Erita remained confined to the palace, refusing to participate in external events. It was fortunate that her wedding had been postponed due to the war, but the outcome would remain the same: she would marry a man she didn't love.
"Everyone loves you, that's why I'm doing this. Just do as I say. I mean, behave yourself."
The cold gaze of the Queen, who had just been alone, came to mind. The days spent helplessly waiting were stifling and arduous. No matter how many times she replayed and chewed over it, she couldn't grasp the reason or cause of her life, unable to do anything as she pleased. As she recalled the precarious situation she'd been forced into, a melancholy, tinged with anger, rose up from the depths of her heart. Sitting in the tea room in the palace garden, sipping black tea, Erita suppressed the urge to throw everything away, to shatter everything, to scream.
“Your Highness, Princess. I am truly sorry.”
The palace maid's face darkened as she saw the tea splashing onto Erita's white skirt while she was serving her tea. Erita looked down at it with indifferent eyes. Always on edge, even a small mistake would cause her to lose her sense of reason. It made her forget the Marchioness's advice and even her fear of being dethroned and abandoned by the Queen.
"Yes."
“I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up right away.”
“No, you don’t have to wipe it.”
Despite her gentle tone, Erita's hand suddenly lifted her cheek. The maid's eyes widened in confusion as she turned her head. Her body lurched from side to side as she was struck by the harsh touch that followed.
"This is a dress you'll never see in your lifetime. It's worth more than someone like you."
"Sorry."
The maid, whose lips were split and her cheeks red from being slapped repeatedly, cried out in pain instead of groaning, repeatedly apologizing. The surrounding maids looked down at the ground, wary of the situation, while one of the knights tried her best to lighten the mood.
“Princess, I know you’re upset that tea spilled on your pretty dress, but I’m worried that it might hurt your hands.”
Erita slowly tilted her head and looked at him.
“Sir Jade, are you saying I’m doing this because I’m obsessed with a dress?”
“No, I just wanted to make sure I didn’t blemish the Princess’s beautiful hands...”
“Then why don’t you punish them yourself?”
"Yes?"
As the knight was flustered and didn't know what to do, Erita pointed towards the maid who was standing there in a mess.
"You're my knight, too. Didn't that woman harm me? What if I had been burned? If you care about me, show it with action."
"That..."
A twisted smile played on Erita's lips. A hint of her twisted and distorted emotions was revealed.
“Can’t you do it? You always say you’re doing it for me.”
"Princess, wouldn't a pay cut commensurate with the damage to the dress be sufficient punishment? We uphold the spirit of noblesse oblige and have a righteous mission to help the weak. Ordering violence to punish subordinates is an unjust order that belittles our beliefs and mission."
Erita's blue eyes glared fiercely at the other knight, who couldn't stand to watch and tried to intervene by offering advice.
“Sir Eliza, are you trying to teach me now?”
"We are both servants serving the Princess and guarding you. As subjects who protect not only the body of the person we serve, but also morality, authority, and dignity, it is our duty to offer advice to correct any wrongdoing."
The average knight-maiden possessed a firm and righteous nature. Even if they were royalty, advising and correcting their wrongdoings was not a sin. Rather, it was simply fulfilling one's duties, but Erita felt she was ignoring her. Until now, she had only courted the treacherous maids who merely offered sweet nothings and platitudes.
The maid known as Sir Eliza had only recently been assigned to the Princess's escort, and the Queen had deliberately placed her, her former maid, at Erita's side. It was understandable for Erita to be wary of her, but this only served to fuel Erita's already warped feelings of rebellion and rebellion. Erita rose from her seat, strode over to Eliza, and thrust her hand into her chest. Eliza flinched. Erita stared at her wide, green eyes with displeasure.
“You have eyes I don’t like.”
What Erita held in her hand was a platinum-decorated pistol given only to royal knights.
Bang-.
Screams and gunshots echoed throughout the garden. At the same time, a maid, bent over and clutching her stomach, collapsed with a pale face, face down on the floor. Blood spread across the white marble floor, and everyone held their breath, swallowing dryly. Erita's maniacal laughter pierced the silence.
