No Regression for the Victor - Chapter 32

There was nothing special in it.

Far from a love letter, it was a single, simple sheet, from the first line to the last filled only with reports of how large the pumpkins had grown, how many sprouts had come up from the onions, and when the morning glories were about to burst into bloom.

After a few more letters arrived, Marcel was convinced.

This really was, in every respect, a completely one-sided infatuation on the prince’s part.

The one supposed to give rice cakes(?) had no such thoughts, while the prince, unable to go visit, was suffering alone from lovesickness.

This left only Marcel, caught in the middle, to be driven to the brink.

The Emperor kept pressing him about what on earth had happened to the prince, but if Marcel told the truth, it was 100% certain that his own head would roll.

How did I end up looking after someone else’s child and suffering like this? There’s no merit in raising a kid!

Where had all the credit gone for following after the young prince and looking after him all this time, only to have to share responsibility now that the prince had fallen hopelessly for someone he absolutely shouldn’t?

‘Maybe I should just submit my resignation and go live in the countryside.’

But if he really did that, the relatives and family members depending on Marcel would never let him be.

‘The prince absolutely cannot die from pining away like this!’

Reaching his conclusion, Marcel squeezed his eyes shut.

Then he took out the letter he’d hidden in his desk drawer.

He’d burned all the previous ones for fear someone might see, but the most recent letter, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to destroy, and had kept it.

Better to at least keep the prince alive, rather than let him waste away in bed.

Marcel let out a deep sigh.

“……”

When Marcel didn’t answer right away, the prince gave a bitter smile, as if resigned, his face drawn and pale.

“I suppose he’s found out who I really am. Right, I’d hate to see me too…”

Then, looking as if he might truly breathe his last at any moment, the prince languished so desperately that Marcel finally pulled the letter from his back pocket.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness. There’s something I haven’t told you until now.”

At Marcel’s voice, which sounded as though he had given up on everything, Mikhail struggled to open his eyes.

What appeared in his half-unfocused gaze was—

“……!”

—a letter envelope, plain and unadorned in its design.

“No way…!”

In an instant, life filled the eyes of the prince, who had until then been lying as motionless as a corpse.

Marcel tried to clear his throat to apologize for hiding the letters all this time, but the prince didn’t even wait for that, leaping at Marcel and snatching the letter away.

With eyes full of anticipation, he tore the envelope open immediately.

He looked so happy to finally hear news of the Duke (even if it was only about crop reports) that he didn’t show the slightest sign of betrayal or shock at learning Marcel had intercepted the letters.

At that sight, cold sweat broke out on Marcel’s forehead.

Things had long since gone beyond what he could handle. Why, why…

Marcel recalled how, a few months ago, when he’d jokingly asked the prince about his ideal type, the answer had been—

A strong and strict person…

The Duke had never seemed particularly strict with the prince, but— Ah, he had been quite strict with himself.

Never once lazing about, always spending the day reading diligently or staying physically active. The image was still fresh in Marcel’s mind.

Why did it have to be the Duke, the first person to appear before the prince who met those very standards?

Marcel writhed in agony, clutching his head.

Then, just as he finally regained a bit of strength, the prince asked Marcel,

“Marcel, can you do me one favor? I promise I’ll start eating properly and not skip training anymore, please.”

What choice did he have? If the prince died like this, Marcel would lose his head, but if the prince got caught doing something foolish, he’d lose his head then too.

With things tangled beyond repair, looking after the prince’s health was the only way to preserve his own life.

It had been clear for a long time that Marcel would inevitably lose any psychological battle with the prince.

He’d just realized it too late.

Even though he hadn’t been assigned as investigator for long, Marcel, who’d thought of himself as reasonably experienced, could only blame his own arrogance and sigh.