The Devil's Good Girl-Chapter 271: Was it real? Or an illusion?

[FLASHBACK]

A faint groan was heard as Quentin opened his eyes. The second his vision cleared, the first thing he saw was a pair of purple eyes looking at him curiously.

Deep lines appeared between his brows before memories of moments ago flooded his mind.

Quentin quickly sat up in terror, touching his neck to check if it was still intact. Not long ago, he knew his head fell over his shoulders. Was he dreaming?

Noticing the observant eyes on him, he looked up at the person squatting beside him. Latrice still had this innocent look on her face, which differed from the look he saw when she came in.

"Uh." He cleared his throat, strangely, finding it hard enough to speak at the moment. He opened his mouth, and it took him a moment to find his voice.

"Latrice, you’re here. I apologize. I must’ve overworked myself and ended up losing consciousness," Quentin quickly recomposed himself, concealing a moment of weakness in front of her.

He might’ve detested her for looking at another man beside him, but he didn’t want to look weak. Quentin was the crown prince and thus, Latrice was still his subject. She might be his wife, but she was but a woman who came from unknown origin.

In other words, Quentin had to present himself with might and dignity. An image of the crown prince that his people could rely on and his enemies to fear.

With that thought in mind, Quentin was about to get up when he noticed Latrice was still looking. He faced her squarely, watching her innocent look remain, but her lips curled up in amusement.

"Did you... or did you not die?" she asked quietly, and his breath hitched.

What?

"Say, Your Highness, the Crown Prince, was that an illusion, or was it real?" she dawdled as if by doing so would make things more interesting with suspense. "There was no pain or anything, but you knew that something happened. What is it? An illusion? Or reality?"

Quentin’s eyes slowly widened while staring into her drooping eyes. He felt his throat dry up, unable to get rid of her voice inside his head.

Was it real or an illusion?

"Tell me the answer once you got them, Your Highness," Latrice smirked faintly before she pushed herself up, marching away without sparing him another look.

Quentin remained on the floor he was sitting on, staring at her back until she was out of his line of sight. He touched his neck again, getting this strange idea it might fall off again.

"Was it real? Or an illusion?"

Again, her soft voice repeated in his mind.

What was that?

His lips curved down as he snapped his eyes back to the door. He thought Latrice came in here because she already heard about his royal orders. But it seemed Latrice wasn’t aware of it nor did she look interested.

Then why did she come?

[Was it real?]

"Shut up." Quentin held his head when her voice repeated in his mind again. He pinched the bridge of his nose, telling himself he had overworked himself.

The matters on the borders were growing out of hand without Jackson’s presence on the battlefield. Hence, Quentin had been preoccupied with that matter. When the enemy proved they posed a greater threat, Quentin had to make a choice.

He might’ve given his word to Latrice to not touch Jackson, but this was a matter of the empire.

When he calmed down and his headache subsided, Quentin sighed. He glanced up in the direction where she went.

"I told everyone not to tell her," he muttered. "She probably came here to see what I was doing?"

Although his relationship with Latrice was complicated, she still had the decency to act as his wife. Hence, there were times Latrice would visit him for small talk. It was also their way to show everyone their relationship hadn’t turned stale. After all, people were now starting to talk because until now, Latrice hadn’t conceived a child.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t tried.

"I’m tired." Quentin massaged his nape before he pushed himself up. But just as he did, his head felt so heavy, as if it would fall off. Hence, he intuitively held his head in place, only to freeze.

"What am I doing?" he muttered to himself, slowly letting go of his head and carefully straightening his back.

He didn’t know why he acted the way he did, but it was as though his body could remember something he couldn’t. Spending just a minute about it, Quentin decided it was just a product of exhaustion. Hence, he threw the idea at the back of his head and decided to rest early.

Quentin returned to the Crown Prince’s quarters because he knew he couldn’t be around Latrice at this time. Whenever he looked at her when they were alone, it always gave him the idea of becoming one with her. He couldn’t exhaust himself further.

As he removed most of his clothes and lay down, he closed his eyes to rest. But again, Latrice’s voice echoed in his ears as if she was whispering right in front of his ears. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

"Is it real? Or an illusion?"

Quentin immediately snapped his eyes open, looking to his left to see if Latrice was there.

No one was there.

"What was that?" he wondered to himself, sitting up on the bed as he looked around the chambers.

Quentin touched his ears, still feeling the hot breath that caressed them just now. However, there was no one in the room. It was just him and these bothersome thoughts Latrice planted in his mind.

"Your Highness... time to wake up..."

Quentin froze as he instinctively covered his ears in horror. His eyes shook as they scanned the room, but no one was there.

"Who is that?" he asked, raising his guards. "Is there someone in here?!"

"Your Highness?" Latrice’s voice could still be heard as if she was just in the room with him. "Your Highness, wake up."

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Quentin gasped as he opened his eyes once more, only to see a pair of purple eyes looking down at him curiously.