Regression After Proposing to My Childhood Friend
Chapter 12
"Eek... You lunatic!"
Beatrice, having heard Valois’s cynical provocations from behind Crowell, gasped before she could stop herself.
'I knew she wasn't in her right mind from the moment she tried to lay a hand on me at a ball packed with nobles, but...'
Isn't her sense of danger completely broken at this point?
'No, wait. Does Grand Duke Alec really have enough influence to cover up even this?'
The things Valois was spewing out couldn't simply be dismissed as mere disrespect. After all, the person she had just cast as the protagonist of a scandal was the Crown Prince of the Empire!
Of course, Beatrice had absolutely no intention of ever having that kind of relationship with Crowell, even if it killed her. She really didn't! But even if such a thing were true, the standard human reaction would be to pretend not to see or hear it.
'Unless she has a death wish!'
And yet, Valois Edvain Crawford was actually pulling off this grand exposure.
The people who had gathered due to the sudden commotion began to murmur with shocked expressions.
"What did I just hear?"
"Could these burn marks... Did that woman set fire to this place?"
"On top of that, she seems to be claiming that His Highness the Crown Prince and Lady Hartwell are having an inappropriate affair... Good heavens."
Perhaps pleased with the audience's reaction, Valois curled her lips and began to gleefully smear the two of them.
"And wasn't that old tree where they were found practically a sanctuary for lovers? Besides, today is a masquerade, not just any ball. Ha, even if you're head over heels for each other, isn't this a bit too obvious?"
"..."
Beatrice, momentarily speechless at the feast of madness, quickly regained her composure. She felt that if she didn't do something now, things would go exactly as Valois Crawford intended.
Wracking her complex brain, Beatrice instantly clasped her hands to her chest and put on a pitiful act. Then, she opened her mouth calmly in a trembling, wounded voice.
"...You are being very cruel."
Beatrice’s quiet voice contrasted with Valois’s tone, drawing the crowd's attention even more. Beatrice looked at Valois with an expression of disbelief before carefully wrapping her arm around Clyde’s.
"I don't know who you are, but how could you cast such a filthy accusation upon me and His Highness? How could you possibly have such a misunderstanding..."
"...You..."
"I can recite every single marriage vow I shared with my beloved Clyde right here and now."
In truth, she couldn't. How could she possibly remember something like that? She was just bluffing, banking on sheer momentum. Beatrice quickly sighed and continued, fearing Valois might actually demand she recite the vows.
"And you described it as if something were going on with His Highness, but that is not the case at all! His Highness was merely..."
"Merely fulfilling a request of mine as a close friend. Darling, you don't need to worry about me misunderstanding you because of such baseless smears."
As if to match Beatrice’s impromptu performance, Clyde took her cue naturally. Holding her hand tightly like a romantic male lead in a novel, he added with a sweet voice:
"Actually, I was the one who called my darling out here. You were surprised to find His Highness here instead of me, weren't you?"
"Oh, honey, don't tell me!"
"Yes, that's right."
Releasing her arm, he knelt on one knee and pulled a box from his pocket. Inside the box was a necklace set with a light green gemstone that matched Beatrice’s eyes perfectly.
"I wanted to convey my feelings to you once more. To show you how grateful I am that you are with me."
"Oh my, Clyde!"
Beatrice covered her mouth with both hands, acting as if she were deeply moved. Just as she gasped, similar sounds erupted from the crowd—along with their own eyewitness accounts.
"That's right! I noticed for a while now that Sir Dalton was preparing something at the old tree."
"Indeed. Even at the masquerade, I saw how overflowing with love they were, to the point where everyone knew it was them. A secret affair? That seems a bit..."
Seeing the public opinion turning so quickly, Valois shrieked hysterically.
"I saw it! I saw them alone! I saw with my own eyes that they were stuck together! Are you trying to cover for your wife with such flimsy lies? Clyde Dalton, have you truly lost your mind?"
"I don't know who has lost their mind here. For one thing, I can vouch for Clyde’s story. He suddenly told me to head to the old tree instead of the ballroom..."
Cutting off Valois at the perfect moment, Crowell shook his head while handing a bouquet of flowers—from where, no one knew—to Clyde.
"Honestly, you are the only person who would use the Crown Prince of the Empire as a flower delivery boy."
Beatrice was secretly taken aback by the two men’s perfectly synchronized act.
'Wait, what? I never heard of this backup plan...'
Well, whatever. Good things are good, and Beatrice decided she should use this momentum to expose Valois’s true colors. Looking as if she were moved, Beatrice approached Valois with an 'oops' expression.
"Now that I think about it, I still don't know who it is that insulted me and His Highness Crowell."
"Don't touch me. If you lay a finger on me, just know that next time, your fingers will disappear one by one!"
Ignoring Valois’s ominous threat, Beatrice reached out and removed the mask—if one could even call it that—from her face. The masquerade had one interesting rule: as a mechanism to filter out problematic individuals, if one revealed their own identity, the other party was required to do the same.
"According to the rules, I reveal my identity. My name is Beatrice Hartwell. And who might you be, my lady?"
"Shut up. Shut up! You, you...!"
"Oh, now that I think about it, you can't take off your mask yourself because you're being held by the guards. I'll help you!"
*Tap.*
The mask, grazed by Beatrice’s fingertips, fell straight to the floor. The crowd reacted instantly to the face of Lady Valois Crawford, now fully exposed.
"I suspected it, but I didn't want to believe it..."
"Wait, then what happens now? Will the Grand Duke's family be dragged into treason because of Lady Crawford?"
"I wondered why she hated Lady Hartwell so much... So this is why..."
At the voices of the people adding their own words, Valois’s face turned bright red in an instant. It wasn't out of shame, but out of surging rage. Glaring at Beatrice with eyes that seemed ready to burn, she screamed as if she had completely lost her reason.
"You... Youuu!"
"Ugh."
"I'll kill you! How dare you, how dare you make a spectacle out of me? You? I won't let you get away with this. I won't let you!"
Screaming like a madwoman, Valois lunged at Beatrice with all her might. However, before she could even reach her, Clyde gently pulled Beatrice’s shoulder back and struck the back of Valois’s neck.
—*Thwack!*
"Clyde Dal...ton, you too..."
With a short, precise sound of impact, Valois’s body collapsed limply. Clyde looked down at her slumped form coldly for a moment before calling out to Crowell, as if for everyone to see.
"Your Highness, this is..."
"Indeed. It appears to be self-defense, committed inevitably to protect your wife. We shall let this matter drop. Does anyone have any objections?"
At the Crown Prince’s words, the people shook their heads lightly. Even to them, it was clear that Valois was the one who had lost her mind.
The burnt garden, the fallen socialite Valois Edvain Crawford, the Clyde Dalton she had clung to so desperately, his wife, and even the swept-up Crown Prince.
Every noble present knew it. This event they had just witnessed was a 'hot issue' that would keep high society buzzing for quite some time!
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