Chapter 4
“Your Highness, Prince Daniel has requested that his movement restrictions be lifted.”
Once again, I found myself face-to-face with Bastian.
Today’s setting was different — the garden inside Aguila Palace.
A pleasant sibling stroll? If only. That would have been nice and simple.
But Bastian, having grown tired of palace life, stormed out just as I was on my way to see him — and we ran right into each other.
And so, my forced walk began.
“Does he really think he’s some kind of honored guest? What nonsense.”
As expected, his response wasn’t kind.
I had only passed along Daniel’s request, but it was clear that Bastian had no intention of granting him any freedom.
“I figured as much… I’ll tell him that then.”
I smiled awkwardly, trying to soothe Bastian’s temper.
Before and after possession, I was always the inferior.
So what if I was a princess? I still had to tiptoe around my brother’s moods.
I couldn’t help but feel miserable.
Still, walking beside the king meant every servant we passed bowed a full ninety degrees.
When I walked alone, some didn’t even bother greeting me.
Usually, they were servants of powerful nobles who pretended not to see me — too lazy to bow to a powerless princess.
Why? Because I had no strength.
Clara, a timid princess born of a maid, with no backing.
And after Bastian’s rebellion against his own brothers, she became nearly invisible — a ghost within the palace walls.
In such a prideful noble society, ignoring someone like Clara was inevitable.
Still, it left me with a strange, bitter feeling.
‘No matter where you go, there are always people who look down on the weak…’
That’s exactly why I’d used that excuse before — telling Bastian I couldn’t live like this anymore.
He hadn’t questioned it much.
“Are you coming to the victory banquet?”
Bastian threw the question casually.
He had just won a war, and preparations for the grand celebration were underway.
It was two days from now.
“Yes, I plan to attend this time.”
“Big decision.”
He said it mockingly. I just laughed it off.
“Your Majesty, how about entering the hall with me?”
“Why would I do that?”
To look friendlier, obviously. But his tone made it sound like I was insane for suggesting it.
Bastian’s gaze drifted toward a misshapen hedge nearby.
“Who trimmed that thing like that?”
Then he called to his chief aide.
“The one who did that — execute him.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
…What the hell?
I stared at Bastian in disbelief.
I’d forgotten — just because he could hold a conversation didn’t mean he wasn’t still a tyrant.
Even Clara’s memories were full of stories — of him firing servants or even nobles on a whim, whenever his mood soured.
Especially over the pettiest things. Just like now.
I couldn’t believe I’d dared to ask this man to escort me. I must have been brave — or stupid.
‘That temper of his… seriously.’
As I shook my head, something occurred to me.
Maybe… that was why he acted this way.
I glanced over at him as he walked lazily beside me. His eyelids were heavy.
In the original story, Clara once told Daniel Bastian’s secret weakness — his insomnia.
No one knew exactly when it began, but it plagued him constantly.
Every so often, he’d take medicine and fall into a death-like sleep for days.
During those times, the government simply ran itself, and his absence was recorded as “vacation.”
Amazingly, very few even knew the king spent his breaks sleeping.
‘What kind of king takes vacations to nap? The country must be a joke!’
But of course, no one dared to say that to his face.
Clara was one of the rare few who knew.
And judging by those dark circles nearly reaching his chin, it was almost time for another “nap.”
He always cleaned house right before he disappeared like that.
When the boss is moody, the subordinates suffer.
“You didn’t sleep well, did you?”
I asked gently. He nodded.
“Yeah. Feel like I could drop dead from exhaustion.”
Charming words, really. So regal.
I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Still, Your Majesty, those pills can’t be good for you.”
“Can’t sleep without them. Haven’t rested properly since the war.”
He grumbled.
‘He really does act like a kid sometimes.’
Though he was four years older than Clara — seventeen to her thirteen — he was still a year younger than me, mentally.
And without any real dignity, he just seemed… boyish.
‘I kinda wanna smack him.’
But if I did, I’d be executed on the spot. I swallowed the urge.
“What if someone tried to assassinate you while you slept?”
“Ha!”
He laughed, openly mocking me.
“You do know how tight my security gets when I’m asleep, right?”
“There’s nothing impossible in this world, Your Majesty.”
“So you’re saying someone could try to kill me?”
“Exactly.”
“And that someone… is you?”
“…What?”
Where did that come from?
