The Prince's Nanny, Her Specialty Is Assassination - Chapter 49

Chapter 49: The Knight Commander, Jerome Crowner (2)

“What was your name again? Reina, was it?”

“It’s Rachel, not Reina, Commander.”

His short red hair and sharply defined, masculine features suited him almost too well.

His massive frame and bulging muscles made it hard to believe he was over forty.

‘I guess that’s why women still chase after him even as he ages.’

The vice-commander who had followed him answered in my place and glanced over at me.

“She’s the nanny of His Highness the Third Prince.”

“Nanny?”

One of the duke’s eyebrows arched at the word.

“So then, what brings the prince’s nanny to me?”

He must have just finished training—he was dressed casually and drenched in sweat.

Wiping himself roughly with the towel the vice-commander handed over, he slumped into the sofa.

There was nothing remotely aristocratic about his demeanor.

‘Not that it surprises me.’

The ‘Jerome Crowner’ I knew had always been like this.

“Ah, I didn’t even offer our guest a seat. Sit. You, bring some tea.”

“Yes, Commander.”

With just a jerk of his chin, he gave all his orders, then looked at me as if asking what I was waiting for.

I silently took a seat opposite him.

Just then, Jerome’s voice came from above my head.

“Huh. You’ve got more guts than my subordinates, nanny. That’s something.”

Only then did I realize I had forgotten our difference in status.

I hurried to stand, but the duke waved his hand with a friendly smile.

“No need for formalities. I didn’t even remember your name properly—guess we’re both guilty of rudeness.”

Then he shouldn’t have said it in the first place.

Hiding my displeasure, I stood and bowed my head. “…It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Rachel Brown.”

“Yeah, I heard you earlier. I’m not so senile that I’d forget your name already.”

With both arms resting on the back of the sofa and one leg crossed, he looked incredibly arrogant.

“So, what is it you came to ask of me?”

He’d ordered tea but was jumping into the main topic before it even arrived.

‘As impatient as ever.’

Sitting primly, I met his gray eyes directly.

“It’s about His Highness Edwin.”

At Edwin’s name, Jerome’s brows creased slightly.

There was an unmistakable look of discomfort.

“His Highness…”

“Wait.”

Jerome abruptly raised his hand to stop me.

As if he already knew what I was going to say.

“Let me say this first—I’m not interested in some bothersome role like being the prince’s sword instructor. I’ve already refused a request from my own sister.”

Before even hearing my request, he arrogantly ran a hand through his hair.

“I turned down being the personal instructor to my one and only nephew. So if that’s what you’re here to ask, you’d best—”

“Please don’t worry. I didn’t come to make such a request.”

“You didn’t?”

One of his eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“Then what request could you possibly have related to His Highness? That’s the only thing I can think of.”

Just as I was about to answer, the door opened again.

The vice-commander returned with a young page.

On the tray the page held were tea and refreshments.

“I’ve brought the tea, Commander.”

“Thanks. Set it here and go.”

At the commander’s nod, the page hurried to set the cup on the table—

“Ah—!”

Nervous, the page fumbled and dropped the teacup.

It flew through the air—

Straight toward my right thigh.

“Watch out—!”

Both the page and the vice-commander panicked and reached out.

But I was faster.

I reached to catch the falling teacup and redirect the spilling tea—

‘No!’

A nanny isn’t supposed to show combat skill.

With superhuman restraint, I suppressed my reflexes.

The cup crashed onto my thigh, and scalding tea soaked my skirt.

“A-are you alright?!”

“Quick, get something to wipe with!”

The panicked knights flailed in confusion.

I grabbed a towel from the page and began wiping my thigh.

“S-should I get an ice pack?”

“It’s alright. Thank you for your concern.”

“P-perhaps you should return and change out of those clothes…”

I shook my head firmly. “No. I came here today to make a request of the Duke. I won’t leave until he hears me out.”

“Step back.”

At my words, Duke Crowner dismissed the page.

He frowned at my wet skirt.

“I’m sorry about that. Are you really okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not burned?”

“I don’t think so.”

I deliberately raised my voice slightly in response to Jerome.

“Even if I did get burned, the thigh isn’t a body part usually exposed to others, so it’s really fine. It wouldn’t interfere with getting married either.”

