The maids huddled together like conspiring sparrows, reading the letter over my shoulder and dissolving into giggles.
"It seems the Marquis of Rodrian is utterly smitten with Her Highness!"
"Heavens, when he wrote about his soul burning, I felt positively faint!"
Eventually they simply snatched the letter from my hands entirely, passing it among themselves with breathless excitement.
"Give that back!"
I reached for it, but the maids were too engrossed in this unexpected entertainment to acknowledge my protest.
What should I do?
A conflict arose within me. In my previous life, I would have been too intimidated by their dismissive attitude to even dare complain.
But now? Now I had the nerve to deliver a sharp rebuke if I chose.
So what should I do?
After brief deliberation, I decided to let it pass.
I needed Andrea to lower his guard.
If I don't behave exactly as I always have, Andrea will hear about it immediately. He'll find it suspicious.
I'd already embarrassed him publicly during Callius's last visit. If I compounded that humiliation by suddenly disciplining the maids—servants who'd always treated me with casual disrespect—Andrea would definitely sense something had changed.
Speaking of which, I haven't seen him since that day. I expected him to come storming in to berate me for making him look foolish...
They say even tigers appear when summoned by thought. At precisely that moment, Andrea burst through the door.
"Chloe, I heard the Marquis of Rodrian sent you gifts?"
News travels fast in this palace.
The moment Callius's delivery had arrived, apparently one of the attendants had sprinted directly to Andrea with the intelligence.
When Andrea appeared—dressed today with his usual peacock extravagance—the chattering maids instantly fell silent and arranged themselves in subservient lines.
Andrea swiftly confiscated the letter one quick-thinking maid had been clutching.
"What does he think he's doing? Sending gifts to my engaged sister!"
He scanned the contents rapidly, then scoffed with theatrical disbelief.
"What appalling prose. Surely you're not fooled by such saccharine nonsense?"
"Of course not."
"Good. Only a madwoman would appreciate such florid drivel."
This from the man who regularly deployed equally flowery language while seducing noble ladies throughout the court.
"What exactly did you discuss with the Marquis during his last visit—without my supervision? This behavior is absolutely intolerable."
"Why is it intolerable?"
"Do you truly not understand? Acting this way means he has no respect for you whatsoever."
The question "How exactly?" rose to my lips, but I swallowed it.
I was equally puzzled about Callius's motivations for this ostentatious courtship campaign. But one thing remained crystal clear:
Andrea's interpretation was complete nonsense.
I offered a vague nod—just enough to suggest agreement without committing to his twisted logic.
"I see."
Andrea immediately grew more animated, apparently convinced he'd successfully influenced my thinking.
"Chloe, your brother only tells you these things out of genuine concern for your wellbeing. From now on, if the Marquis of Rodrian calls, refuse to see him. He's an exceedingly dangerous man."
I silently contradicted his assessment.
You're thinking of me? You—the reason I can't sleep at night, the reason my eyes are bloodshot from exhaustion and trauma?
Andrea continued his lecture, oblivious to my internal refutation.
"Honestly, why would someone like him approach you? Because you're easy prey, that's why. You need to conduct yourself with more dignity, Chloe."
"..."
"Don't simply accept whatever anyone offers you."
"..."
"And really—nothing but flowers? Ha! How cheaply he must regard you to think mere flowers would win your favor. Even expensive jewels would barely suffice!"
"..."
Even though Andrea clearly didn't dare confront Callius face-to-face, he had no compunction about disparaging him behind his back.
Up to this point, I could at least tolerate his venomous monologue.
But Andrea's next words proved impossible to endure.
"Consider the jewels Viscount Pelsus sent you. Now those weren't even particularly sincere gifts, were they? Yet you can see how much the Viscount values you, can't you?"
Viscount Pelsus.
Hearing my former husband's name sent nausea rolling through my stomach.
Memories crashed over me like a wave—being beaten, being humiliated, being reduced to something less than human in his eyes.
The fear from those years returned with visceral intensity. My body trembled involuntarily.
Andrea glanced back at me and frowned, somehow managing to interpret my physical distress as offense at his criticism.
"Why that expression? Are you upset by what your brother said?"
"..."
How would my previous self have reacted to Andrea's words?
I would have blamed myself entirely.
I'm too easy a target because I don't conduct myself properly.
Why am I like this?
Who could possibly like someone as pathetic as me?
What if Brother finally abandons me because I'm too much of a burden?
I should be grateful that Viscount Pelsus is willing to marry someone like me.
I need to work harder for him. He's the kind of person who accepts me despite my flaws.
That was how I would have thought—belittling myself, feeling intimidated, cowering like a convicted criminal awaiting punishment.
I closed my eyes tightly.
Of all the thoughts I harbored, not a single one was for myself. Why did I only ever turn the whip inward?
I stepped back mentally, observing my past self as though from a distance—watching that frightened girl huddled in a psychological corner.
And I felt overwhelming compassion for her.
I spoke gently to that cowering version of myself:
Chloe, it wasn't your fault.
Yes. It wasn't my fault.
The moment that truth crystallized in my mind, tears welled up unbidden.
I'm not pathetic.
Andrea shouldn't speak to me this way.
I'm not someone who deserves careless mistreatment.
Even if I were at fault—even if I had made genuine mistakes—that wouldn't grant others license to abuse me.
And whether regarding Callius or Viscount Pelsus, I had the right to judge based on what I personally witnessed and experienced.
There was no requirement to conform my thoughts precisely to Andrea's opinions.
From now on, I will trust my own thoughts. My own judgment.
Because my life belongs to me.
I am not Andrea's doll.
Suddenly, strength surged through my body from some deep reservoir I hadn't known existed.
It felt overwhelming—intoxicating, even—to finally have someone unequivocally on my side.
