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Translator: penny
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Yes, I Am the Northern Duke (3)
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Exactly one minute after the princess's "fuck" remark.
We glared at each other's faces in silence.
And in the end, I was the one who broke this suffocating quiet.
Because if I kept my mouth shut any longer, who knew what genre this woman would spin up in her own delusions.
I curled the corner of my mouth nonchalantly, pretending I hadn't heard a thing.
"A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness the Second Imperial Princess."
"...!"
The moment my voice reached her, her dazed pupils snapped back into focus.
She even jolted like someone doused in cold water.
But it only lasted a moment.
The princess swiftly regained the dignified air she'd had upon arrival.
She'd belatedly remembered.
Hundreds of eyes were watching her right here.
If she slipped up, it could tarnish her reputation—and worse, strain relations between the empire and Kaltstein.
'Here comes the acting.'
Her facial muscles twitched faintly.
Then the princess slapped a venomous, arrogant mask over her face in an instant.
The foul-mouthed bitch who'd been hunting for "fuck" moments ago? Gone without a trace.
Roselia tilted her chin up to look down at me.
Or more accurately, she was trying to.
Even with me seated on the throne gazing up at her, the subtle pressure radiating from my body overwhelmed her.
She furrowed her brows briefly, bit her lip hard, and finally parted her lips ever so slowly.
"...To the new lord of Kaltstein, I offer congratulations in the name of the imperial family."
Her voice rang clear, but it cracked ever so slightly at the end.
Her mental recovery wasn't quite finished yet.
I smirked and swirled my wine glass.
"Congratulations. Pretty grandiose words for someone who showed up empty-handed."
"Isn't it the thought that counts? I came in such a rush, I didn't have time to prepare a gift."
"In such a rush..."
I leaned forward just a touch.
That simple motion alone made Roselia's shoulders flinch.
"Then let's dispense with the flowery nonsense and cut to the chase. Did Your Highness come with His Majesty's permission?"
"...What do you mean by that?"
"I'm told there's an inviolable pact between the imperial family and the North—between Loen and Kaltstein—that's held for decades."
Mention of the inviolable pact sent the banquet hall's air plummeting into heaviness.
The nobles held their breath, ears strained to our every word.
I ignored their reactions and pressed on.
"No invading each other's territories. No meddling in each other's politics. An ironclad rule, unspoken since the generations before last. Yet here you are, Your Highness—unannounced, right here in Kaltstein Castle, a vital military stronghold?"
I even propped my chin with a grave look.
"Hard to say if I should take this as a mere courtesy call... or imperial provocation. Quite the dilemma for the North's lord."
"Provocation? Your tone is overly sharp."
Roselia fired back, bristling at once.
'...Oh? She's got some spine.'
Any ordinary noble lady would've crumbled under my aura, eyes welling up. But a possessor? Different breed—real grit.
She snapped her fan open with a flick, hiding her mouth behind it.
"The pact is a relic of bygone days. Times change, and so do alliances. I simply came because a new duke has ascended. The bond between the North and the throne needs redefining."
Smooth as silk on the surface. But inside? Probably screaming from the possessor's view: 'Fuck, save me—the plan's fucked.'
I stared straight into her eyes.
'A new relationship, though.'
Mentioning the "original work" meant this was some novel's world.
And dodging my question about the emperor's permission? She came without Loen's blessing.
Her aim, then... securing a safe haven to save her skin.
If she could swing it, leverage the North's might to eye the throne—or at least ensure survival.
She'd come to butter up my father, the original Kaltstein lord Kailus von Kaltstein. Instead? Some young punk on the throne. Must be driving her up the wall.
'If there's an original story, prying for intel ain't bad...'
Part of me wanted to play fellow reincarnator: Korean bro code, swap some knowledge.
But... Kaltstein-Loen ties demanded clarity on one front.
"So His Majesty signed off on this too?"
I pressed again, and her eyes wavered.
"My father... doesn't know I'm here yet."
"...So you went rogue. No permission, pact be damned."
"...."
Pinned dead to rights, the princess just stared down at me in silence.
I held her gaze a beat, then continued.
"This is awkward. I could toss Your Highness in the North's underground cells right now and ransom you back to the palace. No complaints, right?"
"...!!"
Roselia's face drained white.
Just a throwaway joke on my end. But she took it straight.
Or maybe fear of the unknown had her on edge.
Either way, I'd look like a lunatic who might actually do it.
'Knowing the original but not imperial-North history? Odd.'
Questions bubbled, but priority: keep her from bolting in panic.
Teasing royals was a riot, but corner her too hard? Bites me in the end.
"Kidding."
"...Ha."
A relieved sigh burst from her.
"The North doesn't mistreat guests. Even gatecrashers."
I rose from my seat.
Our eyes locked level.
Up close? Definitely a beauty.
Black soul aside.
"You look worn out. Long trip must've been rough."
"My thanks... for your kindness."
"We'll hash out the rest after the feast—in the annex. I've got questions. About this 'new relationship' Roselia—not the emperor, not the empire—craves with Kaltstein's lord."
I flashed a loaded smile.
Roselia flinched at it again.
Her mind? Probably churning dark scenarios.
'Did he clock my game? Gonna use me?'
Spot on.
I would.
Thoroughly.
"Then I'll withdraw for now."
She bowed and backed away—fleeing, yet clinging to grace.
The duke's maids rushed to escort her.
Her red dress hem faded into the distance. I cheered inwardly.
'Fun.'
A juicy plaything had tumbled into my near-boring duke gig.
I straightened my attire lightly and turned to the gobsmacked nobles.
Dumbfounded faces all around.
Princess shows, deathmatch stare-down with the duke, secret summit scheduled, poof—gone.
Bewildered eye-rolls, no clue how to swallow that hook.
I clapped sharp.
"Come on, why the funeral faces?"
My voice jolted them alert.
"Party's not dead yet. Wine's flowing, music's primed, yeah?"
I strode to the podium's edge, arms wide.
"Ignore it all—keep the fun going. Northern nights run long."
"Ah, yes! Right away, Your Grace!"
"Music! Strike up the band again!"
Sharp retainers hollered to pump the vibe.
The orchestra scrambled for instruments, launching a spry waltz.
The stiff hall thawed into forced festivity.
Satisfied with the mess, I eyed Seria, now glued to my side.
"Seria."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Wrap things up here. Urgent business—gotta jet."
"The princess?"
"Kinda. Windfall or wrecking ball? Gotta check."
I chuckled and turned.
"Keep the mood steady. Boot the sloppy drunks."
"Understood. Farewell."
Seria saw me off as I slipped from the hall.
Cold corridor air kissed my face at once.
Banquet din receded to a distant hum beyond the door.
Striding the long, empty passage, I unleashed the laugh I'd bottled up.
"Fuck, she said."
Masterpiece, even on replay.
That ripe Korean curse from the princess's lips lingered in my ears.
"This life... might not be dull after all?"
Humming idly, I veered not for the office—but the annex.
Where Her Highness was likely thrashing quilts, forging black history as we speak.
Off to bask in the glow of original-plot destroyer.