Leave the Villainous Second Male Lead Alone - Chapter 4.4

As a result, rumors began to swirl—that Roen was infatuated with me. Some even speculated that his failure to marry was because of me. They painted a tragic picture of unrequited love, with Roen unable to forget me because of my traits.

Inwardly scoffing, I greeted him as he entered.

“I have the honor of meeting His Highness, the Crown Prince. What brings you to Winyates?”

“You look as though I’ve intruded where I’m not welcome. I’m disappointed, Étienne,” Roen said, his tone playful yet cutting.

He wasn’t wrong—he had come where he shouldn’t. I masked my incredulous thoughts and looked up at him with a blank expression.

Roen’s cold, wall-like gaze hadn’t changed since we were young. He brushed his dazzling blond hair back with one large hand, smiling faintly at the corner of his mouth.

“I’ve come to appeal to Étienne’s good nature, for the sake of our relationship. If Harrington is in trouble, it will make things difficult for both my mother and me.”

I said nothing.

The “relationship” he mentioned was nothing more than that of an imperial prince and a count’s heir. In truth, I harbored a deep-seated grudge against Roen. His audacity left me speechless, but he continued speaking as though nothing were amiss.

“Don’t be so rigid, Étienne. Let’s discuss this properly. You know taking over the Teria region will put us in a difficult position. Isn’t there another way?”

“Your Highness,” I said evenly, “the Teria region was mortgaged through proper procedures. We cannot indefinitely accommodate Harrington’s circumstances.”

“Of course, of course,” he said, waving a hand. “But doesn’t something about this seem… strange?”

“What exactly do you mean by ‘strange’?”

“It’s not just Teria,” Roen said, his tone sharp. “Blasthar Port, once part of the Harrington estate, is now the heart of North Sea trade. And the Bjorn region? When it was ours, we believed the mines there had run dry. But now that it belongs to Winyates, it seems to be overflowing with copper ore. Isn’t that peculiar?”

“How could that possibly be my fault?” I replied, keeping my voice calm. “It’s simply how things turned out.”

“But isn’t it odd?” Roen pressed. “These areas had little value when Harrington held them, but as soon as they fall into Winyates’ hands, they suddenly become immensely valuable. It almost feels like…”

He paused, fixing me with his piercing blue gaze. A cold smile played on his lips.

“…someone is deliberately trying to bring Harrington down.”

A shiver ran down my spine. Forcing a smile, I clenched my fists tightly behind my back.

“Could that possibly be true, Your Highness?”

“Who knows?” Roen said with a faint smile. “But I can’t help thinking that way.”

“What kind of thoughts are you referring to?”

Roen stepped closer, his movements deliberate. Instinctively, I tilted my head back to meet his gaze. His piercing eyes bore down on me, sharp and calculating. Tilting his head slightly to one side, he spoke again.

“The thought that all of this feels like someone’s plan.”

“…”

“Étienne, do you… harbor any grudge against us?”

I clenched my teeth, my jaw tightening.

I was still recovering from the illness that had left me bedridden for so long, and even dealing with the Duke of Harrington had been exhausting. Now, facing Roen, my breath quickened, and cold sweat began to trickle down my forehead. Yet, it wasn’t only due to the tension.

Roen was releasing pheromones. The icy, alpha scent—reminiscent of biting midwinter winds—filled the room, rippling through the air and suffocating me.

“Are you feeling unwell, Étienne?” he asked, his tone feigning casual concern. “You don’t look so good.”

“…No, Your Highness.”

His expression, though outwardly polite, carried a suspicious edge. I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste iron, the sharp pain helping me regain focus. Forcing a tremulous smile, I met his gaze.

“Are you okay, Young Master?” Duke Harrington interjected, looking awkward and uneasy. “Come to think of it, didn’t you mention being unwell just a few days ago? We must have come at a bad time.”

The Duke seemed oblivious to Roen’s calculated actions. I shot Roen a pointed glare, but he simply smiled at me as if amused.

“I’m asking you, Étienne,” Roen pressed. “Why aren’t you answering?”

“…A grudge, Your Highness?” I said, forcing my tone to remain neutral. “How could such a thing ever exist?”

I averted my gaze, eager to end this conversation and get them out of my sight. But Roen wasn’t finished.

“You say that, but I can’t help but wonder if there might be something unresolved between us,” he said smoothly. “Perhaps because of that illegitimate child. You don’t think the fire back then had anything to do with me, do you?”

