Chapter 14
The beginning was out of duty.
“Baileon Beers. Starting today, I’ve been assigned to attend to the young lady. I’ll be visiting once a week to hold reading discussions with her. I look forward to your guidance.”
A towering red-brick wall stretched endlessly high. Ivy crept along its surface, but the one who lived inside could not so much as peek her head over it.
No—that’s the wrong way to put it. The girl basking in the sunlight by the window may live in this estate, but she is not its master. Not even a single book in the library belongs to her. There is nothing in this place that she can claim as her own.
Odette Rose. The hollow princess.
Worse still, she couldn’t even be addressed as Her Highness at present, since the Emperor had hidden her away from the public eye.
Only after an official proclamation from the Emperor would Odette be able to step out of the estate’s gates.
And no one knew when that would happen.
It could very well be decades later. If the Emperor, with his dying breath, were to decree that Odette must remain confined here even after Baileon’s own death—then she truly would be doomed to grow old in this place.
Baileon’s gaze lingered on the thick blanket draped over her knees.
The weather had warmed considerably, and Odette was sitting under direct sunlight—yet she still needed such a heavy winter blanket?
So the rumors about the frail princess must have been true.
“To think His Majesty would assign the heir of House Beers… He really does love his political games.”
The girl, so much smaller than Baileon himself, let out a quick, sharp laugh. Her voice was delicate, frail—but her tone cut as sharply as broken glass.
“Did Her Majesty the Empress not summon you? After you were assigned as my conversation partner?”
“You may call me simply Baileon.”
“How could I dare.”
Odette turned to look at him directly. Her vivid rose-red eyes gleamed—a clear mark of her imperial bloodline.
“How could I call a promising heir of a great noble house by name? I am still… nothing at all.”
“And if I requested it?”
“Then I shall take the liberty of calling you Beers.”
“Cold and aloof” didn’t suit her. The impression she gave was heavier, more commanding. The word arrogant drifted across Baileon’s mind.
“Beers.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
Baileon studied her small shoulders for a moment, then finally replied.
“Yes. I was summoned by the Empress. After that, in turn, by the First Consort, the Second Consort, and the Third Consort.”
“I can easily guess what they said. They told you to report on my movements. But not to share anything with their husband or the other consorts, am I right?”
“Yes.”
“And what did you answer?”
Her rose-red gaze cut straight into him. Baileon replied honestly.
“I said exactly what you just did—that they all asked the same thing.”
“…You really said that?”
“Yes.”
His tone was calm, unshaken.
“I can’t very well make the same report five times. Besides, everyone seems to forget—no matter that I was the top entrant, it’s still overwhelming just to keep up with the Imperial Academy’s curriculum.”
“You didn’t say that to them… did you?”
“Oh, of course not.”
Baileon smiled faintly.
“His Majesty entrusted me with nothing more than the kind of reading discussions common even among commoner children at school. I told them that even if they heard my reports, they’d find nothing interesting. At most, they’d get to listen to a review of Little Red Riding Hood.”
Odette’s expression shifted. She was twelve years old—twelve, yet according to experts appointed by the Emperor, perfectly capable of excelling at the Academy if admitted immediately.
And Little Red Riding Hood was a story told to seven-year-olds.
Baileon had invoked it deliberately—to reassure the women of the inner palace.
Whether Odette was clever or not, he was only going to waste time reading fairy tales with her.
The Empress and the consorts had freed Baileon with uneasy faces, torn between suspicion and relief—before turning to guard against one another.
Exactly as the Emperor intended.
Checks and balances.
The Emperor, with eyes the same rose-red as Odette’s, had been manipulating those around him with meticulous precision since his crown prince days. Not even the factions of the Empress and consorts were exempt.
Unfortunately, his talent for governing the empire itself was only mediocre. Baileon couldn’t help but think how much better it would be if His Majesty cared for state affairs as much as he did his power struggles.
Arrogant thoughts for a sixteen-year-old with no title yet.
And yet the Emperor likely valued even this side of Baileon. It was all but certain that he’d be placed in a high office the moment he graduated.
“Beers, you have quite the silver tongue. You know how to escape tight spots.”
“Thank you.”
“You looked so harmlessly bright, but now I see—you’re rather sly, aren’t you?”
Excuse me, young lady—don’t judge people’s looks to their face. But Baileon had no room to protest, as he too had been quietly observing Odette.
Thin. She wasn’t being starved, so perhaps just a small appetite?
“Well, we’ll see in time whether your answer was truthful.”
He had no reason to deceive her—after all, she had no power.
