Prince 30

#30.

To Miss Cordelia Gray,

Are you alive?

Night of the 22nd day of the first heat month, your friend, Archie.

* * *

To Prince Archie Albert William,

Of course. I am alive.

7.22. night.

-Your friend, Cordelia.

* * *

To my friend who has become strangely quiet,

I thought it was about time you bombarded me with questions. Not yet?

I am now familiar with the cycle of your busy periods.

I also know this week is not the time for that.

Why haven’t you written even one letter for two days?

Is something wrong?

-Your very bored friend, Archie Albert.

* * *

To Prince Archie Albert,

Nothing happened.

-Cordelia Flora Gray.

* * *

To my indifferent friend, Coco,

That can’t be true.

Something must be happening to you.

Shall I take a guess?

That “something” is clearly related to me.

Writing your full name to keep your distance is our secret code, isn’t it?

-Archie Albert, who knows you somewhat.

* * *

To Captain Know-It-All, Prince Archie,

You only found out two days ago that Florian is a woman, and now you’re acting like you know everything about me.

Really, nothing happened.

-Cordelia.

P.S. If you wanted a letter, you should have sent one first.

* * *

To my Coco, who is upset for reasons I cannot fathom,

Yes, you’re right.

I don’t know everything about you.

I’ve never even seen your face, nor have we met and spoken in person.

But, my friend,

I do know a few things about you.

The first thing that comes to mind is that you draw circles in the opposite direction of others. Maybe, like me, you’re left-handed. This insignificant coincidence made me oddly happy, so I watched your circles closely. Sometimes, they’re so lopsided that it’s funny to even call them circles.

But I don’t mind seeing such circles. Your letters are more amusing when your circles are crooked. At those times, I think about how your nights aren’t lonely. After all, you are someone who often feels lonely. Perhaps your blunt attitude towards me these past two days is because you’ve been feeling a bit isolated.

You are also the woman who gets excited by Heathcliff’s obsession yet touched by Anne Shirley’s warm heart. Because of that, you toss me into the sky with your mood swings, only to pull me back down to the ground.

Still, I can’t help it. You are the person who stirs my heart with bold words and the kind friend who smiles brightly even when receiving a dry, withered flower.

You are the one who picks out a picture book for Noel, yet possesses the toughness to tear and crumple it page by page before sending it. So, your anger is something I fear very much.

Even so, despite my fear, I must disagree with you, Cordelia. There are many other things I know about you. If you didn’t want me to know this much, you shouldn’t have been so quick to reveal your library. The books we read sometimes reflect who we are.

So, just admit it now. I know you at least a little.

There are times when I’m unsure how to explain things that happen to me. In those moments, you seem to sense my struggle and send me such an amusing letter that I can’t help but reply.

I apologize for staying silent for two days after sending that unfriendly letter. Cowardly as it was, I was waiting for you to ask first.

The Cordelia I know isn’t someone who can hold back her curiosity.

The Cordelia I know wouldn’t respond with just one line to my long-awaited letter.

That’s why I’m even more worried now.

Cordelia, are you still sitting at your desk? Are you really okay?

On the lonely night of the first heat month.

-Your friend, Archie Albert, who spends almost every moment thinking about what I know of you.

P.S. If you’re angry because of my half-hearted letter, just stick your hand into the bookshelf and give me a hit. I’ll even let you hit my injured shoulder.

P.S.2: Yes, I’m bringing up my not-yet-healed shoulder to appeal to your sympathy. So please, return to being the kind friend I know.

* * *

To my dear friend, Archie Albert,

Alright, I admit defeat.

Sometimes, while exchanging letters with you, I understand Daphne, Lucy, and Eloise.

When I read in Anne Selin’s character guidebook that these three women started dating the prince all at once, I was completely dumbfounded. I wondered what on earth you could have done to charm three women at the same time and drag that situation out for five years…

…Yes, Archie, if it were you, I suppose that could happen.

No woman could stay mad at you for more than an hour.

-Your Coco.

* * *

To Miss Cordelia, who was indeed upset with me,

There are actually quite a few women who get angry with me more often than you might think.

My sister Cecilia, Noel,

…perhaps Florian as well.

And now, you.

Out of all of them, though, I fear you the most. So, please don’t be angry, my dear friend. Next time, I’ll write a proper letter.

That day…

I was just exhausted, and tangled up in emotions that were hard to sort through, feeling uncharacteristically lonely.

