Wrong Marriage and Sweet Love

Joyce was held by the wrist by Clint. Under his roof, she had no choice but to comply. Here, everything was dictated by him, even though she wasn’t hungry at all.

Clint led Joyce to the dining hall, which was in a separate building connected to the main residence by a long corridor with transparent glass designs and lotus patterns on the floor. The dining area had its own unique charm.

Upon arriving, they found that the meal was already prepared. The long table was laden with nearly fifty or sixty different dishes, offering a wide variety of choices. Clint took his seat at the head of the table and gestured for Joyce to sit as well.

Joyce sat down without hesitation and immediately picked up a fork, selecting a dozen dishes and devouring them hungrily. The maid, who was originally prepared to serve the meal, stood in shock at Joyce’s lack of decorum. Her eating habits were far from what one would expect of a refined lady.

Clint watched Joyce eat with amusement, a smile playing on his lips. He knew she was doing it on purpose. This wasn’t the first time they had dined together; she understood dining etiquette but chose not to follow it, wanting his staff to think poorly of her.

The maid glanced at Clint for approval before stepping forward to serve him. Clint ate slowly and elegantly, savoring each bite while watching Joyce eat her fill.

Suddenly, Clint coughed lightly. Joyce looked up with food still in her mouth and mumbled, “Is your cold not better yet? Have you not been taking your medicine these past few days?”

Clint’s face paled. Her casual concern irked him. Yes, he had caught a cold while bringing her back and had been coughing ever since. Western medicine could treat acute illnesses but only traditional remedies could manage chronic conditions.

If he had a strong constitution, his rightful position would never be in jeopardy. He knew what the old guards in the palace thought-they feared his early death would destabilize the regime. His eyes darkened further with these thoughts.

Joyce quickly finished her meal and wiped her mouth with a damp towel. “Can I go back to my room now?” she asked.

Clint nodded in agreement.

Without wasting a moment, Joyce stood up and hurried out of the dining hall, disappearing from sight almost instantly. Clint watched her leave without saying a word and continued eating.

After finishing his meal, Clint received a phone call from an elder of the Yoshikawa family. He frowned; it must have been Chiyuki who complained.

The elder’s tone was grave over the phone. “Your Highness, the current situation is unclear. His Majesty’s condition is critical these days. Should you continue to act recklessly? I’ve heard you went to East Palace and performed Shinto rituals? At such a sensitive time, isn’t that asking for trouble?”

“I know what I’m doing,” Clint replied coldly.

“Your Highness, there’s something I must say.”Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g

“If it’s inappropriate, then don’t say it,” Clint retorted.

“Your Highness!” The elder was clearly displeased. “The most important thing you should do now is marry into the Yoshikawa family to ensure their unwavering support.”

“No need,” Clint refused outright.

“Your Highness! I heard you’ve brought a woman back? A foreigner? Your Highness, no matter who she is, it’s fine to play around, but please distinguish between priorities. After you’re done with her, send her away immediately so as not to delay important matters. Otherwise, don’t blame us for switching sides; it won’t be good for anyone,” warned the elder from the Yoshikawa family.

Clint couldn’t be bothered to respond and hung up directly. A bunch of old fools-they dared threaten him? The Yoshikawa family was nothing more than a tool for him to use.

He tossed his phone aside just as a maid brought over a bowl of medicine and placed it beside him. “Your Highness, please take this after your meal.”

Clint glanced at the dark liquid and felt a surge of anger. Damn medicine-how long would he have to keep taking it without any improvement? With a forceful grip, he shattered the cup in his hand.

His previous wounds reopened, and blood started flowing out immediately.

The maid gasped in shock. “Your Highness, your hand! I’ll get some medicine right away.”

She hurried out as Clint’s mood worsened significantly.

Meanwhile, Joyce had just returned to her room on the third floor-a spacious suite with two bedrooms, two living rooms, one bathroom, and one bath. There was also an office equipped with a computer and a brand-new phone on the desk.

Joyce quickly approached the desk and picked up the phone-it was Rohomes’ latest model which she had seen at its launch event. She turned it on eagerly; as soon as it booted up with two beeps indicating signal presence, she dialed Luther’s number without hesitation.

However, she soon realized that international calls were not enabled on this SIM card; contacting anyone abroad was impossible. She should have known Clint wouldn’t make it so easy for her.

She then recalled Reuben’s number but found it unreachable-an empty number now? How could that be? She had called this number before; could she have remembered it wrong?

Feeling frustrated and stuck, she thought about other options-perhaps contacting someone at Kane’s branch office in Rohomes might work since she had helped set it up earlier.

Just then, an alert popped up on her computer screen with an alarming headline: “Emperor Critically Ill!”