PASEJC 21

Chapter : 21

“W-what… what are you…!”

Freesia let go of Bloé’s shoulder. She straightened and looked her in the eyes. Bloé’s face turned pale. She clearly hadn’t expected Freesia to react like this.

Of course she hadn’t. Until now, Freesia had been a princess who cowered before her father—an emotionless doll who couldn’t even speak properly around him. A naïve princess who knew nothing of the world, raised in her mother’s arms and smothered in overprotection.

It was the same when Bloé and Vivian first came to the palace. Freesia had quietly accepted everything.
But not anymore.

Freesia picked up the crown that had fallen to the floor and set it back atop Bloé’s head.

“Keep wearing it. Until I take it off myself.”

“You’re insane! I’ll kill you right now!”

“And how will you do that? Run crying to Father? Go on, tell him. Let’s see if you think you can touch me now.”

“What?”

Freesia wore such a bold expression it made one doubt she was truly the same princess from the palace.

“I’m engaged to the only heir of House Switcerad—Father’s closest ally—and yet you think you can lay a hand on me?”

“You…!”

Bloé shut her mouth, unable to find any words.

Her tightly pressed pink lips trembled with barely restrained rage.

“You started this. So you take responsibility.”

With that final line, Freesia turned her back and put her mask on again. She was leaving when Bloé’s low voice stopped her.

“That stupid engagement? I’ll break it. Just watch me.”

“……”

“You think that family will keep protecting you afterward? Who do you think you are? You’re NOTHING!”

Bloé screamed, unable to contain the fury rising in her throat.
But Freesia didn’t react at all.

Jaw clenched, she ignored Bloé to the very end and left the room.

“Your Highness.”

There was no attendant waiting outside—only Ron, standing a little ways from the door.

“Let’s go, Ron.”

“Are you all right? There’s no need to rush…”

“Just go. Take me home.”

“…Yes.”

Freesia practically fled from the banquet hall with Ron, then climbed into the carriage waiting outside the palace, riding back toward Hats’ mansion.

She still wore her wig and mask inside the carriage. Ron stared openly at her.

“When are you taking them off?”

“Tomorrow.”

“…Why?”

“Because it’s fun. When else would I get to wear something like this?”

She couldn’t take it off now. She didn’t need a mirror to know.

Her cheek was swollen—bloated from Bloé’s slap.
Heat pulsed from the left side of her face. It didn’t hurt—it burned.
If Ron knew, he would explode.

“At least take off the wig.”

“Later.”

“……”

Ron stared again—then suddenly reached forward, snatched the mask and wig off, and stripped them away.

“Hey—Ron!”

“…Ha.”

Under the moonlight, he saw her face—and his expression darkened immediately.

He exhaled sharply, and crushed the mask in his fist without hesitation.

“What did you do?”

“That’s…”

“How did this happen?! Did you meet her just to get hit?”

“I let her do it.”

“WHY?! Why would YOU take a hit?!”

“Calm down, Ron. I did it on purpose.”

“Damn it…”

Ron raked his fingers through his blond hair—messing up what had been perfectly styled.

“I’m sorry. I had no choice.”

“If you planned to get hit, you should’ve taken me inside. I should’ve taken it!”

“Are you crazy? You think I’d let you get hit instead of me?”

“That’s EXACTLY what should’ve happened! Protecting you is one of the reasons I’m by your side!”

“……”

His voice rose—emotion overflowing.
The scene pulled Freesia back years ago—to when Ron first served her.
He had been rough, unpolished, like black stone straight from the earth.
Not long after meeting, Freesia had stepped in front of him and taken a blow meant for him.
It hadn’t been calculated—but it was the first kindness Ron had ever received.
It was enough to earn his loyalty.

From that moment, he swore an oath—to protect her for life.
To value her above his own life, above anything in the world.

“Ron, I understand. But this time—I had to.”

“Please don’t. Don’t ever do something like that again.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Freesia smoothed his fallen bangs and smiled, trying to defuse him.

Ron’s pale blue eyes stared straight at her—furious and hurting all at once.

“Don’t smile.”

“Oh, come on. I’m fine, really.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Lies.”

Freesia smiled wider—and Ron tipped his head back in frustrated surrender.

“So what now? You definitely didn’t leave things peacefully, not after getting slapped…”

“Ron.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Freesia dropped her smile.

“Cancel the mansion renovations.”

“…Why?”

“I need money. All the funds set aside for construction—and if that’s not enough, we’ll sell the land behind the estate.”

Her swollen cheek throbbed beneath her palm.
Bloé’s spiteful voice still echoed in her head.

Forgive? Understand? Accept? Impossible.