Bastian stopped walking and fixed me with a sharp stare, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
“I’ve been sensing something suspicious lately. When did you hire an assassin?”
‘Why am I always the suspect?!’
One moment we were walking — the next, I was being accused of plotting murder.
I quickly waved my hands.
“Your Majesty, absolutely not! I would never—”
“Relax. Just joking.”
He placed a hand on my head.
“…What?”
“You? Kill someone? Please. I was teasing you.”
He chuckled and started walking again.
That was a joke? Who jokes like that?!
I forced a weak laugh and followed.
“Haha… yes, of course, if Your Majesty says it’s a joke…”
‘No wonder you die later, Clara — you never saw it coming when you sent Daniel to kill him.’
Bastian frowned again, rubbing his eyes tiredly, then let out a huge yawn.
He was practically radiating exhaustion.
‘Honestly, he should just take a nap instead of dragging me around.’
As if on cue, we passed a bench. I gestured toward it.
“Why don’t you rest for a bit?”
“Wouldn’t help. I can’t sleep anyway.”
“Still, I could sing you a lullaby.”
He smirked down at me, amused.
“You? Can you even sing?”
Not really. I didn’t even know if Clara could.
“I’ll do my best.”
He snorted, but walked over to the bench and sat. I patted my thigh lightly.
“Would you like to lie down?”
He gave me a baffled laugh — apparently, I’d said something absurd.
‘He sure laughs a lot lately,’ I thought.
Even if they were mocking laughs, it was… progress?
Despite his arrogance, he was handsome, I had to admit.
I urged again, “Don’t be shy. It’ll be more comfortable than sitting.”
I rolled up my shawl and placed it on my lap like a pillow.
After a moment of hesitation, he stretched out on the bench, resting his head near my knees. His long legs stuck out awkwardly.
“So cramped,” he muttered, bending his knees to fit, then closed his eyes.
‘Is it okay to start?’
The attendants and guards behind us were all staring.
Awkward didn’t even begin to cover it.
Still, I began humming softly — a lullaby I vaguely remembered.
Clara’s gentle voice came out of my throat, smooth and sweet.
Bastian’s lips twitched.
“Your singing’s terrible.”
Maybe I should stop.
But no — I kept going, stubbornly staring off into the distance.
The servants’ curious eyes burned holes in me, making my cheeks sting.
‘Maybe this was a bad idea.’
When I finished, no one clapped.
‘I thought it wasn’t that bad…’
Probably out of respect for the king’s nap, right? Yeah, let’s go with that.
But then I noticed something odd.
Everyone’s faces had softened. Peaceful smiles replaced their usual cold expressions.
A moment ago, they’d been completely expressionless.
They seemed startled when they noticed it themselves and quickly straightened their faces again.
‘Well, that’s strange.’
I couldn’t help but smile faintly — and then looked down.
Bastian’s eyes were still closed.
I expected a snide remark like “That was awful.”
But no — his lashes lay still against his cheeks, long and dark, his breathing slow.
‘He actually looks… kind of gentle like this.’
Sleeping, the tyrant king looked almost peaceful.
Not wanting to wake him, I stayed still, letting him rest on my lap for a long time.
It was oddly serene, despite everything.
That serenity shattered right after we parted.
When Bastian woke, he looked utterly confused.
‘When did I fall asleep?’
He didn’t believe it himself.
Seeing he was still half-dazed, I took the chance to plead mercy for the gardener.
Once he said he’d rest a bit longer before heading back, I left him and walked off alone.
And that’s when I ran into a woman coming from the opposite direction.
Her face was familiar — but she lowered her eyes, pretending not to see me, and even changed her path to avoid crossing mine.
Seriously? That obvious?
“Excuse me, wait a moment,” I called.
“Yes?” she turned, startled.
I beckoned her over. “Come here.”
She approached hesitantly.
“Is something wrong?”
“You’re the maid of Duke Alba’s daughter, right?”
“Y-yes…”
Her expression asked Why did you call me?
She really didn’t know?
Clara’s memories told me this wasn’t our first encounter.
This maid had ignored me multiple times before.
I tilted my head, feigning curiosity.
“Why do you always pretend not to see me?”
“What? Pretend not to see you, Your Highness? I would never—”
Her wide, innocent eyes stared at me.
So that’s how she wanted to play this, huh…?
