“He's coming back.”
I felt something vague and muttered to no one.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't moved. Those who watch my every move from up close would know.
The fact that I pretended nothing happened. I'm human, so I couldn't completely hide it. They were worried I'd drown in alcohol laced with sleeping pills.
“Yes, Princess. So...”
Milia trailed off, her eyes downcast. I could guess what she was trying to say. Whatever the reason or form, it was ultimately a comfort to me.
“Yes, Milia.”
I answered, looking out the window as if Noah had already arrived. In fact, I almost turned away, too embarrassed to face her worried expression.
“Aren’t you curious about when he’ll be coming, Princess?”
"It's okay."
I shook my head at Millia's question. The situation was tilted in favor of the Allied Forces, led by Frogen, so I doubted they would return with any merit worthy of recognition.
Two days later, the Marchioness of Wales, who had been scheduled to visit, arrived. We sat in the outdoor tea room and spent some time drinking tea. She often visited here, sharing gossip and updates on the war that my maids didn't share. The Marchioness, holding a Cynthia porcelain teacup, was the first to bring up the topic.
“You saw it in the newspapers, didn’t you? They say the Crown Prince of Frogen was finally assassinated.”
I nodded.
"Yes, Emperor Mayer III refused to participate in the prisoner exchange. He must have a strong sense of pride."
"Even so, he's the Crown Prince. Of course, it's not uncommon for the royal family and royalty to go to war. The Belsian Kingdom, west of Guiana, is said to have had its King personally lead the war. It must have been to personally embody noblesse oblige and enhance his authority."
The Marchioness leaned closer to me, her amber eyes narrowed, and whispered softly.
"It's said that Count Rotsilt personally killed the Crown Prince of Frogen. He also took him prisoner. It's said that he was promoted to captain because of it."
“Oh, I see.”
I responded dryly and picked up a coconut flour cookie. The newspaper article didn't cover the Noah she mentioned. No matter how much I tried, it would be pointless. Besides, it would be a complete betrayal of his homeland, Frogen. She whispered again.
“I heard from my husband’s friend, an intelligence officer, that he has been given special leave and will soon return to the capital.”
I'd already heard it from Milia. I just nodded, my eyes downcast.
"Is it so?"
"Princess, I'm always on your side. If you trust me, I'll help you in any way possible."
The Marchioness's delicate hand gently brushed my shoulder. Strange goosebumps ran down my neck, and I put down my teacup and stared at her.
“What?”
"It's what the Princess wants. Please pass on the person. It seems like it will be an important story."
As the Marchioness requested, I raised one hand to dismiss the surrounding court ladies, and she smiled sweetly at me.
"You want Count Rotsilt's safety and to be with him, don't you? I can help."
"Why?"
I tilted my head and chuckled. Everyone would say it was natural for her to do it for me, the Princess, but her words felt off. I'm also quite sensitive when it comes to sifting through people. The Marchioness smiled gently, completely unfazed.
"You, Princess, don't know what a mother's love is. My mother passed away when I was too young to know her either. Perhaps it's because I see myself at your age, Princess, that I've wanted to help you since I didn't even know you were royalty."
Like gears smoothly turning with high-grade lubricant, her words flowed effortlessly, yet they only served to heighten suspicion. The court ladies are in my service, so they may be justified in name, but what is this woman's specific, practical interest? It's definitely not some grandiose reason like respect or loyalty to the royal family, the future Queen. She smiled brightly, taking my hand as if to make her position clear.
“I didn’t even have any siblings. I wish I had a little sister who was like a Princess.”
"Will you fill the void left by my family?" It was a familiar invitation. Such favors always come with strings attached. Her soft voice continued.
"When I was seventeen, I graduated from Frogen's Gymnasium and went on to attend the prestigious university there. My grades were excellent."
“I think so, ma’am. You’re so bright.”
The Marchioness of Wales covered her mouth and let out a faint laugh at the somewhat soulless response.
“I loved a man who attended the same university. But I was ordered to return to Medea and marry someone chosen by my family.”
“Was it an order?”
“Yes, it is an order. I cannot refuse it.”
A passing cloud obscured the midday sun, casting a melancholic shadow across her pale face. Her rosy lips moved like petals swaying in the wind.