Speaking of Lady Daphne Yelling, as you brought her up—she’s getting married soon. If I attend the wedding, I imagine Yelling’s smug face will be quite contorted. I can’t bear to miss such a sight, so I simply must go.

What do you think? Does this story pique your interest enough to make you want to exchange more letters with me?

* * *

To my friend, a master of writing letters that demand a response,

It seems your letter-prompting skills are rapidly improving as our correspondence continues.

Tell me quickly. Who is Daphne Yelling marrying?

Were you feeling lonely that day because you were devastated by the news of her marriage?

So, one of your three fiancées is disappearing now, right?

That leaves Lucy and Eloise.

Although, I’m sure there are still mountains of other women.

-Your Cordelia, who is willing to soften her anger if you share more details about Daphne.

* * *

To my crooked friend, Cordelia,

Of course, it’s true that mountains of women follow me around like knights hunting monsters.

But as you well know, the number of women who like me and whether or not my love life is filled with joy are often entirely separate matters, aren’t they?

Lucy and Eloise both married earlier this year to avoid turning twenty-three without a husband. Thanks to Yelling’s stubbornness, Daphne is the last. Once she’s married, my three former fiancées will have all disappeared into their own estates, and the chances of seeing them again will be very slim.

Now that Daphne Yelling’s honor will be protected by Viscount Elliot instead of me, I’ll sell you this story in exchange for your favor.

I first met Daphne, Lucy, and Eloise when we were eight. I’m sure your sharp mind has already guessed—yes, they were daughters of the great aristocratic families based in the capital, attending bridal training with my sister Cecilia. I somehow got mixed in with them.

From those early days when none of us really knew better, we picked flowers in the garden, had tea, and danced together. Being the only boy, I was kept busy as the dance partner for the three girls, since Cecilia would always skip class. They must have stepped on my feet a thousand times, never once apologizing.

In other words, these three girls grew up with me from an age too young to realize how handsome I was, and so they never learned to treat my dazzling face with the care it deserved.

Like many childhood friends, we gradually drifted apart as we grew older. Daphne and I didn’t formally meet again until five years after her bridal training ended.

At fifteen, Daphne was all dressed up, showing off her radiant beauty. She had her hair braided with silk ribbons, a large, brightly colored flower pinned in the back that was visible from afar, and jewels sparkling all over her. I still remember being startled by how extravagant she looked.

“Are you getting married or something?”

I asked, teasingly. Daphne burst into tears on the spot.

She was indeed being dragged away to be married, but she ran to me instead.

Yelling had been far too greedy. Though it became customary in Roitlingen to rush marriages after the Empire War, fifteen was still too young.

Moreover, Daphne had another reason.

“I’m in love. His name is Sir Elliot, and there’s no one in the world as wonderful as him.”

Naturally, I objected vehemently.

“Daphne Yelling, you shouldn’t say such things. I can’t allow you to give the highest compliment of ‘wonderful’ to anyone else when you’ve seen me with your own eyes.”

Daphne immediately stopped her tears and, instead of hitting me, threatened me with a favor she wanted.

In short, she asked me to pretend to be her fiancé.

The man Yelling wanted to marry Daphne off to was Margrave Bartley, a man nearing forty with vast lands in the northern territories. In return for selling off his young daughter, Yelling would receive half of the tolls from the road and bridges leading north from the capital.

Cordelia, a father willing to forego such a reward to respect his daughter’s love was rare in Winterton. Yelling was certainly not such a man.

“Archie, you are a prince after all. If you say you’ve chosen me, my father wouldn’t be able to carry on with the marriage.”

She had a point. I was impressed that such a clever idea came from her little head. But if I agreed, wouldn’t that mean I’d have to marry Daphne in the end? That was the one thing I wanted to avoid.

Sure, Daphne was beautiful, cute, and expertly trampled on my feet when dancing, not to mention bold when picking flowers. But I never felt anything more than friendship towards her. Also, I had no desire to be tied to Yelling’s family. I frowned and asked her,

“Alright, let’s say I pretend to like you.”

“You don’t like me.”

“Right, I don’t like you, but let’s pretend. What happens next? Are you going to marry me?”

Thankfully, Daphne’s answer to my question was this:

“Are you crazy? I’d rather marry that old Bartley instead!”

“Exactly, Daphne. I’d marry old Bartley myself before marrying you.”

Instead of spitting at me like Cecilia would or stomping on my foot, Daphne simply gave me a sly grin. Thus, we reached a perfect agreement that didn’t betray our long-standing friendship. Taking advantage of the ripe atmosphere, she proposed a deal.

