Looking for a Husband to Confine Me - Chapter 51.2

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Chapter 51.2

Ricardo replied calmly, looking down at his now-empty hand. He slowly opened and closed his fist.

“No fair, Amelia. You’ve never held my hand like that. I’m hurt.”

I tore my gaze from Ricardo to Damian. As always, his words and expression didn’t match. Despite his complaint, he was looking at me with a playful grin. I ignored his comment and spoke.

“You’re not late this time.”

“I’m not always late. More importantly, are you injured?”

“I’m fine.”

I replied, intending to ask him the same question. Instead of repeating myself, I looked up at him, my eyes asking the question.

But Damian, oblivious, simply tilted his head, meeting my gaze.

“Why are you staring so intensely? It’s embarrassing.”

“…I was asking about you. Are you injured?”

“Thanks to you, I’m fine.”

He answered with a smile. He had said he was fine last time, too, but his condition had been far from it. I couldn’t easily trust his words.

“Are you really alright?”

“I told you I am. If you don’t believe me, you can check again like last time.”

Damian spread his arms wide, as if inviting me to undo his shirt buttons and examine his injuries like I had before.

“…No, thank you. I’ll just believe you.”

That day, when I undid Damian’s shirt, was mortifying. Why had I been so worried that I’d impulsively unbuttoned his clothes? I should have just waited for the healer.

I pursed my lips, wanting to erase the memory.

Ignoring my reaction, Ray turned and knocked lightly on the drawing-room door.

“Your Highness, the guests you were expecting have arrived.”

“…Very well.”

A short reply came from within, and Ray opened the door, stepping inside.

This mansion was different from the previous one, which had suffered significant damage from the summoned monsters and rampaging beasts. It’ll cost a fortune to repair that mansion…

I chuckled to myself, realizing the absurdity of my concern. Who was I to worry? The owner was none other than the Crown Prince of the Empire.

This drawing-room, unlike the previous one, was neat and elegant. It was an ordinary space, unlike the ostentatious drawing-room where the Kishan princes had stayed.

In the center of the room, before a pristine white table, sat a man with deep violet hair. He looked up, his blue eyes sparkling as he gazed at Damian and me.

It was the Crown Prince, Aven Lefkindea.

So that’s him…

He was Ray Kewind’s younger brother, the Crown Prince of the Empire, and the next Emperor.

The current Emperor was weak-willed and easily swayed by his advisors. If they urged him to accept their daughters as Empress, he would comply without protest. He would then be manipulated by his Empresses, bending to their every whim. In the original story, when Bashar was killed, the Emperor had been persuaded to declare war on Kishan.

And yet, he never personally participated in the war, leaving it to the Crown Prince and others.

I seem to recall he died suddenly…

In the novel, the Emperor died long after the war began, and Crown Prince Aven ascended the throne. The main story focused on Amelia and Hector, so the details were vague.

I thought it was just the Crown Prince.

I shifted my gaze. Beside Aven Lefkindea sat a familiar face.

Haroon Kisha, the Kishan prince who had exuded an aura so similar to the man beside me. It seemed the Kishan princes were staying at this mansion while the previous one was being repaired.

“Your Highnesses, Crown Prince Aven and Prince Haroon.”

I greeted them formally, and the Crown Prince smiled gently. I stared, mesmerized, at the man who resembled Ray so strongly. He looked like an older, male version of Ray Kewind. Despite their different genders, they shared a similar beauty, yet projected distinct auras.

“It’s been a while. We didn’t have a chance to speak properly last time. Please, sit down.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

I sat in the chair opposite them, and Damian sat beside me. Servants swiftly brought warm tea.

“But….”

Only the Crown Prince and Haroon Kisha were present. Bashar was nowhere to be seen.

“Is something the matter?”

The Crown Prince inquired, noticing my reaction.

“I don’t see Prince Bashar.”

If Haroon Kisha was here, Bashar should be too. I scanned the room, but he was nowhere in sight.

“Bashar said he wasn’t feeling well.”

Haroon Kisha answered for him, his expression filled with displeasure. His reaction was completely different from when we had last spoken about Bashar.

“Tsk, do you have business with that fool?”

Haroon asked gruffly. His demeanor was subtly different from our previous encounter.

“Haroon, you should calm down.”

The Crown Prince murmured, as if advising Haroon Kisha. Haroon sighed softly.

“Tsk.”

“I apologize for Haroon’s rudeness. I’ll apologize on his behalf.”

I shook my head at the Crown Prince’s words.

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.”

“Thank you for your understanding. Haroon is quite upset at the moment, having experienced his first sibling quarrel.”

I recalled the scene where the two princes had argued loudly. They still haven’t reconciled? A considerable amount of time had passed, yet they were still in a cold war.