“Mr.
Daniel, what are you carrying in that bag?”
Silbang asked, holding a drink in one hand and a chip in the other, tilting his head curiously towards Daniel's bag.
"Stop eating!
You'll eat everything!"
Daniel scolded him as he handed him the food he brought.
“You say 'devour'!
Mr.
Daniel, I'm just eating!"
"Only your mouth is active, you bastard!
Leave something for me!"
The sounds of Silbang and Daniel arguing were coming from the back seats.
“Ma’am, what have you prepared?”
Dennis pointed to the picnic box placed next to Therese.
“Well, since it was prepared by the palace kitchen, it will undoubtedly be delicious no matter what.”
She really meant it.
It was prepared by one of the best Valois chefs, so even when cold it would be palatable.
“My wife really lacks romance.”
Therese said with a smile, and Dennis showed a disappointed expression.
Outdoor tennis court.
This was the date Denise had previously dated.
She brought food to eat at a picnic in the nearby park after the game.
Weather approaching summer.
It seemed as if the hot season had taken a big step towards it due to the rain that fell a few days ago.
I looked up at the sky.
I felt the hot sun shining intensely.
“It's really hot.”
This little complaint was like self-talk.
“Ma’am, your skin will tan, the umbrella.”
One of the maids tilted the umbrella she was holding closer toward her.
Viewers started streaming in one by one until all the seats were filled.
When the two players appeared on the field, the crowd applauded.
The referee tossed a coin to determine the start.
It was the player of noble origin who started.
On the right side of the field stood the noble player Benoit Goubert, and on the left stood the common player Yannick May.
Benoit passed the ball over the net naturally.
Yannick greeted her and responded.
The match continued.
It was a fierce battle that it was impossible to predict who would win.
When Benoit scored the first point, Yannick immediately responded and scored his own point.
“They are really good at playing.”
The powerful sound of the ball hitting the racket filled the court.
I heard the voices of the viewers in the back seats muttering.
“Still, don't you think Benoit will win?”
“What do you say?
Yannick seems to be in excellent condition today!”
“I'm betting on Benoit.”
“And I'm betting on Yannick.”
They seem to be betting on the outcome of the match.
Therese knew the rules of tennis, but this was her first time seeing them live.
She felt active and energetic as she saw the players running on the field and returning balls.
Even Dennis sitting next to her was watching the match intently without taking his eyes off.
The match seemed equal at first, but its character began to change in the final half.
It seemed as if Yannick's strength had dried up, and he started making mistakes.
Benoit did not waste this opportunity, attacking fiercely.
The final half was one-sided.
The noble player was pressuring his opponent.
“It looks like that player is getting hit by balls.”
“Yes, indeed.”
"Isn't he a commoner?
We have come to expect a lot from him!"
“What about a bet then?”
I heard the voices of people on the field talking in whispers.
There was no surprise.
The victory was for the noble player.
The commoner player was panting heavily, while his opponent was wiping his flowing sweat and smiling.
Reporters rushed to start interviewing the winning player.
“What is the secret to your victory today?”
“I guess it's the result of the skill I've been honing all this time, huh?
Haha.”
"Sure!
That's right.
Thanks for the great match."
The player spoke in a confident tone, then laughed broadly, showing his regular teeth.
From the opposite side of the court from where Benoit was conducting the interview, Therese looked at Yannick as he gathered his things.
His back, arched away from her, appeared drenched in gray sweat.
It seemed that the audience was expecting the general player to win, so they left their seats clapping their tongues in dissatisfaction.
After Benoit's interview ended, reporters went to Yannick and spoke to him.
“What is the reason for your defeat today?”
“Because I'm not good enough, no doubt.”
Yannick replied bitterly.
Then another reporter asked him:
“Looking at your record in recent matches, we see a decline, what do you think is the reason?
Are you going through a stagnation period?”
Yannick seemed to have difficulty answering, as he bit his lip.
“...I didn't think of it that way.”
“And another question, Yannick.
There were rumors of a love affair between you and actress Emma Gunness last time...”
“Sorry, I have to go now.”
“One moment!
Answer and go!
Yannick!”
“And also answer why you cursed in the previous match!”
Yannick violently stuffed his belongings into his bag so that the reporters couldn't catch up with him, then crossed the field as if running and ran off the field.
Several reporters ran after him.
It was a hideous sight.
“Shall we go back to the palace?”
Dennis's face as he stood was expressionless.
But Therese knew this instinctively.
He's in a very bad mood.
He remembers his past that he wants to forget.
Therese hurried over and grabbed Dennis's coattails as he turned around.
If he came back like this, he would once again sink into loneliness and deep thought.
“Your Highness!
Don’t you want to eat the lunch box that the palace chef prepared in the garden?”
“……I’m tired let’s go back.”
Thérèse suggested something else anxiously:
“Well, there's a restaurant nearby that's famous for its grilled salmon if you don't mind, why don't we eat there before going back?”
