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chapter 27
“I greet Your Highness the Princess.”
Cough, cough. “Come closer, sit here.”
It was Iva’s first private audience with Julian, now a princess, and she greeted her with tense formality.
But Julian, leaning against the headboard of her bed, didn’t even look at her and simply motioned with her chin for Iva to come closer.
The atmosphere was strangely different from when they had met at the party. Without saying anything, Iva approached.
Her face was still weak and pale, paler than the white blankets, as if she hadn’t recovered yet.
“I had something to say, and since I heard you were in Claude’s office, I called you.”
“Did you, Your Highness.”
What could she possibly have to say to me? At the party, she had clung to Rai until she collapsed. Could it be she’s calling me to apologize for nearly ruining the event?
Just as Iva was about to sit on the small chair beside the bed, Julian interrupted.
“Wait.”
“Yes?”
“It won’t take long, so it’s better if you stand. I wouldn’t want my illness to spread to you.”
Caught awkwardly halfway, Iva blinked but quickly grasped the situation.
She was pretending to care, but it was a blatant dismissal.
Inviting her to sit only to deny her the seat—one of the tricks nobles used to humiliate those of lower rank.
Iva’s lips twitched faintly.
“Is there a problem?”
Julian smiled sweetly, her blue eyes curving like crescent moons. Iva bit the inside of her cheek and forced the same smile back.
She was now certain—Julian was completely different from the one she had known in her past life.
“No, Your Highness. I am grateful for your concern. Please, continue.”
Realizing that Julian hadn’t summoned her for a simple reason, Iva kept her composure.
She remained standing, just as instructed, but subtly tilted her head at an angle so she appeared to be looking down.
“About last night’s party… My Lady, why are you looking at me like that?”
Julian frowned slightly. Since she was in bed, Iva naturally stood higher, but the angle of Iva’s gaze seemed to look down on her like some insignificant servant, and it irritated her.
“Pardon? I don’t know what you mean.”
Feigning ignorance, Iva kept a blank face.
Sorry, but I’m living this life as a count’s daughter for the third time now. I’ve got more than enough experience.
And this kind of petty humiliation? Child’s play to counter.
“I’m only standing as Your Highness commanded. Is it uncomfortable for you?”
Repeating Julian’s own words back at her, Iva watched the princess’s faint smile stiffen.
“On second thought, this conversation may take longer. Sit down.”
“Then, excuse me.”
Before Julian could change her mind, Iva quickly sat.
“Please, continue.”
Her bright, guileless smile left Julian looking somewhat dissatisfied as she went on.
“You remember that I collapsed at the party?”
“Yes, of course.”
How could I forget? It nearly ruined everything.
“I’ve been frail since birth. If I get even a little tired or anxious, my heart races as if it might burst, and my vision blurs.”
“I see.”
“But do you think I’m the only one who could collapse like that?”
“…Pardon?”
“Anyone else might have fainted. Yet you made no preparations for such an incident. As the host of the party, wasn’t that your responsibility?”
“…What?”
“Failing to account for that was your mistake. I advise you to keep such things in mind next time—it’ll be good for you too.”
The sheer absurdity left Iva speechless.
From beginning to end—nonsense! What kind of fool drags their sickly body to a hectic party, then blames the host for not preparing for their collapse?
She thought she was here to hear an apology. Instead, she got unwanted criticism.
Suppressing the anger rising within her, Iva forced herself calm.
“At the sanatorium where I stayed, many were frail. Precautions were taken in all aspects of life. You’ll find much written about it in books—you might want to study them.”
Perhaps this was the royal way of apologizing? She tried to twist it into a better meaning, but no—Julian’s words held no trace of remorse.
“But don’t worry too much. Such mistakes happen when one lacks experience.”
The patronizing tone, as if granting forgiveness, wiped the smile from Iva’s face.
“Oh, and one more important piece of etiquette.”
“…Etiquette?”
Julian glanced toward the door, then leaned forward, beckoning Iva closer as if to share a secret.
Iva didn’t want to move closer, but refusing a princess wasn’t an option. Hiding her suspicion, she leaned in.
Julian whispered at her ear:
“When royalty greets someone, if another dares to interrupt, they can be punished.”
Ha. Iva nearly clicked her tongue aloud.
She was bringing up the time Iva stopped her from greeting Brigitte. So this whole meeting was for revenge.
“I’m kind, so I overlook such breaches. But other royals may not. I thought I should warn you—best be careful.”
Outwardly, it was framed as kind advice, but in truth, it was a warning to watch her step.
