When the Female Lead Went Off-Script, the Main Male Lead Became the Tyrant's Empress - Chapter 23.1
Haster was alone in the garden of the Summer Palace.
It would have been more accurate to say that he had hidden himself there.
He sat on a bench near the walls arranged like a maze.
Perhaps because of the abundant sunlight, the stone bench was warm.
Whenever the wind blew, the scent of flowers drifted in from somewhere.
Haster sighed.
This might have been the only place where he could be alone.
If he had been in the main palace, Arden would undoubtedly have caught him.
Even when Haster coldly pushed him away, Arden cunningly clung to him like a puppy rubbing its head against the master scolding it while wagging its tail.
Arden was the type Haster found difficult to handle.
He wanted nothing more than to punch him squarely on the bridge of the nose.
However, he couldn’t commit such an affront against the Crown Prince of the Empire.
That was why the method he chose was to hide.
As he sat quietly on the bench and caught his breath, he heard voices coming from somewhere.
Thinking that Arden might have found him, Haster remained silent and peered toward the source of the voices.
There were two people beyond the wall.
One was Marquis Anberg, and the other was one of the foreign guests.
Haster tried to look more closely, but he couldn’t tell who it was from behind.
Their voices were too low for him to understand properly, but he could tell from the atmosphere that they were discussing something secret that others weren’t supposed to discover.
Their conversation continued without interruption.
Eventually, both men extended their right hands and shook.
Some sort of negotiation had just been concluded.
The guest from abroad left first.
Anberg looked down at his right hand with a satisfied smile, then suddenly raised his head.
The main palace was reflected clearly in his gray eyes.
Ambition so blatant that even an ignorant child could have noticed it surged behind his eyes.
He looked at the palace and muttered to himself.
His voice was just loud enough for Haster to hear.
“The Empire must be eternal.”
His resolute tone reeked of irreverence.
Taken at face value, the statement seemed to express a wish for the Empire’s prosperity, but to Haster, it sounded as though the Empire was supposed to exist for that man’s sake.
Four days after that incident, the Marchioness died in an accident, and the Marquis withdrew from society.
It felt strangely contrived.
However, Haster couldn’t determine exactly what made him feel that way.
All he possessed was a thoroughly personal suspicion.
Would something have been different if he had observed the man more closely back then?
But Haster had been unable to do so.
Arden, who seemed to possess a hunting dog’s keen sense of smell, had quickly caught him.
……Arden again.
Was there anywhere that bastard didn’t intrude?
It seemed Haster needed to see Clary and clear his head.
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“You’re going to see Clary?”
“Yes.”
Arden stopped tossing pieces of bread to the ducks by the lake.
Having ‘coincidentally’ run into Haster, he had suggested taking a walk along the lakeside.
Haster had finished the interviews and had nothing in particular to do, so he accepted Arden’s invitation.
The lakeside was quiet and peaceful.
The newly born buds of spring raised their heads like eager students, preparing to bloom, and the breeze was warm.
The blue lake glittered silver beneath the languid afternoon sunlight.
The wild ducks flapped their wings to welcome the new visitors.
The conversation that began with simple greetings flowed smoothly between the two like gentle ripples.
At least, until the subject of Clary came up.
“I don’t want to disturb her, but I don’t believe it would be respectful to select her lady-in-waiting without hearing her opinion.”
“Is that so?”
Without Haster noticing, Arden glanced toward the West Wing.
A figure could be seen through a second-floor window.
An enraged Clary was pounding both hands against the window like a gorilla and shouting something.
Judging by the shape of her mouth, Her Highness appeared to be yelling, ‘I won’t let you get away with this!’
‘Hmm, or is it, ‘I’ll get revenge!’?’
Neither possibility was anything pleasant.
Arden gave his niece a broad grin as the burly maids dragged her away, then looked back at Haster.
“Then why don’t you notify her in advance? Clary must have a separate schedule of her own.”
At Arden’s suggestion, Haster agreed, saying, ‘That would be best.’
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