Chapter 113
I had no memory of when I’d returned to the Rose Palace, or when I’d fallen asleep. My eyelids felt unbearably heavy as I finally managed to lift them. Debbie was sitting quietly beside the bed, watching me.
“Are you feeling alri—cough…”
The moment I spoke, my throat burned sharply. Debbie handed me a glass of water. The cool liquid soothed the sting, and I drained the glass in one go.
“I don’t really remember much. Uh… did everything go… well yesterday?”
My last memory was… losing all rational thought. I’d been shouting all sorts of things while Raymond held me. And Raymond—Raymond had kept apologizing, over and over, saying unbelievable things.
‘I’m sorry.’
Again and again, the words spilled from him like he was coughing up blood.
He probably meant every word.
But yesterday, I’d been like a candle burnt down to its wick—so empty that no thoughts would come. His words had felt distant, unreal.
Don’t blame yourself… It was such a painfully Raymond-like thing to say—responsible and sincere. Was I such a mess that he’d been that desperate to apologize and convince me?
I probably was.
I deliberately avoided saying his name and cautiously glanced at Debbie.
“Yes,” she said.
“Well, I’m sure you handled it all fine.”
“How’s your body feeling?”
“My eyes sting a bit…”
“Your eyelids are super swollen, my lady. You look like a goldfish.”
—Wow, really! (ง˙∇˙)ว Contractor, did you open your eyes? Doesn’t look like it!
It’s very rude to comment on someone’s looks right after they’ve woken up, Goma!
“….”
I touched my pillowcase—it was damp. Had I been crying in my sleep? Debbie quietly wiped my eyes with a cool, wet towel. As my vision cleared, something strange caught the corner of my eye.
“…What’s that?”
Debbie shrugged and dragged over a tray that had been sitting by the bed. I thought it was food, but it wasn’t—it was stacked with several small boxes.
The first thing she handed me was a little wrapped gift with a card. On the card, written in neat handwriting, were the words:
“Sister, I hope you always have good dreams. This is a friend who keeps me from having nightmares—he’ll help your dreams too!”
I opened the package, and what should’ve been a small gift puffed up into something huge and fluffy—a rabbit doll with bright red gemstone eyes. Despite everything, I burst out laughing.
“What is this—doesn’t Bibi love this thing? She’s just giving it to me?”
“Yes, ‘Mr. Rabbit’ is quite a capable doll.”
“…Capable?” I asked, blinking.
“‘Mr. Rabbit’s’ eyes are made from top-grade ruby magic stones. They repel intruders who approach at night and protect their owner. It also has a lullaby feature—you can even change the song.”
“…Just send it back.”
“If you send it back, she might send you ‘Mr. Rabbit with the Carrot’ next time.”
“And what exactly is that?”
“The carrot’s a weapon, of course! Specially treated—”
“Do they have an entire army of battle dolls or something?!”
Debbie only grinned. Silly question. Of course Duke Castrain would gift his beloved daughter enchanted defense dolls or whatever else she wanted.
The next gift was a pale gold box. When I opened it, I found it filled to the brim with dried flower petals. I recognized them immediately—they were the same flowers I’d seen blooming like rain in the southern region. The kind that didn’t grow near the capital.
“What’s this? Did Count Cortez send it?”
“Ah, no… it was from the young lord.”
Debbie’s eyes darted nervously toward me. I brushed my fingers lightly over the petals. They were so fragile that they’d crumble to dust if handled roughly. Had he really taken the time to gather these, one by one?
The thought of Raymond quietly collecting those petals made my heart ache strangely. A faint fragrance lingered. I quickly closed the lid before it faded completely.
Another box was full of fresh fruit, with a short note tucked inside: “Eating well is the best medicine.”
I snorted. That one was easy to guess.
“So everyone sent gifts because I was depressed yesterday?”
“Yep.”
“Tell them all thank you. I’ll have to pull myself together.”
“Shouldn’t you rest for at least one full day first?”
“I’m fine now. I feel refreshed. I’m going to see Her Majesty, so please call Mary for me.”
I smiled brightly. My body was heavy, but my heart felt much lighter.
* * *
“Are… are you all right, Your Majesty?”
Elaine looked at the timid woman before her with a perfectly expressionless face.
The Emperor had personally come to the Licorice Palace. He’d flown into a rage upon seeing how poor the conditions were—forgetting, perhaps, that he himself had been the one who allowed her to live in such misery. Or maybe he knew and simply didn’t care.
Elaine’s green eyes lingered on the dusty curtain hem. The chief maid—who’d been scolded harshly by the Emperor for her supposed neglect—kept stealing nervous glances at her mistress.
“No. I’ve never been all right.”
“Th-then… at least, please drink this…”
Despite her title of chief maid, the woman looked and behaved no differently than a common servant. She stammered as she offered a glass filled with cloudy liquid—perhaps the only person in this palace who genuinely cared about Elaine.
The drink rippled faintly in the crystal cup. Without hesitation, Elaine raised it and swallowed every drop. Her already pale face turned even whiter, but she didn’t so much as flinch.
“Y-your Majesty, didn’t you decide to follow Her Highness Cleo’s wishes? Then why are you still…”
“Do you really think that woman would ever let me die peacefully?”
Her voice dripped with a bitter, glass-sharp laugh.
“The Emperor saw how he drools every time he looks at me. If I weren’t practically barren, Cleo would’ve forced infertility pills down my throat just to make sure…”
Though her voice was soft, each word carried the cold precision of a dagger forged from fine steel. The maid hesitated before whispering timidly:
“You… met Princess Titania today, didn’t you?”
“…”
“Didn’t… didn’t that change anything?”
Elaine said nothing at first. She looked at the maid—the same girl who had stayed by her side for years. Now she bore the title of chief maid, but her manner hadn’t changed at all: gentle eyes, clumsy honesty, incapable of deceit. The one who had remained beside her, weeping quietly, throughout her long years of self-imposed isolation.
“…Your Majesty Elaine.”
The memory of that girl’s calm, trembling voice flickered in her mind.
‘I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you safe and well.’
Never once had she called Elaine mother.
And yet that girl’s face—so much older, but still uncertain, still hesitant—lingered in her memory.
“I have no emotions left to waste on that child,” Elaine said flatly. “The only man I ever loved died to save her. The only woman I ever called a friend vanished, saying she was sacrificing herself for a brighter future. Noble, aren’t they? Righteous, and magnificent. But I—I was too small, too weak. I hate that I’m her mother. I hate her because the people I loved left me for her sake.”
Back when she was a young count’s daughter, Elaine had dreamed of an ordinary life.
She’d hated her family, who bound her with duty and intrigue. Though they never told her openly, the house had been steeped in conspiracies—dirty secrets traded behind closed doors.
To them, Elaine wasn’t family; she was a commodity to be sold. There were no kind memories.
So when she lost her memory and was known merely as a commoner, she’d felt free—happy with her kind bodyguard and her mysterious female friend. As long as she had those two, nothing else mattered.
“Take me away with you.”
That was what she’d begged her knight when she learned the Emperor had taken interest in her, and that her family wouldn’t oppose it.
“I don’t care if my family’s punished for defying the Emperor’s order. I never wanted a life of luxury. Please. Just take me anywhere—away from here…”