"After he was seriously injured in a highly intentional accident, I finally decided to follow my family's orders. At the time, I felt like my soul had been taken away. I still feel that way. Like a machine in an industrial factory, each part handcrafted, each functioning in a predetermined order."
"You too, right? Unable to connect with the man you love, forced to live the life of a crown heir. We're the same."
The corners of her lips turned up, as if to say something. I narrowed my eyes and asked.
“I heard that the Marquis of Wales used to treat you quite well.”
"Yes, there was an overwhelming outpouring of affection. In reality, I think it was all for show and image management. He's a politician after all."
"In any case, wasn't it your own choice? You could have given up everything for that man and left with him, but you gave in to reality in the name of protecting his safety."
“...Are you satisfied with your life now, Princess?”
She wore a mask of a gentle smile, but a hint of displeasure crept over her, as if things weren't going her way. I don't trust her. A feeling that's been there all along tells me, "The outside is different from the inside."
It felt like she was trying to force a connection and synchronicity by finding common ground with me. I found that quite unpleasant, but I responded in a gentle tone.
"Yes. Who is happier than I? Born into nobility but discriminated against, I've risen to the status of Princess, adorned in gorgeous dresses and jewels, enjoying a life of luxury, feasting on delicacies from the mountains and seas, and being loved by Her Majesty the Queen, the most powerful person in this land."
The Marchioness's curved lips were drawn tightly into a straight line as if to deny that they were in the same position.
"I can help you escape with Count Noah Rotsilt. Isn't that what you wanted?"
It was a blatant suggestion, as if she had already seen through my thoughts. I questioned back with a mocking expression.
“Why are you helping with that?”
“As I said before, when I see the Princess, I am reminded of my old self...”
I cut her off firmly, as her brainwashing introduction seemed to be getting too long.
“No, what do you want from me?”
“If you ask me what I want.”
The Marchioness paused for a moment, then continued speaking in a calm tone that didn't change much in pitch.
"Her Majesty will kill Count Noah Rotsilt. I don't want the Princess to mourn his death. I want you to know that I am yours."
The doubts I'd had every time I saw her have been completely dispelled. Revealing her identity to this extent must mean she knows exactly what I want. One of the palace maids who monitors my every move must have relayed this information to her.
"I don't want him to die either. He saved me, and I even married him."
I leaned back on the sofa and shook my head. She waited for my decision. Before I knew it, the teacup was empty. She followed my gaze intently, picked up the teapot, and poured tea into my empty cup. I feigned pity.
"I pondered for a long time why the merciful Queen would send him to war."
“Because he was a high-ranking noble and officer of the enemy nation, Frogen.”
"That's also true. One of Erita's fingers was cut off at the Levani concentration camp. As soon as she saw Milia, she cursed me."
As soon as I finished speaking, the Marchioness of Wales covered her mouth with both hands and narrowed her eyes.
"Such a terrible thing. Could it be because so many people have incurred resentment? The Inspector General is the younger sister of the executed housekeeper, Betty Nielsen, so it's perfectly understandable that this is revenge."
"The Overseer is my man. I've given her human comfort, rewards, and pride in following me, and I've received her blind loyalty in return. He wouldn't act unilaterally."
"But don't you know that commoners lack loyalty to the nobility and royalty? It's hard to trust someone based solely on their outward humanity..."
"The Inspector General's younger brother volunteered as a war doctor. We agreed to ensure his safety."
It was I who had induced him to enlist in the army. The Marchioness's eyes blinked a couple of times slowly, as if trying to discern my intentions. I tried to tell her without hesitation.
"All orders are given solely through my personal maid, Knight Milia. There are no exceptions. If anything exceptional arises, it's due to external factors, like deception and lies."
Cracks began to appear in the gentle mask, and the Marchioness's expression and actions began to creak unnaturally. I stared at her, frozen in place, holding my teacup. Her stiff lips moved with difficulty.
“Who said that?”
"I can only assume the pro-Frogen faction is trying to foment conflict between Her Majesty and me, sending Noah into war. They must be close enough to know that Her Majesty feels compassion for Erita. Their intention is to frame me. Well, unfortunately, contrary to their intentions, Her Majesty and I are not on bad terms."
“Oh, so that means there are people who are slandering the Princess.”
How shameless. I covered my mouth and let out a lazy sarcasm.
"Madam. The reason you still can't divorce or move on, despite having power, intelligence, and even a family, is because of a certain high-ranking official? Perhaps someone at the top."
