QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL)-Chapter 94: Sisters curiousity

Chapter 94 – Crown Princess POV

Hmmm. Now whom might it be?

I’m curious about her lover. I saw the marks last night—delicate, reddish bruises blooming at the base of her neck and trailing lower, not even her thighs were exempt.

I almost didn’t believe it. My sweet, rule-abiding little sister?

Clearly not the duke. The timing doesn’t line up, and he has all the grace of an overeager farm boy. Evelyne would wither. So who?

A stablehand, maybe? A young knight? A visiting noble? My mind spins with the possibilities, and I admit—with more delight than I should—that I’m dying to know.

I set off to investigate.

The duchy is in a well-rehearsed state of controlled chaos. Servants bustle about preparing for my stay, terrified of offending someone royal. I let them fuss while I stroll the stone paths of the estate. The gardens are nice this time of year. A good place to spot secret rendezvous.

"Your Highness."

I pause mid-step.

I turn and offer a regal smile as the Duke of Callum approaches.

"Duke Callum."

He bows over my hand with practiced grace. Too practiced.

"It’s a pleasure to see you again," I say.

"Likewise, Your Highness. I regret not greeting you personally upon your arrival."

"Of course. I imagine you’re quite busy." I fall into step beside him—unfortunately.

"Word of your recent successes has reached the palace."

"Has it?" he asks, feigning modesty.

"I merely followed my instincts."

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"My father has taken notice. Expect a summons soon."

"It would be an honor to speak with His Majesty."

We walk in awkward politeness, the path far too long for the level of conversation. He’s trying, I suppose. But it’s all wrong. This wasn’t the duke I remembered—timid, fumbling. This one is polished, composed. But I know a mask when I see one.

"Congratulations are in order," I add, sipping from the tea offered to us when he steered me toward the terrace.

"The duchy is expanding quite fruitfully. Three concubines expecting?"

"Yes. We’re quite fortunate."

I hum, offering nothing more. He thinks I’m being polite. I’m assessing.

He’s changed. Certainly. He walks straighter. Talks smoother. But it doesn’t quite fit. Like a boy dressed in his father’s coat, pretending.

Still. He’s not entirely useless.

I leave with another smile and empty compliments.

Finally escaping, I think about looking for my sister when I see Frida.

Standing by the garden, next to another inconspicuous maid.

Hmmmnnn.

My senses are telling me this is it.

I walk towards them.

"Your Highness," Frida says kneeling and the other maid soon follows after.

"Hush hush," I say silently. When Frida is like this, my little sister is up to no good and she’s keeping watch.

I sneak into the passageway, glad I didn’t wear so many layers today.

That’s when I see them—on a stone bench, Evelyn sits next to another lady with shoulder-length brown hair and a normal-looking face. This must be Lady Daphne.

I feel disappointed, thinking I’m going to catch her with her lover. I’m about to say something when I stop in my tracks.

The body language is not that of friends. Being in the palace means you have to analyze the smallest expressions and movements of people, so this conversation is one between close friends.

Of course not.

The glances, the subtle blush, the smiles, and then Lady Daphne grabs a few strands of Evelyn’s hair with a subtle smirk.

Oh dear.

It’s like watching lovers they speak of in poems.

They are just speaking but it’s so intimate, as if I’m intruding on something sacred.

Well, this is definitely not what I was suspecting, but look at her—I cannot hate. It’s unconventional. I don’t understand it. But look at them.

I absolutely like her. Anyone capable of pulling this version of my little sister is not a bad person in my books. That’s when Evelyn laughs out loud. It’s so carefree it warms my heart.

And I walk toward them.

"What’s so funny?" I ask, and Evelyn scrambles to her feet.

Like a child caught stealing sweets. She’s so cute.

"Sister," she says, panicking, her gaze switching from me to her, her to me.

"Your Highness," Lady Daphne says with a bow.

Ha. How impressive. A few moments ago she was exuding this confidence and boyish charm, and now she’s a timid noble lady.

"Sister, this is Daphne. Daphne, this is my older sister," Evelyn says, voice tight like a string pulled too taut.

Lady Daphne bows with perfect grace, just enough hesitation to sell the image of a bashful concubine and not a woman who was just brushing her fingers through my sister’s hair like a lover composing a poem.

"A pleasure, Your Highness," she says.

I hum.

"Likewise, Lady Daphne."

I watch her carefully. Not the most beautiful woman I’ve seen, but there’s something charming—something in the way she looks at Evelyn as if the sun rises and sets with her. And Evelyn, poor thing, looks ready to faint.

"Evelyn," I say, tone light.

"You didn’t tell me you had such refined company."

"She is... agreeable," Evelyn says, composing herself.

"We spend time together often."

I bet you do .Daphne doesn’t even blink.

"Her Grace has been very kind to me."

I want to grin. So well-rehearsed. So practiced. I like her already.

"Good," I say simply.

"I’m quite protective of my sister, you know."

"I would expect nothing less." That answer is fast, clean, respectful—but there’s steel under it. Interesting.

I take a seat on the bench where they were moments ago. "Don’t mind me," I say, waving a hand.

"Do go on with your conversation."

Evelyn sits stiffly beside me, while Daphne remains standing a few paces away, hands folded like a polite statue.

"Oh come now," I say with a sly look. "Surely we’re not strangers anymore."

The tension is delightful. I feel like I’ve walked into a play halfway through the act and already know the ending: heartbreak, passion, maybe even a touch of tragedy.