“Who was there? Well, I don’t mind hearing it.”
Janet saw Diana turn her head with a snicker, and a chill ran down her spine, causing her to take a step back. Her heart pounded. The sight of her transformed overnight was truly shocking. It felt as if the floor and ceiling were flipping upside down.
She must have misheard.
Janet turned around, trying to convince herself. Then, on the day of the planned mission, news arrived that Diana, not Celine, had been kidnapped by Duke Rotsilt. The admiral, hearing the news, looked just as confused as Janet.
Janet couldn't forget the sight of her, returned to the mansion by the lieutenant colonel's rescue mission, staring down indifferently at the maid who had fallen down the stairs. Diana, meeting her gaze as the sole witness, placed a finger to her lips in a silent warning. Her cold, gray-green eyes were so cold that it was difficult to even look her in the eye.
Despite the dreary air she displayed in that fleeting moment, she knew how to be reserved. Like a feline predator, she crouched low, muffled her footsteps, and waited for her opportunity to strike. Without doing anything, she overwhelmed and crushed Celine.
It's still hard to believe and feels bizarre that Diana changed overnight. Celine once said of Diana's transformation.
"Nanny, no matter how much I think about it, it's strange. It's like she's become a different person. Is she hiding her true colors, or is she possessed by a demon? It could be a split personality. Even her speech and intonation seem like different people. The way she treats people is also creepy and changes depending on the person. She's a cunning child. I don't know what she's thinking."
Yes, it's truly strange. Diana was a delicate and frail girl, never speaking out despite being falsely accused of being evil. While shr was lost in thought, all her clothes were folded. Janet let out a faint sigh as various memories washed over her.
In any case, both Celine and Diana were pitiful children. Diana didn't seem to want to harm anyone, and Celine had safely attended Diana's wedding, so she believed her worries were unfounded.
“It’s okay since both kids got what they wanted.”
Janet took out Celine's white wedding shoes and smiled faintly. Now that the admiral's plan had been thwarted, and the babies, who had once been like baby birds, had grown and taken flight, it was soon time to leave.
I was meeting with Baroness Mason and her staff in the private conference room of the Royal Investment Corporation at Tempshire Palace. They were plotting a grand plan to escape the corset. The Baroness pointed to me, in my navy shirtwaist and long beige skirt, and gave me the look of a revolutionary dreaming of liberation.
"Now, look at the Countess's attire. Isn't she beautiful even without a corset? Our goal is to create comfortable underwear for everyone, just like the style she embodies."
Everyone in the conference room looked at me. I wore this for no reason, and I don't want to attract attention. I wish only those who want to wear things like corsets could do so. There should be freedom of choice. I used to wear it out of courtesy and such, but honestly, it's not something I should wear. Lately, people have been reluctant to wear it unless it's an important occasion.
“In particular, this technology, invented and patented by Countess Rotsilt...”
Baroness Mason's briefing brought to mind various modern-day undergarments. I didn't mention them out loud, as I was planning to brazenly make money pretending to be a time-traveler, pretending to have invented them in case I ever traveled to another country.
Now that I've actually entered a life of no possessions, I'm always feeling financially inadequate. Even taking dictation is a matter of perspective. If only the war were over, I could buy land with oil reserves and make money more easily. But there are still countries at war, and those places, of all places, are fiercely contested. Life is anything but easy...
“Madam? You weren’t listening again, were you?”
While I was lost in my own daydreaming, the Baroness's sharp question struck me. I smiled shamelessly, indicating I had been listening. It seemed the mood was turning to leave. Quickly sensing this, I moved away.
Leaving the conference hall and walking into the expansive garden, the royal orchard was in full bloom with pink peach blossoms and pure white pear blossoms, and the plaza was lined with colorful flowers, creating a picturesque scene. As I briefly took in the spring air and twisted my waist as if doing gymnastics, I was startled by a tap on my back from behind, and let out a short cry.
“What a surprise!”
Ayla, with her small footsteps, looked at me in surprise and smiled with her characteristically innocent smile. She was still in her maid's uniform, her long hair tied loosely. She was an uncomfortable woman, one I wanted to avoid but couldn't help but worry about. Why did she look so hurt? I bit my lip. Fortunately, there were no visible bruises or wounds.
“Hello. I’m sorry if I startled you.”
