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Chapter : 3
Thud. Thud! Thud!
The sound of wood being chopped echoed through the backyard of the estate. Frisia, who had only woken up well past lunchtime, headed toward the noise.
“Ron.”
Ron, dressed in a knight’s uniform with his sleeves rolled up, stopped swinging his axe and looked over.
“You woke up earlier than I expected, Your Highness.”
“I’m tired.”
“Please sit down for a bit.”
Rubbing her half-open eyes, Frisia crouched on the steps.
Thud! Crack!
The quiet estate was filled only with the sound of splitting wood.
Ron’s good at chopping firewood. But why is he still wearing his knight’s uniform today? We’ve come all this way—he could relax a little now. Like me.
Frisia, dressed in light white pajamas, smiled as if quite satisfied with herself.
“Yaaawn~”
How many hours did we ride yesterday…? We traveled for ages and still arrived late at night. I didn’t realize it would be this rural—but honestly, that’s better. It’s far from the imperial palace. Now I can forget that life completely and live freely. Comfortably.
After crouching there for a while watching Ron, Frisia stood up. This place was neither a tiny village nor a bustling city—it was quiet and clean.
She stretched and slowly looked around. A surprisingly large garden filled with trees. Too big to be called a small villa, it was a proper estate. Two stories tall, many rooms, and even a small fountain right in front of the entrance.
Even if it was incredibly filthy.
“We’ll have to start by cleaning.”
Dust piled on the windowsills, cobwebs everywhere—not to mention the dishes and bedding. There was a mountain of things to deal with.
‘It can’t be helped. Mother never came here even once after she got married.’
It had been completely abandoned for years. She probably had forgotten it even existed until Frisia found out about it and asked for it.
“A villa built for Mother…”
As she slowly walked around the exterior, Frisia suddenly stopped. As if something important had come to mind, she hurried inside the estate. Something she had noticed when she first entered the house at dawn.
“I wasn’t imagining it…”
A large portrait hung in the reception room. It was Empress Rochelyn in her youth. Frisia cautiously approached it. A youthful face from before marriage—bright, beautiful, without a single crease of worry.
“Mother…”
She gently traced Rochelyn’s face with her fingertips. Closing her eyes, she remembered the warmth of her mother’s hand stroking her hair.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Because I wasn’t real…
The corner of Frisia’s eyebrow trembled slightly. To others, she had been a terrifying villainess—but there was no doubt she had been loved. A storm of emotions surged within her.
After Rochelyn died, Frisia had many thoughts. In that place, Rochelyn had been the only one who could protect her.
Should she have helped her cruel villainess mother? If she had known for certain she could never return to reality… would saving the mother who was endlessly kind only to her have been the right choice?
Frisia unconsciously bit her lip.
“Your Highness!”
Ron’s voice rang out loudly—he had finished stacking the firewood. Frisia shook her head as if to chase away her thoughts and headed back into the garden.
“Let’s start cooking now.”
“Alright!”
“But… are you really sure you can do this?”
“I said I can! Just watch—first…”
Frisia rolled up her sleeves. She settled onto the grass and picked up a nearby stone. Suddenly, Ron snatched it from her hand.
“Wait!”
“Why?”
“Don’t touch it! There could be wild insects!”
“……”
Ron… insects are wild by nature. It’s just a rock. You’re overreacting.
Unlike Frisia, who was unfazed, Ron looked tense. Even though they had been chased out and came with nothing, he couldn’t allow dirt to touch his master’s hands. Frisia, who had only ever touched soft, clean things inside the palace, worried him.
In the end, Ron stacked the stones himself and placed the firewood underneath, lighting the fire as well.
Crackle, crackle.
The wood caught fire almost instantly. Lastly, Ron brought out a large, round piece of metal from their luggage and placed it on top of the stones. Everything was ready.
“You were planning to use this? What is it exactly?”
“Well, this is…”
Heh heh. Frisia grinned mischievously.
“This is a pot lid.”
“A pot… what?”
“A pot lid! You wouldn’t know. You’d never see something like this around here.”
That’s right—it was a pot lid. One she had personally designed and commissioned from a blacksmith!
Frisia picked up the pork she had gotten from the chef. She laid it on the metal plate and took out a precious handful of salt.
Sprinkle! Pepper sprinkle!
A mouthwatering aroma spread through the air. She hadn’t been sure it would work, but it turned out surprisingly close.
“Well? Smells amazing, right?”
She looked at Ron proudly, but he only stared back skeptically.
“Isn’t this just kind of like a steak?”
“No! This is pork belly. Pork belly!”