The Marchioness of Wales's amber eyes widened at my blunt remark. I don't need to know the details of her personal circumstances, but considering her circumstances, it makes sense. What woman would want to continue living with a man who cheated on her with another woman and then brought her home? In this world, even divorce on grounds of fault is possible. I was reminded of the despair of Renier, who risked his life to escape his bonds.
The Marchioness, with a similar expression, slowly lowered her eyes.
"I had no choice, since I have children. Besides, it was obvious my family would object."
Her voice was as weak as her persuasiveness. I asked, clutching her hand painfully.
"From what I've noticed over the past few months, Madam isn't the kind of person who simply follows the given life, obedient and unselfish. You're a self-reliant and confident woman. In fact, it seems like you need my help, don't you?"
“What are you talking about...”
"I'm third in line of authority, after the Queen and the Prime Minister. I'm not incompetent enough to need your help, as a senator's wife. I have an unnecessary abundance of people from business and politics."
If you thought I could be easily manipulated like Erita, you were very mistaken.
There's a reason why she's been quietly hiding for months.
I've always been aware of the existence of pro-Frogen forces seeking to seize control of Medea's regime. If that woman is the one who manipulated Erita into committing a crime and dethroning her, then all the pieces fit together. Erita wouldn't have unfoundedly pointed out the Marchioness of Wales in court that day. She was likely the one who led her to kill Ayla. I let go of the Marchioness's cold hand. Her hand fell to the table, and a quiet voice followed.
“I just wanted to help in some way and become someone who earned the Princess’s trust.”
"Are you trying to call it unconditional favor? You should be asking me honestly for help and a deal, not pretending otherwise and trying to exploit me. Even though I'm clearly your superior. Is it because you have such strong pride?"
She couldn't lift her gaze, staring down at her teacup. Chaos was etched clearly against her pale face. I raised my chin and stared at her with a sharp gaze. What would happen if I informed the Queen that the pro-Frogen faction had conspired with Frogen's illegitimate son to depose Erita? And that it was you who ordered Erita's finger cut off?
I asked in a very calm tone.
“Rosalia, do you want freedom?”
I felt something vague and muttered to no one.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't moved. Those who watch my every move from up close would know.
The fact that I pretended nothing happened. I'm human, so I couldn't completely hide it. They were worried I'd drown in alcohol laced with sleeping pills.
“Yes, Princess. So...”
Milia trailed off, her eyes downcast. I could guess what she was trying to say. Whatever the reason or form, it was ultimately a comfort to me.
“Yes, Milia.”
I answered, looking out the window as if Noah had already arrived. In fact, I almost turned away, too embarrassed to face her worried expression.
“Aren’t you curious about when he’ll be coming, Princess?”
"It's okay."
I shook my head at Millia's question. The situation was tilted in favor of the Allied Forces, led by Frogen, so I doubted they would return with any merit worthy of recognition.
***
Two days later, the Marchioness of Wales, who had been scheduled to visit, arrived. We sat in the outdoor tea room and spent some time drinking tea. She often visited here, sharing gossip and updates on the war that my maids didn't share. The Marchioness, holding a Cynthia porcelain teacup, was the first to bring up the topic.
“You saw it in the newspapers, didn’t you? They say the Crown Prince of Frogen was finally assassinated.”
I nodded.
"Yes, Emperor Mayer III refused to participate in the prisoner exchange. He must have a strong sense of pride."
"Even so, he's the Crown Prince. Of course, it's not uncommon for the royal family and royalty to go to war. The Belsian Kingdom, west of Guiana, is said to have had its King personally lead the war. It must have been to personally embody noblesse oblige and enhance his authority."
The Marchioness leaned closer to me, her amber eyes narrowed, and whispered softly.
"It's said that Count Rotsilt personally killed the Crown Prince of Frogen. He also took him prisoner. It's said that he was promoted to captain because of it."
“Oh, I see.”
I responded dryly and picked up a coconut flour cookie. The newspaper article didn't cover the Noah she mentioned. No matter how much I tried, it would be pointless. Besides, it would be a complete betrayal of his homeland, Frogen. She whispered again.
“I heard from my husband’s friend, an intelligence officer, that he has been given special leave and will soon return to the capital.”
I'd already heard it from Milia. I just nodded, my eyes downcast.