Ah, don't pretend to know me. I'm uncomfortable with you. Contrary to my inner desire to keep my distance, Ayla gently closed her clear, sky-blue eyes. It was a unique, innocent smile, a faint hint of dimples. I find that harmless smile unsettling.
"Hello."
“Did you have a nice honeymoon? I bet you had a great time.”
"Yes. It was fun. I didn't bring any gifts, so don't expect any."
“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I... What does it feel like to be married?”
The voice, hesitant and asking, gradually grew quieter. It seemed to be shaking slightly. I answered monotonously.
"Great."
“I see, I’m jealous.”
Again, that pitiful, heartbreaking laugh. I let out a groan, showing my discomfort.
“Are you thinking of marrying that man?”
Ayla's large eyes widened, as if her true feelings had been exposed. Covering her mouth with both hands, her cheeks flushed bright red like apples. Seriously? Mastiff seemed determined to be cruel and cruel to the kind and gentle Ayla. Was this the process of reforming a bad guy through endless devotion, understanding, and love?
“I guess that guy is doing a good job.”
“Yes. He gave me a gift.”
Ayla blushed and pulled out the necklace hanging around her neck. The gem was quite large, so it must be worth a fortune. A good woman received a gift from a savage murderer. Perhaps Ayla is a far more skilled love expert than I am. At a loss for words, I nodded, my voice weak.
“I’ll invite you when I get married.”
I offered a fake, toothy smile, a gesture of soulless support. Ayla rummaged through her white apron and placed a palm-sized stuffed animal in my hand. It was a spotted doll with button eyes and a quilted cover. At first glance, it looked like a wildcat. Why do you keep giving me gifts? You seem like such a one-sided woman. I asked, trying to sound pleased.
“What is it? Is it a cat?”
"Yes, it's a baby doll. I made it myself. When your baby is born, I'll make a handkerchief for her too."
My hair stood on end. A baby? Me? I hadn't even thought about it. Neither Noah nor I have ever seriously discussed plans for a child. We've talked about it physically, but with no such intention... I managed to suppress the trembling in my stomach and answered.
“Oh, oh. Thank you, that’s cute. But it’s too early.”
“Are you okay with your morning sickness?”
“Huh? What kind of morning sickness is this?”
Ayla tilted her head in puzzlement at my question. Finally, she wiggled her fingertips and answered.
“No? I heard you had morning sickness at a ball before...”
"Oh, that. The pudding got stuck in my throat. That's not it."
Look at the sky to see the stars, you little girl. It was a time when we could just hold hands and sleep soundly. Ayla chuckled, brushing back her bangs, which looked dark brown in the sunlight. That smile was quite adorable.
“When your baby is born, she will be pretty and look just like you two, right?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t made any plans yet.”
“I’ll wait for good news.”
... I was just clenching and unclenching my fists, and I blurted out the question that had been lingering in my throat like a fishbone.
“By the way, does the Princess still hit you these days?”
Ayla blushed slightly at the direct question and shook her head. Why is her face so sad?
"I'll go. If possible, quit your job as soon as possible. If you sell that necklace, you can open a store."
“Haha, I think I’ll quit soon.”
It's a welcome thing to hear. I hope you don't bother me anymore. It's uncomfortable to witness the misfortune of others right before your eyes.
“I, Countess Rotsilt.”
"Yes."
Still unfamiliar with the unfamiliar title, I answered somewhat stiffly. Ayla hesitated and rubbed the tip of her nose with her finger.
“Thank you for being so kind to me.”
“When have I ever? I’ve never been particularly nice to you.”
“You don’t hate me, do you? You worry about me, too.”
I looked beneath her sunken eyes. She didn't look particularly happy. Rather, it seemed as if she had buried her worries, buried deep within, unspoken to the spire. Her outwardly compassionate gaze seemed to reflect only a fraction of that towering spire.
“Yes, I don’t hate it.”
"This is the best I can do," she said with a bitter smile.
On my way back after saying goodbye to Ayla, I encountered another uncomfortable figure. She was a beautiful Queen, wearing a gray tunic, a tailored jacket with fine stripes, and her hair tied back. Having always seen her in flowing dresses, seeing her in that suit felt different. Behind her stood a maid in a knight's uniform and another in a suit similar to the Queen's. I quickly saluted her.