“…I don’t want to eat.”
“So, then, if we take the carriage a little further, there is a lake, there we can...”
“Ma’am, let’s go back.”
Dennis cut her off.
He addressed her with respect.
Usually, even though Dennis respected everyone, he still treated her disrespectfully.
Except when he's teasing her.
And the fact that he addressed Therese with respect now meant that he did not want to hear another word.
The way he spoke, using the language of respect to draw boundaries, was a style that Thérèse understood.
Dennis's coldly pursed lips remained closed until they returned to the palace.
Although she was spending time with him after a while.
I felt bitter.
It ended badly in the end.
Therese felt sorry.
She returned to her room to end the day, which had ended unpleasantly, and corked a bottle of wine.
She was confused.
What should she have said to him at that moment?
Was it right to remain silent and not console him?
And if she comforted him, what exactly should she have said...
Therese couldn't figure out the right answer.
If it were something without emotion, it would be easy.
Necessary and unnecessary things.
Her world was divided into only these two types.
You take the essential, and get rid of the unnecessary.
But why did she hate seeing him sad?
His feelings have nothing to do with inheriting the throne.
Then it must be something you don't need to care about.
Even when she tried to ignore him, Denise's gloomy face constantly appeared in Thérèse's mind.
Dennis felt inferior because of his commoner origin.
That's why he was more harsh on himself to appear royal.
The king's son is a commoner.
That was Dennis's other name.
Thérèse knew very well how the conservative nobles treated him.
In addition, she knew very well how harsh the media was with his story when he lost Queen Charles.
But being aware of it and pretending to know are clearly two different things.
Even though she knew, she had never made any sign of this in front of Denise.
Because she herself was a descendant of the high-ranking conservative nobles whom he so despised.
The youngest daughter of the Marquis of Valois of high standing.
Her father is the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and her brother is an employee at the Ministry of Interior.
In addition, she herself grew up comfortably in the Marquis' household and became a princess.
No matter what was inside her, on the outside she was already a noble lady who knew nothing about the world.
Therefore, for him, who feels inferior to his origin, her words of comfort may seem easy and meaningless, like rhetoric.
If I could console him.
Therese felt a tightness in her chest.
She wanted to know what was right.
She took out the Chateau Margaux wine, not Larue, and poured a full glass.
Then, as usual, she opened the window and looked out.
She hoped that the cold wind would soothe her aching heart a little.
The moonlight was falling, and the gentle wind lifted the curtain like a fresh loaf of bread.
In the garden I looked into unintentionally, under the white moonlight.
A shadow of a person appeared.
Yes.
When she saw the familiar shadow, she quickly got up and hit her knee on the table.
The wine glass swayed dangerously and fell to the ground.
Knock!
I heard a breaking sound, and the wine glass that touched the clean, unpatterned marble shattered into shards.
The shards of broken glass and red wine sparkled like blood under the moonlight, forming a stream.
But, as if she did not realize this chaos or the pain of her collapsing knee, she approached the window as if enchanted.
The person standing in the garden like a night elf, was him.
It was Denise, looking fragile as if he would vanish if she blinked.
Therese ran outside.
Forgetting that she was even wearing a nightgown.
If it wasn't a dream, she wanted to catch it before the night elf disappeared.
When she went down into the garden panting, she saw him standing motionless.
“Your Highness the Prince.”
She called him from three steps behind him.
“Therese.”
Dennis turned to look at her, as if someone had just woken up from a deep sleep.
"What happened?
Are you hurt?"
Dennis pointed to the hem of Therese's dress.
She felt his eyes scanning her for any wounds.
When she looked down, she saw wine stains like blood on her nightgown.
“No, no, I just spilled the wine a little.”
Therese added anxiously
“That's it?”
As if reassured that she wasn't hurt, Dennis let out a sigh and straightened his shoulders.
His chest was expanding and constricting, as if his breathing was rapid.
Therese was silently observing this series of actions.
Under the moonlight, it looked breathtakingly beautiful.
His face looked unusually pale.
He seemed somehow pathetic, or pure, to her.
His shoulders, which always stood confidently, seemed remarkably small.
A weak appearance does not suit you.
Thérèse called to him cautiously, as if she were looking at a wounded beast.
“Your Highness the Prince.”
"Yes."
One step.
“Have you been walking around?”
"Yes."
Another step.
“Couldn't you sleep?”
"Yes."
The last step.
“It was very hot today, wasn't it?”
"Yes."
As she exchanged words step by step, Thérèse approached him.
Dennis didn't seem to notice her approach yet.
Therese stood in front of him, at a distance where she could reach out and touch him.
She raised his hand and made it meet hers.
I felt the warmth of his cold hands.
I want to console you.
She placed his clasped hands on her chest and squeezed them tightly.
Her soft, creamy breasts were squeezed between his hands.
Therese looked directly at Denise.
She saw a little spark fly in Dennis' eyes too.
“Can you lower your head?”
[Continued in the next chapter]