# 10
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The pungent smell of wine spread through the air as soon as the bottle was opened. Eric took out two glasses and poured whiskey into them.
“This time, I would like to ask you to be more comfortable, Your Highness.”
“...Haven't I been uncomfortable all this time?”
“Here, take a sip.”
Eric handed the glass of whiskey to Harris, who was still confused.
Slowly but briefly, Eric continued speaking.
“In exchange for exporting under the Kingdom’s name, sales have been reduced by 20% so far.”
“Yes, but isn’t that your agreement with my father?”
“It's been three years.”
As Eric held a glass full of whisky, he stared at Harris intently.
“I'm talking about the flat rate of tax. It's been a long time since that period has passed.”
Eric took a sip.
Even as a sweet scent entered his nose, a bitter taste spread across his tongue.
“Now, well, you will have to think carefully about my situation. I no longer need the name of the royal family to help me.”
A crack could be seen in Harris' carefully worn mask.
Fucking Eric Aslan.
This was a clear provocation. He acted confidently, as if he was actually going to win.
And of course, thanks to Eric's inventions and his railways, the kingdom was thriving.
The royal family, which had collapsed, regained some of its power. The support of the common people for Eric, because he was a commoner, can be attributed to his bias towards the royal family.
But was Erik Aslan trying to withdraw?
To reach this point. This is not possible.
After his emotions calmed down, Harris approached Eric calmly.
“Whatever the Marquis wants. Of course.”
Then he moved closer and grabbed Eric's shoulder.
“But listen to me.”
His fingers were tense. Eric felt a sharp pain as if the prince wanted to rip his shoulder off.
“My sister wants to see you, Marquis.”
Harris's golden eyes shone with a dangerous look.
His eyes held a gleam of desire to get rich, but they also held a faint feeling of helplessness due to the fact that he could not achieve it, and these two feelings were cloy intertwined.
“Marquis...”
Harris whispered in a low voice.
"You'll need a higher status. Don't you think?"
Eric glanced at the hand on his shoulder.
It had been a long time since Harris had been secretly pressuring Eric to marry his sister, the Fourth Princess.
It started about two years ago.
“Your Highness.”
Eric shook his head, sighing.
“I have a wife.”
It was a firm answer, but it was also something Harris was used to.
The prince smiled and shrugged.
“Think carefully, Marquis.”
He licked his lips and uttered venomous words.
“Religion has lost its control over people.”
Harris walked behind Eric, his hand still on the other's shoulder.
“People no longer listen to the ruler or read the Bible. Power is in money. We have to adapt well.”
In this rapidly changing era, people are divided into two categories.
Idealists who spread stories of reaching heaven, and capitalists who want to create a new world based on money while maintaining their dignity.
Eric was, of course, the latter type.
“In times like these, isn’t it wonderful that the Marquis is a truly rich man? No one can even come close to your wealth.”
“But you have no power—no ability.”
By that he meant “status.”
In the bloody hierarchy that still existed, Eric was merely a pawn.
Harris was keenly aware of Eric's feelings of inferiority.
“I say I will give you that power.”
His words were both desperate and seductive in equal measure, like the whisper of a snake.
Eric refilled their cups.
“Again, I must say I am married.”
"Didn't I say that before? Religion has lost its power. People no longer avoid divorce."
Wasn't this only the case for men?
Eric tried hard to swallow these words that almost rolled off his tongue.
“A matter like divorce, for example, is governed by the Supreme Court, and I am the one who has the right to appoint the president of the Supreme Court. I can easily end the matter and pass the documents.”
“Your Highness.”
"Stop being so stubborn. Isn't this for Chloe's sake anyway?"
Finally, Harris pulled his hand from Eric's shoulder.
Then he faced the other man.
The golden eyes that were a sign of royalty – they contained undisguised desire.
“Instead of Marquis...”
Harris grabbed Eric's arms tightly, as if to say he had no escape.
“I think being a member of the royal family would suit you better.”
Eric had to muster all his patience to maintain his facial expression. He could hardly show his indifference.
Eric was so angry that he would have cursed this man and kicked him out if he had been anyone else, but he was a prince.
Aside from anger, he felt ashamed.
He was in a situation where he had to listen to such ridiculous suggestions from such a scoundrel, all because of his status.
“Please think about it seriously this time. My sister is getting older, so the marriage issue must be resolved as soon as possible.”
