Chapter 5
A shocking piece of news reached the Opal Palace in the middle of the night. The 12th Prince was coming to visit.
“The 12th Prince? Why? For what reason?!”
“We’re doomed. We’re all going to die!”
“Sniff… I should’ve told my kids I loved them during my last break…”
The servants of Opal Palace descended into chaos. Some were stunned, some in disbelief, others lost their minds to fear. One even began writing a will while crying.
The pandemonium that swept through the Opal Palace was proof of just how infamous Richard was—and a glimpse into the kind of servants the palace employed.
A palace servant is supposed to be the limbs of royalty. They work in the most secretive places and hear the most confidential stories.
So, a good servant must not only be skillful and quick-witted but also loyal to their master.
But the servants of Opal Palace possessed none of those virtues.
It was only natural.
Most of the roughly ten servants in Opal Palace were actually spies sent by other royals.
Loyalty? Out of the question. As for ability, if they had any, why would they have come to serve a trivial royal like the 17th Princess?
In other words, even if they were killed by the 12th Prince’s sword, their ‘real masters’ wouldn’t bat an eye.
The servants of Opal Palace, lacking ability but fully aware of their place, knew that well.
So they turned to Lucillia for help.
At least on the surface, she was their master—a soft-hearted girl who would often give in to unreasonable requests.
Compared to the 12th Prince, she had almost no power, but still—wasn’t a fellow royal better than nothing?
With that conclusion, the servants knocked on Lucillia’s door.
Please protect us when the 12th Prince arrives.
But they didn’t even get a chance to say that.
The moment Lucillia heard Richard was coming, she spoke with a determination they had never seen in her before.
“No. Tell him not to come.”
Then she slammed the door shut.
Moments later, the sound of a lock clicking was heard.
“…I guess I’d better write my will too!”
Someone shouted in a voice full of despair.
***
What’s happening?
What the hell is going on?!
I rolled around on the bed, clutching my head.
Richard’s coming here? Why?! For what reason?!
Where did it go wrong? Didn’t we part on decent terms?
Did he think it was rude of me to approach him so recklessly? Or… does he still think I’m an assassin?
Considering the Richard from the original novel, maybe it’s something ridiculously simple. Maybe he just thought I was rude for stealing his jerky and came to kill me for it…
“Princess! Princess!”
The servants were knocking on the locked door.
“The 12th Prince has already left the Ruby Palace! Even if you tell him not to come, he won’t listen! Please prepare to receive him!”
Their voices were desperate. Not just in my memories, but even in Lucillia’s, the servants had never clung to her like this before.
But right now, I had my own problems—and they were not on my side!
Ignoring their cries, I focused on figuring out how to survive this crisis.
I didn’t know why he was coming, but one thing was clear: Richard’s target wasn’t Lucillia, it was the “maid” he met earlier.
What would happen if he discovered my identity in this situation?
Richard is incredibly moody. He also despises lies and underhanded tricks.
If he found out I was a princess, he might fly into a rage for “lying” and just kill me on the spot.
But… what if I just stayed locked in my room?
He’s already trespassing in my palace without permission. Surely he wouldn’t go as far as to barge into my bedroom too?
He might search the Opal Palace looking for the maid he met earlier, but if I’m not there, what can he do? Maybe after cooling off, he’ll just go back.
Yes, that’s it. I clenched my fists, my resolve hardened.
And if—just if—Richard turned out to be even crazier than I imagined and broke down my door?
…Then I’d just beg for forgiveness.
It was a pitiful and pathetic conclusion. I grabbed my head again in despair.
***
Richard entered the Opal Palace with a terrifying expression.
The servants all looked like they were about to drop dead from fear. Richard swept them with a piercing gaze.
Even at a glance, they were worthless. But none of them looked starved.
There wasn’t a single one who looked as emaciated as that child he’d seen in the forest.
Richard’s face twisted.
“Where’s the princess?”
When he asked, the man at the front turned deathly pale.
“S-she is… unwell…”
“Unwell?”
Unable to withstand Richard’s killing intent, the man looked like he might faint. A middle-aged woman beside him stepped in.
“She took some medicine and is sleeping now. We’re deeply sorry, but she did ask us to serve you well in her place. We know this is extremely rude, but…”
Though she began calmly, under Richard’s gaze, her words grew increasingly incoherent. Fortunately, Luke stepped forward to assist.
“I heard the 17th Princess has been frail since birth.”
“Sure she has.”
Richard scoffed.
“I came to ask her something.”
“Y-yes! Please ask!”
