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Chapter : 15
“Your Highness?”
In the study were one of Hatz’s subordinates and Ron. When Frisia entered, the subordinate greeted her and then left the room. Frisia gave Ron a sly wink, then handed Hatz an envelope and spoke.
“So, you had a woman, huh?”
Frisia wore a smug, crooked smile. Ron quickly turned his head toward Hatz.
“Young Duke?”
Hatz slightly frowned at the two pairs of eyes fixed on him.
“A woman?”
“It’s written right here. Je. nni. fer.”
Hatz stared at Frisia for a moment, then snatched the envelope from her hand.
“He’s not a woman.”
Rip, rip. W-wait a second… Is he allowed to do that?
Without even checking the contents, Hatz ruthlessly tore the letter to pieces. The shredded scraps scattered across the floor as his gaze turned back to Frisia. One corner of his lips slowly curled upward.
“Don’t worry about trash like this. The only woman for me is you.”
Frisia’s confident smile vanished in an instant. Instead, a smile bloomed on Hatz’s face. Why did he look especially handsome today? The smile that had always seemed mocking somehow looked different now.
Was it because of the gentle words? Or that captivating gaze? Frisia felt her chest tighten reflexively. But she couldn’t let herself be swayed. She took a deep breath and bit her lip.
The letter could be looked into later. Endure it. Just endure.
Frisia turned around and sat on the sofa along one side of the study, crossing her legs. Hatz rose from behind the desk and walked over to her.
“You came at a good time. I had something to tell you.”
“That’s perfect. I came because I had something to ask you too.”
As Hatz sat down on the sofa, he gestured for Ron to sit as well.
“You must have been quite startled by what happened last night. Are you—”
“I’m fine.”
“…Really?”
“Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised at all, but anyway, I’m fine.”
At Frisia’s words, Hatz and Ron exchanged glances and nodded to each other.
“That’s a relief.”
“That’s good to hear, Your Highness.”
What’s with those relieved expressions? As Frisia rolled her eyes and looked back and forth between them, someone knocked on the study door.
“Come in.”
At Hatz’s words, the door opened and the butler entered carrying a warm tea set. As soon as he stepped inside, he noticed the pieces of torn letter scattered across the floor and hesitated for a moment.
“Your Highness, chocolate tea.”
After the butler poured the tea and left, Frisia lifted her cup.
Sweet… delicious…
She wore an enraptured expression for a moment, then felt Hatz’s gaze. Sure enough, when she turned her head, their eyes met. Again, that one corner of his lips lifted. Frisia gracefully set the cup down.
Tap.
“It’s delicious.”
“I’m glad.”
“More importantly, have you found out who sent the assassin? Was it my stepmother after all?”
“Why do you think it was the Empress?”
“Who else would want me dead right now?”
If the assassins had been targeting Hatz rather than Frisia, Ron wouldn’t have been the first to act—Hatz’s hidden subordinates would have moved instead.
Frisia recalled the day she was driven out. Bloé had pushed her to leave the imperial palace with nothing. Wearing a kindly, merciful smile, she had said:
“Frisia, leave the castle today. Unfortunately, there’s no longer a place for you here.”
“…I understand.”
“And since nothing here belongs to you anymore, you may not take anything with you.”
“Yes.”
“From this moment on, if you touch anything belonging to the imperial palace, it will be considered theft.”
“……”
Her words had been barbed, but Frisia hadn’t paid them any mind. She obeyed without protest. Becoming an imperial princess so suddenly had been harder than she ever imagined; all her energy had gone into simply adapting.
What had made things difficult for Frisia wasn’t just the suffocating corsets or the complex imperial etiquette. If the original Frisia hadn’t been quiet and reserved, but instead lively and outgoing, she might have fallen ill from the stress.
Even though they were the main figures, the Emperor was always busy, and she hadn’t met Bloé before she entered the palace. Over the past two years, the only person she had spent enough time with to form any attachment was Rocheline.
Thinking back, Rocheline on the day they first met had been the very image of a noble and beautiful Empress. That was before the Emperor had mentioned divorce.
Rocheline, charming even in the smallest gesture, was very different from what Frisia had imagined. She seemed happy just watching Frisia smile quietly. She would brush her hair herself and read poetry in a clear, gentle voice. On rare occasions, when she had time, she even played the harp beautifully. Unless something special came up, she visited Frisia’s bedroom every night before she went to sleep.
“Frisia, my beloved daughter. Have a happy night.”
She would approach with the sweet scent of flowers, stroke Frisia’s long hair, and press a brief kiss to her forehead. Frisia could clearly feel how loved she was by Rocheline. And yet, even so, her mother had felt distant and frightening.
Fear of being exposed wrapped around her every moment. That fear made her work even harder to play the role of Frisia. At the same time, she longed for freedom. Until she met Ron, she had lived in fear so constant that she could barely even laugh.
Now, after so much time had passed, thinking back on how Rocheline had loved her, Frisia finally understood—Rocheline’s sincerity, which had never appeared in the original story.
That day, Frisia had been on her way to check on Ron’s lessons. Rocheline, having learned that the Emperor had gone out to meet Bloé again, was clinging to a wall, crying silently. They weren’t tears of hatred or betrayal, but the sorrowful tears of a woman who had failed to obtain love.
Frisia had stopped and watched her for a long time. Even a villainess can cry like that, she had thought. Only now did she realize that the novel she had read… had shown only one side.