“May the eternal sun of Medea, God bless Your Majesty the Queen.”
“Countess, did you have a good honeymoon?”
“Yes, it was fun.”
“What about my gift?”
"...Sorry."
“I’m joking.”
The Queen smiled faintly and gently stroked my shoulder. The faint scent of fresh roses lingered in my nostrils. Clean, soft hands, a long, graceful neck, a face like a delicately sculpted porcelain doll. Compared to my mother, with my orphaned demeanor, I was ordinary.
"This time, we imported pomegranates, also known as the red jewel. They're also called "beauty fruits" because they were favored by the beauties of the century. Let's try them together at our next tea party."
Fingertips, as smooth as a white smelt, brushed past my shoulder and across my jawline. This kind of subtle physical contact made me mistake my past self. I couldn't call her "mother," but it didn't matter. We'd both lived well, so I figured we could continue to do so. I offered a sociable smile, as if I were addressing a stranger.
“Understood, Your Majesty.”
“Have you ever heard of Agnes Harrison?”
It was a sudden question. The Queen seemed adept at hiding her expression. I had a faint sense that she harbored ill feelings toward the name. I rolled my eyes, looked away, thought for a moment, and shook my head.
“I’ve never heard of her. Is she the teacup craftsman you mentioned last time?”
“You don’t know, okay. I guess I’ll go watch the cricket match.”
She turned elegantly and left with her maids. "Who is Agnes Harrison?" The question lingered for a moment. The image of Noah smiling faintly at me suddenly flashed before I forgot about it.
Ayla asked me about my plans for a child. I pretended not to notice, but her words were so powerful that they pushed away all other thoughts. On the way back to the car, I wrestled with the decision to seriously ask Noah about his plans for a child.
That man and I are having a baby? Seeing that I only think about things that are rated R, not the birth of a noble and holy life, makes me feel a little unprepared. The unfamiliar and strange feeling made me clench my fists.
And it was clear that Noah still wasn't thinking about having children. The unexplained anxiety that had suddenly surged up after the meeting was a bit bothersome, even though I tried to ignore it. So I felt compelled to ask why.
Janet saw Diana turn her head with a snicker, and a chill ran down her spine, causing her to take a step back. Her heart pounded. The sight of her transformed overnight was truly shocking. It felt as if the floor and ceiling were flipping upside down.
She must have misheard.
Janet turned around, trying to convince herself. Then, on the day of the planned mission, news arrived that Diana, not Celine, had been kidnapped by Duke Rotsilt. The admiral, hearing the news, looked just as confused as Janet.
Janet couldn't forget the sight of her, returned to the mansion by the lieutenant colonel's rescue mission, staring down indifferently at the maid who had fallen down the stairs. Diana, meeting her gaze as the sole witness, placed a finger to her lips in a silent warning. Her cold, gray-green eyes were so cold that it was difficult to even look her in the eye.
Despite the dreary air she displayed in that fleeting moment, she knew how to be reserved. Like a feline predator, she crouched low, muffled her footsteps, and waited for her opportunity to strike. Without doing anything, she overwhelmed and crushed Celine.
It's still hard to believe and feels bizarre that Diana changed overnight. Celine once said of Diana's transformation.
"Nanny, no matter how much I think about it, it's strange. It's like she's become a different person. Is she hiding her true colors, or is she possessed by a demon? It could be a split personality. Even her speech and intonation seem like different people. The way she treats people is also creepy and changes depending on the person. She's a cunning child. I don't know what she's thinking."
The other servants didn't harbor any particular doubts. They simply saw it as Celine revealing her true colors—she had long been cunning, scheming, and malicious enough to plot behind the scenes to justify Diana's treatment and neglect, having already slandered her with accusations of wickedness.
In any case, both Celine and Diana were pitiful children. Diana didn't seem to want to harm anyone, and Celine had safely attended Diana's wedding, so she believed her worries were unfounded.
“It’s okay since both kids got what they wanted.”
Janet took out Celine's white wedding shoes and smiled faintly. Now that the admiral's plan had been thwarted, and the babies, who had once been like baby birds, had grown and taken flight, it was soon time to leave.