The estate’s staff had been chosen directly by the Emperor’s brother. Their sole role was to serve her meals and tend her quarters. They were forbidden from exchanging more than a few words with her. Everything she ate, wore, and did was reported back to their true employer.
No matter how clever Odette was, confined here she was nothing more than a chess piece on the Emperor’s board.
“If you’ve no more questions, shall we begin… our discussion of Little Red Riding Hood?”
Baileon drew a slim book from his coat.
Is he seriously going to make me talk about fairy tales? Odette frowned. The look of offended pride finally made her seem like the twelve-year-old she was.
But when she opened the book with no title on its cover, her eyes widened. Up close, her rose-colored eyes were clearer, sharper than those of any of the Emperor’s other blood relatives Baileon had seen.
“This… this book? You really want me to read this?”
She was so startled she slipped into informal speech.
“Is this some kind of trap?”
Her suspicion was natural. What Baileon had handed her was none other than the foundational text of imperial governance—the basics of rulership.
Officially, only the Crown Prince was allowed to study it.
“His Majesty’s orders.”
“….”
And so, once a week, Baileon continued meeting with Odette.
The girl was astonishingly intelligent—and, in some ways, troublingly innocent.
At times, his chest would sink with dread.
I am, after all, an agent of His Majesty. The very father who locked you here.
You shouldn’t be revealing your true feelings to me. You should guard yourself better.
When you grin at me like that, I can’t help but smile back. When you anxiously stare out the window on rainy days, afraid I might not come… I find myself thinking only of you.
The relationship had begun out of duty. But Baileon, unable to suppress his innately kind heart, gradually let the proud princess into its depths.
“Sir Beers… would you maybe be my dance partner for practice?”
Years passed. Odette, now sixteen, asked with a shy expression.
“The dance master says my turns are all a mess.”
She didn’t want to be ridiculed at the palace. Baileon heard the unspoken words. In just one week, she would enter the imperial palace officially as the Fourth Princess.
And yet she showed no great excitement. When he’d told her the news, she’d only said, “That’s good, then.”
Then she had practiced until her feet blistered.
My proud, stubborn princess.
Baileon gladly gave his time to help her. He even returned late at night to bring her ointment for her injured feet—knowing she’d never admit to the pain.
“This will help reduce the heat. Please use it tonight, if only out of kindness for the effort I made, riding here at this hour.”
“You didn’t need to… My feet don’t hurt.”
Lies. He had seen the silk of her stockings stained red during a break. By now, even water must sting.
“Then think of it as massage cream.”
“I only accept it because you insist… You really are like a mother bird. The moment I so much as pretend to push myself, you get all flustered.”
The truth was, the ointment had been specially compounded by the imperial physicians who treated only the Emperor and Empress. Baileon had procured it with great difficulty.
And yet, for fear of her pride, he had called it nothing more than cream.
And she had called him mother bird.
Baileon swallowed a bitter smile.
Mother bird.
Not exactly what one longs to hear from the object of one’s affection.
People do not whisper love to mother birds. They do not kiss mother birds. They certainly do not marry them.
“I’m sure you’ve already fallen behind in work because of me… And now you’ll go back to the palace and work late into the night. Don’t do this again. Not that it matters—soon I’ll be in the palace anyway…”
She grumbled, because she could not easily say thank you.
It wasn’t entirely her fault. Odette Rose had never been given much chance to learn gratitude.
Her mother had been killed before her eyes. Before she could even grieve, she was blindfolded and locked away in this estate.
If those around her had ever shown her real kindness, perhaps she would have learned to say thank you without hesitation.
Still, Baileon worried.
The palace was a place where empty words were survival. With her forthright nature, she would surely suffer.
“Your Highness,” Baileon said quietly.
“In a week’s time, I’ll finally be able to call you that.”
“…Yes. At last.”
“I know you won’t worry, but still—let me say this. You need not fear. No matter what happens, the Chancellor’s office will stand with you.”
Was it only a trick of longing eyes? For a fleeting instant, her rose-colored eyes trembled.
“Mother bird.”
Her stir lasted only a heartbeat.
“Yes, mother bird.”
And for Baileon, that was enough. It was the only way to soothe the bitter ache of disappointment.
Friend. Ally. Loyal servant.
That was how Odette Rose would define Baileon Beers. And that was enough. It wasn’t bad.
She did not wish for him as a partner. He could not force his own feelings on her. That was not his way.
And yet, part of him wondered—what must it feel like, to bare one’s love openly to the one they loved?
Perhaps such a happiness was simply never meant for him, in this life.