A pure, young Crown Prince fell in love with the daughter of a poor, insignificant family. After many trials and hardships, the two achieved love and lived happily ever after… That story had only been written from their point of view.
Frisia began to look at the original story differently, from Rocheline’s perspective. The male lead was a trashy man who used women to gain power. The female lead was pure on the surface but foolish and greedy for power. Seen from that angle, her mother seemed unbearably pitiful.
But there had been nothing she could do in the past. As the original story progressed, the woman she used to see every other day became someone she saw every three days, then once a week… the intervals grew longer. By the time the story reached its climax, they no longer met at all. Back then, Frisia had thought that was for the best.
It was selfish, but the only thing she could do was try not to empathize with her sorrow. She knew how it would all end. And she believed that once the novel ended, she herself would return to reality.
She watched it all as nothing more than a reader. She had to. To survive.
Rocheline always said to Frisia:
“Frisia, be happy.”
“My beloved daughter, I wish for your happiness every day.”
“My beautiful Frisia, I hope you become the happiest woman in the world.”
Rocheline truly wished for Frisia’s happiness every single day. Even as rumors spread throughout the Empire that Rocheline had become a villainess, and as Frisia stood one step away from the untouchable original story, all she could do was watch Rocheline’s death.
So she accepted everything. That Bloé, who entered the palace, didn’t like her. That her daughter Vivian envied and resented her. All of it.
She thought it was only natural. The price for what her mother had done to them. So she wished for her father and stepmother to live happily together—a final courtesy to the original story she had once supported.
But then…
“It was the new Empress. She definitely wants you dead.”
As expected. Frisia let out a heavy sigh.
“So we’re planning to cancel the engagement party. Will that be all right?”
“…It’s fine.”
When she heard the confirmation from Hatz, a dull ache throbbed in her head. Hatz and Ron seemed concerned about her, quietly watching her as they drank their tea.
Yesterday, her life had been threatened. Today, the party was canceled. They probably thought she was exhausted from everything happening in quick succession. But they were mistaken. Frisia was deep in thought.
What did the engagement party matter now? A peaceful life was no longer possible. What should she do? Her stepmother was targeting her. If assassins came again… what if she sent even more next time? Ron alone couldn’t protect her. Even if he could, she couldn’t put him in danger just so she could survive. But she herself had no power, no resources.
The only way to live was to remain as Hatz’s fiancée…
Lost in thought, Frisia bit down hard on her lower lip. There was a problem. She hated noble life too much.
Live this suffocating life forever? No way. She couldn’t do it. Even the dress she was wearing now made it hard to breathe.
If she lived as Hatz’s fiancée, she would have to play the role of an imperial princess for the rest of her life. Someday she would marry him, exchange fake pleasantries with noble ladies, attend tea parties, show her face at pointless banquets, and laugh gracefully with polite “ho ho”s.
Just imagining it was horrifying. A lifetime of unwanted socializing was unbearable. That wasn’t the real her.
Then…
“…Should I try falling down the stairs?”
You never know. As a kind of shock therapy, maybe she’d return to reality. It was just a mutter, but Hatz and Ron looked at her in shock.
“Your Highness, you’re not still half-asleep, are you?”
“No.”
“Then why would you say something so terrifying—”
“Oh, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
Frisia waved her hand dismissively. Hatz and Ron exchanged looks again. She continued to agonize.
“…Or should I threaten them?”
Since her father had spared her life, her stepmother must have tried to kill her without his knowledge. In that case, should she use the Swicherad family to threaten her? No, that wouldn’t work. It would inconvenience the Duke who helped her. Things would escalate too much.
“Still… maybe falling down the stairs once…”
The outcome might not be as bad as she feared. If it worked, the payoff would be huge. But if it failed, she’d probably break at least one bone.
Without realizing it, Frisia had fallen into a natural thinking pose, holding her cheeks in her hands. After a moment, she stood up. Hatz and Ron flinched and looked up at her.
“This won’t do.”
I need more sugar. Carrying the teacup now empty except for chocolate residue, Frisia headed for the door. She left the study and was just about to go down the stairs when Hatz rushed after her and suddenly grabbed her arm.
“Don’t do it!”
“Huh?!”
Pulled by Hatz, Frisia spun toward him, and in the moment she lost her grip on the teacup. Scattering dark droplets of chocolate, the cup flew upward.
As Frisia stared wide-eyed at the cup arcing through the air, Ron, who had followed behind Hatz, caught it effortlessly with one hand. The cup didn’t break.
“That scared me! What are you doing?!”
Frisia was the one startled, but Hatz looked even more flustered than she did. When she looked at Ron, he also seemed utterly shocked.
“Your Highness! No matter how hard things get, you mustn’t harm yourself!”
Frisia blinked.
What are they talking about? I just wanted more chocolate tea.
As she stared at them in disbelief, Hatz released the arm he’d been holding.
“Don’t do anything dangerous.”
I was just trying to go down the stairs. The same stairs I used the day before yesterday, yesterday, and just a moment ago.
Under the weight of their intense gazes, Frisia subtly stepped back.
“Um… if this is because of what I said earlier, really, don’t worry. I wasn’t actually planning to throw myself down the stairs— Kyaa?!”
That was when it happened. As Frisia stepped backward toward the stairs, her foot slipped. Her body swayed violently, and at the same time she saw Hatz rushing toward her. Feeling as though she were falling into empty space, Frisia squeezed her eyes shut.
Crash! Bang! Thud!
A loud, chaotic noise echoed through the mansion.