"A cruel knight who shot a palace maid for spilling tea on my dress. That's a title that will follow you for the rest of your life. Cruel, yet brave. You'd be better suited to battle than the peaceful palace."
Erita, who had shot the palace maid with Eliza's gun, smiled sweetly and handed the pistol over to Eliza. Eliza's face turned pale, like the maid who had fallen from the gunshot wound. The maids and servants looked back and forth between Eliza and the maid, bleeding and lying down, with fearful eyes.
Eliza, enraged by the Princess's outrageous behavior, gritted her teeth and raised her eyes.
“Princess! Why would a noble person act like this?”
"You're more outraged that it was your gun that shot the woman than that the woman died right before your eyes. What disgusting hypocrisy."
Erita's sharp eyes scanned the maids and servants, forcing them to agree.
“It was Sir Eliza’s gun that shot and killed the maid, wasn’t it?”
Their faces turned pale, and they could not say anything, only lowering their heads.
Eliza, lost in the terrible loneliness that those who speak the truth often experience, muttered to herself as she looked back at the maids who had been assisting the Princess.
“This is the 24th person.”
The numbers that emerged from Baroness Mason's mouth, bowing before the Queen in her knightly uniform, were the statistics of Erita's murders and the weight of her guilt on the scales. The Queen, sitting in a sheer chiffon dress, resting her chin on her hand, let out a heavy sigh.
“What could have so corrupted the Princess's notions?”
"Everyone loves you, that's why I'm doing this. Just do as I say. I mean, behave yourself."
The cold gaze of the Queen, who had just been alone, came to mind. The days spent helplessly waiting were stifling and arduous. No matter how many times she replayed and chewed over it, she couldn't grasp the reason or cause of her life, unable to do anything as she pleased. As she recalled the precarious situation she'd been forced into, a melancholy, tinged with anger, rose up from the depths of her heart. Sitting in the tea room in the palace garden, sipping black tea, Erita suppressed the urge to throw everything away, to shatter everything, to scream.
“Your Highness, Princess. I am truly sorry.”
The palace maid's face darkened as she saw the tea splashing onto Erita's white skirt while she was serving her tea. Erita looked down at it with indifferent eyes. Always on edge, even a small mistake would cause her to lose her sense of reason. It made her forget the Marchioness's advice and even her fear of being dethroned and abandoned by the Queen.
"Yes."
“I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up right away.”
“No, you don’t have to wipe it.”
Despite her gentle tone, Erita's hand suddenly lifted her cheek. The maid's eyes widened in confusion as she turned her head. Her body lurched from side to side as she was struck by the harsh touch that followed.
"This is a dress you'll never see in your lifetime. It's worth more than someone like you."
"Sorry."
The maid, whose lips were split and her cheeks red from being slapped repeatedly, cried out in pain instead of groaning, repeatedly apologizing. The surrounding maids looked down at the ground, wary of the situation, while one of the knights tried her best to lighten the mood.
“Princess, I know you’re upset that tea spilled on your pretty dress, but I’m worried that it might hurt your hands.”
Erita slowly tilted her head and looked at him.
“Sir Jade, are you saying I’m doing this because I’m obsessed with a dress?”
“No, I just wanted to make sure I didn’t blemish the Princess’s beautiful hands...”
“Then why don’t you punish them yourself?”
"Yes?"
As the knight was flustered and didn't know what to do, Erita pointed towards the maid who was standing there in a mess.
"You're my knight, too. Didn't that woman harm me? What if I had been burned? If you care about me, show it with action."
"That..."
A twisted smile played on Erita's lips. A hint of her twisted and distorted emotions was revealed.
“Can’t you do it? You always say you’re doing it for me.”
"Princess, wouldn't a pay cut commensurate with the damage to the dress be sufficient punishment? We uphold the spirit of noblesse oblige and have a righteous mission to help the weak. Ordering violence to punish subordinates is an unjust order that belittles our beliefs and mission."
Erita's blue eyes glared fiercely at the other knight, who couldn't stand to watch and tried to intervene by offering advice.
“Sir Eliza, are you trying to teach me now?”
