Erita was taken to a forced labor camp in the Levani slums. The path to this shady corner of the splendid and sophisticated capital was filthy, and the people, unkempt and unkempt, reeked of sweat and stale air. Was this the Francian capital, a place of stagnant filth and filth before the revolution? Perhaps the stench emanating from the entrance to the slums originated here. Inside, the camp was littered with filth, teeming with flies, cockroaches, and rats, and the stench was so foul it was almost numbing.
“Ugh.”
Erita, vomiting with disgust, gasped and raised her head. She looked at the old, musty building that would become her future home, her expression lost in disbelief. The cramped, chicken-coop-like rooms were crammed together, and the stench of rotting wood and rat droppings filled her nostrils. The rusty, iron bunk bed sheets in her darkened room looked infested with bedbugs and even moldy. Biting her lip to stifle the stale, musty smell, Erita suddenly lashed out at the guard.
"I'm a Princess. I've been falsely accused. I simply cannot accept this kind of treatment."
"It's noisy. The Princess has shown mercy and allowed two people to share a room. Originally, there were supposed to be five."
“What are you talking about! I...”
Erita, who had turned her head and shouted with a haggard face, fell to the dirty wooden floor before she could utter another word. The prison guard, who had kicked her in the back without mercy, clicked his tongue and grabbed her by the hair.
“Hey, you killed Director Colin’s sister.”
"What?"
“Betty Nielsen. She was the palace maid who was falsely accused and killed unjustly.”
He calls me "you" and "hey" so carelessly, but how can he call that maid with respect? Erita felt the weight of her situation, her hair held in a cruel hand, sinking to the lowest point.
“I didn’t kill her.”
Match-.
She pleaded her grievance, but all she got in return was a slap. Erita clutched her numb chin with a dull thud, her face a confused expression. Having never been hit by anyone and raised in a privileged environment, this situation was bound to be shocking.
"Here, the guard's word is law. Be polite, use honorifics, and obey orders without question. You don't want to get beaten severely."
After the guard who had given her a menacing warning turned and left, Erita sat down on the half-rotted floor, staring at the thorn embedded in her palm, unable to conceal her despair. A chuckle came from behind her, and she turned her head to see a woman peeking out from the bunk bed. She was thin and hunched over, her mouth wide open in a strange grin. Her teeth were black and rotten, her hair disheveled and draped in dirty rags, giving her the appearance of a demon. A hoarse, metallic sound came from her filthy lips.
"Oh, the day will come when even someone like me will see the Princess in person. No, it's just a fake."
“Who are you?”
"Same situation as you. Only you're wearing nice underwear. Perhaps some kind of round imported silk."
“What are you talking about! How rude!”
“Give it to me. Mine is about to wear out.”
Erita's eyes were filled with fear as she saw the devil-like woman creeping up on her from the bunk bed.
"Aren't you going away? Warden! How can I share a room with a lunatic?"
Erita's screams echoed loudly outside the room, but no one paid any attention. The guard on guard simply glanced through the small window in the door and turned away. He just had to stay calm.
I instructed my personal maid, Knight Milia Inverse, to select a dedicated team from among the slum guards and wardens to thoroughly protect and monitor Erita. I also contacted Molly and asked her to break the news to the press. For the sake of my good reputation, I made sure no one but me could carelessly aid or kill Erita.
After sentencing her to death, the Queen chose to send her to a detention center because it was highly likely she would secretly smuggle Erita out and escape somewhere. Her apparent ruthlessness in executing Erita without mercy, claiming she wasn't their biological child, and her refusal to grant any leniency during the trial—all likely stemmed from her plan to disguise Erita's death after execution and send her to another country. Given her prior success in smuggling Janet out disguised as an escape, it was entirely feasible. I could have shown mercy by pretending not to know the Queen's intentions, but Erita clung to us until the very end. Moreover, she treated me as a substitute to save Erita and preserve the royal family's honor. I am not generous enough to show such magnanimity.
“Ugh.”
Erita, vomiting with disgust, gasped and raised her head. She looked at the old, musty building that would become her future home, her expression lost in disbelief. The cramped, chicken-coop-like rooms were crammed together, and the stench of rotting wood and rat droppings filled her nostrils. The rusty, iron bunk bed sheets in her darkened room looked infested with bedbugs and even moldy. Biting her lip to stifle the stale, musty smell, Erita suddenly lashed out at the guard.
"I'm a Princess. I've been falsely accused. I simply cannot accept this kind of treatment."
"It's noisy. The Princess has shown mercy and allowed two people to share a room. Originally, there were supposed to be five."
“What are you talking about! I...”
Erita, who had turned her head and shouted with a haggard face, fell to the dirty wooden floor before she could utter another word. The prison guard, who had kicked her in the back without mercy, clicked his tongue and grabbed her by the hair.
