Chapter 6

Massera treated me like I was invisible, and the servants at the residence were cold.

Meanwhile, Eugene presented me with a frog that had been hibernating and when I lit up with joy, he ran away looking flustered.

Everyone acted cold toward me, but I was happy enough just to have a full stomach and a warm room.

If I had to choose between “getting warm support while working” or “getting rest but being given the cold treatment,” I’d pick the latter without hesitation.

“Now this is living!”

Just as I was relaxing in bed, a knock sounded and the door opened.

“Here’s the cocoa you requested.”

Dahlia had come in, bringing a warm cup of cocoa.

I sat up right away and took a sip, the drink tasting like chocolate had just been dipped in plain water and taken out.

Dahlia made such mistakes quite often. At first, I thought she was doing it to mess with me.

But after seeing the laundry she folded into a mess, I figured out long ago that she simply wasn’t cut out for housework.

“Thank you, Dahlia.”

“And, um… I’m terribly sorry. While ironing, I…”

Dahlia apologized while holding up a dress with a round burnt hole in it.

“Ironing clothes is pretty hard, isn’t it? It’s definitely not an easy job.”

I’ve had my share of headaches with using frying pans and irons that required the use of charcoal.

“I’m truly sorry again. I’ll try to fix it right now, somehow.”

After apologizing repeatedly, she pulled out a sewing kit and began to thread a needle. It seemed she was going to try patching it with fabric.

“Hm, hmm.”

Dahlia struggled to thread the needle, her face dead serious.

“How about you try wetting the end of the thread to make it pointy?”

“I’ll give it a try.”

As I watched her fumbling, I noticed that her right hand moved unnaturally.

If she left the military at a young age… then it must’ve been a medical discharge.

Most likely, nerve damage from an injury.

There were many people at the residence who bore the scars of war—like the gardener who limped, the butler with a large scar, and the coachman who couldn’t speak.

Even if they suffered from war after defending the country, the sad reality was that no one cared.

It seems even Massera has some good sides to him.

“You can take your time.”

I quietly waited until she managed to do it.

By the time I’d finished my cocoa that only had the scent of chocolate and the snowfall outside had subsided, she was done mending the dress.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, Dahlia handed me the dress.

“Sorry, but I can’t help it—it’s just too funny!”

I burst out laughing at the clumsy patch of checkered fabric sewn onto the pink dress. It reminded me of how my grandma used to patch up the holes in my jeans with colorful cloth.

Dahlia looked embarrassed.

“If you could wait until I get paid, I’ll compensate you.”

“No, it’s fine. I was getting tired of this dress anyway. Let’s just say it’s been revamped.”

Truthfully, I’d never even worn it once, but I smiled as if it was no big deal.

“Instead, come with me to the shopping district on your day off. Let’s go have some parfaits too.”

“...Yes, understood.”

Looking awkward, Dahlia rubbed the back of her neck.

“Thank you for being so forgiving, my lady.”

***

The residence’s break room.

The maids were using a short break to gossip about Cynthia.

“Just look at that princess. I can’t believe she has to use a parasol just for a quick outing.”

“And what are those servants of hers doing? They act like they’re nobles and don’t even lift a single finger.”

Dahlia remained silent as she folded the towels.

“It’s ridiculous. The royal family was executed for throwing the people into hell, but now she’s being treated like a princess just because she’s the last one.”

“But she’s marrying General Vicente, who hates the royals the most. Isn’t that such a shame for her?”

Just as Cynthia expected, most of the people working at the residence despised her for her royal blood.

“Dahlia, didn’t she get angry or hit you for burning her dress?”

At someone’s concerned question, Dahlia shook her head.

“She didn’t seem like the type to get angry.”

“Oh, come on. She may act nice, but I heard she had one of the count’s servants beat a young maid. How despicable of her.”

Hearing that, Dahlia tilted her head in confusion.

The same woman who smiled so sweetly even when her clothes got burned, did such vile things behind the scenes?

“Once the wedding happens, that woman won’t be able to stir up trouble anymore.”

