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Chapter 11
“That’s enough for today,” Sir Briven concluded. I let out a long exhale—my sword‑holding hand trembled, though I didn’t show it. If Killian or Adelaide saw weakness, it’d be chaos.
“Thank you, Sir Briven.”
“Th‑thank you.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
We bowed respectfully and left the training hall.
“That was intense. Wasn’t it?”
“Your Highness, you’ve improved so—so much!”
“Oh, Adelaide’s the real star. Heard you’ve been training at home too?”
Adelaide blushed furiously. Unbeknownst to her, I’d become pen pals with the Lewendiff Marquis—he eagerly shared Adelaide’s progress. Was it because he didn’t trust my care?
Doesn’t matter. She’s thriving.
I walked along, glancing at adorable Adelaide—now sporting gleaming shoulder-length hair, the strands shimmering in sunlight.
Stunning.
I turned to see Killian across the courtyard. He, born earlier, has grown rapidly; his aura refined since he began training. The slight height difference now made him look even more composed.
In this life as a seven-year-old, I sometimes forget I’ve lived twice. I look at Killian with awe—and he shyly smiles back.
Radiant.
Still meeting every other day. Mornings for sword lessons, midday dinners in the palace dining hall, then afternoons indulging in sweet treats while enjoying unstructured time.
Even the staff, once worried I’d get bored, now take this routine for granted. The unruly princess is gone. Instead, there’s a responsible, friendly princess interacting with her baedong. The palace staff’s expressions have noticeably brightened.
No one’s happier than Liz.
In the original story, Liz stayed loyally by my side through it all. I’m sure no one expected me to transform like this. She used to be pitied, but now she shines. I’m utterly powerful—a political behemoth no one can touch. There’s even talk I may be appointed Crown Princess soon. And I think it’s time to start preparing.
Preparing… to pave a flower path for my beloved.
Thanks to Sir Briven’s lessons, the Sword Master plan is progressing well. And I’ve brought Adelaide—future partner of Killian—into the fold. Now, I just need to deal with Duke Märchen.
Of course, I won’t act rashly. A perfect trap must be laid, tightening slowly, cutting off his influence entirely. But that requires money—enough to trace the Duke’s associations and unmask any finds.
I know exactly how: in the original story, Duke Märchen used the same intel to build wealth, then hired a black magic practitioner to curse Killian.
I’d combed through the timeline of each significant event from the original tale—combining clues with data from the reward money from Lewendiff, I’m ready to invest.
But I worry about Killian and Adelaide.
Truthfully, I’d like to manage their wealth in the background—even under a pseudonym. Not to control them—but to protect them. But I haven’t brought it up. They’re such pure, honest souls—maybe they’d disapprove of profiting indirectly. So I hesitated.
Deep in thought, Liz called softly:
“Our lunch is ready, Your Highness. It’ll get cold.”
“Oh! Sorry. You must be hungry.”
“It’s fine, Your Highness.”
With Adelaide’s sweet, refined company, I headed to the dining hall.
The feast spread before us: warm bean and beef tomato soup, lamb roasted in garlic‑mint butter, crispy fried bass, maple‑glazed carrots and sweet potatoes, citrus‑cheese salad with grapefruit and orange, freshly baked grain bread with assorted jams, and honey‑sweet sorbet made from seasonal fruits.
“So tasty.”
“How about you, Killian? Enjoying it?”
“Yes. It’s delicious.”
No wonder—it vanished in moments. Full plates cleared.
“Ugh—I’m stuffed.”
Conveniently, we laughed while patting our bellies.
“No snacks today, Princess.”
“Maybe we should take cake with us?”
“If you want it, we’ll take it!”
“I’m asking your opinion—not mine.”
“We like everything, Princess.”
“We both like everything.” They said in playful competition.
Are they close—or still too awkward to tell?
I asked Liz for a small cake, then took Killian and Adelaide to our little hideaway next to my bedroom. We planned to play board games.
Meanwhile, back at the Märchen estate…
Duke Märchen crumpled a dispatch from the province—all about waiting reinforcements. According to his plan, Killian should have already departed to guard the Whistle Wall—but instead, he’s being called to the palace for trivial baedong duties. Frankly, it enraged him.
He muttered, “Worthless brat. How did that princess even pick someone like him?”
Receiving a betrothal letter I might’ve tolerated. But this? Sending his child to play under the princess’s thumb—intolerable. He couldn’t defy the Emperor’s orders, so frustration boiled within him.
In his dominion in the northeast lies the Whistle Wall—a massive ice mountain range. Beyond it, monstrous races threaten. The Märchen family has long guarded that frontier—and produced fierce warriors to do so.
That lineage gave their sword art legendary power. Iron-blooded protectors of the Empire. Yet Noten, Duke Märchen, resented it. Especially after that incident. Everywhere he looked reminded him of the pain—every patrol, every blade, every name.
He thought he escaped it all by moving to the capital with Killian—but the palace now calls his son back. The captain of the knights reports daily.
Being the Empire’s protector is both a privilege and a burden he hates—so much he’d abandon it if he dared. Five years away, but without Killian, he might just return to the front himself.
“I never meant to go back…”
But he can’t defy the Emperor.
He knows court politics well: the whisper that I may soon be Crown Princess. Unlikely someone would take Killian away from the palace easily. So, he may have no choice but to visit the province personally.
