Chapter 1
The Red Flavor Princess
Deep within the imperial palace of the Heosen Empire stood a detached palace.
And in the largest, most luxurious room of that detached palace, a scrawny maid was cleaning alone.
“Red flavor! I’m curious, honey~!”
No—rather than cleaning, she was in the middle of a full-on singing and dancing session.
Using a long broom as her dance partner, she spun and twirled—quick, quick. The snap of her wrist as she turned the broom was no ordinary move.
The bristles spun smoothly, sweeping the dust neatly into one corner.
“The thing I love the most is… Princess Pireone!”
Swish—
Stretching the broom far in one hand, she extended her other arm in the opposite direction and leapt dramatically.
Dust puffed up into the air, swirling around like stage effects, casting a hazy “smoke” across her imaginary stage.
“The thing I love the most is~ the Princess’s fa
ce.”
Finally, she hugged the broom tight, holding its handle like a microphone and letting her voice linger on the last note with poignant emotion.
Her head tilted, brows drooping into a pitiful 八 shape, and her eyes closed as if lost in feeling. The atmosphere was nothing short of artistic.
When her high-spirited song ended, silence fell. She stayed frozen in her grand finale pose.
“Ahh~ if only I could be the Princess’s footrest~.”
She sang the last line in a thin, high note, like an aria from an opera.
Just as she was about to resume cleaning—
Clap, clap, clap.
A slow applause echoed from somewhere.
The maid jumped in fright, turning toward the sound. She quickly hid her broom behind her back like a microphone she wasn’t supposed to have.
“Not bad.”
A refined, elegant voice flowed out from the darkness.
It was beautiful, but to the maid it sounded like the cold edge of a reaper’s blade. Her face drained of all color.
“P-P-Prin… Princess…”
She stammered, trembling, before collapsing into a deep bow on the floor.
It was her—the owner of this room.
Princess Pireone herself.
Her wavy hair was as red and soft as flower petals, her skin pale and luminous like moonlight, her eyes sparkling like embedded rubies beneath thick, elegant lashes. A finely shaped nose, dainty lips—every feature was flawless to the point of being exhausting to describe.
Wearing a gown that was luxurious and elegant—though still not enough to rival her beauty—Princess Pireone slowly approached the maid.
Click, click.
The sound of her heels on marble rang sharp in the maid’s ears, pressed flat against the floor.
The maid’s shoulders trembled like a leaf in the wind. Her hands, splayed on the cold marble, were pale and tense, as if her fingers might punch straight through the stone.
“What did you mean?”
“Y-Yes?”
The maid’s voice cracked.
“What was it you said…?”
Princess Pireone’s red lips moved gracefully, shimmering like tiny stars.
“‘Red flavor’?”
The maid’s face went yellow.
“And what exactly did you mean about wanting to be my footrest?”
Now her face went blue. The speed at which human complexion could change was truly something to behold.
I’m dead.
The maid—Haon—wanted nothing more than to slam her head into the marble floor and die on the spot.
Haon was not originally from this world. The song she had sung was not from this world. Even her name, Haon, was not in the style of this world.
Lee Haon. A healthy young woman from the Republic of Korea on planet Earth in the Solar System.
So why was she now a lowly, lowly, lowly assistant maid in the Heosen Empire?
How should I know?!
When she first opened her eyes here, she had been lying on a straw mat covered by a stiff hemp blanket.
“Move it, move it!”
Clang, clang, clang!
A woman dressed in something straight out of the Middle Ages was banging a bucket with a ladle. Around her, on similar bedding and in similar clothes, were many other women.
“What are you doing? Hurry up and change.”
Still dazed, Haon didn’t move—until the girl next to her pinched her arm.
Not understanding a thing, she followed the others and picked up a set of clothes from the foot of her bed. They were the neatest and nicest-looking things she could find in the room.
The woman with the ladle handed out thin, watery soup one scoop at a time. Sitting in a row, the girls passed black bread to the person beside them.
The moment she woke up, Haon had been forced to eat watery soup with rock-hard bread and then shoved straight into labor.
What the hell is going on?
With no idea of the situation, she was swept along by the rush of work, barely making it through the day.