***
I was meeting with Baroness Mason and her staff in the private conference room of the Royal Investment Corporation at Tempshire Palace. They were plotting a grand plan to escape the corset. The Baroness pointed to me, in my navy shirtwaist and long beige skirt, and gave me the look of a revolutionary dreaming of liberation.
"Now, look at the Countess's attire. Isn't she beautiful even without a corset? Our goal is to create comfortable underwear for everyone, just like the style she embodies."
Everyone in the conference room looked at me. I wore this for no reason, and I don't want to attract attention. I wish only those who want to wear things like corsets could do so. There should be freedom of choice. I used to wear it out of courtesy and such, but honestly, it's not something I should wear. Lately, people have been reluctant to wear it unless it's an important occasion.
“In particular, this technology, invented and patented by Countess Rotsilt...”
Baroness Mason's briefing brought to mind various modern-day undergarments. I didn't mention them out loud, as I was planning to brazenly make money pretending to be a time-traveler, pretending to have invented them in case I ever traveled to another country.
Now that I've actually entered a life of no possessions, I'm always feeling financially inadequate. Even taking dictation is a matter of perspective. If only the war were over, I could buy land with oil reserves and make money more easily. But there are still countries at war, and those places, of all places, are fiercely contested. Life is anything but easy...
“Madam? You weren’t listening again, were you?”
While I was lost in my own daydreaming, the Baroness's sharp question struck me. I smiled shamelessly, indicating I had been listening. It seemed the mood was turning to leave. Quickly sensing this, I moved away.
Leaving the conference hall and walking into the expansive garden, the royal orchard was in full bloom with pink peach blossoms and pure white pear blossoms, and the plaza was lined with colorful flowers, creating a picturesque scene. As I briefly took in the spring air and twisted my waist as if doing gymnastics, I was startled by a tap on my back from behind, and let out a short cry.
“What a surprise!”
Ayla, with her small footsteps, looked at me in surprise and smiled with her characteristically innocent smile. She was still in her maid's uniform, her long hair tied loosely. She was an uncomfortable woman, one I wanted to avoid but couldn't help but worry about. Why did she look so hurt? I bit my lip. Fortunately, there were no visible bruises or wounds.
“Hello. I’m sorry if I startled you.”
Ah, don't pretend to know me. I'm uncomfortable with you. Contrary to my inner desire to keep my distance, Ayla gently closed her clear, sky-blue eyes. It was a unique, innocent smile, a faint hint of dimples. I find that harmless smile unsettling.
"Hello."
“Did you have a nice honeymoon? I bet you had a great time.”
"Yes. It was fun. I didn't bring any gifts, so don't expect any."
“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I... What does it feel like to be married?”
The voice, hesitant and asking, gradually grew quieter. It seemed to be shaking slightly. I answered monotonously.
"Great."
“I see, I’m jealous.”
Again, that pitiful, heartbreaking laugh. I let out a groan, showing my discomfort.
“Are you thinking of marrying that man?”
Ayla's large eyes widened, as if her true feelings had been exposed. Covering her mouth with both hands, her cheeks flushed bright red like apples. Seriously? Mastiff seemed determined to be cruel and cruel to the kind and gentle Ayla. Was this the process of reforming a bad guy through endless devotion, understanding, and love?
“I guess that guy is doing a good job.”
“Yes. He gave me a gift.”
Ayla blushed and pulled out the necklace hanging around her neck. The gem was quite large, so it must be worth a fortune. A good woman received a gift from a savage murderer. Perhaps Ayla is a far more skilled love expert than I am. At a loss for words, I nodded, my voice weak.
“I’ll invite you when I get married.”
I offered a fake, toothy smile, a gesture of soulless support. Ayla rummaged through her white apron and placed a palm-sized stuffed animal in my hand. It was a spotted doll with button eyes and a quilted cover. At first glance, it looked like a wildcat. Why do you keep giving me gifts? You seem like such a one-sided woman. I asked, trying to sound pleased.
“What is it? Is it a cat?”
"Yes, it's a baby doll. I made it myself. When your baby is born, I'll make a handkerchief for her too."
My hair stood on end. A baby? Me? I hadn't even thought about it. Neither Noah nor I have ever seriously discussed plans for a child. We've talked about it physically, but with no such intention... I managed to suppress the trembling in my stomach and answered.
“Oh, oh. Thank you, that’s cute. But it’s too early.”