My head snapped toward him involuntarily. His words struck a nerve, delivered so nonchalantly it was almost cruel. I knew I should ignore him, but the sharp retort slipped out before I could stop it.

“I’ve never brought up such a thing,” I said coldly. “I have no idea why you’d even think that.”

“No? But you’ve been different since that bastard child died,” Roen said, his tone dripping with feigned disappointment. “So cold to me now. It’s honestly a little upsetting.”

“I haven’t changed,” I replied sharply. “There was never any particular reason for Your Highness and me to be especially close in the first place, was there?”

“Wow, that’s harsh,” Roen said, smirking. “Still, we were almost engaged, weren’t we? Are you really going to be this cold?”

“…Since I’ve manifested as an Alpha, there’s no need to discuss engagement any further,” I said firmly.

“Alpha manifestation, huh… since we’re on the topic,” Roen said, his piercing blue eyes glinting coldly as they fixed on me.

“I clearly saw you as an Alpha with my own eyes,” he continued, his voice deceptively calm, “but strangely, Étienne, you’ve been giving off a peculiar scent since earlier.”

“Your Majesty released pheromones, so naturally, mine reacted in response,” I replied sharply, my tone clipped.

At my retort, Roen let out a loud laugh.

“Yeah, that’s true,” he said, his smile widening. “But it doesn’t smell like a typical Alpha’s pheromone, does it?”

I felt my heart drop into the pit of my stomach.

Ever since receiving the hormone injection, I had been living as an Alpha, my scent indistinguishable from any other Alpha. There was no reason Roen should suspect me.

“Young master.”

Elsie’s soft voice interrupted my spiraling thoughts as she approached and sat beside me. Her touch was gentle as she brushed my bangs aside.

“We all miss the young master too,” she said quietly. “But he passed away a long time ago… You know that, right? He was taller than you by a handspan… and his shoulders were this broad…” Her voice wavered. “Young master, you should rest a bit more. Do you have a headache? Should I call Dr. Woodson?”

I stared at Elsie blankly before lowering my head.

The events of the previous night replayed vividly in my mind: Callisto, now grown, looking down at me with those familiar golden eyes, his gentle voice promising that everything would be alright. It hadn’t felt like a dream.

But could it have been?

Could my fever-addled mind have conjured a hallucination?

A sharp pain pulsed in my head as I rubbed my temples.

“…No,” I muttered faintly.

“Are you okay?” Elsie asked, her tone filled with concern.

“Yeah…” I replied weakly.

If it had truly been a dream, it was far too cruel. To see Callisto—the one person I yearned to see even once—only to have him taken away from me again, felt unbearable. I wished I hadn’t dreamt of him at all.

In the end, I collapsed onto the bed, closing my eyes with a heavy heart.

A few days later, as I finally managed to get out of bed, my father came to visit. One look at his grim expression, and I knew something was wrong.

“Did you hear from Roen, Father?” I asked cautiously.

My father sighed deeply, nodding heavily. His face looked sorrowful.

“Not from Prince Roen, but the Holy Land has officially issued a decree from the palace,” he said.

“A decree?”

“Yes,” my father replied. “It concerns the marriage of the prince and the count’s heir to unite the royal family with Winyates.”

“…I see.”

Though phrased indirectly as a union between the prince and the count’s child, it was effectively an imperial order for Roen to marry me.

I had hoped the Emperor might stop it, but it seemed he had been outmaneuvered in the political struggle with the Empress. Or perhaps, with Roen acting as the Emperor’s proxy for so long, he had bypassed the Emperor entirely and gone directly to the Holy Land for approval.

“I tried to meet His Majesty,” my father said weakly, “but his condition worsened rapidly. While he has been improving these past few days… it seems it was already too late.”

So it was true—the Emperor had been incapacitated, leaving Roen and the Empress to push through their agenda. Once decreed, not even the Emperor himself could revoke it. The situation was now truly irreversible.

“Roen is determined,” my father muttered. “There’s nothing we can do.”

After he left, I reflected on Roen’s trajectory in the original story.

In The Prince’s Sword, Roen emerges as the ultimate antagonist in the latter half of the narrative, following Étienne’s tragic death. As a charismatic villain, he dedicates a twisted version of love to the protagonist, Lawrence, becoming quite popular with readers. His devotion was warped, but it was undeniable that he loved Lawrence until the moment he was killed.

Why, then, had Roen become so obsessed with me instead of Lawrence in this altered timeline?

As I thought about the past, my mind wandered to the Harrington estate.

Did I push them too far?

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