To be honest, Ilse didn’t believe for a second that a honey trap would work on the Ice-Cold Prime Minister walking beside her.
She could only envision a future where the moment she confessed her feelings, he would give her a look like she is trash. She was so close to being released from a life of exploitation by her half-brother.
When Heidmarie first proposed taking Ilse to accompany her for the marriage procession, Ilse had honestly confessed her feud with her family. She had asked the Princess to keep this personnel decision a secret until the last possible moment.
Knowing her brother, he would absolutely interfere if he found out Ilse was escaping his grasp. Heidmarie, determined to take a trusted maid from Deigeln, even promised to issue a Royal Decree if necessary.
It would be a major problem for Ilse if Count Kallenberg finalized a marriage arrangement for her without her consent at this point. So, as much as she hated to involve him, she needed Diethardt to play along with this charade.
(Even so… why did it have to be Prime Minister Schwarzen?)
There was a reason for her quiet sigh. Some time after she began working at the palace, Ilse had once committed a huge blunder by clinging to Diethardt due to a prank by the Fourth Prince.
She had encountered the mischievous Fourth Prince, who was full of youthful pranks at a small garden party held deep within the palace, more accurately described as a picnic.
The fourth Prince who still a child, must have wanted to provoke a screaming reaction from the maid who usually walked through the palace with composure.
He had actually caught a frog that had just woken from hibernation, tied a string to its leg, and tossed it toward the maids.
Ilse, unfortunately chosen as the target of this prank, had fallen into complete panic. Despite she being born and raised in a scenic countryside far from the capital, she had hated frogs since she was a little girl.
Perhaps it was because a frog had stuck to her leg while she was playing by the river when she was four or five years old. Ever since then, she had hated frogs. When the Fourth Prince launched the frog at her, Ilse lost all composure, screaming and scattering in a frantic rush.
The person she blindly latched onto for help, without understanding what was happening she turned out to be none other than Diethardt, the Prime Minister. Frankly, it’s a dark stain on her past.
It was incredibly awkward and difficult to interact with the person before whom she had made such a spectacle, trying to maintain a straight face. She was only spared because Diethardt never talks that incident.
“Is something on my face?”
“Eeeck…! N-no…”
Damn it. She had unintentionally been staring him.
“…Perhaps I missed a spot shaving on my beard?”
His voice sounded somehow downcast. As the Prime Minister, who appeared in public, he was likely sensitive about his appearance.
I shouldn’t have done that. She had almost hurt his feelings with her unnecessary scrutiny. Flustered, Ilse desperately searched for a response and noticed a mole on his neck.
“A-actually, I recently read a book on mole fortune telling. I noticed a mole on your neck, Prime Minister Schwarzen, and couldn’t help but stare. I truly apologize, sir.”
To be precise, she had only seen the advertisement in the newspaper and laughed about it with Beate and the others, saying things like, “What is mole fortune telling?” “Is it an imitation of tea leaf reading?” and “Anything goes these days, right?”
“…”
A silence fell between them. Diethardt, the heir to the prestigious Marquis family and the Ice-Cold Prime Minister, apparently had no interest in such trivial, worldly topics.
He might even be disappointed that a Princess’s maid was so caught up to worldly.
What should I do? The silence was heavy.
Then again, walking side-by-side with the Prime Minister of the country was awe-inspiring in itself. he wasn’t someone she should be chatting casually with.
“…What was the result?”
A small voice seemed to drift down to her.
“Excuse me?”
“The mole on the neck… I wonder what does it means?”
Ilse’s eyes darted around. She never expected him to ask. Was this also part of his effort to grasp the citizenry’s preferences? But I’m sorry, Your Excellency.
Since she had only seen the title in a newspaper ad, she couldn’t possibly know the meaning.
“…I don’t recall it, but I believe it wasn’t a bad result?”
Her answer was extremely vague.
“I see.”
Upon hearing her reply, Diethardt’s lips curled up ever so slightly at the corners. Was that a smile? But was it just my imagination?
It was only for an instant before he quickly reverted to his usual expression, but Ilse was left with her mouth agape, as if she had spotted an exotic animal from a foreign country strolling down the street of town.