After Regressing, I Proposed to My Childhood Friend – Ch. 1

After Regressing, I Proposed to My Childhood Friend

Chapter 1

There are a few facts in the Edvain Empire that everyone knows; if you don’t, you’re practically a spy.

One is that Grand Duke Alec, the Emperor’s older brother, is incredibly handsome. The second is that the strawberry cake from the 127-year-old "Luna Bakery" tastes like heaven. And the last is the unshakable friendship between the Hartwell Count family and the Dalton Duke family.

In other words...

"Oh my goodness, Beatrice! You look absolutely dazzling today!"

"Oh, um, thank you for coming on such short notice."

"Of course I had to come! It’s not just anyone’s wedding, it’s yours! Honestly, now that I can finally say it, we all knew you and Clyde would end up like this, didn't we?"

It meant that everyone naturally accepted the marriage of Beatrice Hartwell and Clyde Dalton, who had been friends for a long time.

Even if the two people who claimed they were "absolutely not like that" had held a wedding within a month, as if they were roasting beans in a lightning strike.

Beatrice offered a hollow smile at her friend, who claimed she had known it would happen ever since they were bickering without reserve at the Academy.

"...Oh, really?"

"Yes! Even though you were in different departments and different years, you showed your faces so often that everyone thought you were in the same department."

That was only because that dim-witted Clyde Dalton kept leaving his assignments in her room.

"You were each other's partners at the graduation party, too, right? Rumors were flying that you were secretly dating."

That... was just because she had forgotten the date and couldn't find a partner in time.

She could still vividly recall the smug expression on Clyde’s face when he asked her what kind of sincerity she had prepared when she went to ask him to be her partner.

'To my utter frustration, I had to hand over a limited-edition cake from Luna Bakery...'

She had waited months to buy it, but that petty jerk didn't even give her a bite and gobbled it all up himself.

However, she couldn't bring up such stories at the wedding. Beatrice suppressed the truth rising to her throat and forced her lips into a smile once more.

"Oh, really."

"When Clyde escorted you out, my suspicions turned into certainty. Some people were even crying in the back. It’ll be the same today, right? No, wait, you’re officially tied down now, so maybe it’ll be even more?"

"...Oh, really?"

To be so envious that they’d cry—she truly couldn't understand it.

Her friend, who nodded quickly, shrugged her shoulders and continued as if it were obvious.

"Even if he is the second son of a Duke, Clyde is handsome. He’s capable, and he’s diligent."

"...Yeah."

Handsome...

'They have no idea.'

They don't know that it wasn't just the Duchess who contributed significantly to the appearance of Clyde Dalton, whom everyone praises.

'Every time I get skincare treatments, he steals my share of the brightening masks and oils. Of course his skin would glow.'

And that’s not all. Diligent? Diligent, you say?

Beatrice wished the entire empire could see him rolling around on the carpet, pouting his lips and complaining about how he didn't want to work.

Then these kinds of comments would vanish in an instant!

'Ugh, I don't want to write this report...'

'So what? No, why are you coming to my room to do that?'

'Bea, can't you write it for me? Huh? Please?'

'Get out.'

'Get out? That’s shocking, Bea. Is that how I raised you to be such a cold-hearted person?'

'What are you talking about, you're only a year older than me. Get out.'

As she recalled the sight she had seen just a few days ago, she was barely maintaining her smile when a light knock sounded at the door. It was her older brother, Ian.

"Bea, it's time to enter."

"Oh, already?"

"Yes, already."

Why is everything so fast?

Ian watched his sister gathering her dress train for a moment before turning to greet her friend.

"Lady Susanna, I know you must be busy, but thank you for attending."

"Oh, of course I had to come! It’s time, so hurry up, Bea! Do well!"

Leaving her friend, who was waving with a flushed face, behind, Beatrice took her brother's hand.

In front of the wedding hall doors.

Seeing his sister's smile, which was strangely sullen, Ian chuckled and tapped her shoulder lightly.

"Why that look?"

"What look?"

"You were rolling around in front of the family saying you’d marry Clyde, so I thought you’d be beaming, but you aren't."

"Oh, that’s...!"

Beatrice was about to retort out of habit, but she clamped her mouth shut. It wasn't because she had nothing to say, but because the doors were opening for the bride's entrance.

