The Crown Prince Who Raises a Side Character

Cedric looked at Claudia.

Her expression, filled with sharp defiance and a trace of bitter mockery, seemed to say: Go on, try and fix me if you think you can.

And yet—at the same time—it was pleading. Like someone desperately hoping someone might understand, even just a little.

Contradictory? Sure. But feelings often were.

And Cedric was no exception.

He too was feeling something deeply complex.

From the perspective of a noble, Claudia’s words could be dismissed as nothing more than spoiled whining.

After all, the only reason she was able to enjoy everything she had—luxurious food, the finest clothing, a soft bed—was because of her last name. Redvell.

All of it had been handed to her by her house.

And now she wanted to throw a tantrum because she didn’t want the responsibilities that came with that title?

What nonsense.

But if one were to judge her as a person, not a noble... her words made far more sense.

It’s like a parent who spends a fortune on their child’s education only to demand, “You owe me. You must pursue the career I chose for you.”

Without ever asking what the child wanted. As if all the love and support had been a loan—and it was time to collect.

Cedric’s origin was the Crown Prince.

An unimaginably lofty position.

But to Cedric, those memories were distant—like dreams half-forgotten.

So Cedric replied:

“Hmm. I must say, the Marquess is being rather unreasonable.”

“...!”

Claudia’s eyes widened.

And how could they not?

The idea that any servant—especially within Redvell territory—would openly criticize the Marquess was unthinkable.

She instinctively darted her eyes left and right, scanning the area.

Cedric, seeing her fluster, let out a quiet chuckle.

“What’s got you so worked up? You’ve said worse already.”

“T-That’s different! It’s me saying it! You can’t just—!”

“But you’re my master, not the Marquess. So why should I care what he thinks?”

“...!”

Genuine confusion colored Cedric’s voice, and Claudia couldn’t help but draw in a sharp breath.

Before she’d turned into the terror of the manor, she’d had many attendants.

Whenever she was troubled, they’d hover around, offering to help, begging her to share what was on her mind.

But the moment she did?

They’d falter. Fumble. Or change their tone entirely.

“I’m sure the Marquess didn’t mean it like that, my lady.”

“Marriage isn’t such a terrible thing, if you think about it.”

“You mustn’t say such childish things. It’s only right for a daughter to obey her father’s will.”

Some tried to pacify her with empty reassurances. Others turned cold and scolded her outright.

And that’s when Claudia realized—

All those loyal, attentive servants?

They weren’t hers.

They were his.

It was only natural, really.

The head of House Redvell held power. Claudia was just a girl living in his shadow.

It wasn’t hard to see which side anyone would choose to stand on.

But the servant standing in front of her now...

He said that she mattered more to him than her father did.

Claudia, not knowing what to say, fidgeted awkwardly.

And Cedric simply shrugged.

“I understand now why you ended up like this, my lady. But that doesn’t mean I think it was a good choice.”

“...What, so you’re saying I should just shut up and do what Father says?”

“It’s not a matter of goals, but of methods. If I’m being blunt, nothing you’ve done so far has actually affected the Marquess’s plans.”

“...What?”

Claudia blinked.

Not because she didn’t understand—

But because she was starting to realize exactly what those words meant.

“What do you mean?”

“Well... let’s say the Marquess wanted to remarry. And rumors spread that he enjoyed beating commoners for sport. Do you really think any noble house would refuse his proposal over something like that?”

“That’s...”

She faltered. Not because she didn’t know the answer—but because she did.

“There’d still be a line of families eager to form an alliance. So what if he mistreats the help? He’s one of the most powerful men in the kingdom.”

Cedric’s tone was calm. His expression held no trace of a smile.

“Sure, the people forced to marry him might hate it. But what of it? If the heads of their houses think it’s politically beneficial, they’ll make it happen. And it’s the same for you, my lady.”

Any family eager to marry into Redvell wouldn’t care about Claudia’s minor scandals or flaws.

What mattered was the connection. The name.

“If your goal is to make the Marquess say, ‘Tsk, she’s not worth as much as she could’ve been,’ then sure—your current behavior is plenty.”

“But if your goal is to avoid marriage entirely? Then what you’re doing now is meaningless. The Marquess won’t let you go just because you’re acting out.”

Claudia’s fingertips began to tremble.

Cedric had phrased it kindly, but deep down she already knew it.

Her antics weren’t calculated. They were a protest. A desperate attempt to scream, I’m furious. I hate this. I want you to stop.

But it didn’t change ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ anything. She knew that. She’d just tried not to look it in the face.

Now, with the truth laid bare, she snapped.

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do? If it’s meaningless whether I behave or not, what’s the damn point!?”

Cedric answered without hesitation.

“That’s easy. If being good or bad doesn’t matter—then you need to be exceptionally good... or disastrously bad.”

