Chapter 9
The next afternoon—right after lunch—my palace was thrown into chaos.
“P–Princess!”
Soldiers stormed into my quarters. Sara, who had stepped out briefly, burst back into my room, startled. No sooner had she shut the door than a loud knock rattled it. All four of my maids jumped in fright.
But I—the owner of the room—was the only one who didn’t flinch. Because I already knew they were coming.
There was a reason ten royal guards suddenly appeared in my palace. It all began with the conversation I’d had that morning with Bastian.
‘So, how’s that boy doing?’
At first, our talk had been about how Daniel was holding up. But before I knew it, the subject had shifted.
‘How does she always end up wearing the same dress as you?’
At Bastian’s words, Arantxa immediately came to mind. Yesterday, after the banquet, and even today—she’d been visibly nervous around me. Of course she was. She must’ve heard what happened to Martina.
‘Well, I just wore what my maid dressed me in…’
I couldn’t let internal enemies linger. So, I told Bastian everything—no filter.
‘I think we need to investigate. The one who kept insisting I wear that dress… I’m sure she made some kind of deal with Lady Alba.’
‘Then do it. Sometimes people only learn their place after they’re replaced.’
Bastian nodded, giving the kind of seasoned advice that came from experience.
I did expect he’d send someone to look into it—but I didn’t expect him to move that fast.
Arantxa was now at the top of the list to be exiled alongside Martina once the investigation began. She ran up to me and grabbed my hand in desperation.
“Princess, yesterday—it was a complete coincidence! Please, believe me!”
“Of course, I believe you.”
I smiled sweetly.
“If you’re innocent, then you’ve got nothing to fear. So go ahead—face the investigation.”
“Princess! Your Highness, pleaaase!”
Too bad—I can’t hear you.
The soldiers took Arantxa away first. I turned to the other two maids who looked relieved that it wasn’t them.
“You two, go with her and get questioned as well.”
“Huh? Us too?”
Of course. One of them once touched Clara’s earrings without permission, and the other was just plain insolent. They were part of the cleanup, too.
“Yup. Don’t worry—it’ll be fine.”
I waved cheerfully. But the moment I did, they looked like their souls left their bodies. With blank, lifeless faces, they were dragged out of the room.
They knew it too. Once you’re taken away from the princess’s palace, you don’t come back.
“Guess you underestimated me, huh?”
I smiled faintly.
Now, only Sara was left. She looked uneasy, so I reassured her.
“Don’t worry. I’m just going to recruit new maids, that’s all.”
It was finally time to surround myself with my own people.
That day, I went to visit Daniel, as usual.
“The healing is progressing quite well,” the royal physician said after checking his wounds.
I’d brought the physician with me this time—someone had to check his recovery.
“Thank you,” Daniel said with a gentle smile.
Even shirtless and smiling like that, I felt surprisingly calm.
If only I were truly used to this…
Now I understood. The reason my heart wasn’t racing was because the physician was here too. If it were just the two of us again, I probably would’ve been flustered and blushing all over again.
My gaze involuntarily drifted toward his side as he picked up his shirt.
Bad eyes, bad eyes.
I couldn’t help but look—right where I remembered that old scar.
I’d seen it before while tending to his wounds: a deep mark, as though he’d been stabbed. When I paused, he hadn’t said a word back then—too busy trembling in pain from the antiseptic I was applying.
Today, however, he noticed my gaze. He froze briefly, then pulled his shirt on. I quickly turned away, pretending I hadn’t seen anything.
When I looked back, the scar was neatly hidden beneath the fabric.
After the physician left, the two of us were alone again.
“It’s quiet,” Daniel said.
Well, of course it was—no one was talking.
But I realized that wasn’t what he meant.
“I heard quite the commotion earlier. What happened?”
“Commotion?”
Ah. He must’ve heard my maids being dragged out earlier. Considering the way they screamed “Princess!” at the top of their lungs, I wasn’t surprised.
“Oh, just a little… staff reorganization.”
If you’re wondering where they went—well… probably hell.
“Judging by how they didn’t want to leave, you must’ve been quite close to them,” he said with mild amusement.
“You could say that.”
I smiled vaguely. Silence returned, so I changed the subject.
“Your Highness, did you finish the book I brought? Do you need another one?”
Everything but freedom could be provided, after all. Maybe a table or something would be nice next time.
“Anything will do,” he said softly.
Daniel watched Clara as she sat in front of him.
When she smiled and said “Ahh—there’s so little here. I’ll gradually bring you more,” she looked so serene. Then she gracefully left the room.
