I didn’t confess all my motives, like the engagement to Lord Ethelbert.”

Charlotte was able to speak so frankly because it was Quentin. If it had been Frederick, he’d have simply told her off. They would not have had a proper conversation.

“When our engagement was first decided, I thought you would surely look at me. My first impression of you wasn’t bad, but I soon realized how mistaken I was.”

Charlotte closed her eyes and reminisced about the past.

“Your Highness should be able to handle this much, right?”

The words he spoke to Charlotte were commonplace, but in a bad way. Her expectations were dashed.

She raised her gaze and saw Quentin looking confused. This was the man who had once been her fiancé—whom she hoped would think of her as important.

“When I realized you were just like everyone else, I knew I’d never fall for you. In the end, we’re the same.”

In that case, what was there to love?

“However, unlike me, you’re loved by your family. You accepted her thinly-veiled goodwill. You aren’t the heir to a kingdom where only perfection is enough.”

The pressure he was under was nothing compared to hers, who had to be perfect.

“Ah, how I envy your easygoing environment.”

Quentin gasped as her dark eyes found him. Charlotte’s voice was calm and cold, yet it was clear she seethed with rage and loathing deep within.

Quentin’s eyes wavered with remorse and guilt. He was sorry and had to admit his own faults.

“Your Highness.”

“…”

Charlotte suddenly lowered her gaze.

“Perhaps, if I had been more like the queen and not that man, he would’ve cherished me a bit more. Perhaps, he’d have listened to what I had to say.”

“Ah…”

She must’ve been thinking that for a long time—that “Charlotte” had no value other than her role as the crown princess. She carried it all by herself, unable to talk to anyone about it. Her blood-related father, sister, and even her fiancé, none had ever been on her side.

Because Juliet was frail, she was free to do as she pleased. Juliet bore a strong resemblance to the late queen, which caused Frederick’s love to waver.

Ethelbert was Charlotte’s only hope. Someone she could be herself with. Someone who’d understand her, without imposing his own ideals. Someone she could be vulnerable with.

It should’ve been Quentin’s role, but he didn’t understand her heavy responsibilities as the future ruler. Instead, he buried her underneath his ideals, forced her to repress her true self, and kept her away. He blocked her escape route and trapped her.

“Okay, that’s enough. I’ve spoken long enough. I’m tired, can you leave? I’m not in the mood to speak with anyone anymore.”

Charlotte roughly gestured to him, as if she were swatting away a fly. The lonely aura she had earlier disappeared.

“Also, please take that person on the stairs with you. For the first time in my life, I have time to relax. I don’t want my sleep to be disturbed by pointless scolding and abuse.”

Charlotte glanced toward the stairs, which were still out of sight. Then, she turned her back to him and laid down on the bed as if she’d lost interest.

Quentin opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it. He walked up to the stairs and peeked at the man waiting there.

He was leaning back against the wall with his arms folded before him—King Frederick’s expression was impossible to see because he was looking down and his hair was in the way. However, Quentin could see that he was gripping his arm tightly.

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