Even if that someone was myself.
Tears streamed down my cheeks. But these weren't tears of sadness or rage.
These were tears of self-compassion. Of liberation.
"Chloe? Why are you crying so suddenly?"
"Thanks to you, Brother, I've gained enlightenment."
That wasn't entirely dishonest. After all, the realization had crystallized during Andrea's lecture—even if not in the way he intended.
Andrea looked smugly satisfied by my response.
"Yes, yes. Everything your brother tells you is for your own benefit. I'm glad you finally understand that."
It appeared another lengthy sermon was imminent.
I pretended agreement with Andrea while reaching for one of the vases containing Callius's roses.
"You're absolutely right, Brother. We should remove all these things from sight immediately."
"Excellent thinking. You heard Her Highness—help dispose of these worthless trinkets."
The maids, who had remained motionless when I'd attempted to manage the flowers myself, suddenly sprang into efficient action the moment Andrea issued commands.
"Your Highness, please allow me. I'll handle the cleanup."
"Thank you."
I began transferring the vase to the maid's waiting hands.
But then—
My grip "slipped."
Crash!
The crystal vase shattered against the marble floor, sending glittering shards skittering in all directions.
One fragment grazed my cheek, leaving a thin cut that immediately welled with blood.
"Oh..."
Truthfully, I was so accustomed to seeing my own blood that the minor injury barely registered.
But Andrea reacted as though I'd committed attempted murder.
He shrieked and scrambled backward, putting maximum distance between himself and the scene.
"What—what is this?!"
His panicked cries summoned his personal knights, who burst into the sitting room at a run.
"What's happened, Your Highness?"
The knights immediately positioned themselves between Andrea and me—as though I were some dangerous creature that might lunge at the delicate prince at any moment.
I'm the one who's bleeding.
Yet instead of asking if I was injured, Andrea shouted accusations from behind his human shields.
"There's no need to destroy things! A lady should possess grace and refinement. You're being far too aggressive right now, Chloe!"
This from the person who habitually claimed to be concerned about my wellbeing.
"My apologies. I should clean this up properly."
Maids materialized with cleaning supplies, moving with practiced efficiency through the chaos.
As the atmosphere descended into productive distraction, Andrea apparently forgot whatever additional lecture he'd prepared.
"Well. At least you understood my point. I'll be leaving now."
He departed with a final disapproving click of his tongue.
Having successfully achieved my objective of driving Andrea away, I roughly wiped the blood trickling down my cheek.
The cut stung, but I hardly cared.
I was far more relieved that Andrea's serpentine tongue hadn't been given additional opportunity to gnaw at my soul.
"She's completely unhinged. Absolutely mad, isn't she, Mother?"
Andrea paced restlessly, rubbing his arms as though trying to scrub away invisible contamination.
"Who does she inherit such violent tendencies from?"
He'd somehow twisted the incident into evidence of Chloe's depravity and rushed straight to Kavala's palace to report it.
Kavala's crimson lips curved into a seductive smile—one laced with malice.
"I suppose she takes after her mother. That woman was always peculiarly... temperamental, wasn't she?"
However, Kavala's interest clearly centered on the Marquis of Rodrian rather than Chloe's behavior.
"Speaking of which—the Marquis of Rodrian has developed feelings for Chloe?"
Andrea practically vibrated with agitation.
"I don't know what game he's playing. But that letter read as though he wanted to tear out my liver and consume it!"
"Oh?"
One of Kavala's elegant eyebrows arched with interest.
"What if Viscount Pelsus demands to cancel the engagement?"
Kavala considered something carefully, then approached Andrea with feline grace and patted his shoulder reassuringly.
"Don't worry, Andrea."
She whispered with silken menace.
"I believe we should wait a bit longer before acting."
"You're just going to leave the Marquis of Rodrian alone? But he knows our secrets—!"
"Careful."
Kavala cut him off sharply. Her eyes had frozen to ice. The air itself seemed to crystallize with sudden tension.
"You must watch your tongue, Andrea."
Andrea swallowed hard and fell silent at her gentle but unmistakably firm warning.
"Yes. Much better."
Kavala smiled again. Andrea finally released the breath he'd been holding.
She patted her son's head as one might a nervous pet, then returned to the seat opposite him.
"Don't concern yourself unnecessarily. Your mother never conducts business at a loss. For now, we'll allow the Marquis of Rodrian to act as he pleases."
A deeply meaningful smile curved her lips—one that promised schemes within schemes.
What exactly is his strategy?
I stared at yet another letter and fresh bouquet that had arrived that morning, deeply perplexed.
Callius had been sending flowers and romantic correspondence every single day for an entire week without fail.
There had even been several occasions when he'd apparently lingered near my quarters before departing. The maids had been absolutely delighted to report these sightings.
"I heard the Marquis of Rodrian cries out Her Highness's name every night!"
"Someone said he's fallen ill from missing Her Highness so desperately?"
"Apparently he's stopped eating and drinking entirely!"
Suddenly the maids pretended friendship with me, eagerly questioning me about Callius with barely concealed excitement.
They'd discovered an entertaining new diversion.
Listening to their gossip only deepened my confusion.
Where are they even hearing these absurd rumors? More importantly, what is the Marquis of Rodrian thinking? Am I so oblivious that I'm missing some crucial signal he's sending?
Unable to contact Callius directly under Andrea's surveillance, my frustration mounted daily.
You're supposed to be persuading the Emperor and Empress to approve our marriage. Why are you sending me flowers and love letters instead?
Should I trust him and remain passive? Or should I take independent action?
My anxiety escalated with each passing day.
But then one night, something shocking occurred.
Empress Kavala summoned me.
And announced without preamble:
"Chloe, you will be going to Ronheim."
"...What?"
Everything was about to change.
---