The Northern Duke’s Daughter Will Never Fall

Chapter 58: That B**** Again (4)

Astrid’s vision began to spin.

Even Astrid observing through the real Astrid’s eyes could feel the dizziness, so the actual person must have been far worse off.

“Hey, hey! Astrid, are you okay?”

‘Duuhh, of course I’m fiiiiine.’

No, she absolutely wasn’t! Astrid screamed internally. Her slurred speech was a dead giveaway that things were far from fine. 

The spinning sensation felt so real that even Astrid, who wasn’t in control of the body, felt as though the drunken haze was affecting her too.

The last time at the Imperial Palace, Astrid had insisted on switching with her to drink. So this foggy sensation… No, wait. That meant Astrid had always been terrible with alcohol. 

If she had gotten drunk after only three glasses of champagne back then, it stood to reason that even Astrid observing from within had gotten tipsy, and that drunkenness had led to her demanding the switch.

“You’re completely useless with alcohol, aren’t you?!”

There was no response to the accusation. Instead, Astrid’s gaze remained fixed, locked onto Violet as if she were the only thing in the room.

“Hey.”

“…What?”

Astrid’s voice had dropped all pretense of politeness. No formalities. Just plain, slurred bluntness.

Violet, caught off guard by Astrid’s tone, blinked in surprise. For a moment, her face showed genuine confusion, but she quickly recovered, a sweet smile curving her lips.

“Astrid, I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink—”

“Shut up.”

The smile lingered on Violet’s face. She had been poking at Astrid deliberately, hoping to get a rise out of her. But she hadn’t anticipated such a sharp reaction. If anything, Violet was even more amused. She had set out to provoke, and the result was far more entertaining than she had expected.

“Flirting with someone else’s man, you filthy vixen.”

Violet had grown up by the sea. There were no foxes where she came from.

Astrid’s face had turned a deep shade of red. Her speech was slurred, her words shaky, and though she didn’t realize it, her eyes were half-lidded with an unfocused gaze.

For Leopold, it was a scene straight out of his recent nightmares. The coquettish, sulking, drunken Astrid from a few days ago flashed through his mind. 

Back then, it had been manageable because it was just the two of them. Now, Astein was here too.

Astein.

Leopold glanced at him. With Astein’s ever-present squint, it was hard to read his expression, but it was clear he was watching Astrid intently, a faint smile on his lips.

Leopold’s mood soured. Astrid’s drunken antics were, admittedly, cute. That was part of what made them so disarming. The normally stoic, ice-cold Astrid turning soft and silly was a rare sight.

But he couldn’t let this continue. He needed to end the gathering and take Astrid back to her room—immediately.

Leopold’s plan solidified. He would carry her back to his room, let her sleep it off there, and then take Astein’s bed for the night. It was a straightforward solution.

Yes, that was the best course of action.

Leopold resolved himself and began to rise to help Astrid, but her voice stopped him.

“Hey. Leopold.”

His movements froze. Did she just drop my name like that? But he decided to let it slide. She was drunk, and it was harmless. A fiancé’s drunken ramblings were hardly something to make a fuss about.

“Astrid, you’re… I mean, Captain Astrid, I think you’re drunk.”

“Why… why did you come in with her?”

Leopold wasn’t the only one startled. Violet’s expression mirrored his confusion. Why was she asking that now?

The two of them had walked in quite some time ago. They’d joined the gathering near the start of the evening, yet Astrid was only now bringing this up. What was she trying to say?

“Why are you sitting next to her?”

Because Eranya had arranged the seating.

“Why are you drinking together?”

Because they were adults.

In fact, anyone 17 or older in the Einthafen Empire could legally drink. There was no issue whatsoever with Leopold and Violet sharing a drink.

“Why are you drinking side by sideeeeee…”

Astrid’s face was now as red as a blooming rose. Leopold could tell she was drunk—very drunk. She couldn’t stay here any longer.

“Why… why don’t you… treat me like that? Huh? Why aren’t you… so sweet to meeee… Sniff.”

Tears welled in Astrid’s eyes. Clear, glistening droplets filled her lashes, threatening to spill over. And when they did, they trickled down her cheeks in tiny streams.

“Why are you so cold to meeeee… You meeeean… stupid… jerk!”

Astrid broke into loud, uncontrollable sobs, collapsing onto the table as she wept.

“Um… Astrid, listen…”

Leopold trailed off awkwardly. At this point, he felt genuinely guilty. If this was how Astrid truly felt, then perhaps he had misjudged her all along.

He had assumed Astrid didn’t care for him. After their chance meeting at the night market, he had begun to suspect otherwise. 

Now, seeing her in this state, he couldn’t deny that there was likely more to her feelings than he had realized.

Maybe—just maybe—it had all been a misunderstanding.

As Leopold pondered this, Astrid abruptly sat up, wiping her tear-streaked face with trembling hands.

“That’s it. I don’t care anymore! I have my pride, you know! You think there are no other men besides you?!”

With that declaration, she stood up, her legs wobbling beneath her. Her tear-streaked face was still flushed red from her drunkenness, and she stumbled toward the door without giving anyone a chance to stop her.

Everyone watched in stunned silence as Astrid reached the door and threw it open.

“…Huh?”

Standing in the doorway was none other than the instructor.

The instructor’s sharp eyes scanned Astrid first, taking in her disheveled appearance, then shifted to the room behind her. His gaze lingered on the group, each caught in various stages of shock and discomfort.

Hic!

Eranya hiccupped loudly. She wasn’t alone in her astonishment—everyone seemed frozen, collectively wondering why the instructor had appeared at the worst possible moment.

It wasn’t entirely inexplicable, of course. Astrid’s sobbing had been loud enough to echo through the halls.

“Captain Astrid’s team, fall in.”

***

The moon hung high in the sky, scattering its pale light over the academy. It was officially lights-out, and cadets should have been asleep. 

Instead, shadows stretched long across the training field as the group, now fully equipped in their training gear, ran laps under the watchful eyes of their instructor.

“Of all the timing…” Eranya muttered under her breath as they ran. Her complaints went largely ignored.

Aside from Astrid, who was fast asleep in Leopold’s bed after passing out, everyone else was being punished. Full gear, fifty laps around the field, and thirty demerit points each.

The offenses? Unauthorized food, smuggling alcohol, unreported drinking, and violating academy rules. Caught red-handed, there was no room for excuses.

Adding insult to injury, these demerits would carry over into their first year. 

They hadn’t even officially started their first year of training, yet they were already in the red.

Leopold, for his part, was especially annoyed. This was his second time running laps as a punishment. Familiarity didn’t make it any easier.

“Why didn’t you stop her from drinking, Astein?” someone griped.

“How was I supposed to know she couldn’t handle her liquor?”

“Well, we know now, don’t we?!”

Leopold tuned out the bickering, his thoughts elsewhere.

Has Astrid really felt that way?

For the past ten years, Astrid had kept her distance from him. She hadn’t replied to any of the dozens of letters he’d sent her. 

Whenever they did meet, her expression had been unreadable, her demeanor cold and impassive.

Leopold had believed, without question, that she disliked him.

But her outburst today painted an entirely different picture.

What was he supposed to make of it?

One thing was clear—he needed to have an honest conversation with Astrid. They needed to talk. Really talk.

If she greeted him with her usual icy mask again, at least now he knew how to deal with her.

Alcohol.

Just one glass of champagne, perhaps before dinner. That might do the trick.

As Leopold continued running laps around the field, he couldn’t help but smirk at the thought.