#46. Please Swear
Elisabeth’s condition grew alarmingly worse.
Even the top healers shook their heads and left.
Everyone except Douglas had begun to sense Elisabeth’s death.
“Elisabeth. Don’t speak weakly.”
“Please don’t contact her parents. They’re traveling the continent — we don’t want to disturb them.”
“We will do as you ask. You’ll recover soon.”
They wanted to believe that.
What else could they do?
Her once-ruby hair had lost its shine.
Her white hand — which had never been without a wineglass — had thinned to the point that a touch might break it.
Her seductive smile and proud gaze were losing their color day by day, wilting away.
The men who used to bring flowers and presents stopped coming.
Douglas felt both terrible and, in a small way, relieved.
“Why do you come every day, Sir Douglas?” she asked.
“Because I want to see you,” he answered.
“To see me like this? You have strange tastes.”
“Does it upset you?”
“I’m used to it. You’re just like that book — so annoyingly good. Always loving someone who won’t return it.”
“Like a book? What do you mean?”
“You’ll understand when you read it. But not now. Later… when I’m truly a different person, then look at it. If it bothers you, throw it away.”
“Different person? Why do you keep saying that?”
“Ah — I’m thirsty. Don’t fuss, bring me some wine.”
Elisabeth diverted the conversation.
Douglas offered her the glass.
“You must refrain from drinking for a while. It would be better if you stopped entirely,” he said.
“You’ll regret telling me that later.”
“I won’t.”
“If you loved me sincerely, you would.”
“My heart will never change.”
“…I hope that’s true.”
It was a strange thing.
Elisabeth had always found Douglas’s affection wearisome.
She had despised and mocked him for chasing her even after their engagement was broken.
But that day was different.
When she looked at Douglas, her dark eyes were full of fear and pleading, as if she already knew her fate.
“Promise me. Even if I change, promise you’ll love me to the end.”
“I’ll love you to the end, but people don’t change easily.”
“What have you heard about me until now? Do you think I want to live as a drunken wretch forever? I want to be reborn!”
“Then I will support your change.”
“All right. Now swear it.”
He was puzzled, but he couldn’t refuse her request.
No — he was happier than he had ever been to be allowed to swear.
Douglas placed his right hand over his heart and spoke, hoping his voice carried his soul.
“I, Douglas Nettleton, will love Elisabeth as she is, no matter what she becomes.”
Elisabeth curled the corner of her mouth in satisfaction and then reached out her hand.
It was the first time she had ever reached out to him first.
“You weren’t entirely unlikeable.”
“Elisabeth?”
“Go now. I’m so tired.”
After that he could not see her.
When he heard rumors that she had miraculously recovered and went to visit, he was turned away at the door.
A month passed slowly. Even being buried alive wouldn’t have been as agonizing as that interval.
When Elisabeth finally allowed him to visit, Douglas felt reborn, his chest swelling with emotion.
She walked into the sitting room radiantly beautiful — but undeniably not the Elisabeth he knew.
Her eyes, her gait, the way she tucked hair behind her ear — all of it signaled change.
“Elisabeth. Would you reconsider the engagement?” he asked, as if he didn’t know anything.
The conversation they had shared that day, the old book — it was as if none of it had happened.
“You still haven’t let go of me? Aren’t you tired of being mocked?” Elisabeth’s red lips fluttered.
Her voice was cold, but the sharp, biting air that once surrounded her was gone.
Wisdom had come into her eyes, making them clearer and brighter.
Only Douglas noticed the subtle change.
Could a fever alter one’s gaze? Or had Elisabeth fulfilled that wish?
Douglas placed his right hand over his heart again.
Until this heart stops, I will remember the vow. Elisabeth is still Elisabeth, he told himself.
He fell for the new Elisabeth all over again.
But he would forever regret not giving the wine he had brought when she lay in that bed.
When he finally began reading the book Elisabeth had given him, his regret peaked.
The story opened like this:
“There was a woman. She helped the poor and the sick and died. The gods gave her a new life, even if it meant living as a debauched villainess who toyed with a tyrant.”
“Congratulations. You’ve become the most famous person in the Empire,” Franz muttered, clapping.
He looked put out that I had been absent for a while.
The rumor that the heiress of the Emster Trading House had been kidnapped by unknown assailants had spread across the Empire.
Whichever way I went, people stared — awkward, intrusive looks.
It was annoying, but I had to bear it — after all, it was something I had orchestrated.
“The minstrels are busy. They’re singing the love story of Elisabeth and His Majesty,” Franz said.
“Where did you hear that?” I asked.
“The servants and maids won’t stop talking about it.”
“We’ll have to re-educate them,” I said.
“His Majesty launched a massive sweep, didn’t he? I heard the palace prison is full of criminals,” Franz said, his green eyes sparkling.
If he put that kind of energy into his studies, he’d top the nation. What does he want to be when he grows up?
“An emperor rushing into enemy lines to save his lover — so cool!”
“Enemy lines? Is there a war?”
“It sounds like a romance novel. No wonder people are excited.”
“Isn’t there a rumor that a tyrant bewitched by a villainess ran amok?”
“They say he only punished criminals. In fact, the public seems to sympathize with Elisabeth more.”
