As a Villain I Really Don’t Want To Be Pursued by the Heroine - As a Villain I Really Don’t Want To Be Pursued by the Heroine chapter 41

41

The formal banquet was held inside the villa.

As guests arrived one after another, the young nobles who had been lingering outside began to enter the venue.

The place was decorated magnificently, candlelight and lamplight reflecting off each other, the fragrance of fine wines mingling with the laughter of the crowd, intoxicating.

But what truly made the young nobles uneasy were the prominent figures standing around.

Duke Raymond, the Marquis of Ironblood, the Earl of Woodpecker, the Griffon Knight Claude…

Despite the peaceful expressions and fine clothes of those present, their reputations were thunderous. They were either the contemporary magnates of the Lionheart Kingdom or heroes who had slain dragons decades ago.

Faced with these heroes they had heard of since childhood, the young people felt admiration, awe, and mostly, nervousness.

Among these young faces, anxious and awkward, only two figures stood out with ease and grandeur, dazzling even in the presence of the banquet’s host, Duke Raymond, without a hint of tension.

“Duke Raymond, on behalf of the Reinhardt royal family, I extend to you our most sincere blessings.”

“Your Highness, there’s no need for formalities, just call me uncle!”

After the pleasantries, Duke Raymond looked at the young couple holding hands, his smile turning playful as he teased: “They say Your Highness is indifferent to men, but it seems that may not be the case.”

No, no, no, our Highness is indeed a lady who prefers other ladies.

Roy instinctively wanted to let go, to avoid any misunderstanding, but Charlotte gripped his hand even tighter.

Her soft, warm skin, carrying a heady fragrance, pressed even closer, making Roy quite uncomfortable.

“It’s just that I didn’t fancy those fellows before.” Charlotte hummed to herself, sneaking a sidelong glance at Roy.

Roy felt inexplicably scrutinized.

“So, does that mean there’s someone you fancy now?” Old Raymond’s companion, Karl, suddenly perked up, eagerly asking.

“I heard Your Highness and this young man, Roy, got along quite well at the matchmaking event? It’s a pity you couldn’t stay for dinner, but you’re welcome to arrange another time to chat.”

“Ah, this…”

Faced with Karl’s burning curiosity, Charlotte couldn’t help but become bashful, weakly shifting her gaze away.

Leaving the matchmaking event was a dark history for Charlotte. If she had stayed for dinner then, her relationship with Roy would be entirely different now. But what exactly was going on now?

Most importantly, how did Roy see her?

Beneath a bellyful of anxiety, the princess, usually so composed and dignified, now stammered, her discomfort apparent.

Seeing this, Roy was even more anxious than Charlotte.

Dad, don’t sabotage me, okay? Do you think it’s easy for me to gain favor?

She didn’t mean it that way, persisting would surely lose favor!

“Father, we know our limits, please don’t worry,” Roy complained to his dad.

“Exactly, leave the young people be,” Old Raymond said, pulling Carl away. Before leaving, he cast a knowing smile at Roy and Charlotte, “There’s still time before the banquet officially starts, enjoy yourselves.”

Really, Carl is usually so steady, why does he get so worked up over Charlotte?

Once the elders left, Roy finally breathed a sigh of relief and began to stroll around the venue with Charlotte.

It was all Carl’s fault; Roy’s previously stable mindset began to waver, once again aware of the ambiguous posture he maintained with the princess beside him.

A closer look revealed that few nobles held hands continuously; he seemed to be too intimate with Charlotte.

No wonder his father misunderstood.

Roy could even catch glimpses of women in the corners casting teasing, ambiguous glances their way.

“Charlotte, it’s not good for us to continue like this, is it?”

Roy tried to withdraw his hand from Charlotte’s waist, but she reacted swiftly, gripping his hand tightly.

“What’s wrong with it?” The young princess pouted, her beautiful eyes slightly glaring: “Isn’t this how it is at balls?”

“It’s just holding hands, why are you so nervous?” Charlotte said, leaning in closer, her lips curling up as if enjoying Roy’s embarrassed state.

Face to face, Roy could once again scrutinize her beautiful features under the lights, even the fine hairs on her cheeks.

Whether it was an illusion cast by the lights or not, a faint blush adorned the girl’s cheeks, like a sweet, tempting, and juicy little apple, almost irresistible to bite into fiercely.

Damn it, this woman…

Why does she seem a bit cute?!

“Am I not a notorious scoundrel?” Roy tried to mask his inner turmoil with a frivolous tone.

“After today, there will likely be a flurry of rumors. The proud Lionheart Princess rejected such a gentlemanly elite, yet chose a worthless rogue as her escort.”

Roy’s words were casual, reflecting on how the princess before him differed so starkly from the disdainful portrayal of the scoundrel in the original work.

However, Charlotte’s voice grew heavy.

“I don’t care what they say.”

“I only care about what I see.”

Charlotte reached out a hand, her palm open and gently cradling Roy’s cheek, bringing their gazes into alignment.

Her crimson eyes were filled with fervor, passion, acknowledgment, and a soft tenderness that Roy couldn’t fathom.

Charlotte smiled, her confidence pure, undisturbed by the surrounding criticism: “So you needn’t bother with those tedious rumors.”

“Actually, I don’t care about them either.”

“Eh?”

“I just don’t want you to be burdened by them.”

“Do you care about me that much?” Charlotte’s heart raced for a moment, yet she masked it with an elegant restraint, feigning nonchalance as she asked.

But Roy gazed into her eyes with utmost seriousness: “Isn’t that obvious?”

In an instant, staring into the youth’s eyes as dark as night, and the surprised reflection of herself within them, Charlotte’s facade dissolved into nothingness.

Her heart thumped wildly, as if a joyful deer were dancing within.