Little Tyrant Doesn't Want to Meet with a Bad End

Chapter 484.2: The One Missing (2)

…

“Lord Roel, Miss Charlotte will need some time to prepare herself. Please wait here for a moment.”

“Alright.”

Roel casually eyed the dozen exquisite carriages stopped along Brolne’s main road, and he noticed bits of dirt and mud clinging onto them. The coaches driving the carriages were also fighting a losing war against their drooping eyelids. That affirmed his earlier conjecture that Charlotte’s convoy was traveling without rest back to Rosa.

A sharp glint flashed across his eyes.

There’s indeed something wrong here.

Holding onto the reins of his steed, he recounted the events that had happened earlier.

Roel and the heretic army had woken up before sunrise, and they quickly packed up their items and resumed their pursuit. They spent hours charging ahead before the Diamond Rivière finally appeared in their line of sight.

To his surprise, the Diamond Rivière didn’t stop right away even though a few members of their convoy had already noticed him, choosing to travel on.

Charlotte would always order for her convoy to halt whenever they bumped into each other, regardless of the occasion, but she didn’t do so this time around. Roel was forced to follow the convoy for quite some time.

Things only got weirder after the convoy halted.

Charlotte didn’t leap out of the carriage right away, and the one to receive him wasn’t Grace but another female guard. Roel had some impression of this female guard, but going by the Sia Continent’s etiquette, she was unqualified to receive someone of his stature.

He wasn’t bothered by such formalities, but he knew Charlotte was. It was unlike her to commit such a faux pas.

Is this a show of dominance from her? No, that shouldn’t be…

It was a baffling situation to Roel, but he decided against dwelling on it since it was of lesser importance. His priority was to meet Charlotte and have her explain the situation.

But as time ticked by, his eyebrows started to furrow.

She’s taking too long.

Roel glanced at the coaches who had started napping from having to wait for an extended period of time, and his expression slowly turned grave.

He was not so dense as to not know that women needed more time to wash up and fix their appearances in the morning, but Charlotte was an exception. In the days they spent traveling together, she had always been able to tidy herself up quickly every morning. In fact, she often had spare time to peek at his sleeping visage.

The sun was already hanging high in the sky. Charlotte should have already woken up by now. It was bewildering how the door to her carriage was still firmly closed after such a long period of time.

Should I barge in?

Fortunately, the carriage door opened before Roel could make a reckless move. A female attendant stepped out and offered Charlotte’s invitation to him, informing him that she was waiting in the guest room. He answered with a nod.

Roel entered the Diamond Rivière and walked across a spacious lounge. He soon arrived at the guest room, where an auburn-haired woman sat on the other opposite end of a sofa.

A year had passed since their last meeting, but Charlotte looked the same as ever, be it her flawless fair skin, her flowing auburn hair, her dignified face, or her intoxicated emerald eyes.

She wore a stylish gown weaved of red and white that exposed her shoulders, only to tighten around her waist. It flowed in a way that naturally brought focus to the crimson trinket she wore around her ankles.

It was a piece that looked innocent but seductive, noble but avant-garde, a style that was uniquely Charlotte. It was probably one of her self-created piece.

Roel was mesmerized from the moment he laid his eyes on her, but he quickly let out a cough and adjusted his state of mind.

“It has been a while, Charlotte. How have you been faring?”

“… I’ve been well, darling. What about you?”

“Well… Not too bad, I guess.”

Roel momentarily paused for a moment at Charlotte’s return question as he thought about everything he had faced over the past year. From Tark Stronghold’s tragedy, the Theocracy’s internal war, to the recent Braytown investigation, it was simply too hard for Roel to describe his year as ‘good’…

… though the same could be said about Charlotte too.

Suppressing the lethargy and enfeeblement haunting her, Charlotte put down her teacup and looked at Roel with deep eyes. She had bottled up countless words to say to him over their year of separation, but she had to hold herself back, knowing that it wasn’t the time for it.

She couldn’t risk Roel catching the same affliction, no matter how slim the possibility was.

Her plan was to express her dissatisfaction and find a way to drive Roel off, but when they finally came face-to-face with each other, she realized that she had overestimated herself. How could she drive off the man she had been yearning for an entire year?

Her aching heart started to beat hard from the moment he appeared before her. A year’s worth of feelings suddenly gushed forth, resuscitating her dulling soul.

I… I am really unable to chase him away, Charlotte thought bitterly.

On the other hand, Roel took a trip down memory’s lane too, but he quickly snapped out of it. Turning his eyes toward Charlotte, he asked a question that had been plaguing his heart for a few days now.

“Charlotte, did something happen?”

“What are you saying, darling? What could have possibly happened?”

“Don’t bother putting on an act. This doesn’t work on me.”

Fluster momentarily flashed across Charlotte’s eyes. She quickly concealed it with a smile, but Roel wasn’t fazed at all.

From their first meeting, he had already known that she was an actress through and through. It was not just once or twice that he had fallen for her act, though her tricks slowly lost their effectiveness as they got closer to each other.

“You didn’t inform me when you returned to Saint Freya Academy, and now you’re returning home without bidding me farewell. I can’t say that this is the Charlotte I know. Tell me, what happened?”

“… It’s nothing. I just miss home.”

“Miss home?”

“Yes. I’m drained from the long discussions in the symposium,” replied Charlotte.

It was a response that didn’t satisfy Roel, but no matter how he probed her, she obstinately clung to her stance, insisting that she had been out for too long and wanted to quickly return home to rest.

The way she was reacting to the situation failed to assuage Roel’s unease; if anything, it was making him worry more. He was getting a bad feeling based on what he knew about her, but the latter was refusing to divulge any clues at all.

Knowing that he wouldn’t make any progress at this rate, he turned his attention to the other details, hoping to unravel some other clues from the details. It didn’t take long for something—or rather, the absence of something—to catch his eyes.

Looking at the lonesome Charlotte in the room, his golden eyes narrowed with hawk-like sharpness.

“Charlotte, where is your personal maid, Grace?”