It sounded like a joke.

But Claudia, perhaps sensing there was something more beneath the words, looked at him with wet eyes.

“...Go on.”

“Well, being disastrously bad is the simpler path. Just cause a scandal so severe that even Redvell can’t cover it up.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know—shred your own face with a grater, maybe? I doubt any house would want to marry into that.”

“H-HIC!”

Claudia hiccupped on reflex and scooted back from him.

It wasn’t even that the content was horrifying—though it was—it was the way he said it. Cheerful, like he was discussing tonight’s menu. That made it worse.

“A-Another one! A different idea!”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“Well, you could shave your head and use alchemical treatments to stop it from growing back. I’ll look into the safest compounds available.”

“Stop it!! Gods, that’s disgusting! Is there nothing that involves... like, other people instead!?”

“Mm. I mean, we are talking about noble society here. Let’s be honest—their morals are trash. Even if you ran out into the city square and held a public execution for fun, I doubt they’d say more than, ‘Ah, how barbaric.’”

Claudia fell silent.

Because, to her own dismay, she had to admit he had a point.

Cedric continued speaking.

“Well, it’s certainly easier to fail spectacularly, but that path comes with its own share of side effects. You’d be left with permanent injuries, or your reputation would plummet straight past ‘brat’ or ‘cold-hearted bitch’ into ‘absolute human garbage.’”

“...Did you just imply that I’m a bratty, cold-hearted bitch?”

“I did. Is that a problem?”

“......”

Claudia opened her mouth wordlessly, then gave a long, weary sigh.

“Yeah, what else is new. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve treated me like a damn dog.”

Cedric frowned.

His voice grew serious.

“My lady, I have never treated you like a dog.”

“Hah. And saying that’s supposed to mean something? Your attitude says it all.”

“If I had, that’d be an insult to the dog.”

“YOU SON OF A—!!”

Driven to the edge, Claudia hurled her teacup and dessert plate straight at his head. Cedric calmly caught both midair and responded without missing a beat.

“It’s true your situation is unfortunate. And yes, the Marquess has been extremely callous. But that alone doesn’t excuse how much of a burden you’ve been to everyone around you. That, at least, you must acknowledge.”

Claudia scowled but didn’t cut him off.

“So then, the path of doing extremely well will be much harder. You’ll have to rebuild your reputation and accomplishments from a negative starting point.”

“And even if I do, what changes? I’ll still end up being sold off like some prize sow.”

“That only happens if you do moderately well. If your reputation and abilities surpass a certain threshold, the Marquess will be forced to hesitate.”

“Hesitate about what?”

“Whether selling you off is truly the most profitable option—or whether keeping you is.”

The Marquess of Redvell was a ruthless man.

He didn’t care about Claudia’s happiness as a person—only whether she was useful.

But that cold rationality meant he could also be persuaded with results, not sentiment.

“Earn the loyalty of the servants. Win the support of your people. Make everyone acknowledge your worth. Enough that the Marquess finds it wasteful to let you go.”

“That’s... even possible?”

“It is.”

Cedric’s tone was unwavering.

He believed—sincerely and completely—in the potential Claudia herself had never once trusted.

“You have beauty, wealth, loyal beasts, and a territory full of potential. You already have everything you need. There are only two things missing.”

“And what’s that?”

“The will to succeed. And trust in me.”

He looked at her expectantly.

Claudia hesitated.

It still all sounded like nonsense—like some fairytale dream dressed in flowery words.

But...

“Why should I care what the Marquess thinks? You are my master, not him.”

That simple line. That offhand, indifferent tone, as if it was the most obvious truth in the world...

...had struck deeper than anything else.

“...Fine. I’ll do it. If that’s what it takes.”

At her reply, a quiet smile rose to Cedric’s lips.

“Excellent. Then I, Cedric, shall devote myself wholly to ensuring you grow into a fine ruler during the time we have left.”

Claudia swallowed hard.

For just a moment, the man she had always seen as a bizarre lunatic now resembled a knight from a storybook.

Come to think of it, it wasn’t his posture or his movements that ever felt lacking. They were always refined—impeccable.

It was just his attitude—his bouncy speech, his infuriating behavior—that made him seem unserious.

Maybe that was her fault too. Maybe she’d never acted like someone worthy of being served properly.

Her gaze grew distant.

Under the gentle sunlight, she imagined herself sipping tea gracefully, Cedric at her side.

Not bad.

No, not bad at all.

She nodded to herself.

“...So then, what do I do first?”

Cedric answered without missing a beat.

“Start by bowing your head and apologizing to every single servant in this manor. And just to be clear—none of that, ‘I had no choice,’ or ‘Aren’t you satisfied now?’ nonsense.”

“......”

“My lady?”

“...Yeah. Got it.”