“Are you okay with your morning sickness?”
“Huh? What kind of morning sickness is this?”
Ayla tilted her head in puzzlement at my question. Finally, she wiggled her fingertips and answered.
“No? I heard you had morning sickness at a ball before...”
"Oh, that. The pudding got stuck in my throat. That's not it."
Look at the sky to see the stars, you little girl. It was a time when we could just hold hands and sleep soundly. Ayla chuckled, brushing back her bangs, which looked dark brown in the sunlight. That smile was quite adorable.
“When your baby is born, she will be pretty and look just like you two, right?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t made any plans yet.”
“I’ll wait for good news.”
... I was just clenching and unclenching my fists, and I blurted out the question that had been lingering in my throat like a fishbone.
“By the way, does the Princess still hit you these days?”
Ayla blushed slightly at the direct question and shook her head. Why is her face so sad?
"I'll go. If possible, quit your job as soon as possible. If you sell that necklace, you can open a store."
“Haha, I think I’ll quit soon.”
It's a welcome thing to hear. I hope you don't bother me anymore. It's uncomfortable to witness the misfortune of others right before your eyes.
“I, Countess Rotsilt.”
"Yes."
Still unfamiliar with the unfamiliar title, I answered somewhat stiffly. Ayla hesitated and rubbed the tip of her nose with her finger.
“Thank you for being so kind to me.”
“When have I ever? I’ve never been particularly nice to you.”
“You don’t hate me, do you? You worry about me, too.”
I looked beneath her sunken eyes. She didn't look particularly happy. Rather, it seemed as if she had buried her worries, buried deep within, unspoken to the spire. Her outwardly compassionate gaze seemed to reflect only a fraction of that towering spire.
“Yes, I don’t hate it.”
"This is the best I can do," she said with a bitter smile.
On my way back after saying goodbye to Ayla, I encountered another uncomfortable figure. She was a beautiful Queen, wearing a gray tunic, a tailored jacket with fine stripes, and her hair tied back. Having always seen her in flowing dresses, seeing her in that suit felt different. Behind her stood a maid in a knight's uniform and another in a suit similar to the Queen's. I quickly saluted her.
“May the eternal sun of Medea, God bless Your Majesty the Queen.”
“Countess, did you have a good honeymoon?”
“Yes, it was fun.”
“What about my gift?”
"...Sorry."
“I’m joking.”
The Queen smiled faintly and gently stroked my shoulder. The faint scent of fresh roses lingered in my nostrils. Clean, soft hands, a long, graceful neck, a face like a delicately sculpted porcelain doll. Compared to my mother, with my orphaned demeanor, I was ordinary.
"This time, we imported pomegranates, also known as the red jewel. They're also called "beauty fruits" because they were favored by the beauties of the century. Let's try them together at our next tea party."
Fingertips, as smooth as a white smelt, brushed past my shoulder and across my jawline. This kind of subtle physical contact made me mistake my past self. I couldn't call her "mother," but it didn't matter. We'd both lived well, so I figured we could continue to do so. I offered a sociable smile, as if I were addressing a stranger.
“Understood, Your Majesty.”
“Have you ever heard of Agnes Harrison?”
It was a sudden question. The Queen seemed adept at hiding her expression. I had a faint sense that she harbored ill feelings toward the name. I rolled my eyes, looked away, thought for a moment, and shook my head.
“I’ve never heard of her. Is she the teacup craftsman you mentioned last time?”
“You don’t know, okay. I guess I’ll go watch the cricket match.”
She turned elegantly and left with her maids. "Who is Agnes Harrison?" The question lingered for a moment. The image of Noah smiling faintly at me suddenly flashed before I forgot about it.
Ayla asked me about my plans for a child. I pretended not to notice, but her words were so powerful that they pushed away all other thoughts. On the way back to the car, I wrestled with the decision to seriously ask Noah about his plans for a child.
That man and I are having a baby? Seeing that I only think about things that are rated R, not the birth of a noble and holy life, makes me feel a little unprepared. The unfamiliar and strange feeling made me clench my fists.
And it was clear that Noah still wasn't thinking about having children. The unexplained anxiety that had suddenly surged up after the meeting was a bit bothersome, even though I tried to ignore it. So I felt compelled to ask why.
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