In the Doghouse - Chapter 133
Courtney had brought in that switch in broad daylight… why?
Richard swallowed hard and managed to speak.
“Is there something you need here? Shall I have some tea brought in?”
“No, I’ve already had some,” she replied.
Her gaze wasn’t exactly on him but rather on the mess of papers sprawled across the desk. The report was neatly written, but his notes below were a chaotic scrawl, hardly legible.
As Richard tried to gather and hide the mess, Courtney promptly snatched it from him, glancing through the content. The handwriting was dreadful, and though the content of his notes was passable, it wasn’t thorough. His estimates were vague, lacking the precision a report needed.
At this rate, he wouldn’t become a tyrant, but certainly, he might end up remembered as an incapable ruler. With a sigh, Courtney finally spoke.
“Is this usually how you do things?”
“What? No, I mean…”
“No excuses.”
“…Not always.”
Pressured by her direct approach, Richard gave the best response he could muster.
He had his reasons, after all. The emperor was gradually stepping back, leaving more for Richard to handle. As he rushed through the documents, his aides would usually follow up with the details. It was his aides and attendants—whom he’d just dismissed—that ensured everything was checked and finalized.
However, as a newly established Crown Princess, Courtney always gave her best effort. She couldn’t understand why he, as Crown Prince, couldn’t do the same. Wasn’t he supposed to feel a sense of responsibility for what he was given? Her voice was firm.
“This won’t do.”
“Pardon?”
Courtney smacked the switch against her palm, like a tutor in charge of a particularly difficult student. She tapped her hand twice more and spoke sharply.
“First, sit up straight.”
Reflexively, Richard straightened his back. If his old tutor, who’d practically gone gray trying to teach him, could see this now, he would surely be shaking with indignation. That tutor had left the palace without ever seeing Richard sit properly at his desk.
With the stern look of a tutor, Courtney raised her chin. When Richard’s aide had practically begged her to ‘talk some sense into him’, she had been annoyed, but now she found it amusing. It reminded her of teaching her young nephew.
Recalling Richard’s confession of jealousy over her nephew, she smirked. So, he wanted to be treated like a child? She was more than happy to oblige.
“Ri.”
“Yes?”
“Not ‘yes’. When I speak to you, you should reply, ‘Yes, Teacher.’“
“Huh?”
When he responded cluelessly, Courtney frowned. She shook her head in exasperation.
Richard’s eyes darted here and there. What was she trying to imply with this new title? Instead of analyzing further, a strange sense of expectation bubbled up in him. Courtney, after all, was sometimes even more imaginative than he was.
With a purposeful cough, she nudged him to answer. He quickly complied, discarding his thoughts.
“Yes, Teacher.”
“Good. Now, let’s see…”
She glanced around the study. His desk, cluttered with documents, sat in sharp contrast to the organized desks around it, one of which held a small stool without a backrest.
Courtney promptly dragged the stool next to Richard’s seat and took her place there, lightly tapping the corner of the desk with the switch.
“Ri. It’s study time. Why aren’t your books open yet?”
Realization dawned, and Richard’s eyes lit up. She was role-playing. It was a game, like the time she’d made him walk like a dog through the hallways.
Apparently, the setup was something like a tutor and a pupil. In Richard’s mind, the scenario was both amusing and, frankly, arousing.
He fought the urge to grin. He’d already managed to earn this opportunity—he wasn’t going to ruin it now. He quickly brought a pile of documents forward.
“Yes, Teacher.”
“Good. Now, read it.”
Courtney couldn’t help but feel a slight satisfaction at her own role-playing skills. She’d become a bit shameless thanks to her endlessly imaginative husband.
“The Proposal for the Reinforcement of the Western Border Defense.”
Richard read the document calmly, and suddenly, the report—dull moments before—felt surprisingly engaging.
The first item involved increasing troops on the western border, a sensible request that only required specific numbers for approval. He added his recommendations in his best, neat handwriting and signed off at the bottom, making sure it was legible.
“All done, Teacher.”
