How the Villainous Consort Avoids His Death Ending - Chapter 17.2
It was much earlier than when trade began in the original Chronicles of the Sword, but the northern continent, composed of several kingdoms forming a loose alliance, had achieved significant industrial development through continuous competition. It was simply not well-known because of its rare contact with the Empire.
However, many of the products Everett later handled would not yet exist, so I would have to go out and find which ones to import myself.
“Really? Then what are we going to bring?”
The way he stumbled over his words, still unaccustomed to polite speech, was quite adorable. But I could not reply right away, because I had no convincing answer.
I also wanted to bring and sell something, but Hezekia had shockingly little foundation to build upon.
I tried to sound calm as I continued.
“There’s no need to bring anything. Since Hezekia is between the northern continent and the Empire, we can profit from intermediary trade…”
I was about to babble excuses when I suddenly stopped. Would a child even understand this?
I glanced down at Constantine, who was frowning solemnly. Sure enough, his round eyes flickered like a candle in the wind.
“Right, intermediary… that thing, let’s do that.”
“Yes…”
I hesitated whether to explain further, but Constantine nodded vigorously as if he understood, so I missed the timing. I just played along with a serious nod.
“It’s late, Constantine.”
Our eyes turned toward the direction of the voice. Tristan was leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. Constantine puffed his cheeks and pouted, displeased.
“I just got here. I’m not sleepy at all.”
“The Grand Consort is tired.”
“Really?”
When did I ever say that? I silently protested with wide eyes, but Tristan stood firm. Even more absurd was that Constantine nodded with grave seriousness.
“The Grand Consort is weak, so he needs to rest right away. You can’t get sick again.”
“Good boy.”
“Wait, I’m not that weak…”
The two of them went back and forth before deciding on their own. I tried to object, but neither of them responded. Constantine looked back at me several times with regret before heading to his cabin. Once he left and the door closed, the surroundings fell quiet. That was when I realized it—
I was alone with Tristan.
A strange silence lingered. I tried not to notice it, but I was aware. After all, I was the one who ended up causing that kind of accident with him…
I forced myself to sound composed.
“Then, I’ll sleep on the sofa in the sitting room.”
But before I could finish, Tristan cleared his throat.
“I will take the sofa. The Grand Consort should rest comfortably on the bed.”
“What?”
I blinked, flustered, stammering without meaning to.
“What are you saying… You can’t do that. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
“What do you mean, I can’t?”
Tristan frowned slightly. Did he really not understand? Why did I feel like I was making excuses?
“How could I drive the lord of the Grand Duke to the sofa?”
If that actually happened, it would cause a scandal. I shuddered at the thought of the Hezekians, probably still standing guard on deck with grim expressions, overhearing us.
“Aren’t you also the master of the Grand Duke?”
“Well, that’s only in name. In reality…”
“In reality?”
“I’m just someone suspected of being Everett’s spy, aren’t I? A Grand Consort only in title.”
It was unfair to be treated this way because of a Second Prince I had never even met, but there was nothing I could do. I replied with resignation, and Tristan’s expression turned awkward.
“…I didn’t expect you to put it so bluntly. I suppose you were hurt.”
“What? Of course not.”
“It’s something that will be resolved gradually. It may trouble you for now, but…”
“I’m not hurt, really.”
“Everyone knows Constantine is indebted to you. It’s just that old resentments can’t be erased in a day.”
“I told you, it doesn’t bother me…”
Whether he couldn’t hear me or chose not to, Tristan simply finished what he wanted to say. Then he strode over and dropped himself onto the sofa.
“…”
I was left speechless, unable to stop him. It wasn’t like the first person to claim a spot was the rightful owner, after all.
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