Wrong Marriage and Sweet Love

Joyce walked back and sat next to Clint. She glanced at Clint, who was standing, and fiddled with the gun in her hand. Her thoughts had been entirely focused on completing the shooting earlier, and she hadn’t had a chance to thoroughly examine the handgun.

“This is a model developed by your country, right? I’ve heard your nation excels at weapon manufacturing. Is this a new model? Small caliber, precision-engineered barrel, chamfered muzzle to protect the rifling, and good ergonomics. The grip texture enhances stability, making it comfortable to hold, and the recoil is manageable. An 11-round capacity is just right, and I see the magazine catch is ambidextrous.” She commented, “I fired ten shots earlier; you should have your attendants check the shell casings.”All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

There was still one bullet left in the handgun. Holding it in her hand was an unspoken threat to Clint standing beside her. Killing Clint would be easy for her, but she knew she couldn’t go back if she did. Moreover, killing the crown prince of a country would have serious repercussions, which she was well aware of. So she wouldn’t do it.

Clint signaled to his attendants with a glance. Several attendants hurried forward to collect the shell casings. Joyce placed the handgun on the coffee table and leisurely picked up her teacup, taking a few sips.

Clint turned slightly towards her, “You really know your guns. You’re right; this is our latest model.”

“Give me one,” Joyce smiled, “I’m very interested in new models.”

Clint narrowed his eyes, “Alright, this gun is yours.”

Joyce was taken aback; she had only said it casually. Did Clint really dare to give her the gun? Was he that bold or just indifferent?

She tightened her grip on her teacup, silently observing him and calculating his intentions.

After a while, several attendants returned with the shell casings and some cherry pits that had been shot down. They presented them to Clint. He examined them; the juice had already splattered, but from some remaining pits, it was clear that Joyce had aimed at the top half of the cherries to minimize impact on the guards’ heads. She was indeed impressive.

At this moment, the head guard approached Clint respectfully.

“Your Highness,” the head guard knelt respectfully.

“All of you may leave,” Clint waved his hand.

The head guard understood that this meant they wouldn’t be held accountable or punished for this incident.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” he bowed respectfully.

“The one you should thank is her,” Clint pointed at Joyce.

The head guard quickly bowed to Joyce. Her superb shooting skills had spared them from whipping. She had minimized their harm as much as possible; they only felt a chill on their heads. He also knew that one timid guard had been trembling throughout; he saw it too. He understood that she pretended to practice first and then shot directly when they were not tense to protect that timid guard and help others as well.

His initial resentment towards her had turned into gratitude and respect.

Joyce said nothing; after all, it was her mess to clean up.

Clint waved his hand again. The head guard stood up and led all the guards away.

At this moment, an attendant approached respectfully, “Your Highness, the ceremony is starting. Please proceed to the main hall.”

“Understood,” Clint reached out and pulled Joyce up from her seat, “Come with me.”

Joyce was puzzled, “What ceremony?”

She always felt that anything involving Clint wouldn’t be good news. This man was unpredictable and somewhat twisted-not a normal person.

“The royal heaven worship ceremony,” Clint explained as he dragged Joyce along. “I returned to East Palace for this ceremony. After it’s over, we can leave tomorrow. It’s an annual ritual.”

“Heaven worship ceremony? You can go by yourself; why drag me along? I want to go back to sleep,” Joyce tried to break free from Clint’s grasp. It looked improper for them to be pulling each other in front of others.

No wonder Clint brought her here; no wonder she saw so many people coming and going-they were preparing for this ceremony.

In the 21st century, such traditional ceremonies seemed absurd to her. However, it made sense for royalty to uphold these traditions due to cultural differences between countries.

“You should come with me; during the ceremony, you’ll receive blessings from the deities who will hear your wishes and make them come true,” Clint insisted without letting go of Joyce’s hand.

“Let go; I can walk by myself,” Joyce finally shook him off. She rolled her eyes internally-if deities could hear her wishes and make them come true, she wouldn’t still be here; she’d be home already!

Under these circumstances, she couldn’t openly defy Clint’s wishes without causing trouble for others rather than herself.

As Clint pulled her away earlier, she didn’t forget to take the gun with her. Now she turned on the safety and put it in her pocket.

She wasn’t sure if Clint hadn’t noticed or simply didn’t care about letting her take the gun so openly-he showed no fear at all? She couldn’t figure it out.

When they arrived at the main hall entrance, today’s scene was quite grand.

A high platform had been erected in front of the hall with a long table on top. Several maids and attendants held trays filled with various offerings like livestock and fruits. Participants wore ceremonial robes in black and red with colorful ribbons fluttering in the wind.

One elder appeared around sixty years old wearing heavy ceremonial attire with a tall hat adorned with bells that jingled as she moved through the wind.

It was Joyce’s first time witnessing such a ceremony; she was secretly amazed by its sanctity and grandeur-far beyond any folk Shinto practices she’d seen before. No wonder Clint wore traditional black-and-gold attire today-it looked quite good on him-now she understood its special purpose.