"We are both servants serving the Princess and guarding you. As subjects who protect not only the body of the person we serve, but also morality, authority, and dignity, it is our duty to offer advice to correct any wrongdoing."
The average knight-maiden possessed a firm and righteous nature. Even if they were royalty, advising and correcting their wrongdoings was not a sin. Rather, it was simply fulfilling one's duties, but Erita felt she was ignoring her. Until now, she had only courted the treacherous maids who merely offered sweet nothings and platitudes.
The maid known as Sir Eliza had only recently been assigned to the Princess's escort, and the Queen had deliberately placed her, her former maid, at Erita's side. It was understandable for Erita to be wary of her, but this only served to fuel Erita's already warped feelings of rebellion and rebellion. Erita rose from her seat, strode over to Eliza, and thrust her hand into her chest. Eliza flinched. Erita stared at her wide, green eyes with displeasure.
“You have eyes I don’t like.”
What Erita held in her hand was a platinum-decorated pistol given only to royal knights.
Bang-.
Screams and gunshots echoed throughout the garden. At the same time, a maid, bent over and clutching her stomach, collapsed with a pale face, face down on the floor. Blood spread across the white marble floor, and everyone held their breath, swallowing dryly. Erita's maniacal laughter pierced the silence.
"A cruel knight who shot a palace maid for spilling tea on my dress. That's a title that will follow you for the rest of your life. Cruel, yet brave. You'd be better suited to battle than the peaceful palace."
Erita, who had shot the palace maid with Eliza's gun, smiled sweetly and handed the pistol over to Eliza. Eliza's face turned pale, like the maid who had fallen from the gunshot wound. The maids and servants looked back and forth between Eliza and the maid, bleeding and lying down, with fearful eyes.
Eliza, enraged by the Princess's outrageous behavior, gritted her teeth and raised her eyes.
“Princess! Why would a noble person act like this?”
"You're more outraged that it was your gun that shot the woman than that the woman died right before your eyes. What disgusting hypocrisy."
Erita's sharp eyes scanned the maids and servants, forcing them to agree.
“It was Sir Eliza’s gun that shot and killed the maid, wasn’t it?”
Their faces turned pale, and they could not say anything, only lowering their heads.
“So it was you who ruined the princess. Jade, Cedric, Devon.”
***
“This is the 24th person.”
The numbers that emerged from Baroness Mason's mouth, bowing before the Queen in her knightly uniform, were the statistics of Erita's murders and the weight of her guilt on the scales. The Queen, sitting in a sheer chiffon dress, resting her chin on her hand, let out a heavy sigh.
“What could have so corrupted the Princess's notions?”
“It seems like a matter of the heart.”
“What is lacking?”
Who could possibly understand a heart that even her parents couldn't fathom? Naturally, the Baroness couldn't easily grasp the Princess's thoughts and feelings. She could only guess.
"The Marchioness of Wales says she suffered great heartbreak after the man she loved married. Could that be the reason?"
“Yeah, I understand that too.”
The Queen lowered her hand from under her chin and raised her slender upper body, revealing a look of displeasure.
“You still can’t overcome it? You’re so weak.”
"The problem is Prime Minister Stanley's granddaughter, Eliza Stanley, whom he cherishes like his life. She's been accused of shooting and killing a palace maid for a minor mistake, and she's been suspended from her job, so she's complaining about the injustice."
The reason she had appointed a maid with such a strong backing—the granddaughter of Medea's Prime Minister and representative of the House of Nobles, and a member of the high-ranking noble family of Stanley—was to control the Princess's behavior, even if only slightly. Who would have thought that decision would lead to such a major problem? At Eliza's insistence, the Prime Minister, the Stanley family, and even the Medea Council would step forward to raise the issue. The Queen's delicate brow furrowed in anger at Elita for causing such a major incident.
"It seems you've lost your sense of judgment now. Countess Reuben is already constantly raising objections and persistently digging into the matter about the poisoning of the maid."
"Your Majesty, if you remove Duke Stanley from his position as Prime Minister, remove him from his seat in the House of Lords, and replace all the dissenting ministers and members of Parliament, turning your backs on the loyalists who support the Crown, we can cover this up. That's called dictatorship. Would you still do it?"