"Is it so?"
"Princess, I'm always on your side. If you trust me, I'll help you in any way possible."
The Marchioness's delicate hand gently brushed my shoulder. Strange goosebumps ran down my neck, and I put down my teacup and stared at her.
“What?”
"It's what the Princess wants. Please pass on the person. It seems like it will be an important story."
As the Marchioness requested, I raised one hand to dismiss the surrounding court ladies, and she smiled sweetly at me.
"You want Count Rotsilt's safety and to be with him, don't you? I can help."
"Why?"
I tilted my head and chuckled. Everyone would say it was natural for her to do it for me, the Princess, but her words felt off. I'm also quite sensitive when it comes to sifting through people. The Marchioness smiled gently, completely unfazed.
"You, Princess, don't know what a mother's love is. My mother passed away when I was too young to know her either. Perhaps it's because I see myself at your age, Princess, that I've wanted to help you since I didn't even know you were royalty."
Like gears smoothly turning with high-grade lubricant, her words flowed effortlessly, yet they only served to heighten suspicion. The court ladies are in my service, so they may be justified in name, but what is this woman's specific, practical interest? It's definitely not some grandiose reason like respect or loyalty to the royal family, the future Queen. She smiled brightly, taking my hand as if to make her position clear.
“I didn’t even have any siblings. I wish I had a little sister who was like a Princess.”
"Will you fill the void left by my family?" It was a familiar invitation. Such favors always come with strings attached. Her soft voice continued.
"When I was seventeen, I graduated from Frogen's Gymnasium and went on to attend the prestigious university there. My grades were excellent."
“I think so, ma’am. You’re so bright.”
The Marchioness of Wales covered her mouth and let out a faint laugh at the somewhat soulless response.
“I loved a man who attended the same university. But I was ordered to return to Medea and marry someone chosen by my family.”
“Was it an order?”
“Yes, it is an order. I cannot refuse it.”
A passing cloud obscured the midday sun, casting a melancholic shadow across her pale face. Her rosy lips moved like petals swaying in the wind.
"After he was seriously injured in a highly intentional accident, I finally decided to follow my family's orders. At the time, I felt like my soul had been taken away. I still feel that way. Like a machine in an industrial factory, each part handcrafted, each functioning in a predetermined order."
"You too, right? Unable to connect with the man you love, forced to live the life of a crown heir. We're the same."
The corners of her lips turned up, as if to say something. I narrowed my eyes and asked.
“I heard that the Marquis of Wales used to treat you quite well.”
"Yes, there was an overwhelming outpouring of affection. In reality, I think it was all for show and image management. He's a politician after all."
"In any case, wasn't it your own choice? You could have given up everything for that man and left with him, but you gave in to reality in the name of protecting his safety."
“...Are you satisfied with your life now, Princess?”
She wore a mask of a gentle smile, but a hint of displeasure crept over her, as if things weren't going her way. I don't trust her. A feeling that's been there all along tells me, "The outside is different from the inside."
It felt like she was trying to force a connection and synchronicity by finding common ground with me. I found that quite unpleasant, but I responded in a gentle tone.
"Yes. Who is happier than I? Born into nobility but discriminated against, I've risen to the status of Princess, adorned in gorgeous dresses and jewels, enjoying a life of luxury, feasting on delicacies from the mountains and seas, and being loved by Her Majesty the Queen, the most powerful person in this land."
The Marchioness's curved lips were drawn tightly into a straight line as if to deny that they were in the same position.
"I can help you escape with Count Noah Rotsilt. Isn't that what you wanted?"
It was a blatant suggestion, as if she had already seen through my thoughts. I questioned back with a mocking expression.
“Why are you helping with that?”
“As I said before, when I see the Princess, I am reminded of my old self...”
I cut her off firmly, as her brainwashing introduction seemed to be getting too long.
“No, what do you want from me?”
“If you ask me what I want.”
The Marchioness paused for a moment, then continued speaking in a calm tone that didn't change much in pitch.
"Her Majesty will kill Count Noah Rotsilt. I don't want the Princess to mourn his death. I want you to know that I am yours."
The doubts I'd had every time I saw her have been completely dispelled. Revealing her identity to this extent must mean she knows exactly what I want. One of the palace maids who monitors my every move must have relayed this information to her.