The man from earlier bowed repeatedly. He seemed to be the head attendant.
“There’s a blonde maid working here, right?”
“Pardon?”
He asked back reflexively, then swallowed hard under Richard’s threatening glare.
“Y-yes! There are two!”
He shouted.
“Which one’s younger?”
“Miriam. She’s fifteen this year.”
The middle-aged woman replied. Richard’s expression turned strange.
“Fifteen? Isn’t there anyone younger?”
“She’s the youngest here, actually…”
Richard seemed to think for a moment before speaking.
“Bring her to me.”
“Pardon?”
At this repeated question, Richard’s already thin patience snapped. He silently drew his sword.
“Eeeek! I-I’ll bring her right away!”
The head attendant vanished, and a suffocating silence filled the room. Richard sat heavily in a worn guest chair—still holding his sword.
Five minutes felt like five hundred years.
Eventually, the head attendant returned with a young maid, who timidly entered the parlor.
“You… asked for me…?”
Richard glared at her like he was about to kill her.
A girl with short blonde hair. Her round eyes were filled with equal parts fear and curiosity. A thoroughly ordinary girl, the kind you’d see anywhere.
“Hah.”
A laugh escaped Richard’s lips.
The faces of the palace staff brightened. They mistakenly thought the 12th Prince was in a good mood.
Meanwhile, Luke and his men—who knew Richard well—turned pale and exchanged nervous glances.
“Ha ha ha… ha.”
The laughter faded. Richard stood, still holding his sword.
“So this is the answer my sister gave me?”
“Pardon?”
“Where is the princess’s room?”
The head attendant blinked.
He had no idea what was happening. He was just told to bring the blonde maid, so he did. What did that have to do with the princess’s answer?
It was a perfectly reasonable question. No wonder he hesitated.
But that hesitation sealed his fate.
Roll… thud.
It happened so fast no one, not even the knights, could immediately understand what was happening.
“AAAAAHHHH!”
Someone screamed and bolted. The stench of blood filled the air.
The head attendant’s severed head rolled on the floor.
“I’ll ask one last time.”
Richard said calmly, as if nothing had happened.
“Where is Lucillia?”
“The last room on the second floor!”
a servant shrieked.
Richard turned and strode out of the parlor.
“Your Highness, wait!”
Luke hurried after him, but Richard didn’t stop. He stormed up the stairs.
His grinding teeth and murderous glare radiated fury.
You dare lie to me?
He thought as he climbed.
That girl he saw earlier definitely worked here. And yet, even when faced with death, the servants refused to hand her over.
There could only be one explanation:
The master of this palace—Lucillia—was hiding her.
Richard’s logic had many holes. But he’d never been the type to think deeply, and right now he was furious.
So, firmly convinced he was right, he stood before the last room on the second floor.
Without hesitation, Richard kicked the door.
The thick wooden door shattered like sugar candy.
“Kyaaah!”
A small figure fell off the bed inside.
“Are you Lucillia?”
Richard asked, glancing around the room. Just in case—but no, no one else was there.
He approached the trembling figure under the bed. Grabbing her shoulders, he forced her up.
“You! Where did you hide that girl—?!”
But the words never finished.
His red eyes widened, then froze.
“I-I’m sorry…”
A girl with long blonde hair and a worn-out dress. Her wide green eyes were filled with terror. She trembled as she spoke.
“I did something wrong… I’m sorry…”
“You, you’re…”
It was a familiar face.
“You’re the princess?”
***
When Richard broke down my door, I was so terrified I couldn’t even scream.
I mean, yeah, he’s crazy—but who knew he’d literally smash through a locked door just because I said I was sick?
And that sword in his hand—if my eyes weren’t deceiving me, there was blood on it.
No way I could stay calm.
“Kyaaah!”
I tried to get off the bed, slipped, and fell to the floor. My trembling hands hit the ground.
“You! Where did you hide that girl—?!”
Richard grabbed me and forced me to my feet. My shoulder felt like it would break under his grip.
The room was thick with his murderous aura. It was hard to even breathe. The air felt heavy, like it had weight crushing me.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
I didn’t even know what he was saying. At some point, I couldn’t even tell what I was saying anymore.
Am I really going to die this time?
Was yesterday the last of my miracles…?
Maybe death was close, because it was suddenly easier to breathe.
Now that I thought about it, my shoulder didn’t hurt as much either.
“You, you’re…”
Heaven? Is this heaven?
“You’re the princess?”
A beautiful face appeared before my eyes.
Ah, I knew it—this must be heaven.
I smiled dumbly.
“An angel.”
