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Chapter : 9
“Did you know?”
“Drink this from now on. I’ll tell the butler.”
Hartz leaned his head against the window with his eyes closed. At some point, his voice had grown hoarse.
Maybe he was exhausted from going all over the place since dawn. Freesia studied his complexion.
Hartz soon seemed to fall asleep—there was no movement, no words. As Freesia quietly stared at the pouch of chocolate powder before her… the carriage jolted as if it had rolled over a stone. And in that instant, Hartz’s head tipped toward Freesia’s shoulder.
The soft sound of Hartz’s steady breathing reached her ears as he rested his head on her shoulder. In rhythm with the swaying carriage, his hair gently fluttered. When she lowered her gaze, she saw Hartz’s hand resting loosely against her knee.
He must have been very tired.
“…It can’t be helped.”
Chocolate is delicious, so I’ll let it slide for now.
Freesia smiled as she looked out the window.
I guess I don’t need to drink black tea anymore.
“Aren’t you going in?”
“Just a moment.”
Freesia stood at the entrance of the exhibition hall, organizing her thoughts.
Ron hadn’t come. She had thought he would be back at the mansion by today, but he wasn’t.
Going in alone without Ron… can I really do this?
Thinking about it, she had lived here for two years, yet she had never properly attended a social gathering or party. With a father like hers, attending parties was difficult to begin with. Much of it was because the Emperor treated Freesia as if she didn’t exist.
On top of that, she never even had her debutante ball, which was usually held by age eighteen at the latest. At the time, she had been gravely ill with a severe fever, on the brink of death. So there had been no reason—or opportunity—for her to attend parties at all. Her mother, Rochelyn, worried that Freesia might be hurt by noisy rumors, and her father showed no interest in his only child.
No—no, that’s not right. She wasn’t an only child.
She had thought her father was simply too busy to care about his child, but that wasn’t it either. There was Vivian, the half-sister brought in by her stepmother.
Vivian had entered the palace holding Father’s hand, wearing a face that looked as if she possessed all the happiness in the world. When Freesia first met her, Vivian had a cute, lovely face—pure and innocent. A beautiful girl who perfectly resembled the gentle aura of her pure stepmother.
But once Vivian settled into the imperial palace… she really was something else. Whenever she was bored, she would come by and pester Freesia, asking for this, asking for that.
“…Thinking about it makes me angry.”
They were never good memories. Vivian constantly coveted Freesia’s belongings. She even threw tantrums demanding Ron, of all people.
As Freesia’s tension threatened to turn into irritation at the thought of Vivian, Hartz—tired of waiting—grabbed her hand and tugged her forward.
“Let’s stop this and go in.”
“Ah.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing.”
After studying her expression, Hartz placed Freesia’s hand on his arm. At that touch, Freesia looked up at him.
“Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried.”
Hartz let out a small chuckle, and guided by his hand, the two ascended the steps toward the exhibition hall entrance. Inside was a vast hall with crystal chandeliers hanging in succession from the high ceiling. Designed in a large oval shape, the venue was open up to the second floor, centered around a grand staircase. On the first floor were tables and sofas; on the second floor, along the corridors, dazzling dresses were displayed on both sides.
Bright music echoed through the hall as Freesia and Hartz entered. At the appearance of the glamorous couple, the noisy exhibition hall fell silent for a brief moment. Conversations stopped, and all eyes turned toward them.
The gazes of dozens of noble youths first landed on Hartz, then shifted to Freesia. After the short silence, as if by prior agreement, everyone resumed their conversations. The hall buzzed once more. Perhaps because of the unfamiliar stares, Freesia’s hand tightened slightly on Hartz’s arm.
“Oh my! Young Duke! Your Highness!”
That high-pitched voice was…
As if on cue, they both turned toward the sound. Peach, dressed in a pink gown, came trotting toward them.
“Peach.”
“You came!”
“Thanks for the invitation.”
“Oh ho ho ho! What are you saying? It’s truly an honor that you both came.”
Having hurried over, Peach looked at Hartz with a flushed face.
“Young Duke, may I have a private word with Her Highness?”
“As you like.”
The moment Hartz finished speaking, Peach grabbed Freesia’s hand. Startled, Freesia widened her eyes and looked at Hartz.
What—why are you letting go so easily? You should say no right now!?
Freesia had planned to stick close to Hartz. She needed to see whether he held hands with another woman, whether he hugged someone. After all, she had come here to find something—anything—to accuse him of cheating. But Hartz merely offered a light nod of greeting and headed off toward other guests.
What is this? At the mansion, he wouldn’t even let me go outside, but here he just abandons me?!
“Come along, Your Highness. Today’s dress is absolutely beautiful. Truly top-of-the-line! The latest model, specially prepared!”
“Huh? Oh? …What?”
“Now, now. This way, this way.”
Even as she was being dragged along by Peach, Freesia’s gaze stayed fixed on Hartz. He was already holding a wineglass, exchanging greetings and toasts with other nobles. Before she knew it, Freesia was being led up to the second floor.
“Your Highness! This one—this one! Look at this. It was created by a designer who has made nothing but pearl dresses for thirty-five years. Isn’t it beauuutiful?”
“It is…”
As if she’d been waiting for this, Peach began explaining each dress in detail.
“And what about this one? Do you see these small flower embroideries here?”
“Mmm. There are a lot of flowers.”
“Oh ho ho! There are a thousand flowers!”
“……”
“This dress was made to commemorate the thousandth piece handcrafted by a designer who creates only embroidered gowns.”
