Royal Trouble: A Naughty Prince Meets His Match のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 131 - チャプター 140

The wheels of the gurney screeched against the polished hospital floor as Ariel was pushed out of the operating theatre. Her body lay unnaturally still beneath the crisp white sheet, her skin pale and glistening with cold sweat. Though the surgery had been declared a success, her condition was far more critical than what they had just battled through inside. She wasn’t awake. She wasn’t responding. She was drifting—caught between life and death. Adrian peeled off his gloves with trembling hands, his face gray and damp with exhaustion. Beside him, Lilian leaned against the wall, her shoulders heaving, every strand of her hair damp with sweat from hours under the surgical lights. They looked less like celebrated doctors and more like soldiers who had barely survived a war. When they stepped out into the waiting area, every head turned toward them at once. The air was heavy with prayers, whispers, and muffled sobs. Isabella rushed forward, clutching her son’s arms. “

The hospital was silent in a way that felt unnatural. Not the silence of peace—but the suffocating quiet of fear. Every tick of the clock on the wall sounded like a hammer striking into their chests. Hours had passed since Ariel was pulled back from the brink. Hours since Adrian and Lilian staggered out of the operating room, exhausted and bloodstained, whispering only: “She’s stable… but still in coma.” Now the family waited. Isabella sat slumped in a corner chair, her rosary beads clutched so tightly in her hands her knuckles had turned white. Her lips moved constantly, whispering prayers with no pause, no breath between them. She was pale, her hair fallen loose from its pins, but she did not stop. Beside her, Margarette was weeping silently into a handkerchief, her shoulders trembling. From time to time she would reach for Isabella’s hand, both mothers holding each other as though if one let go, the other would crumble. King Zubrel stood stiff near the

When the doctor arrived, Ariel suddenly sat upright, her little finger trembling as she pointed toward the neat row of cots by the nursery glass. Her voice was weak, but urgent. “Doctor… whose babies are those?” The doctor blinked, then chuckled softly, as though the question were the most ordinary thing in the world. “Why, those are yours, Your Highness.” Ariel’s eyes widened to saucers. “Mine?!” Before anyone could blink, she slumped backward onto the pillows like a fallen leaf, fainting all over again. Carl’s heart leapt out of his chest. He grabbed her shoulders, shaking her lightly. “Doctor! She’s gone! She fainted again!” His eyes bulged like a man watching the world collapse. The doctor, calm as ever, checked Ariel’s pulse. With a small smile, he patted Carl on the shoulder. “Relax. She’s perfectly fine. She just hasn’t accepted her fate yet. Don’t worry, she’ll wake when she’s ready.” With that, the doctor strolled out casually, leaving C

The royal carriage rolled into Valora Palace with golden banners fluttering high. As soon as the people caught sight of Ariel peeking out of the window, the courtyard thundered with cheers. “Our princess is alive!” “The heavens have favored us!” Ariel’s vision blurred as tears welled in her eyes. She pressed a hand to her chest, whispering to herself, “I am truly alive.” Carl, however, would not allow her to step down. With one swift move, he bent down and scooped her up in his arms as if she were made of glass. “Carl—put me down,” Ariel whispered, her cheeks glowing red as she buried her face in his chest. “I can walk.” “You barely survived,” Carl muttered stubbornly, his jaw tight. “At one point, I thought I’d lost you forever. My heart almost stopped. You’ll walk again in a month. For now, you’re staying right in my hands.” The crowd gasped, stunned into silence as Carl stepped out of the carriage with his wife in his arms. Ministers, nobles,

The great hall of Valora glittered brighter than the stars themselves. Chandeliers dripped with golden light, flowers hung from the rafters in cascades of white and crimson, and music floated through the air like honey. Guests filled every corner — nobles in their finest robes, servants sneaking peeks from behind pillars, and even townsfolk pressed close to the windows, determined not to miss the kingdom’s most talked-about event. Adrian, the ever-serious surgeon-prince, stood in the center dressed in robes of white and gold. To his left stood Charlotte, radiant and teary-eyed, while to his right stood Lilian, her smile soft yet full of nervous energy. The sight alone was enough to send whispers racing across the hall. “Two brides?” one noblewoman gasped behind her fan. “Only in Valora,” another muttered, barely containing her laughter. King Zubrel clapped his hands and raised his voice. “Let it be known — today, my son Adrian weds not one, but two wives. A bon