“Hey, you killed Director Colin’s sister.”
"What?"
“Betty Nielsen. She was the palace maid who was falsely accused and killed unjustly.”
He calls me "you" and "hey" so carelessly, but how can he call that maid with respect? Erita felt the weight of her situation, her hair held in a cruel hand, sinking to the lowest point.
“I didn’t kill her.”
Match-.
She pleaded her grievance, but all she got in return was a slap. Erita clutched her numb chin with a dull thud, her face a confused expression. Having never been hit by anyone and raised in a privileged environment, this situation was bound to be shocking.
"Here, the guard's word is law. Be polite, use honorifics, and obey orders without question. You don't want to get beaten severely."
After the guard who had given her a menacing warning turned and left, Erita sat down on the half-rotted floor, staring at the thorn embedded in her palm, unable to conceal her despair. A chuckle came from behind her, and she turned her head to see a woman peeking out from the bunk bed. She was thin and hunched over, her mouth wide open in a strange grin. Her teeth were black and rotten, her hair disheveled and draped in dirty rags, giving her the appearance of a demon. A hoarse, metallic sound came from her filthy lips.
"Oh, the day will come when even someone like me will see the Princess in person. No, it's just a fake."
“Who are you?”
"Same situation as you. Only you're wearing nice underwear. Perhaps some kind of round imported silk."
“What are you talking about! How rude!”
“Give it to me. Mine is about to wear out.”
Erita's eyes were filled with fear as she saw the devil-like woman creeping up on her from the bunk bed.
"Aren't you going away? Warden! How can I share a room with a lunatic?"
Erita's screams echoed loudly outside the room, but no one paid any attention. The guard on guard simply glanced through the small window in the door and turned away. He just had to stay calm.
***
I instructed my personal maid, Knight Milia Inverse, to select a dedicated team from among the slum guards and wardens to thoroughly protect and monitor Erita. I also contacted Molly and asked her to break the news to the press. For the sake of my good reputation, I made sure no one but me could carelessly aid or kill Erita.
After sentencing her to death, the Queen chose to send her to a detention center because it was highly likely she would secretly smuggle Erita out and escape somewhere. Her apparent ruthlessness in executing Erita without mercy, claiming she wasn't their biological child, and her refusal to grant any leniency during the trial—all likely stemmed from her plan to disguise Erita's death after execution and send her to another country. Given her prior success in smuggling Janet out disguised as an escape, it was entirely feasible. I could have shown mercy by pretending not to know the Queen's intentions, but Erita clung to us until the very end. Moreover, she treated me as a substitute to save Erita and preserve the royal family's honor. I am not generous enough to show such magnanimity.
I know that even if they're not blood-related, the affection and bond they nurture can deepen considerably. It's not something that can be overcome simply by blood ties. I realized this when I saw Janet, the nanny who risked her life to come to Medea, enraged by Celine's death. The subtle emotions that occasionally gleamed in the Queen's pale face and jade eyes were too obvious. It was like Janet speaking of Celine's brutal death.
Queen Grace II may not have been a rational and cool-headed person from the beginning.
If that were the case, this body wouldn't have been born. She must have endured wounds and trials, ascended to the throne as Queen at a young age, and worked tirelessly to achieve this. People are naturally shaped by their environment, experiences, and positions.
I know the Queen's efforts to conceal and cover up countless incidents, sacrificing talent for Erita. That foolish woman was the Queen's sore thumb. So, I took Erita as my hostage, forcing her to live a miserable life, too miserable to even dare to die. If the Queen were to secretly orchestrate her escape, it would only give me an excuse. Ultimately, the Queen would be the one to make demands or propose a deal.
"Milia. Please watch over her so she doesn't commit suicide, and protect her from harm or death, as many people have incurred her enmity."
Milia, who had been sitting with me and enjoying a snack, put down her teacup and opened her eyes wide.
“Yes, I have definitely conveyed it. The Princess is truly kind.”
"If you've been given a chance at life, it's only natural that you take responsibility for it, care for it, and help it. Isn't that right?"
"I, though lacking, have much to learn from you, Princess. I am delighted to serve such a virtuous person."
"I'm glad I made a good friend, too. You know, I've been plagued by bad rumors, so I don't have many friends."
I lowered my gaze, my tone slightly sad. Milia blinked her large, emerald eyes slowly, then carefully took my hand.
“It is a great honor to be called your friend.”
“Milia, I think it would be so heartbreaking if she died or something went wrong.”
"I'll take responsibility for that part. Don't worry."
Milia, her cheeks flushed, shook the hand she held with a confident expression. Her hands were pretty, but they felt somewhat rough and calloused. All knights follow and pursue justice and morality.
“I will believe you. You are a wonderful maid and a righteous knight.”