It was only when she collapsed onto her uncomfortable straw bed, her body aching from hard labor, that she could think about the strange thing that had happened to her.
A dream? Reincarnation? Teleportation? Am I dead?
There was no clear answer.
She didn’t know where or when she was, but she was certain of one thing—it wasn’t Korea.
Honestly, this is better. I don’t want to go back.
Her life before had been awful—so awful that even an unknown world felt like an improvement.
And it wasn’t until her twenty-first day as a maid that she learned where she was.
“I need a girl who sees little, hears little, speaks little, works well, and has quick wits.”
A high-ranking maid had come, demanding someone skilled, discreet, and unconnected—someone who could become the perfect hand and foot for a new master.
She was dressed far better than the maid-in-chief who managed their dormitory, leading a small entourage.
The maid-in-chief bowed so low it looked like her head might hit the floor.
“You needn’t come to such a shabby place yourself; if you only say the word, we can send the girls to the detached palace—”
“The Princess dislikes noise.”
“But of course.”
The maid-in-chief quickly changed her tone to agree.
“Even if it’s just an assistant maid, one can’t bring just anyone into the detached palace. I’ll choose personally.”
“Indeed.”
Bowing so much she seemed ready to topple forward, the maid-in-chief turned her sharp gaze on the lineup of girls, Haon among them.
“Line up!”
The maids stiffened, some secretly thrilled at the chance of being chosen for a better post. Haon, however, felt neither interest nor expectation.
She was only thinking:
Those shoes look comfy.
The high-ranking maid’s soft velvet shoes looked heavenly compared to Haon’s rough wooden clogs.
If only the benefits were that good.
She didn’t even realize the woman was looking right at her.
Every other maid shrank back under that sharp gaze. Only Haon stood straight, her head slightly bowed.
To the high-ranking maid, that looked like poise.
She’s got spirit.
She was, of course, entirely mistaken.
Studying Haon closely, she noted her tidy brows, large eyes, straight nose, lively pink lips. A little thin, perhaps, but delicately pretty. And her glossy jet-black hair was rare here.
Not embarrassing to keep by the Princess’s side.
Decision made, the woman approached Haon.
“You.”
She lifted Haon’s chin with the feathered tip of her switch, brushing her cheeks left and right to study her face.
“Not bad.”
Haon wasn’t sure if that was a compliment.
Then, without another glance, the woman turned to the maid-in-chief.
“I’ll take this one.”
“An excellent choice. She’s bright and capable, and always does a clean job.”
The maid-in-chief spouted flattery without knowing a thing about her.
Following her new superior, Haon left without a single belonging to pack.
Where am I going now?
Work was work—cleaning was cleaning.
Then the maids ahead stepped aside to let her walk beside the high-ranking one.
“I’m the Princess’s chief maid. I manage everything in the detached palace and oversee you all. If I decide you’re a threat to Her Highness, I’ll throw you out without hesitation. In this vast palace, making someone like you disappear is nothing at all—understand?”
The feather tip scraped under Haon’s chin menacingly.
Well, that’s a nice, warm welcome.
She gulped and nodded. She didn’t care where things went—but she valued her life.
“From now on, you must stop thinking of yourself as a maid of the Heosen Empire.”
Not that it was a problem for her—she had no sense of belonging here anyway.
“Before you are a maid of the Empire, you are Princess Pireone’s person. Remember that.”
Half-tuning her out, Haon’s ears perked up at certain words.
Wait—did she say Heosen? And Pireone?
“Hold on a second.”
Gasps. How dare the lowest of the low interrupt?
“What?”
“As in… Princess Pireone b’Apres Checoran?”
“Oh? Seems you’ve picked something up somewhere. Yes—that’s your mistress.”
“No way. Seriously?”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean—it’s an honor to serve her.”
Haon curtsied deeply.
But under her lowered head, her face had gone pale.
No. Freaking. Way. This is the Heosen Empire? The country of the Thorned Rose Queen?!
The Thorned Rose Queen—
A web novel she had read and reread for a whole year, nearly by heart, during her shut-in days in Korea.
That’s right. She had somehow ended up inside the world of that very story—
As a background extra.
Not even that.
The lowest of the low assistant maids.