Having said her piece, Julian leaned back again, smiling like sunlight.
Iva bit her inner cheek and forced a smile.
“…You’re very generous to tell me so.”
“I often hear that. Perhaps I should be more selfish? But when I see someone acting out of ignorance, I can’t help but care.”
“I’ll be sure to share Your Highness’s words with anyone hosting future parties.”
Her desire to argue vanished. Why bother? These weren’t words worth replying to.
She just wanted to leave.
“I know you must be worried over your mistake, but don’t. I’ll explain it kindly.”
“…To whom, Your Highness?”
“Why, to His Majesty, of course.”
Iva blinked. Did she really just say that?
“His Majesty adores me. If I tell him I enjoyed the party, then even if it was a disaster, he’ll overlook it. The staff won’t be punished.”
The effort Iva had put into controlling her expression faltered. She could endure many things, but belittling the hard work of the party staff was intolerable.
They had poured their hearts into preparations. Julian, who had forced her way in uninvited, had no right to dismiss it all.
“Your Highness.”
Her voice came out lower than usual, tight with restrained anger.
“Please tell His Majesty the truth—that the party was a disaster.”
“…What?”
Julian’s smiling lips finally dropped.
“If Your Highness truly felt the party was a failure, there’s no need to say otherwise for my sake.”
Julian’s eyes narrowed.
“Myself, the staff, even Prince Claude—we gave everything for the party. Enough to accept whatever result may come.”
Iva straightened her back, showing not a shred of fear.
“And I too will report to His Majesty.”
“…Report what?”
“That Sir Brigitte told me he would return to Fene and report that this diplomacy was very successful.”
No matter how much the Emperor doted on Julian, the success of this event lay in Fene’s hands—not hers.
“Did he really say that?”
“Yes. Though it was a matter between nations, he whispered it to me, the one responsible. In gratitude for how much he enjoyed the party.”
“And if that was a lie? Just flattery?”
“Then I, along with the staff, will accept punishment.”
Iva stared straight into Julian’s now expressionless blue eyes. Compared to Claude’s, they seemed less vivid.
“But if it wasn’t flattery, then I wonder—how His Majesty would view Your Highness’s words? I, lacking etiquette, wouldn’t know.”
Her words left the room in silence. The two simply held each other’s gaze, unflinching.
“…So Sir Brigitte took a liking to you.”
“…Pardon?”
“Why else would he share matters of state with you? He must be trying to win your favor.”
What? How did the conversation twist this way? Iva couldn’t follow Julian’s logic.
“I’ll help you.”
“…Help?”
“If you wish to go to Fene and marry him, I’ll fully support you. I’ll even write a recommendation and provide a dowry.”
At last, Iva understood. Julian wanted to push her out of the Empire by marrying her off.
And the tactic was all too familiar.
‘Julian, do you see that gentleman? The one in the dark red clothes.’
‘That elderly man over there?’
‘Yes. He says he’d love to speak with you.’
‘With me?’
‘Go on, talk with him. He’s very wealthy, you know.’
It was the same way Iva herself had once tried to send Julian off to a remote country lord in her first life.
“…Lili?”
The name slipped out of Iva’s mouth before she realized it—Julian’s childhood nickname, used by the Lawrence couple who had adopted her late, and which Iva had sometimes copied.
“How dare you. Calling a princess by such a pet name?”
Julian’s face hardened, but Iva’s eyes lit up, sensing opportunity.
“I only uttered a single word. How did Your Highness know it was a nickname?”
“…What?”
Julian’s expression wavered like never before.
Could it be? Did she, too, remember a previous life? Was she connected to these repeating lives?
Hope stirred in Iva’s chest—maybe this endless cycle of death could finally be solved.
“Urgh!”
But suddenly, Julian clutched her heart in pain.
Huh? She was just mocking me a moment ago—why the sudden attack?
Cough, cough, hack!
Still coughing violently, Julian yanked the bell cord by her bed, making it clang loudly.
“Your Highness, you called?”
The maid who had brought Iva hurried in.
“Her Highness suddenly fell ill during our talk!”
Worried she’d be blamed, Iva quickly stepped back from the bed.
The maid calmly rubbed Julian’s back as if used to such episodes.
“…Take her out.”
“I’m sorry, Lady. Please return for now.”
So suddenly dismissed after being suddenly summoned—almost thrown out— Iva left the room, replaying the conversation in her mind.
“There’s still no solid proof she remembers. I’ll have to test her properly.”
The shock of realizing someone else might share her memories—and the unease that it was Julian of all people—whirled inside her head.