I gave her a gentle, almost sincere smile. The independent nature of doing everything on my own inevitably leads to loneliness. I wore a mask of kindness and humanity that allowed me to build trust with people. In other words, I was completely vulnerable.
There are plenty of people who want to feel pride and self-worth by helping those in power. I plan to assign them roles, rely on them appropriately, ask for favors, and reward them adequately. I plan to build a loyal base of supporters. I hoped no one would treat Noah or me carelessly. Now that I have the power and wealth to manage, I can do it. This, too, is fulfilling my promise to become a competent Princess. To achieve my ultimate goal, I will need to be a little more diligent, even if it's a hassle. The Queen may be regretting taking me on as her Princess by now.
My goal remains unchanged: to live a normal, comfortable, and peaceful life with Noah, undisturbed. For a lazy person like me, the life of a Princess is too much of a hassle.
***
“I brought in a tiger cub. I underestimated it.”
Queen Grace, dressed in a cobalt blue gown, frowned and rubbed her forehead. Her loyal maid, Knight Baroness Mason, sighed faintly, as if sympathizing with her master's concerns.
“I didn’t know the Princess could see through something like that.”
“Where on earth did you find out... No, that’s enough. She probably already knew about it during the palace maid poisoning incident.”
"It's said that a dedicated team has been formed to protect and monitor Erita. No one outside of the designated group can approach her. Even the smallest details require the Princess's permission. Furthermore, they've reportedly organized a system where people are assigned to monitor her, record every detail, and then deliver a report to the Princess."
"In short, you're saying that Erita was imprisoned in a slum camp and held hostage. What are the identities of the members?"
Baroness Mason, who had been observing the Queen's thoughts, whose pale face was covered with layers of worry, answered hesitantly.
“That’s because the younger sister of the executed maid happens to be the general superintendent of that concentration camp, so there’s no way to bribe her.”
Any attempt to coax her or have another guard sneak even a single extra piece of bread would immediately reach Diana. Diana had ample justification for keeping watch over Erita, so she couldn't take any action. Baroness Mason asked cautiously.
“Your Majesty, do you still have feelings for her?”
The Queen, sitting motionless, looked like a white statue. Queen Grace II is known as the most rational and cool-headed person in the kingdom. Even she, who seemed incapable of bleeding even if stabbed, was in fact a person of emotion. It was impossible for her, nurtured over eighteen years, to be without affection. The Queen's lament permeated her sighs as her plan to fake her execution and send her to another country failed.
“That’s not like me.”
"Your Majesty, I understand your feelings, but your child is Princess Diana. The Princess must be upset, and if things continue this way, the rift between mother and daughter will only deepen."
“I know. But after hearing her true feelings in the end, I just can’t...”
The Queen, replaying Erita's last words—that she longed to be loved unconditionally, countlessly, felt regret. When had she last offered her a kind word or held her hand? She felt it was her own fault that she had become so twisted and mentally ill.
Although she was always scolding and being strict with her, it was all because her mother wanted her to do well, but it backfired, and she ended up getting hurt and festering, and eventually she was ruined.
"Be strict with the talented, kind to the weak. It's because I ignored my mother's words."
For Erita, who had grown up in precious circumstances her entire life, this place was a living hell. A life no different from slavery, forced to endure hard labor for over ten hours, subsisting on only the hard black bread she was given. The thought of the unsanitary and squalid conditions there made her shiver. She felt a deep sense of responsibility for her daughter's plight and misfortune, and she couldn't bear it. Just as she had with the admiral, the Queen, reaching the extreme of choosing to smother her foolishness, closed her eyes tightly.
Perhaps that wouldn't be easy either. Slowly, her eyelids lifted, her pupils dark as melting snow, and she turned to the newspaper spread out on the table.
This is the first case to suggest a labor camp as an alternative to the legal penalty of death, citing the example of Betty Nielsen, the unjustly executed palace maid. This approach is grounded in social research showing that even the most serious criminals can be reformed through clemency, and will contribute to the development of social awareness and correctional systems. Furthermore, a royal spokesperson representing Princess Diana warned that anyone who harms the criminal, Elita, will be sent to a labor camp, regardless of their gender.
"Until you become thorough, you will surely become an excellent ruler. It seems you haven't shown everything yet."
Queen Grace, who had been fluctuating between admiration and anger, finally burst into laughter. Not only had Diana taken Erita hostage, but she had also preemptively blocked the possibility that Noah Rotsilt would be disposed of after the war for being a former officer of a war criminal nation.
The Queen recalled Diana's impassive face and ash-green eyes. Despite her apparent smile, her gaze was steeped in thought, a chill that sent shivers down her spine. The one who had placed her in the position of Crown Princess was a predator, capable of piercing the very core of her victims with sharp fangs, tearing them apart and tearing them apart. Granting her power was like giving wings to a beast of prey.
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