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chapter 37
The etiquette training hall was bustling with noble young ladies from early morning.
Those who wished to learn graceful speech and elegant manners had gathered from all corners of the empire, coming from diverse backgrounds and ages.
Yet there was one thing they all had in common: they were intensely curious about the subject of the rumors—the 13th Princess Consort.
“That girl… she’s the 13th Princess Consort, right?”
Someone whispered cautiously.
Although everyone appeared focused on their practice, all eyes were fixed on one point.
If their gazes were arrows, Levieta would have looked like a hedgehog by now.
“Levieta Grimlore…”
“She was adopted as a ward, so she’s not the real Grimlore.”
“But everyone saw it. Levieta entering the training hall with Minister Constantia, smiling and chatting so warmly—it looked so close that you’d believe they were family.”
Curiosity and interest. Surprise, a bit of unease, and the jealousy they hadn’t fully suppressed—all of it was audible in their hushed voices.
“They say she was originally an orphan.”
“A magician’s profession allows you to hide your origins. Rumor has it that His Highness Prince Diego once showed some interest, but seeing that she ended up married to the youngest prince, maybe she wasn’t that extraordinary after all.”
“The Empress isn’t pleased. I’ve even heard rumors that there was friction with her maids just days after entering the palace… But there’s no need to worry. Her reputation will be decided at the upcoming debutante event.”
A subtle, contagious snicker passed briefly among them.
“Still, she’s so young, yet she was adopted into the Grimlore family—and now she’s even the Princess Consort. Isn’t that remarkable?”
The chatter abruptly died down at this unexpectedly favorable remark.
The one who praised Levieta was a countess’s daughter with a gentle demeanor. Her accent unmistakably from the West, yet no one could know why she defended Levieta so earnestly.
“Oh, I’m Stellina,” she added with a slight smile, showing a neatly folded handkerchief.
“The Princess Consort showed me earlier. She said it’s good to tie it like this when the wind blows. One shouldn’t underestimate the winds of the central region.”
Some frowned at her words; others listened with interest.
Stellina didn’t mind their reactions and looked at Levieta with a deep, steady gaze.
“She seemed like a good person. The wise minister must have recognized that about her.”
She hadn’t gone out of her way to protect Levieta, but just enough to gently steer the conversation.
Still, everyone present sensed it vaguely: Levieta, who had won over both Constantia and Stellina, was no ordinary person.
“Princess.”
“Yes, speak.”
As I lightly traced the edge of my teacup, Rosinante pulled up a chair.
“I heard the dreadful news that Lady Himena Grimlore fractured her ribs.”
It was a sunny afternoon. Rosinante sat across from me at the tea table, delivering the news in a surprisingly pleasant manner.
He had finished morning training, and I had completed all my lessons for the day, so we could enjoy tea together in the afternoon.
“They say it was caused by tightening her corset so severely it nearly tore her ribcage.”
“Oh my. Poor thing.”
I exaggeratedly clasped my hands together in mock concern.
Had Himena seen me, she might have grabbed the back of my neck in exasperation, yet Rosinante’s concerned gaze remained.
“You’re unharmed, right? No injuries… anywhere?”
He seemed ready to grab my arm and inspect it if he could.
Admirably, his question came from genuine worry.
“Perhaps he’s worried the Princess Consort I miraculously secured might get hurt? If I were injured, it would interfere with his duties.”
Yet my thoughts could not linger in front of his sincerely concerned face.
Trembling lashes. Clenched fists.
Words of concern forming in hesitation and scattering in doubt.
He really was worried about me.
Had I been hurt? Was I hiding an injury? Every worry showed plainly on his face.
If this were acting… well, let’s just fall for it.
“You’re worried? Luckily, I’m perfectly fine. You can check if you like.”
I pointed to the side of my ribs with my index finger. His face instantly turned bright red.
“I’m not doubting you!”
Rosinante averted his gaze, embarrassed. Whether acting or not, teasing him was fun.
‘Perhaps I can close the distance between us now.’
I couldn’t waste this precious time with him.
I lifted my teacup, inhaled the aroma, and took a sip.
“Mmm. Delicious.”
“Is it?”
Rosinante followed suit, lifting his cup.
Who even knows where we learned etiquette—our tea-drinking posture was perfectly proper, supported by the saucer.
Every one of his movements exuded dignity; truly, he was a prince. Even small details revealed his noble lineage.
Although Rosinante himself likely never felt happiness in being royal.
“It tastes better because I’m with Your Highness.”
As he drank, he blinked, then suddenly coughed as if he’d accidentally touched his lips.
“Choked? Shall I get some cold water?”
“…No, it’s fine.”
True to his reputation as a master of disguise, he quickly regained his composure.
Perhaps thanks to Gilbert’s grueling training. When it came to training, Gilbert was unwaveringly strict.
“How’s your training? Very tiring?”
“Not easy. And Sir Gilbert worried about the Princess Consort.”
“Lies. Someone who’s worried never even shows their face.”
“Sir Gilbert likely has his own reasons. Are you feeling neglected by your guardian?”
“Not neglected—let’s just say it’s complicated.”
Muttering, Rosinante looked at me, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his eyes.
“I’ll make up for what you lack.”
“Why, Your Highness?”
“Because I’m your husband.”
His slightly crooked smile grew into a gentle, full one that illuminated his entire face.
That smile spoke deeper than a hundred words, warmer than any comfort.
Afternoon sunlight touched his lashes, casting shadows. His subtly shifting gaze held deep, unwavering attention on me.
Sunlight scattered across his brilliant blonde hair.
In front of such perfect beauty, one’s heart inevitably fluttered.
The lingering bitterness of tea slowly began to taste sweet.
“…Where did you learn those… techniques?”
“Oh? Did it show?”
Gilbert really—teaching unnecessary skills to a child.
No matter how much she improved her tricks, the heart of spy Rosinante belonged entirely to one saintly lady.
“Well, of course… Huh? What’s that sound?”
Footsteps approached briskly from outside.
By stride and sound, they weren’t Rosinante’s attendants—and there were two of them.
“I’ll go check—”
Before Rosinante could move, the intruders kicked the door violently and barged inside.
And who were these uninvited guests…
‘It’s you guys…’
Diego, as irritating as ever, and the ever-annoying Eve Maria—appearing uninvited as a set.
“What’s going on here?”
Rosinante stepped in front of me protectively.
He asked sharply, but Diego smirked as if expecting something amusing.
“Even if there’s no business, I can freely enter the quarters of someone lower in rank than me.”
“……”
“Don’t glare at me like that. Your lowly blood might rub off. Today, I came for a purpose: to meet you and your insignificant consort.”
“You can say whatever you like about me, but you won’t speak carelessly of Princess Levieta. No matter who you are, life is singular.”
Rosinante placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw at the slightest provocation.
The tension in the room was palpable, ready to explode at the slightest movement.