"I don't want him to die either. He saved me, and I even married him."
I leaned back on the sofa and shook my head. She waited for my decision. Before I knew it, the teacup was empty. She followed my gaze intently, picked up the teapot, and poured tea into my empty cup. I feigned pity.
"I pondered for a long time why the merciful Queen would send him to war."
“Because he was a high-ranking noble and officer of the enemy nation, Frogen.”
"That's also true. One of Erita's fingers was cut off at the Levani concentration camp. As soon as she saw Milia, she cursed me."
As soon as I finished speaking, the Marchioness of Wales covered her mouth with both hands and narrowed her eyes.
"Such a terrible thing. Could it be because so many people have incurred resentment? The Inspector General is the younger sister of the executed housekeeper, Betty Nielsen, so it's perfectly understandable that this is revenge."
"The Overseer is my man. I've given her human comfort, rewards, and pride in following me, and I've received her blind loyalty in return. He wouldn't act unilaterally."
"But don't you know that commoners lack loyalty to the nobility and royalty? It's hard to trust someone based solely on their outward humanity..."
"The Inspector General's younger brother volunteered as a war doctor. We agreed to ensure his safety."
It was I who had induced him to enlist in the army. The Marchioness's eyes blinked a couple of times slowly, as if trying to discern my intentions. I tried to tell her without hesitation.
"All orders are given solely through my personal maid, Knight Milia. There are no exceptions. If anything exceptional arises, it's due to external factors, like deception and lies."
Cracks began to appear in the gentle mask, and the Marchioness's expression and actions began to creak unnaturally. I stared at her, frozen in place, holding my teacup. Her stiff lips moved with difficulty.
“Who said that?”
"I can only assume the pro-Frogen faction is trying to foment conflict between Her Majesty and me, sending Noah into war. They must be close enough to know that Her Majesty feels compassion for Erita. Their intention is to frame me. Well, unfortunately, contrary to their intentions, Her Majesty and I are not on bad terms."
“Oh, so that means there are people who are slandering the Princess.”
How shameless. I covered my mouth and let out a lazy sarcasm.
"Madam. The reason you still can't divorce or move on, despite having power, intelligence, and even a family, is because of a certain high-ranking official? Perhaps someone at the top."
The Marchioness of Wales's amber eyes widened at my blunt remark. I don't need to know the details of her personal circumstances, but considering her circumstances, it makes sense. What woman would want to continue living with a man who cheated on her with another woman and then brought her home? In this world, even divorce on grounds of fault is possible. I was reminded of the despair of Renier, who risked his life to escape his bonds.
The Marchioness, with a similar expression, slowly lowered her eyes.
"I had no choice, since I have children. Besides, it was obvious my family would object."
Her voice was as weak as her persuasiveness. I asked, clutching her hand painfully.
"From what I've noticed over the past few months, Madam isn't the kind of person who simply follows the given life, obedient and unselfish. You're a self-reliant and confident woman. In fact, it seems like you need my help, don't you?"
“What are you talking about...”
"I'm third in line of authority, after the Queen and the Prime Minister. I'm not incompetent enough to need your help, as a senator's wife. I have an unnecessary abundance of people from business and politics."
If you thought I could be easily manipulated like Erita, you were very mistaken.
There's a reason why she's been quietly hiding for months.
I've always been aware of the existence of pro-Frogen forces seeking to seize control of Medea's regime. If that woman is the one who manipulated Erita into committing a crime and dethroning her, then all the pieces fit together. Erita wouldn't have unfoundedly pointed out the Marchioness of Wales in court that day. She was likely the one who led her to kill Ayla. I let go of the Marchioness's cold hand. Her hand fell to the table, and a quiet voice followed.
“I just wanted to help in some way and become someone who earned the Princess’s trust.”
"Are you trying to call it unconditional favor? You should be asking me honestly for help and a deal, not pretending otherwise and trying to exploit me. Even though I'm clearly your superior. Is it because you have such strong pride?"
She couldn't lift her gaze, staring down at her teacup. Chaos was etched clearly against her pale face. I raised my chin and stared at her with a sharp gaze. What would happen if I informed the Queen that the pro-Frogen faction had conspired with Frogen's illegitimate son to depose Erita? And that it was you who ordered Erita's finger cut off?
I asked in a very calm tone.
“Rosalia, do you want freedom?”
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