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Chapter : 4
Cold. Refreshing.
A pleasant chill spread from her forehead down to her cheeks. And then to her stinging palm.
“Ah!”
Startled by the sudden pain, Frisia snapped her eyes open. Ron was right in front of her, holding a wet towel.
“Your Highness! Are you awake? Do you recognize me?”
A familiar voice, a familiar face. A wave of relief washed over her—I survived.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. My palm stings a bit.”
“You got a slight burn. It’ll heal soon.”
“But… where are we?”
Frisia looked around. It was a place she’d never seen before.
“This is a mansion owned by Duke Switserad.”
“What?”
“He’s the one who saved you.”
Duke Switserad? Why? No—how? The person she saw in the flames wasn’t the duke, though?
Her head filled with questions in an instant.
“How on earth…?”
“By the time I arrived, the house had already collapsed, and only the flames were left.”
“Right—the house! Did it all burn down?”
“Is that really what matters right now? I seriously thought you were dead.”
Ron blurted that out and then bowed his head, looking exhausted.
Of course the house matters, Ron! she wanted to shout.
But seeing how worn out he looked, Frisia said nothing more. Instead, she raised her red, swollen hand toward his head to pat his hair—
Ron suddenly jerked his head up.
“That’s forbidden from now on.”
“What is?”
“That pork belly or whatever. Burning down the house while eating—unbelievable.”
“That’s what caused the fire?”
Frisia’s eyes widened in shock.
“It did. Because of that. Well, it’s not like I can blame anyone else. I should’ve made sure the fire was completely out… It’s my fault.”
“So the fire really started because of that?”
“The sheriff said a sudden wind in the afternoon reignited the remaining embers and spread the fire.”
“That’s ridiculous…”
What kind of timing was that? Why did the wind have to blow then…?
Frisia suddenly remembered the breeze that had blown into the second floor before she fell asleep. That was it—the pleasant, drowsy wind.
She looked at Ron with a stunned expression.
I’m insane. I’m an idiot. Burning my only property over pork belly. You moron!
Thud. She flopped back onto the bed and shook her head wildly into the pillow.
She couldn’t even blame anyone for this…!
“Are you trying to mess up your head, too?”
Unable to watch any longer, Ron pressed his palm firmly against her forehead. Frisia stopped sulking, sat up, and looked at him with teary eyes.
“It’s my fault.”
“It’s okay. You can always rebuild a house.”
“Ron…”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Rooon…”
She was deeply moved. What a reliable knight-errant.
With a face full of emotion, Frisia hugged Ron.
“Get away from her.”
At the low voice that suddenly rang out, both of them turned their heads toward the sound.
“Didn’t you hear me?”
A tall man in a neatly tailored uniform stood in the doorway with his arms crossed. No one knew how long he’d been watching. He was a stranger—but Frisia recognized him instantly.
It was him. The red eyes. The man who had saved her.
Black hair with a slight wave, sharp eyes, and well-defined, handsome features that immediately drew attention. A cold gaze and an elegant air. A breathtakingly icy beauty.
Frisia stared at him blankly for a long moment.
At her bewildered gaze, he uncrossed his arms and walked over, grabbed Ron by the shoulder, and smoothly pulled him away from her.
“Move. Away.”
He spoke bluntly to Ron without even looking at Frisia. Ron immediately raised both hands in a gesture of surrender.
“My apologies, Young Duke.”
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“Yes. I’ll be careful.”
Young Duke? Then the person who saved her was…
Frisia stared at him, eyes wide.
“Your Highness, this is the heir of House Switserad—Young Duke Harts.”
“Ah…”
Frisia dipped her head slightly in greeting, then looked back up. One of his eyes was faintly narrowed as he met her gaze.
“Harts Lockin Switserad.”
“I’m—”
“I know. The exiled princess.”
“……”
What? Wasn’t that a bit too blunt? Was he rude—or just honest?
“I’ll speak casually, so you can do the same if you want.”
“……”
At a loss, Frisia fell silent. Soon, she came to a reluctant understanding.
She’d never met him before, but she’d heard of him. The sole heir of the Switserad family. The only son of a ducal house that might even possess more wealth than the emperor.
Harts Lockin Switserad.
Handsome, intelligent, and said to have inherited his father’s business acumen. Just past twenty-one, a perfect man known throughout the empire. Everyone treated him with deference; he always stood above others. Arrogance was inevitable.
“Fine, then.”
Frisia frowned and replied challengingly. Seeing her reaction, Harts smirked, lifting one corner of his mouth.
“So.”
“…?”
“You’re not going to thank me for saving your life?”
“Ah, thank you—”
“Never mind. I didn’t do it just to be thanked.”
“No! Thank you for saving my life, Young Duke Harts.”
Frisia cut him off before he could say anything else. His curt attitude was starting to irritate her.
“I was out of it, so I was late thanking you. If you hadn’t saved me there, I really would’ve died. I won’t forget this debt. If you want something in return, say the word. I’ll do anything.”
She rattled it all off in rapid succession—even to her own ears, she sounded irritable.
Poke, poke. Ron discreetly jabbed her in the side—a signal to stop.