How could someone be so cruel?
To find out everything—every kind word, every gesture—had been a lie?

The beautiful angelic face now revealed to be a demon.

You were the true villain all along.

I won’t let you go, Bloé.
You framed my mother with lies—so I’ll drag you down by any means necessary.

Ron lowered his head and met her eyes squarely.

“What will you use the money for?”

“To hire people. Anyone who’ll do anything if they’re paid.”

“That’s easy enough to find, but…”

“I need information. About the palace.
About Father’s state of mind, my stepmother’s reputation, their relationship…”

“Understood.”

Ron asked no further.

Freesia spoke no more.

They rode in silence—lost in separate thoughts—until they reached the estate.
In the bright light, seeing her swollen cheek again, Ron sighed heavily.

“Don’t worry so much. I hit her too.”

“Another lie.”

It wasn’t!
She had hit Bloé—hard.

“It’s true.”

“Even if you did, that doesn’t undo this.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“We can only hope the swelling goes down before the young duke returns, or he’ll blow up.”

Freesia looked up toward the fourth floor, rubbing her cheek.

The study—always brightly lit—was pitch black.
Hats had left early in the morning for another town on business.
He’d said he would return the day after tomorrow at the earliest.

It should be fine by then.
And even if he returned sooner—she could avoid him.
He was constantly away, meeting with counts and resolving matters in the territory.

“Kyaaa!”

“…Calm down.”

The next afternoon, Peach appeared without warning and shrieked the moment she saw Freesia.

“Your Highness! Your face—oh my goodness! What happened?!”

“Peach, relax. Deep breaths.”

Understandable.
Freesia’s face was even more swollen than last night.

Reason: She cried.
Until she fell asleep, wrung dry.

Late into dawn, Freesia lay awake sobbing.
Sadness, unfairness, shame, pity for her mother—and rage.
So much rage she couldn’t hold it in.

She cried into her pillow with all her strength, afraid the sound would leak into the quiet halls.

Morning came with her eyes puffed and her already-swollen cheek ballooned further.
Her maids had gasped and applied compresses immediately—but it did little.

But it didn’t matter.
Hats wasn’t due back until tomorrow.
Ron was away doing the task she’d assigned.
With luck, the swelling would fade by tonight.

She hadn’t expected Peach to visit.

Looking like she might cry herself, Peach stared at her.

“Oh my goodness… Your face was so beautiful—how could this happen…”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you really?”

“Completely! Totally fine. But what brings you here?”

“I, um…”

Still staring at her cheek, Peach’s mood was subdued.

She gestured to the servants behind her—who carried several large boxes inside.

“The dresses the young duke ordered.”

Dresses…
He should know by now I don’t like them. Another batch?

Freesia looked unenthused.

“He ordered them specifically for Your Highness.”

“…?”

Peach opened a box herself and lifted a dress by the shoulders.

“What do you think? It’s a brand-new design!”

“This is…”

Freesia’s lips parted slightly.

Peach’s eyes lit with excitement.

“Look! It doesn’t have a corset, but it shapes the body as if it does! And it’s comfortable!”

“It really looks comfortable.”

“Right? And fashionable too! Look at that lace! Oh-ho-ho, it’s perfect for you!”

“It’s… beautiful.”

“Ohohoho!”

Peach was grinning ear to ear now.

Freesia couldn’t look away.
At a glance, she fell in love with it.

A dress as comfortable as a maid’s uniform—yet stylish, delicate, and sparkling with just enough gems.

She took the dress and held it against herself.

“What’s going on?”

“The young duke suddenly asked us to make dresses as comfortable as nightgowns.”

“Hats did?”

“Yes! Dresses you could move freely in without strain!”

Hats…
So that’s what he did.

A soft snort escaped her.

That man was utterly terrible at expressing his feelings.

Never a hint on his face—yet secretly doing all this behind the scenes.

“Wait here—I’m trying this on.”

“Yes!”

Freesia changed quickly.
The dress fit perfectly. Soft fabric, breathable, and beautiful.

She came back into the sitting room—and took Peach’s hands, spinning happily with her.

“Peach, I love it. Thank you.”

“You look stunning, Your Highness!
There are only three for now, but we’ll make more.”

“More?”

“Yes! The young duke said to keep sewing—several more!”

“Good. I could wear dozens of these.”

“Ohohoho! I’ve never seen you this delighted! I’m honored!”

Laughing and spinning hand in hand—until—

“Do you like it?”

A familiar voice cut in.

They froze mid-step.

“…Hats?”

They slowly turned.

Hats stood there—expression turning icy cold as soon as he saw her face.