“Pork… what?”
“Just try it!”
She speared a piece with her fork and fed it to Ron.
“Well? Well?”
“It’s… good.”
“Right?”
“That’s impossible. Your Highness making food this delicious!”
“Is that a compliment or an insult…?”
“Since when could you cook like this?”
Ron stared at her in genuine shock. Frisia’s nose lifted proudly at his reaction. She began eating too.
“Pork belly really is the best.”
It would’ve been even better with kimchi and ssamjang—but that was impossible here anyway.
“It’s good, right?”
“I can’t deny it.”
Frisia enjoyed a long-overdue, comfortable meal with Ron.
Just not being watched while eating made things feel unbelievably relaxing. The suffocating corsets, uncomfortable dresses, rigid dining etiquette, maids hovering constantly—she had endured so much.
The palace, though luxurious, was full of discomfort. Especially during meals—every bite had to be tiny, every utensil silent, eaten while tense. How she had missed this—eating freely in pajamas.
“Your Highness.”
“Hmm?”
“Doesn’t it seem strange?”
“What does?”
“Why didn’t they strip you of your title? They took everything else.”
“….”
Now that he mentioned it… Father had taken Mother’s power, wealth—everything. Her stepmother had kicked her out with nothing. So why hadn’t they officially deposed her?
“…Public opinion?”
“But the Emperor is a tyrant.”
“Or maybe…”
Maybe they thought she wouldn’t survive outside the palace and would die soon anyway.
“Ron, I’m going to live diligently.”
“Please do. If only for my sake.”
“I’m just going to live as my original self.”
When she finally accepted that this world was real—even after the original story should have ended—her heart had sunk. If she kept acting as Frisia forever, she felt like she would lose herself completely.
So she decided to stop pretending.
“I don’t really know what you mean, but do whatever you want. I’ll be by your side anyway.”
Ron brushed himself off and stood up.
“Why are you getting up?”
“I’m going to the village before it gets too late.”
“The village?”
“To buy cleaning supplies.”
“Should I come too?”
“With that ‘I-don’t-want-to-move’ face?”
“Was it that obvious?”
“Extremely.”
Ron mounted his horse.
“It’ll take three or four hours, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. By evening at the latest.”
True—it was already afternoon. Frisia felt full and sleepy.
After Ron left, she looked around again.
“Maybe I’ll check out the second floor.”
She wandered upstairs. From the window, she saw a vast stretch of land behind the estate—land registered under Ron’s name.
From here all the way to that distant mountain…
It was the first time Frisia had ever seen her own property with her own eyes.
“It’s way bigger than I thought.”
After a moment of surprise, she smiled.
The more assets, the better.
She began opening doors. Though neglected, the furniture was clean and sturdy. Eventually, she found a bedroom with white lace curtains and a large sofa by the window.
Creak.
She opened the wooden window.
“Refreshing.”
Fresh air flowed in. Curtains fluttered. Frisia sat on the sofa, resting her chin in her hand.
So comfortable… and sleepy. Perfect weather for a nap.
“Yaaawn…”
She drifted off to sleep.
How much time had passed?
“Hot…”
Heat surrounded her. Sweat beaded on her skin. She tossed and turned, unable to open her eyes.
The heat grew stronger.
“Haa…”
She inhaled—and suddenly scorching air filled her throat.
“Gah!”
She opened her eyes in pain. Everything was gray. Smoke filled the room.
W-what? Fire? Is there a fire?!
She jumped up and grabbed the doorknob.
“Ah! It’s hot!”
She wrapped her skirt around her hand and pulled—but the door wouldn’t budge. Her strength drained away. One last desperate attempt—
Nothing.
She staggered back.
Am I… dying here? Like this? After finally gaining freedom?
“No… I want to live! I want to live!”
“P-please… save me…!”
Bang! Bang!
“Ron! Ron!! I’m here!!!”
Her fists turned red with pain. Smoke and heat burned her skin.
“Cough! Cough!”
The building shook as flames roared.
She covered her mouth and stumbled toward the window sofa.
“It hurts… Ron… save me…”
She collapsed.
Then—
Bang!
The door burst open.
“Ron…?”
Through blurry vision, she saw a man—his face covered in black cloth. He spotted her and rushed over.
“…Damn it.”
He lifted her into his arms.
A stranger. Yet she felt relief.
Red eyes met hers.
Not Ron. Who…?
“Hold on just a little longer.”
A low, gentle voice.
She clung to him. As he held her tightly, listening to his racing heartbeat amid the flames, Frisia slowly closed her eyes.