Harris said this with a calm smile, thinking that Eric's silence was a positive thing.
Eric looked away instead of answering.
And at that moment.
-knock knock.
There was someone outside the door.
Eric and Harris looked in that direction at the same time.
Didn't Eric say that no one should disturb their meeting?
In this unexpected situation, Eric felt strangely nervous. He felt anxious without knowing why.
“There is an arrogant person who dares to interfere in the prince’s meeting. Can I kill that person?”
“You can't, Your Highness.”
“I'm kidding. Come in.”
Wherever he went, Harris always acted as if he owned the place.
This was something Eric was familiar with, but he couldn't stand how horrible the whole thing was.
Eric managed to hold back his growing anger, then turned to the person who had entered.
It was Andrea Konyak, the bridesmaid who was brought in yesterday. I entered with awkward steps.
Why was this woman… Eric felt his heartbeat quicken in his ribcage.
The anxiety he was feeling could be sensed by the speed of his heartbeat.
“I apologize for disturbing you. I tried to look for Your Excellency’s assistant, but I was unable to, so I had no choice but to...”
“What's wrong?”
Eric interrupted her.
“The lady has fainted. We have to call a doctor, so—”
-Crash!
Eric stared blankly at the floor where his whiskey glass had fallen.
Shards of glass littered the carpet.
But he didn't move an inch.
His face was pale.
A smile appeared on Harris' lips.
“Is Chloe here?”
At this point, Eric finally regained consciousness. He placed his hand on the edge of the desk and stood up.
“My wife is here because there was something she had to do. But she will be back soon.”
“It's raining heavily. They say there was an avalanche in the northern part of the country.”
“You'll be back soon.”
When Harris heard Eric repeat the same words, he burst out laughing.
This insignificant man couldn't hide his feelings, that's how he thought about Eric.
It was fun to see him like this.
“Then let's do this.”
Harris continued as he filled his glass with more whisky.
“We will have a banquet at the palace next week.”
“I heard that, but Lord Garnet will attend in my place.”
"No no."
Harris poured alcohol straight down his throat.
When he drank the strong alcoholic beverage, his esophagus became hot.
His heart was burning too.
Harris felt a pleasant ecstasy.
“You will be attending with Chloe.”
Harris smiled relieved.
“She might feel upset if she were sent back without even being given the hospitality of the capital.”
“But Your Highness, I just heard that Chloe is sick.”
“I'll send my doctor.”
Eric gritted his teeth.
Now that Harris had said this, he could no longer continue to refuse.
"Then, let's discuss the matter in detail when we meet again. The prosthetic limb deal…"
Harris placed his empty glass on the desk, then winked.
“And your second marriage.”
* * *
It hurts.
That was all Chloe could think about as she barely maintained consciousness amidst the intense fever.
Why did this happen? She didn't know how she got to this point.
The last thing she remembered was her fight with Eric, then leaving the room panting heavily, holding on to a chair to lean on. After that, nothing. As if white paint had been poured over her eyes.
When she woke up, she was lying in bed. She realized she had a fever when she exhaled once.
“It's very painful.”
She had to take her medicine.
But she didn't have the strength to get out of bed. It was difficult for her to keep her eyes open. She didn't even have enough strength to move a finger.
Maybe it should stay that way.
If she hadn't taken her medicine after falling like that, would she have died from this fever? If she died now...
“The doctor will come soon.”
Chloe heard a voice, and opened her eyes without realizing it.
Eric's face was clear, but her vision was blurry.
"Please keep lying down. Don't get up."
Then she felt something cold on her forehead. Eric had put a wet towel over her.
But suddenly her whole face became wet as if the towel had not been wringed out well. Eric hurriedly picked up the wet towel.
"Shit. If I squeeze it too much, the water won't be cold, but if I squeeze it hard enough, it'll be too much water. What do I do then?"
He squeezed the towel again. Then, with a light touch – at least that's how Chloe felt – he placed the towel on her forehead again.
She felt the coolness of the towel pressing against the heat of her skin.
Chloe was staring at him blankly.
It didn't seem real. She felt like she was dreaming.
How can this situation be explained unless it was really a dream?
Eric was taking care of her.
Why?
“Can you breathe comfortably?”
But that hand that touched the tip of her nose was completely clear. It can't be a dream.
Chloe soon regained consciousness. No matter how bad her health was, she couldn't look so shabby.
"I'm fine…"