Chapter 7
His Highness
She had seen His Highness several times.
But only from afar, or when they happened to pass each other by chance.
Each time, she bowed her head in greeting, eyes lowered—so there was no way he knew her face.
Once, while she was cleaning a guest room, the man who had been staying there returned unexpectedly.
He and his companions were known as “VIPs” who partied all night, leaving liquor bottles scattered across the floor before heading out again.
He claimed he had dropped his wallet, so Sena helped him search and found it under the bed.
He thanked her with a tip.
Waiting silently for the forgetful man in the hallway… was Robert.
The guest expressed his gratitude as he left, but Robert didn’t spare a glance at Sena.
She had been working at Hotel Gazarick for nearly two years, but that was both the first and the last time she had ever been that close to His Highness.
After that, several more “parties” hosted by the prince—little more than wild revelry—were held, but eventually the hotel issued complaints, and they stopped coming altogether.
Sena disliked Robert.
The beloved prince among the kingdom’s women had hair as blue as a cloudless sky, and eyes the deep red of precious carnelian.
Despite being the leader of the group that caused nightly disturbances and inconvenienced the hotel staff, he never showed any rough or vulgar behavior.
Compared to someone like Baldo, the difference was like heaven and earth.
Each time she saw him, the heart that had already shrunk from Baldo’s violence seemed to wither a little more.
Hotel Gazarick had several branches across neighboring countries, but this one—renovated from a former grand duke’s mansion—had become the most luxurious hotel in the region, well worth its high prices.
Working there was an honor.
But slacking off meant being fired immediately.
Her supervisor was sharp, and utterly merciless when it came to dismissals.
Sena didn’t want to lose her job.
So whenever she saw Robert, her heart would pound painfully, as though someone were squeezing it.
“Still not planning to go back home?”
“…My family is there… the older ladies.”
“Right. Your aunts.”
Living in the hotel dorms meant that if you were fired, you had to pack and leave that very day.
You’d become homeless overnight.
Before coming here, Sena had worked at another hotel in the Empire.
Compared to that, the salary here was far better, and she liked her current job.
Cleaning the suites sometimes brought unexpected high tips.
And when she volunteered to cover shifts that lacked staff, her boss always welcomed her with a smile.
But no matter how much overtime she worked or how many tips she saved, she still couldn’t reach the amount she dreamed of.
She needed to work much longer if she wanted a down payment on a home.
“I want to live here.”
“Really?”
At last, after two weeks of keeping it to herself, her true feelings slipped out.
Sena wanted a place where she felt safe—her own home, free from danger, one that no one could take from her.
“…I see. If you’ve already decided that much, I’ll stop trying to convince you.”
Mia tapped the table lightly.
“By the way, since I heard you were coming during your lunch break, I had someone prepare something for you.”
“For me—?”
Sena glanced at the invitation and mask she had been given.
Mia nodded.
“You’re not seriously planning to attend the masquerade ball when you already have a fiancé, are you?”
“Of course not. Alonzo would be furious. I think—just guessing—that they send these to unmarried women from families above a certain status or wealth level.”
“Then in your case?”
“It was sent to my family home first, and then forwarded here.”
Mia moved her hands back and forth as she explained, showing the path the invitation had taken.
Then… her family.
The Duke of Palstine’s household would surely have carefully prepared a dress and matching jewelry to accompany the invitation.
After all, the recipient was a potential bride candidate for the future king.
Even if things didn’t lead to a good match, merely showing her face and ensuring she was remembered would give meaning to attending.
“That sounds rough. Are you even well enough to go?”
“I’m not confident. If His Highness invited me to dance, I don’t know if I could even finish the dance.”
“Your brain must still be fried from that seasonal flu. I’ve never heard of a lady attending such an event while that sick.”
Her friend was dreaming.
She understood perfectly well she couldn’t attend, yet she still held onto small hopes—“wouldn’t it be nice if…”
For someone bedridden with illness, it was quite an extravagant fantasy.