“All you have to do is be my fiancé for five years. Maybe a little longer if it takes more time for my father to give up.”

What Daphne wanted from me was to play the role of a fervent suitor, one who would sabotage all the matches her father had lined up until Daphne was past the marriageable age, and all her prospective grooms would be gone.

This was a tricky situation. I had to passionately pursue Daphne but, at the same time, be a prince who couldn’t marry her just yet.

“What if we end up getting married? What if the queen and Lord Yelling, in unanimous agreement, tell us to hurry up and wed?”

“You can create a situation where that’s impossible.”

“I can’t.”

“You could if you tried.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“My faithful friendship? My gratitude?”

I could have refused, but Daphne’s headpiece looked too heavy, and she seemed more desperate than ever, having run all the way to me with that cumbersome accessory. 

Besides, I thought gaining friendship and gratitude in exchange for some mild inconvenience wasn’t a bad deal. And thus began my first contracted romance.

The question of how to chase after Daphne without actually marrying her was resolved the very next month. In the first week, Lucy came to me with the same request, and the following week, Eloise did the same.

Ah, the fathers of Winterton…

Anyway, that’s how I ended up chasing after both Lucy and Eloise as well. My honor fell to the ground, and my other nickname became the “rag of all Winterton.”

The Yelling family, with their black wolf crest, the Dains with their red walls, and the Devonshires with their yellow butterfly sigil—each of these noble houses ground their teeth in hatred towards me. But what can I do? I’m the one and only prince of Winterton, so dearly cherished by His Majesty, the late king.

Besides, this situation achieved an unexpected success for me. I managed to tie up all three major noble families, who had ambitions to expand their influence by joining forces with powerful families, leaving them stuck with no progress.

Once my mother realized this, she began to overlook my delayed marriage and carefree lifestyle. Except for the occasional scowl I received from men and mothers with marriageable daughters, I was able to live my life quite pleasantly.

This situation brought happiness to everyone involved. Lucy, Eloise, and even Daphne all married men far better than those their fathers had arranged. They married with the faithful love that had waited until they were well past the marriageable age, when no one could rush them into any more matchmaking.

As for Lucy and Eloise’s fiancés, I know very little about them, except that their love lasted for more than five years.

However, I did meet Daphne’s fiancé, Sir Elliot, a few times.

Once, I saw him waiting patiently while Daphne had ten dresses fitted. Another time, he stood still for over an hour, listening to one of Daphne’s lengthy speeches.

Apparently, the man was jealous of Daphne’s so-called “contract relationship” with me. Daphne reprimanded him for being petty, saying that a man of honor should not harbor such a narrow heart over a woman’s reputation. While I agreed with her to some extent, an hour-long lecture seemed excessive. But Sir Elliot gazed at her with such adoration, as if every word that poured from her lips was precious.

He stared at her talking, smiling warmly, as if he found the constant chatter from those frustrating lips to be utterly endearing. Even when he incurred Daphne’s wrath again, his smile never faded. His eyes held no boredom or frustration, only love.

Talking about them makes me even more eager to attend their wedding. Even if it’s not my love, watching someone else’s is quite an enjoyable thing.

Yes, Cordelia, as I’ve said before.

I have no connection to the “thrill of pleasure-shredding” that you so enjoy.

This is the extent of what Daphne and I “did.”

-Your pure-hearted flower, Archie Albert.

* * *

Archie Albert,

You’ve left out the most important detail, haven’t you?

Is Sir Elliot handsome?

-Your friend, Cordelia Gray, who will remind you of the importance of descriptions whenever you forget.

—-

———= Author’s Note ———=

To the readers who waited two days,

Coco and Archie also took a two-day break from letters, so I… just took a break as well. Just an excuse, really. I’ve now realized that my method is to bring two long chapters every two days.

I’ve also realized the downside of an epistolary format: no matter if I write 10,000 or 20,000 characters, if the letters were exchanged in a single day, I have to bring them all at once.

And I’ve also realized, once again, that I am terrible with pacing.

Armed with these three realizations, I’m off to update the serialization schedule. In the meantime, dear readers, feel free to press that recommend button and mark this as a favorite while heading to the next chapter.

P.S.: There are various things in the story notice section, including pretty new cover art and tidbits that might answer some of your questions! Check it out!

P.S.2: Thank you for all the recommendations, favorites, and beautiful comments (they’re truly… so beautiful… *sniff*) as well as the reviews.

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As usual, double updates (2/2).