If an unmarried woman suffered a burn on her body, it would have been a serious issue.

In the Empire, women with scars were generally not preferred as brides.

I brought up marriage on purpose to heighten his guilt just a little, and it seemed to work well.

“A-hem.”

Jerome repeatedly cleared his throat, apparently bothered by my words.

“Very well, then go ahead.”

Steam was still rising from the freshly poured tea in the cup.

“What’s this request you’re so insistent about making to me?”

“…Will you hear me out?”

Jerome looked like he was considering for a moment, then sighed.

“I’ll hear it. As long as it’s not something like requesting an audience with His Majesty the Emperor, or asking me to become the Third Prince’s sword instructor.”

“Don’t worry. I would never make such a request.”

I gave him a confident smile.

“Instead, just for three months, I’d like Your Grace to allow His Highness to participate in the knights’ training.”

***

“Commander, do you truly intend to grant that woman’s request?”

“There’s no reason not to. She’s only asking to include him in basic training.”

Jerome, the commander of the Gloria Knights, sat perched on his office desk as he flipped through some documents.

“She’s not asking me to be a teacher, so I don’t care.”

“But still!”

“And didn’t she say it was the Third Prince himself who made the request? Then there’s not much reason to refuse.”

“Her Highness the Second Consort won’t sit quietly. If she finds out her request was denied but the Third Prince’s was granted…”

“You’ve grown more anxious with age, Philip.”

He chuckled at the words of his vice-commander, Philip.

She was the woman who had tried to threaten him by mentioning his ‘true identity’ after he refused her request to become her child’s sword instructor.

He had indeed been startled by her sudden threat, but hadn’t felt threatened.

After all, his origins were already a widely known secret to those who needed to know.

There was no reason to be afraid.

“When have I ever cared about that marquis’s daughter’s opinion?”

“…My apologies.”

“Come now, no need to apologize over that.”

Jerome waved it off indifferently.

But Philip, though hesitant, didn’t easily back down.

“Still, I don’t think this is right. It’s not the First Prince, but the Third Prince. It’s better not to get involved with him.”

“Why do you think that?”

“You know it too, Commander. It’s still three years until the crown prince is decided. And in these times…”

At that, Jerome cut Philip off. “Right. You mean to say that if we support the Third Prince, who isn’t even in the line of succession, it could harm the knights.”

Currently, the Imperial family had two heirs.

The First Prince, Adrian Sapiens Ventrume, and the Second Prince, Lloyd Cathalonian Ventrume.

The Third Prince, Edwin—shunned even by the Emperor and lacking any significant power—had long been excluded from the succession.

Moreover, the power struggle between the First and Second Princes had reached its peak.

And in that situation, the Gloria Knights, led by the Empress’s brother, had declared neutrality.

“As the Commander intended, we pledged allegiance only to His Majesty the Emperor. But now suddenly the Third Prince?”

“I understand your concern, but don’t worry too much. Even if we let him join the training, how long do you think that young prince can last?”

Jerome continued in a detached tone, “After two or three days of intense training with the third squad, he’ll collapse on his own. Then we can just send him away.”

Seeing Jerome speak so firmly, Philip finally backed off with a sigh.

“Understood. I’ll inform the knights ahead of time.”

“Good. And tell them not to act like they know him if they meet the Third Prince. I hate unnecessary trouble.”

“Yes, sir.”

At his words, the vice-commander gave a short bow and left the room.

Left alone in the office, Jerome recalled the woman he had met earlier.

‘The Third Prince’s nanny, Rachel Brown.’

A truly common name, with a truly common surname.

A frail frame that looked like it might collapse at a touch, and a gentle-looking expression.

Yet somehow, she was strangely irritating.

Jerome recalled the composed demeanor of the nanny even after being scalded with hot tea.

“…I should mention this to His Majesty.”

Gazing sharply out the window, Jerome then stood.

He stretched like a lion waking from slumber.

“Ugh—office work just isn’t for me. I need to spar.”

Yawning and smacking his lips, Jerome picked up the sword beside him.

It wasn’t hard to imagine the scene of his subordinates screaming again as they resumed sparring.