Seeing his sister looking visibly nervous, he chuckled again, offered his arm once more, and whispered softly.

"Let's go."

"...Yeah."

It was a rushed wedding, but the hall, filled with fresh flowers, showed signs of careful preparation.

Beatrice skipped over the people staring at her with bated breath, her eyes glazed over, and looked at the man standing on the luxurious white carpet.

With deep blue eyes that seemed to hold the ocean, a straight and sharp nose, a firm, masculine jawline, and lips curved into a light arc.

With hair the color of deep gold, as if honey had been poured over it, the man stood with the perfect posture of a prince from a fairy tale.

It was Clyde Dalton, who would soon be her husband.

'Even I have to admit, the exterior is quite top-tier.'

That must be why everyone is so easily fooled.

Truly, humans are pathetic creatures who rely on their sight, Beatrice thought as she approached him.

As they took each other's hands and smiled affectionately, the two whispered in low voices.

"If you dare try to kiss me during the wedding vows, I will actually kill you."

"Just make sure your veil is at the right angle."

A light scoff and a grip of the hand that tightened as if to say she wouldn't lose.

Up close, there wasn't a hint of the loving couple they appeared to be.

But there was a reason why the two of them were holding this wedding.

Standing before the officiant with Clyde, Beatrice recalled what happened a month ago.

That is, the day she proposed to him... No, wait? The day she was proposed to... well, anyway, that day.

* * *

The glass greenhouse of the Dalton estate.

In a place originally permitted only to members of the Duke's family, Beatrice was sipping iced tea specially made by the head maid and carefully reading a note she had written.

[Things to say if Clyde Dalton asks why he should marry you:

1. People are going to start telling us to get married soon, right? How about we use each other as shields!

2. Because I'm cute.

3.

...Uh, because I'm... cute?

4. (Use only as a last resort!☆☆☆☆☆) Kneel and beg. 'It's the favor of a lifetime. Think of it as saving a life and do it for me.']

At the content that was essentially "no plan," Beatrice stuffed the note into her pocket and rubbed her forehead.

"...Ha, what's the point of regressing? I can't even think of something like this properly."

Suddenly, the nagging her thesis advisor had repeated over and over came to mind.

'Remember! The ability to craft appropriate lies and pretenses is the virtue of an aristocrat!'

Beatrice sighed softly as she recalled the professor's shrill voice.

'...I should have listened carefully.'

Who knew that ignoring it because she had no interest in high society would lead to such regret!

It was shameless, but since she had been regressed anyway, a brazen thought crept in that it would have been nice if it had been pulled back by one year... no, three years.

'If that had happened, I would have been a model student this time and graduated at the top of the Faculty of Liberal Arts!'

It was a vain ambition that would have made Clyde laugh his head off if he had heard it.

Just as Beatrice was spinning meaningless fantasies, the sound of the door opening revealed a shock of golden hair.

Her marriage candidate, Clyde Dalton.

"Haa..."

Clyde’s eyebrows rose slightly at the sigh that had escaped her without her realizing it.

As he sat down and tilted his head slightly to the side, he naturally took Beatrice's iced tea to his lips and asked.

"What's with that sigh?"

"It's because I'm looking at your smirking face, that's why."

"Ah, so it was a sigh of admiration because I'm so handsome."

"Are you sick? Did the Crown Prince hit you on the head because you're so terrible at your job?"

"That's treason, you know."

Beatrice pouted habitually as she watched him sip her iced tea, claiming it was his fee for keeping his mouth shut.

The person who should be drinking the iced tea right now wasn't him, saying things like, "Oh, the peach is just right," but her, whose throat was so parched it felt like it was shriveling up.

'Ugh, how do I start this, seriously?'

Clyde, the days we've spent together are already...

'No, that's too cheesy.'

I'll be blunt, Clyde, you're my husb...

'Argh! Ugh!'

Her fingers curled just thinking about it, and she couldn't stand it.

She fiddled with the crumpled proposal note in her pocket one more time, took a deep breath, and steeled herself again.

'Get a grip, do it. You can do it. No, you have to do it.'

Only then could she avoid facing the tragedy she didn't even want to see in her dreams again.

Just as Beatrice gathered her courage and parted her lips to speak, it happened.

Clyde, having set the iced tea down on the table, met her gaze and suddenly opened his mouth.

"Bea, let's get married."