Another maid crossed her arms, predicting Cynthia’s unhappy marriage.

Uncomfortable with the gossip, Dahlia stepped outside. She couldn’t figure out why she was feeling so strange.

Just then, one of Count Queensquard’s servants approached with a peculiar smile.

“You’re the lady’s personal maid, right? This mansion is filled with male soldiers, so be responsible and make sure she doesn’t spark any rumors. She is a bit of a careless person, after all.”

As he spoke, he tapped his head—insinuating that Cynthia wasn’t the brightest.

Expressionless, Dahlia asked—

“You said your name is Charles, right? Are you sure you’re saying that out of concern for your lady?”

“Of course. She’s always smiling so much that there were even rumors she had that kind of relationship with her own brothers.”

Incestuous rumors between siblings were subject to massive public scorn.

Dahlia then realized the man had brought it up on purpose.

He intended for it to reach the General’s ears.

After all, rumors always become more distorted and exaggerated as they spread.

“Please don’t kick me out. I’m all alone, you know.”

Remembering Cynthia’s lonely words, Dahlia turned away without replying.

The more she dealt with Cynthia, the more she couldn’t shake the feeling that behind her gentle smile was a sorrow no one else saw.

“Report everything. Even the smallest things.”

Massera’s orders echoed in her ears—to report everything from what she eats to what she says.

Was this kind of slander something she was supposed to report too?

Dahlia let out a deep sigh.

***

The Queensguard Estate.

From the day Cynthia left for the capital, Edford was consumed by a deep sense of loss and rage.

After seeing Cynthia’s engagement invitation, he immediately stormed over to Helene.

“Helene, you said you’d persuade Cynthia to run away with me.”

“I did my best to persuade her. But now that she’s going through with the engagement, there’s no turning back.”

Helene, who had finished her marriage negotiations with the duke and was soon headed to the capital, replied in a calm tone.

Glancing over at her brother Edford’s bulging nose, small eyes, and chunky body, she hesitantly added—

“You could definitely meet… I mean, find another woman.”

“I don’t see any other woman but her.”

‘The feeling’s probably mutual with other women,’ Helene thought to herself.

“It seemed like Cynthia liked that man too.”

Hearing that, Edford was reminded of Massera’s annoyingly handsome face.

“She clearly fell for his pretty face. She probably doesn’t even know he’s a cruel demon.”

Trying to hide his jealousy in a believable way, Edford began pressuring Helene.

“Don’t you have any good ideas? Try crashing her engagement and calling it off or something.”

Helene looked uninterested.

Feeling ignored, Edford raised his voice.

“Hey. Just because your marriage to the duke is set, you think this doesn’t concern you anymore, huh? I’ll expose everything then—the fact that you guys sent a fake and tricked someone into a sham marriage! That’ll bring an end to your marriage too!”

Helene had always been good with words.

Knowing this, Edford threatened to sabotage Helene’s marriage if she didn’t persuade Cynthia.

“Ed.”

Helene’s lips twisted in a way that didn’t match her sweet smile.

“Enough already.”

“What?”

“Why is it that you whine only to me, but never say a word to Brother Carlos or Father?”

She rose from her seat and shot her brother a chilling glare.

“Unfortunately, the only way I can move up is through a marriage that leverages our bloodline. Knowing that, you still try to use my engagement to threaten me?”

Helene recalled the days she’d spent locked away at their country estate, trained to be the perfect bride.

She knew very well why the duke wanted to marry her.

‘He must be betting on the potential revival of the monarchy.’

Sternly, she warned him—

“Father is a man who does whatever he sets his mind to. You know that, right?”

Edford then recalled his father’s warning—“If this marriage falls through, I’ll kill you first.”

Helene lowered her voice menacingly.

“And I’m that man’s daughter. If you get in my way, you’ll see something worse than hell, so think carefully.”

“...U-Ugh.”

Edford fell speechless at the harsh warning from his usually calm sister.

‘Is she really going to marry him? And leave me?’

Still unable to let go, he brooded over it all the way until the day he left for the capital to attend the engagement ceremony.