“I see…”
Freesia’s reactions were lukewarm, but Peach didn’t seem to mind.
Watching Peach enthusiastically explain, Freesia finally tore her gaze away from Hartz. She had seen dresses to the point of boredom, but the ones here felt different. In the imperial palace, dresses were usually chosen with elegance and dignity in mind—ornate, heavy, and steeped in tradition. These dresses, however, felt light, refined, and modern.
“And the jewels on this dress—”
Peach continued her breathless explanations. By the time she reached the seventh dress, Freesia placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Oh my!”
Peach startled.
“Peach. I’m sorry.”
“Yes?!”
“What happened that day—it was my mistake.”
“W-What do you mean…?”
“I mean, saying something like that after seeing such precious, top-quality goods.”
“Oh my… Your Highness… I…”
Peach clasped both hands over her mouth.
“Will you… accept my apology?”
“How could I dare accept an apology from Your Highness?”
“Then you’re refusing?”
“No! Of course not, Your Highneeess!”
With eyes full of emotion, Peach nodded vigorously. Freesia nodded along with her, then leaned in and whispered by her ear.
“More importantly, there’s something I’m curious about…”
“Yes! Please ask—anything!”
“It’s about Hartz.”
“The Young Duke?”
“Does he have women around him?”
“…!?”
Peach looked at Freesia with a flustered expression.
“Why would you ask something like that…?”
What is this? That look full of sympathy—no, even pity?
“Well… just because?”
“…Gasp.”
“I was curious?”
“…Ahem.”
This was really strange. In Peach’s eyes, Freesia sensed compassion—no, something even deeper, like sorrow. Freesia tilted her head.
“Your Highness, this way.”
Peach took her hand and led her to a sofa tucked away in a quiet corner at the far end of the second floor. She whispered in a low voice.
“Actually, I was a fan of Her Majesty Empress Rochelyn.”
“What?”
Freesia stared at Peach in surprise. Peach clasped her hands, her eyes shimmering with nostalgia.
“I had never seen anyone who looked so perfect in dresses. I only saw her briefly at a party I attended with a designer, but she was so beautiful.”
Peach’s face, glowing as she spoke of her mother, gradually turned sad.
“The day Her Majesty passed away, I cried until my pillow was soaked.”
“…I see.”
There were people who mourned my mother. No one in the palace did.
Whether it was because they were watching the Emperor’s mood, trying to curry favor with the new Empress, or simply sick of the Empress’s alleged misdeeds, she didn’t know. But regardless of the reason, there was no one in the palace who mourned Empress Rochelyn’s death—except Ron.
“It’s because of His Majesty the Emperor, isn’t it?”
“Huh?”
“You’re worried because the Emperor committed such acts… that the Young Duke might cheat as well, so you asked me, right?”
“Oh! No.”
If anything, I wish he would cheat. I just want to confirm whether there’s another woman.
“You must be deeply wounded. What His Majesty did…”
“No. That’s not it.”
“Your Highness, please don’t be too heartbroken. Wounds will heal.”
“No, I’m—”
Peach raised a finger and gently pressed it to Freesia’s lips, shushing her. Then she smiled warmly.
“Don’t worry. There isn’t any woman around the Young Duke.”
“…!”
What kind of thunderbolt was this? It felt like being struck out of a clear blue sky. Why? How? For what reason?
“He has no woman?”
“Yes. None at all. He’s spotless!”
“No… think carefully. Not even rumors…?”
“Yes! None whatsoever!”
Peach nodded vigorously, her eyes filled with certainty. Freesia tightly clasped both of Peach’s hands.
“Peach, I’m fine—just tell me. There must have been someone he dated before.”
“Truly, there isn’t. Many women chased after him, but I’ve never once seen him give his heart to anyone.”
Boom.
It felt like her entire life plan was collapsing. Freesia’s complexion darkened rapidly.
“Then… why?”
“The Young Duke dislikes women.”
“……”
“Oho! Ho! How fortunate! It’s such a blessing that his first woman is Your Highness. You don’t need to worry anymore!”
Life really is…
At Peach’s cheerful laughter, the tension that had filled Freesia’s shoulders drained away. She walked over to the railing and searched for Hartz on the first floor.
He was still talking among a group of men. Looking around him, Freesia noticed young ladies about her age sneaking glances at him. Anyone could tell they were gazing at a man they secretly admired.
With so many beautiful women around, and yet not a single one connected to him? No matter how outstanding he is, shouldn’t there be at least one woman who caught his eye? How could someone with that ability—and that face—have never had a single scandal?!
“This is the worst…”
Freesia despaired. Just then, Hartz began looking around, then lifted his head. He seemed to spot Freesia and raised his hand toward her. The men around him all bowed politely to her with smiles. Freesia raised her hand in light acknowledgment and started moving.
“Peach, I’ll head down first.”
I need to see what they’re talking about. And find out—this man’s history with women.
Leaving Peach adjusting the dresses behind, Freesia descended the stairs. And the moment she stepped onto the first floor, several young ladies in especially radiant dresses approached her, far more eye-catching than the others.
“Good day.”
“Greetings.”
“Our respects.”
They lifted their skirts slightly, greeting her with elegance. Freesia gave a small nod.
“Hello.”
“You are Princess Freesia, correct?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Oh my… it really is you. The princess we’ve only heard about in rumors.”
Instead of answering, she offered a polite smile. As she tried to sidestep them and pass by, the ladies blocked her path once more.
“Just a moment, Your Highness.”
What now? Why do they keep doing this?
