My Dear Grand Duke on a Leash - Chapter 101

Chapter 51.1 — Chalonné’s Man (17)

“Your words are rather harsh.”

Bea’s beautiful amethyst eyes sank heavily.

“The Grand Duke of Acheron visited Chalonné briefly fifteen years ago. And just a week ago, you exchanged greetings with us. I’ve heard Katak is a land of men, while Chalonné is a land of mothers and daughters.”

Her tone was refined, but her words boiled down to a single question: ‘What do you even know?’ It also carried the implication of how someone like him, raised among brothers, could possibly understand the relationship between a mother and daughter. And how could he, still unmarried, ever understand the love of a parent?

Cain briefly glanced at Bea’s hand, which was tightly clutching her nightgown.

It was true that he had pointed out a truth that was difficult to accept.

Her mother favored her so much that she even begrudged the spoonfuls of rice that went into her younger sibling’s mouth. How many people could readily accept such words upon hearing them? Especially when Bea, in her own way, loved her one and only sibling dearly.

However, this was as far as he was willing to tolerate.

“My apologies, but I’m not interested in Your Highness’s feelings. Even if I dared to try to understand them, I wouldn’t be able to.”

“….”

He was certainly not a gentle or emotionally perceptive man. In fact, there was no descriptor less fitting for him. Moreover, he had lived his life without any desire to know or understand someone who had been weakened by emotional wounds.

Especially when those wounds became an excuse to shirk the responsibilities they were supposed to fulfill.

“What I can say is that Your Highness shares the responsibility of leading the nation alongside Queen Chalonné. It’s the obligation of those born into noble lineage. Moreover, enjoying a parent’s favoritism while failing to care for your younger siblings betrays the basic duty of an heir expected to inherit the family legacy.”

A few steps away, Cain’s face remained as indifferent as ever as he stared at her. For Bea, who had never been treated so harshly by anyone, it was only natural to feel at a loss for how to respond.

“Don’t whine about how hard it is to do what’s naturally expected of you. As the eldest, these are things you’re obligated to endure. Even if you complain, no one will sympathize. It’ll only sound like spoiled grumbling about the weight of your privileges. And, at the very least, Your Highness, doesn’t everyone you meet treat you with the utmost respect and reverence?”

Unlike a certain other princess, who didn’t even realize how poorly she was being treated. Cain, who had been standing as rigid as a stone statue, turned his head to look behind Bea.

At the firmly shut bathroom door.

To the princess, who was inside it.

“Even if it makes you a villain, do what must be done. If you… truly care for your younger sister.”

̊ · : * ✧ * : · ̊

‘Have you thought about why you’re being so nice to me?’

Riette had been eagerly planning to ask this question the moment she finished her bath, but her ambitious plan was utterly derailed by an unexpected response.

“What? Right now?”

Her round, doe-like eyes widened even further.

Her cheeks, still rosy from the lingering warmth of her bath, seemed to glow against her soft complexion. She was draped in a robe over her nightdress, her damp hair cascading naturally around her shoulders. Her small mouth hung open slightly as she met Cain’s eyes through the mirror.

Riette had just settled at the vanity, and Cain stood behind her, towel in hand, as though he were her personal attendant.

“You’re saying we’re leaving Chalonné right away? Did I hear that correctly?”

“That’s correct.”

Bea didn’t respond further to Cain’s statement and left the room first.

Her face was pale, her expression heavy with worry, as though his words had pierced her heart like an arrow. How she chose to process that brief conversation was entirely her choice. Cain had more urgent matters on his mind and no time to worry about anything else.

Cain’s eyes landed on Riette’s cheek, reflected in the mirror.

After her bath, her complexion was glowing, though the right cheek, where Ceres had struck her, was swollen and red. Furthermore, her wrists, bound by Narkissis, bore vivid red marks. Without realizing it, he clenched his jaw tightly, the muscles in his sharp jaw tightening visibly.

After letting out a deep sigh, he placed the towel aside and knelt on one knee. He gently took her wrist in his hand, handling it as if she were a delicate sugar figurine that could break at the slightest touch.

“….”

Her wrist was so delicate it could fit entirely in his hand. The red marks on her pale, fragile skin looked as though they had been seared with a hot iron.

How could anyone find a place to strike on such a small body?

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