Frisia pinched his fingers and looked at Harts as proudly as she could. But Harts had already turned his back.
“I don’t need any repayment. Ron, come talk with me for a moment.”
“Yes.”
With emotionless words, Harts left the room with Ron. Once the door closed, Frisia collapsed back onto the bed.
What is that man’s problem? He’s the complete opposite of his father, who treated her politely to the end.
“Haah…”
Why did he have to be the one who saved me? I don’t want to get involved with nobles anymore.
Frisia let out a deep, heavy sigh.
Following Harts, Ron went up to the fourth floor. Past a wide conference area beside the stairs was a study. As soon as Harts entered, he sat down and stared straight at Ron.
“Are you a commoner?”
“Yes.”
“Then how did you become the princess’s guard?”
“…”
“Becoming a princess’s guard isn’t easy.”
Ron, who had been bowing his head, looked up at Harts. A poker face. Cold red eyes. He seemed to be assessing Ron, who was neither a noble nor a formally knighted man.
“The princess wanted me.”
“…”
“She’s the one who trained me to become a knight.”
“So there’s no one else backing you?”
“What exactly are you implying?”
A chilly tension flowed between them.
Harts tapped his fingers lightly on the desk, as if thinking.
“Do you know?”
“Know what?”
“Why the fire started.”
“The sheriff said it was the wind—”
“Do you really think that?”
“……”
Ron said nothing. Harts continued to stare at him intently.
What was in that gaze? Suspicion? Disappointment? Relief? What answer did he want?
As Ron hesitated, Harts waved his hand dismissively.
“That’s enough. Leave.”
“……”
Ron gave a brief bow and left the study.
What was he trying to say? That the sheriff was lying? Then… the fire wasn’t an accident? If so, it can’t be ignored. I need to find out exactly what happened.
Ron’s eye twitched slightly.
After breakfast, as Frisia was tying the ribbon of the hat that went with the dress Ron had prepared—
“What?! Is that true?”
She froze and looked at Ron.
“Yes. Most of the eastern territories belong to Duke Switserad.”
“I knew he was wealthy, but… that much?”
“He also owns a fair amount of the northern and western plains.”
“That’s almost a third of the empire’s land…”
What kind of business gives you that much wealth? No wonder Father tried so hard to stay close to the duke.
“It seems the duke himself sent the young duke to the mansion.”
“Why?”
“Perhaps because he wanted to help you.”
“I hate it!”
“Why?”
“Just because! If he’s that wealthy, even more reason!”
With a firm look, Frisia tightened the hat ribbon.
Her mother, Empress Rochelin’s family, had been annihilated. Now only two families rivaled the emperor in power: House Switserad and House Veloidel.
The rough-tempered Duke Veloidel rarely came to the palace unless it was crucial. In contrast, Duke Switserad visited often. When her mother was alive, he frequently had tea with her father. That was how close the family was to the emperor.
At a time when she wanted to be as far from her father as possible, she had ended up indebted to the family closest to him.
“Let’s go, Ron.”
She wanted to tear her hair out, but she had things to deal with. Frisia stood up, intending to go see the burned house.
“Where are you going?”
After not showing himself for days, Young Duke Harts suddenly appeared in front of her, leaning crookedly against the doorway in his immaculate uniform.
“Well, this is perfect. I was just on my way to see you.”
“What do you want with me?”
As he asked, Harts glanced over her outfit and hat.
“Thank you for taking care of me all this time. Now I’ll be leaving—”
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes. I’m going back home.”
“You don’t have one.”
“…”
“There’s no home. It’s just ashes now.”
“…”
“You have nowhere to go.”
At his cold, successive remarks, Frisia bit her lip.
“I can make somewhere to go.”
“How?”
“I’ll buy one!”
“……”
Snort. Harts scoffed.
“Do you even know the market price of a mansion? You?”
“…”
“You have nowhere to go—so where exactly do you think you’re going?”
“…”
Ha—this man, seriously.
Something in her mind snapped. The reason she’d acted like a proper princess all this time was largely her mother’s influence—and fear of repercussions once discovered. But now, she didn’t need to anymore.
Frisia planted one hand on her hip and glared at him.
“Why are you picking a fight with me?”
“You.”
“…?”
“You’re different from what I expected.”
She flinched.
“What do you mean?”
“They say Princess Frisia is quiet, shy, and doesn’t talk much. But you’re a completely different person.”
“What does that have to do with you—!”
That was when Harts suddenly bent forward. In an instant, his face was right in front of hers.
“Which one is the real you?”
So close she could feel his breath, their cheeks almost touching. Startled, Frisia swallowed and stepped back.
“Either way, it doesn’t matter. I’m just me.”
“What if it does?”
“What does it matter?”
“Why do you think I went there in the first place? That house, far from the city.”
Now that he mentioned it, it was true. Why had the duke sent his son personally to that remote mansion? If he wanted to help, sending subordinates would’ve been faster and easier. So why?
“I went to see you.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re my fiancée.”
At the completely unexpected answer, Ron and Frisia shouted at him in unison.
“What?!”
“Excuse me?!”
What is he talking about? I’m his fiancée? I got engaged without even knowing it?!
Frisia was utterly stunned.
