Prince Caspian -Jung Yoonoh NCT

10. Prince Caspian

Beneath my eyelashes, I sneak a peek at him. He is as lean and lightly bronzed as I remember him, but tonight he is freshly shaven and neatly clad in a well-cut dark suit and a snowy shirt. I notice that his cufflinks are gold and his whole appearance is expensive; only his hands betray that he is not the wealthy man of leisure his sleek grooming suggests. They are calloused and worn like Alistair's, from hard physical labour. So he is actually a forester, though he is in a different category altogether from his colleague. 

I would have liked to engage him in conversation, show off my nearly acquired poise, but for some reason, it seems to have deserted me, and I feel oddly shy of him.

Besides, Chloe is monopolising him.

Seated beside him, she is doing her best to enchant him. 

She flutters her lashes, throws him sidelong glances, purses her lips provocatively. 

I have never seen her in action with an attractive man before, and I must say, she quite takes my breath away. What man could resist her? Not Alistair certainly, looking at her with lovelorn eyes; and not Caspian surely, looking as captivated, and as charmed by her as his colleague.

Mr. Lee on whose right hand I sit, talks to me throughout most of the meal, and I am more or less ignored by Caspian, who divides his attention between polite attentions to his hostess and parrying Chloe's flirtatious banter, with occasional heavy-handed interpolations from the neglected Alistair. 

After dessert, Mrs. Lee rises, signing to Chloe and me to follow her. She has adhered to the stately manners of a bygone age, where the ladies leave the gentlemen to their wine. 

'You will join us later for coffee," she says graciously to the men.

Alistair, who is nearest the door, springs up to open it for her, a service that he must have seen Caspian perform upon other nights, and nearly trips over his feet in his eagerness to forestall his friend. Resolutely suppressing a desire to look back towards Caspian, I follow her into the living room. 

Chloe subsides onto the sofa with a long sigh of satisfaction. 

"Caspian - ah, he is so deliciously charming," she says. "Mummy, you will never make me believe that he's a forestry student."

"That is how he describes himself," her mother replies. 'I have not seen his papers, that is not necessary since we are not a hotel, but he spends all his time working in the woods, so it must be so. You are too romantic, my dear. Do you think he is a prince in disguise?" 

"He certainly looks like one," Chloe declares, and sighs again. "Prince Caspian..." Her eyes are dreamy.

Mrs. Lee shrugs. 

"There are no princes these days, or if there are, they are paupers, but that one is not a pauper, whatever else he is."

"Ah, you've intrigued me," Chloe exclaims, sitting up excitedly. "I shall make a point to discover all there is to know about Prince Caspian." 

Prince Caspian.

Named after that swashbuckling character in C.S.Lewis's The Chronicles of Narnia.

I too am curious about him. He is -  fascinating. 

Who is he, I wonder, a prince, or a forester? Which one is the true Caspian Jeong?

I had first met him falling down a cliff in Cornwall and had been too full of my own concerns to question why he was there, or even to ask his name. 

Somehow, I feel reluctant to tell Chloe about that encounter, especially as I am not sure if he will admit to it. Yet there is no doubt that he is the same person; I cannot be mistaken, though it is an astonishing coincidence that he has turned up at the Chateau. It certainly seems that Mr. Caspian Jeong gets around! 

Mrs. Lee meanwhile is eyeing her daughter with some concern.

"He is our guest," she is saying. "You won't do anything - er, naughty?" 

Chloe dimples charmingly. 

"Truly, Mummy, you can be so old-fashioned, but I promise I won't disgrace you in public - in private though," she looks mischievous, "that is another matter."

Coffee is brought in on a silver tray and the men come in. I watch with amusement Chloe's manoeuvres to ensure that Caspian sit beside her on the sofa and not Alistair. Having achieved her objective, she leans towards him, making comments too low for the rest of the room to hear. Caspian seems to find her remarks very amusing. 

I sit in an alcove, feeling a little forlorn.

How silly of me, I think to myself. I have no right to feel neglected because Caspian is so taken with Chloe. If he remembers me, he would also remember that I had told him I am engaged to my elusive Cousin Mark. 

But the thing is, I have changed.

I am no longer that naive girl whom he met beneath a cliff that sunny day in Cornwall.

That day, I had told him, with childish, unwavering certainty, that I would marry Cousin Mark without any hesitation.

Coming to the Academy has changed me.

It has dawned on me, slowly, gradually, that I have been naive and ignorant. My marriage to Mark would be purely one of convenience. He could not, would not automatically love me, just because I have been bequeathed to him. 

That has been a childish illusion. 

For the first time I feel resentful of my grandfather's disposition of my fate. He should have left me free to choose my own husband. 

But then again, my freedom would mean that I would have to leave Ravenscrag, and my home matters more to me than any man. 

Grandfather knew that, of course. 

That was why he had left that stipulation in his will. He had ensured the only possible way to enable me to live at Ravenscrag.

Alistair, seeing Chloe so unapproachable, has come across the room and drops into an empty chair beside me.

"You look very serious, Miss Jung," he beams at me through his glasses. 

I smile at him. 

"I'm a little tired," I say. "Everything here is strange, there's so much to absorb in a new place."

"Ah, you too?" He lowers his voice. "Bit overwhelming, isn't it? I sent some snaps of the place to my mum and she couldn't believe I was staying in such a palace. At home we live in a tiny apartment and our sitting room would just about get into this corner."

I warm towards him; he seems nice, a genuine sort of person.

"But perhaps you're used to this sort of get-up?" he says. 

"No, though my home is a biggish house, it's very old and situated in Cornwall."

"Really? It's a gorgeous part of the world. I've spent holidays there."

We talk about Cornwall, and soon I am describing Ravenscrag. I tell him about Tris and Sol, about the long walks we used to take trudging over the moors, the majestic cliffs, the hummimg of the sea, the seagulls and the eagles.

I am so caught up in my memories, reliving the past, remembering how happy, how carefree I was, and then, I look up, and Caspian's eyes are on me. 

Across the width of the room, our eyes meet. 

He stares at me unsmiling, and I think, a vague, incoherent thought  - at last he remembers me, and my heart leaps.

I smooth the skirt of my green dress with unsteady hands, my heart beating fast, bending my head, so that he would not see my burning face. 

What is he thinking?

Is he thinking how much I have improved?

Does he - does he like what he sees?

And a secret, furtive hope blossoms in my heart -

I - want him to like what he sees.

And then Chloe springs to her feet, a beautiful, exotic butterfly, and cries, her voice tinkling like bells, her eyes glittering with excitement, a sultry awareness of the devastatingly attractive man beside her in every line of her supple, seductive body, "Why do we do nothing but talk? I have a record player. Do you gentlemen dance?"