The Devil is the Villainess

Chapter X: The Mastermind (Part 2)

Frederick, the crown prince of Genovia, embodies sophistication and diligence. Devoted to his duties, he is a diligent and hardworking individual who has ascended to great heights. However, he is determined not to see it all come to naught.

As he delves into contemplation, Medea's words unexpectedly resurface in his mind. Tempted by her offer, he fears the possibility of yielding to it. Despite his efforts to suppress these thoughts, they persist, drawing him back like a magnet to steel.

His steadfast dedication to his duties, her words lingered in the recesses of his mind like persistent echoes, tempting him with their seductive promises. Try as he might to banish them, they remained an unwelcome presence, a constant reminder of the precarious balance between duty and desire.

"Your Highness?" The voice of his trusted advisor pierced through the fog of Frederick's contemplations, drawing him back to the present. Blinking away the haze of distraction, he refocused his attention, realizing he had momentarily drifted away from the conversation at hand.

"I'm sorry," Frederick murmured, his voice carrying the weight of his preoccupation, "Could you please repeat what you said?"

His right-hand man, ever patient and composed, consulted the document in his hand before relaying the pertinent information. "Prince Rezef has proposed that the funds for the charity event be channeled through the temple, allowing them to distribute the donations to the commoners. He believes this would enable you to prioritize your responsibilities as a crown prince without being burdened by administrative details."

Frederick's fingers tightened around the pen in his grasp as he absorbed the suggestion. The air crackled with tension, his silence palpable in the room. Sensing the gravity of the moment, his advisor ventured cautiously, "Your Highness, what are your thoughts on Prince Rezef's proposal?"

Lowering the pen, Frederick interlaced his fingers, his expression contemplative. "My stance remains unchanged," he declared, his tone resolute. "To withdraw now would only undermine the trust I have cultivated with the common people. Elysia, too, would not condone such a retreat."

"I understand."

Alone in his office, Frederick dismissed his right-hand man, his thoughts swirling in a tempest of disbelief and introspection. As he placed a weary hand upon his furrowed brow, he murmured in a hushed tone, "When did you, dear brother, begin to care about my position as the crown prince?"

The weight of the past pressed upon Frederick's mind as he reminisced about the distant and aloof demeanor his older brother had once held toward him. With a frustrated grit of his teeth, Frederick continued, "It seems you only started to show interest once I was crowned as the heir apparent..."

His thoughts drifted back to a pivotal moment in their shared history, a scene etched in memory where a determined young Frederick had confronted his older brother with unwavering resolve.

 "Despite your seniority and experience, I will rise above you to claim the throne," he had declared, his voice echoing with determination. Yet, his older brother's response was consistently enigmatic, dismissing Frederick's aspirations with a cryptic retort. "Haven't you already done so?" his brother would retort, his gaze piercing, "You have."

Returning to the present, Frederick's gaze lingered upon a photograph depicting their childhood innocence, a relic of a time when their bond had been unbreakable. 

"...You've changed," he murmured, a bittersweet lament for the fractured relationship that now stood between them.

The ambiance in Frederick's chamber softened as a gentle knock resonated through the room. Lost in his contemplations, Frederick's voice invited the visitor in with a quiet, "Come in."