Chapter 21
The child stared at Rosé’s reflection in the mirror, and when their eyes met, she giggled.
She looked completely content, without the slightest trace of dissatisfaction. Rosé glanced down at the yellow ribbon in her hand. The child had said she liked it, so there should be no problem with putting it in her hair.
But…
Rosé’s gaze drifted once more toward Flitta. The girl, who had been looking at Rosé, was now sneakily eyeing the box of ribbons on the vanity. She had done the same a moment ago. Back then, Rosé had let it slide without much thought.
“Princess.”
Flitta looked up at Rosé’s voice, her eyes flicking away from the ribbon box she had been peeking at. Rosé, who had been fixing Flitta’s hair from behind, moved around to her side and knelt down. That naturally brought their eyes to the same level, causing the child to look slightly downward.
“Would you prefer a different ribbon?”
“Huh? Ah… No!”
Flitta’s pale green eyes widened, then she quickly shook her head. But Rosé could tell right away that the child wasn’t being honest.
The way she nervously watched Rosé’s expression…
Her tiny hands fidgeting in distress…
All of it told Rosé something else entirely.
“Princess.”
Flitta.
Rosé softly called her. Flitta lowered her eyes, then slowly looked back up at Rosé and opened her mouth hesitantly.
“I, I really did want the yellow ribbon…”
“But now that I think about it, I feel like a different ribbon might suit you better today.”
Rosé gently cut in before Flitta could continue stammering. At her words, Flitta blinked in surprise, then nodded.
“Okay! I’ll wear a different one.”
“Which ribbon would you like?”
“…Huh? Uh, well… um…”
Flitta’s pale green eyes shifted left and right. It was clear she was still reading Rosé’s expression. Rosé bit down hard on the inside of her cheek.
She was angry. Deep down, a surge of frustration and anger welled up at the sight of a child who couldn’t even speak honestly about what she liked. But she wasn’t angry at Flitta. The child had done nothing wrong. If there was fault, it lay squarely with the adults.
They were the ones who had made the child so self-conscious…
The ones who had made her feel unable to even choose the ribbon she wanted…
“I, Princess…”
Rosé smiled gently at Flitta, who was still watching her warily. Then, as if sharing a secret, she whispered in a small voice:
“Honestly, I wanted to let my hair down today.”
“Huh? B-but you can’t…”
Flitta’s eyes grew round with shock at Rosé’s words. She looked like she’d just heard something incredibly serious, her eyes trembling with concern. Rosé looked at her calmly and asked,
“Why not?”
“B-because… maids have to keep their hair neatly tied. Otherwise, they get scolded. The nanny is scary. Rosé will cry.”
Flitta wore a worried expression as if she truly feared for Rosé. Her fidgeting hands gripped each other tightly. Rosé looked down at the child’s pale knuckles and gently reached out, wrapping her small hands in her own.
“You don’t want me to get scolded?”
“…Huh?”
Flitta looked down at the warm hand covering hers, then lifted her gaze. Rosé looked straight into her clear eyes and asked again:
“You don’t want me to cry?”
“…Mm.”
After a short pause, Flitta finally gave a little nod. A smile spread across Rosé’s lips.
She was proud of the child, yet also felt a twinge of sorrow. The way Flitta cared so deeply for others was beautiful, but it saddened her that the girl had matured so early.
She’s only five years old.
Worrying about what others think and fearing scoldings wasn’t something a five-year-old should be dealing with. It would’ve been more natural for her to be whining or getting into mischief.
“…The nanny is really scary,”
Flitta murmured again, her eyes darting nervously. Rosé forced a smile and gently wrapped both of Flitta’s hands in hers. The child glanced down at their clasped hands, then looked up at Rosé again.
“Are you scared of being scolded?”
“…”
“Is that why you didn’t choose the ribbon yourself?”
At Rosé’s question, Flitta blinked, then averted her gaze. Rosé quietly observed the child’s pouting lips and lowered eyes. Eventually, Flitta hesitantly nodded.