Clara Velasco—the King of Verona’s only sister, and Daniel’s only allowed conversation partner.
She was kind. The first time he saw her gentle face, he thought she must be a calm, compassionate person.
But after speaking with her, he realized—she wasn’t quite what she seemed.
‘Forgive me, Your Highness. Not without His Majesty’s permission.’
Any request she found even slightly improper—she refused outright.
Of course, Daniel knew he wasn’t a guest. Who would treat a kidnapped prince like one?
Still, he wasn’t in a hurry. Even in the Empire, he wasn’t any safer these days. The crown prince had seized power, after all.
And he knew that prince had no intention of rescuing him.
‘He’s probably raising a toast to my capture right about now,’ Daniel thought dryly, sprawling out on the bed.
“Ah… how dull.”
Being confined was suffocating. That’s why he’d made a few requests—but Clara refused every one.
Sometimes she seemed like she might agree, only to turn him down again. That’s why Daniel kept trying—hoping that asking earnestly might sway her.
Maybe if he pleaded a little, she’d give in.
He even tried whispering softly once.
Clara’s heart had nearly leapt out of her chest—but Daniel never noticed. To him, it was just a simple request.
Was she avoiding his gaze because she disliked him?
She kept turning her head away, which made him wonder.
‘She said she can’t do anything unless it’s the King’s will, right?’
Clara’s reason for refusing him—she always said it as if the King’s will was her own.
Why was that? Everyone said the King of Verona was a tyrant. Didn’t that scare her?
He pondered her loyalty to a tyrant, then remembered the noise from earlier.
He’d heard everything from the next room. There’d been no need to eavesdrop—it was loud enough.
“Don’t worry. Go on, you’ll be fine.”
The maids had screamed in terror, but Clara’s voice had been light, almost cheerful.
Come to think of it, she’d poured antiseptic on his wounds with that same smiling face.
Just remembering the sting made him shudder.
Maybe she really was the tyrant’s sister—an angelic face hiding something sharp and cold.
Maybe she was only gentle because she shared the tyrant’s blood.
And then, a practical thought crossed his mind.
‘By the way… how long am I supposed to stay in Verona?’
He didn’t know. With a sigh, he closed his eyes. Darkness. Nothing else.
‘So this is my future, huh.’
He chuckled faintly.
Three days passed since the victory banquet, and much had changed.
No nobles openly disrespected me anymore. They might gossip behind my back, sure—but no one dared give me that “Who do you think you are?” look again.
They’d all heard what happened to Martina and her maids.
Now, when I passed nobles in the palace corridors, they all bowed politely.
A princess once shunned by everyone suddenly had the tyrant himself behind her. That’s what they thought.
In truth, I’m just trying hard to get along with him…
But there was one unintended side effect.
“No one’s volunteering?”
I had told the head maid that I needed new attendants. But not a single person applied.
I even came all the way to the Aguila Palace to follow up—only to hear that.
“Yes, Your Highness. I’ve mentioned it several times, but no one wants to volunteer… Shall I assign someone by force?”
Force people to serve me? That wasn’t ideal. I hadn’t expected this kind of backlash. The nobles now bowed deeply whenever they saw me—but apparently, their fear extended even to the servants.
Right… most maids are of noble birth too.
It made sense now. Still, it was a bit disheartening.
“I’ll wait a little longer,” I told the head maid.
So lonely.
At this rate, when would I ever gather people I could trust?
As I walked down the hall alone, brooding, I spotted the cause of my trouble.
Bastian.
He was striding down the corridor with a foul expression, red veins in his eyes from lack of sleep. His anger radiated so strongly that the servants froze in terror.
“Move!” he barked.
Harsh as ever.
After he passed, everyone reacted differently—some sighed in relief, others collapsed on the spot, and one poor soul bolted in the opposite direction.
Is that… still considered proper court etiquette?
“Clara!”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
I stopped my thoughts and bowed politely.
He barely acknowledged me before asking, “What are you doing in the main palace?”
“Oh, I just had business with the head maid.”
Good thing I’d already left her—otherwise, she might’ve fainted under his glare.
I noticed the aides behind him. They looked exhausted, especially his chief aide, who had once seemed so composed.
“You look… in a bad mood, Your Highness,” I said lightly.
Bastian pressed his lips together. His eyes were red, his expression fierce—utterly intimidating.
He looks like a tyrant even when he’s just standing there.
After a long silence, he finally spoke in a sulky voice.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