Franz said it proudly, as if he had created that public sentiment.
So far, everything was going according to plan.
When her wounds were healing, I called Owen and Douglas.
‘I asked them to spread the story discreetly. If rumors are going to spread anyway, they might as well favor me.’
People loved Cinderella stories. They were fascinated by the private lives of the nobility.
What if an emperor — believed to be on a pedestal — fell in love with a common woman?
What if that common woman was oppressed by great nobles?
Through Douglas, the tale turned into a tragic love story.
Owen, living as a fugitive in the slums, knew a lot of people in the back alleys and poorer districts — places that lived by rumors.
Thanks to Douglas and Owen, I shed my villainess image completely.
The title “His Majesty’s lover” made me blush, but I could accept it for the sake of my goal.
“If Elisabeth gets kidnapped again, they’ll make an opera out of it,” someone joked.
“Would you say that to the teacher who almost died?”
“You should have taken me instead!”
“Want to be kidnapped in pairs?”
“I would have stopped the kidnappers. I’m quick-witted.”
“As if the Crown Prince would have protected me,” I teased, pinching Franz’s plump cheek lightly.
He whined.
“Don’t make me worry! With Elisabeth gone, I can’t focus on my studies.”
“Ah — so that’s why you haven’t done your homework?”
“……”
“Franz, what’s this?” I picked up the stack of letters on the desk and held them up. Franz glanced away awkwardly.
“It’s a petition from professors claiming the Crown Prince’s classroom behavior is atrocious!” I announced.
“No need to shout. Must I always appear graceful?” he grumbled.
“If being graceful isn’t working, maybe a scolding will do the trick.”
“Ah! The red wolf has appeared!” Franz scampered to a corner.
I lifted the cumbersome hem of my skirt to catch him, and then a servant knocked at the door.
“Lady Elisabeth. His Majesty requests your presence in the audience chamber.”
A red carpet led up to a throne golden with ornamentation.
Nikolai, seated upon it, crossed his long, slender legs.
Below him Marquess Brenden and Simon bowed their heads.
‘They won’t behave themselves. Thanks to Susan’s special ointment, the wounds have nearly healed,’ I thought reflexively, watching the crease between Nikolai’s brows.
A deep furrow was carved as if by a knife — a sign of displeasure.
“I regret the unfortunate incident, but we cannot wait any longer,” Marquess Brenden said, voice edged with complaint.
“What’s so urgent?” Nikolai asked.
“Brenden House’s honor has been trampled. Rumors say you risked your entire fortune over a mere common woman,” Brenden said, his jowls trembling as his voice rose.
It was I who had spread that rumor.
‘I’m sure they were flustered — thinking their fortunes would be devoured and panicking when word spread they’d be defeated before they even fought.’
The more they fretted, the better for me.
“Remain composed, Father. His Majesty’s safety is assured,” Simon admonished politely. Brenden grabbed his son’s hands.
“Simon! Wash away this shame quickly. If you win, all these ridiculous rumors will vanish!” Brenden cried.
“How could a knight fight a frail woman?” Simon replied.
“No, what do you mean, Simon?” Brenden snapped theatrically.
They had their roles well-rehearsed, but the acting was poor. Simon’s line was passable.
“This was an impossible wager from the start,” Simon said.
“Explain what you mean!” Brenden demanded.
“If I were to duel that woman with a sword, I would be condemned as a coward. If I fought with embroidery, I’d be laughed at. Elisabeth has made it impossible for me to act either way.”
“So you proposed a bet that could not be won? Isn’t that a fraud?” Brenden sneered triumphantly at Nikolai.
Nikolai sat like a statue, expressionless, not even glancing toward me.
He seemed content to observe the situation as a third party.
I had asked him to arbitrate, but I wasn’t sure of him — he was not a man to remain passive.
“Did you think we would fall for your scheme?” Brenden said, beaming as he glared at me.
I didn’t look away; I smiled.
“This wager was indeed unfavorable to House Brenden.” I said plainly.
“Now you confess!” Brenden cried.
“What do you expect of me?” Nikolai asked.
“You mocked me and tarnished my family’s honor. Compensate us!” Brenden demanded.
Was that it? All they wanted was money?
How predictable.
“How much do you demand?” I asked.
“Give us half of the Emster Trading House. I will be generous in my forgiveness,” Brenden declared.
“That’s hardly generous.” I said.
“Do you think the crime of humiliating a great noble house is small? If you feared us, you wouldn’t have resorted to such vile tricks.”
Brenden fluffed his feathers as though he already sat on a fortune.
Simon attempted to teach me a lesson.
“Consider yourself fortunate that there is a way to be forgiven,” he said.
Fortunate? Hardly.
What a coward, tail between his legs.
“You should be glad, Sir Simon — you can escape the shame of defeat,” I shot back.
“You still have a loose tongue,” he said.
“This feels like meeting extortioners.”
“Extortioners?”
“You try to seize my fortune with a few words. With kidnapping and threats… living as a lowborn person is truly harsh.”
“Are you comparing me to a criminal?”
“If you object, then fight fairly. What will you do? Are you a knight who only watches your father’s expression?”