Everything made sense now. The timid, withdrawn behavior she had witnessed over the past week wasn’t just in her imagination.
Rosé let go of Flitta’s hands. Startled, the girl immediately looked up at her, her eyes filled with worry.
But Rosé didn’t flinch. She simply brought her hands to the back of her own head and untied her neatly done hair.
“…!”
Flitta’s mouth dropped open. Her eyes grew huge, as if she had just witnessed a dragon or a fairy in front of her. Rosé grinned mischievously at her.
“So what if we get scolded?”
“B-but still…”
So shocked was the child that she spoke in a babyish lisp. Yet her eyes kept darting to the soft waves of Rosé’s now-loose dark brown hair cascading over her shoulders.
“Princess, I’m coming in now.”
The nanny stood outside the door, politely announced herself, clasped her hands, and slightly lifted her chin. From inside, the sound of footsteps approached. Likely the princess’s personal maid.
Having a personal maid does make things easier, the nanny thought.
Before, it had been her duty to wake the princess in the morning and attend to various tasks. Though trivial chores had always been shared among the maids.
Straightening her posture with that thought, the nanny watched the door open. She took a step inside, chin still lifted.
“…?”
Her brow furrowed. It was Rosé, bowing politely in her maid uniform, who had opened the door.
“What is this appearance… My goodness, Princess!”
The nanny had been about to criticize Rosé for not tying up her hair neatly, but her gaze fell on the princess, and she let out a gasp of horror.
“Why is the princess’s hair like that?!”
She barely avoided blurting out “like that” and hastily corrected herself. Still, her words were sharp.
She trembled as if personally insulted and glared at Rosé with a frigid gaze. Just as Rosé opened her mouth to respond, Flitta jumped up from the sofa and shouted:
“I-I asked her to! Because I wanted lots of ribbons!”
Flitta’s voice was loud and unsteady, but she had found the courage to speak up. The nanny’s eyes twitched, seemingly surprised.
“For such a petty reason… This…”
Clicking her tongue, the nanny looked Flitta over again.
The ends of her hair were decorated with multiple colorful ribbons braided into several strands.
It was far from a proper appearance for a princess. It looked childish and gaudy—something fit for a commoner’s child. Clearly, the one responsible was none other than the personal maid.
“Fix her hair immediately! Remove those ribbons and tidy it up!”
The nanny snapped at Rosé. Her voice was loud enough to make Flitta flinch and take a step back. Rosé tightly clasped her hands and looked toward the child. Flitta gazed at her, eyes wide and trembling.
It’s okay.
Rosé gave her a silent, reassuring smile, then turned toward the nanny and spoke:
“I styled the princess’s hair with ribbons she chose herself, Nanny.”
“You call that an excuse? She’s just a child—how would she know what looks right? If it’s not appropriate, you should—”
“The Princess chose it herself.”
Rosé cut her off and deliberately emphasized the word princess. Only then did the nanny realize her slip of the tongue and bite her lip.
Calling her “just a child” in front of the princess had been a clear misstep.
It wasn’t the first time she had referred to Flitta as just a child. The timid and well-behaved princess had never tattled to her father, so the nanny had grown increasingly bold in her remarks.
But with the grand duke’s hand-picked maid present, the situation was different.
“…Yes, of course. The Princess chose it. Ah! We’re going to be late for breakfast. I’ll overlook it just this once. Let’s head to the dining room, Princess.”
Feigning composure, the nanny turned to Flitta. The girl glanced between Rosé and the nanny, then let out a small sigh of relief and nodded.
“Your Grace.”
As he entered the dining room, Haven frowned. Something felt subtly out of place. His eyes briefly rested on the head maid, who wore an odd expression, and he strode toward the table.
“….”
But he didn’t make it all the way. He stopped several steps short, a flicker of surprise crossing his usually composed blue eyes.
“…Good morning.”
A simple morning greeting. Spoken so quietly, one had to strain to hear it.
But this morning greeting was anything but ordinary.
To be more precise, it was his daughter’s shy voice as she offered the greeting and hid behind her maid—that was what felt unfamiliar today.