Baroness Mason, standing with her back straight, gazed at the Queen with stern eyes. She had been recognized as a capable knight at a young age and had served as her protector and assistant. The Queen, forced to acknowledge the somewhat valid criticism, befitting a knight of distinction, let out a sigh and a hollow laugh. The Baroness added.
“I am ashamed to report, but Her Highness is suffering from a mental illness.”
“I know.”
“The reason I bring this up again is that I want to emphasize that the problem will not persist unless we address the root cause.”
“Yeah, I gave her countless chances. Maybe it was too much.”
The moonlight shimmered in the night sky through the window. The scales of weighing importance had long since tipped to one side. After a long, drawn-out silence, the worried Queen finally reached a conclusion she had long held dear.
"For the time being, I'll send her to a monastery in Veneto. She'll receive treatment there in secret. And I'll have a private meeting with the Prime Minister."
***
The Marchioness of Wales, summoned by the Queen, bowed politely. The Queen, rubbing her temples as if suffering from a headache, spoke.
“Rosalia. In the end, I couldn’t correct the Princess’s behavior.”
"I'm sorry. I persuaded her to marry and inherit the throne, but I couldn't stop her from taking such an impulsive action. Since we have to appear unrelated to the outside world, we can't always be together."
“I plan to send the Princess to a monastery under the pretext of recuperation.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
"You go there to supervise. It's called volunteer work at the orphanage there. It'll be best to keep an eye on her."
The Marchioness's lips twisted slightly as she lowered her head.
“Your Majesty, I...”
"Don't forget your duty. The most important thing to you is your country, not some false means of hiding your identity. As a parent, I know you love and cherish your son."
The Marchioness's expression softened as she thought of her young son. She could not disobey the Queen's absolute command. She bowed again, signaling her acceptance.
“I will follow.”
The Marchioness of Wales was returning to her mansion by car after an audience with the Queen. As she was crossing a bridge spanning the river, an old woman dressed in red jumped out and blocked her car.
“Get out of the way. Do you know who is riding here?”
The driver stuck his head out the window and complained, but the old woman didn't move and just spread her arms wide.
The Marchioness of Wales, who had stopped the driver from getting out of the car and dragging the old woman out, got out of the car and approached her despite the driver's protests.
“Grandma, it’s dangerous to be on the road like this.”
The old woman, her hair white and gray, reeked of alcohol, along with a foul, foul odor. She spoke through her wrinkled, toothless mouth.
“I’m a singer. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to pay. Just listen to my song.”
“What song?”
While she was still confused, the old woman began to sing in a slurred voice.
"My beloved marionette, a beautiful marionette to replace my lost daughter, Emily. Even after finding Emily, my affection for her remains unchanged. In the end, like a witch, the marionette was tied to a stone and thrown into the river. No matter how elaborately crafted, a puppet is only a foolish imitation, unable to replace the real thing."
The Marchioness of Wales studied the red dress she wore. Her appearance was shabby, and she wore a cheap, crude head scarf, but she was wearing a garment of high-quality fabric. Suddenly noticing something strange about her attire, the Marchioness took out some money and placed it in the old woman's hand.
“I heard it well.”
The old woman bowed in gratitude.
"What a crazy old man. Fortunately, you're a kind person. There must be only a few people who beg like this."
The driver waved his hand and clicked his tongue at the old man's back as he walked away. Back in the car, the Marchioness of Wales stared thoughtfully at the streetlights, their long tails fading into the darkness.
"From now on, don't pass it on through people. Even if they're just a street urchin, if they're wearing red, listen to them."
These are the last words of Mastiff. The marionette in the lyrics represents Erita, and the fact that she was thrown into the river signifies that she is worthless and useless. It also implies that the fake Erita will soon be dethroned and Diana will ascend to the throne.
Ultimately, was the illegitimate child going against Noah Rotsilt's wishes, or was the situation simply not going as planned? If Diana becomes Queen, will my hostage-like child and I also be free? The Marchioness of Wales's amber eyes gradually darkened.
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