Meanwhile, at that very same hour.
In the Lemut estate, a strange new rumor was beginning to spread. The talk of Charlize Altsbeit helping the flood victims hadn't faded as expected; instead, it had grown more elaborate with every passing day.
The story of the Princess ignoring the rare gifts from the adults but giving gold coins to children in exchange for simple raspberries had become a local legend.
*"The noble Princess!"*
*"The merciful Charlize!"*
*"Our future Duchess!"*
Farmers were even incorporating her name into their work songs. The rumor reached a fever pitch when Piace and Pina returned from the Altsbeit mansion, their arms loaded with toys and expensive gifts.
"Stop this at once," Askin growled, pressing his hands to his throbbing temples. "Suppress the rumors. Don't let another word of this nonsense spread."
"Yes, Your Excellency," his assistant, Ben, replied with a bow.
Askin was fuming. He was certain Charlize was using the village children to manipulate public opinion. But what hurt him most was seeing his own sister, Aria, so thoroughly enchanted by the "Vicious Princess."
*"Brother, she isn't as bad as we thought! I think we were just too quick to judge her heart."*
Aria’s words stung. He couldn't forgive Charlize for what she’d done in the past, but her recent proposal wouldn't leave his head.
*"One year. Stay with me for just one year, and I’ll set you free. I’ll even clear your debt. I’ll put my life on the line with a magic contract."*
Why was he even considering it? He stared at his own reflection in the window, his expression troubled. Finally, he came to a decision.
"Ben. Prepare the carriage."
* * *
By the time I returned to the mansion, I was utterly exhausted. As the carriage came to a stop, Noah, who had been riding with me in silence, spoke softly.
"Princess... are you alright?"
'Would you be alright if you were in my shoes?' I thought. Today had been a whirlwind—dealing with the Emperor, the designer, and the fallout of a theft I hadn't even known occurred.
I didn't have the energy to answer him. I just gave him a tired, flat look.
Noah looked a bit hurt. For a second, I felt sorry for him—he was just a man with blue hair trying to do his job for a difficult master.
"His Majesty asked me to convey something to you," he said. "The matter of the knight, Martin... his punishment has been left to His Majesty’s discretion."
"Tell him I don't care," I muttered. "He can do whatever he wants with that snake."
I suspected Loxdian was just looking for another way to mock me, or perhaps to test my reaction. Noah gave me a small, awkward smile and nodded.
As I moved to step out of the carriage, I felt my feet leave the ground.
"You look exhausted. Let me carry you to your room," Noah said, lifting me with surprising ease.
My reaction was instantaneous. Charlize’s body remembered how to respond to "unwanted touching" far better than my mind did.
*Slap!*
Noah froze, his cheek turning red.
"How dare you?" I hissed. "Do you think you can just touch me whenever you feel like it?"
Noah slowly set me down, bowed deeply, and apologized. He looked... used to it. He turned and walked away without another word.
'...What was that?'
I didn't even have the energy to be truly angry, but Charlize’s temper had just exploded out of nowhere. I scratched my head in frustration.
'In the book, Charlize was a nightmare to work for. I guess Noah is just accustomed to her being a brat.'
Did he think I was only being nice because we shared a secret now? Or because I was the only one who could control his Emperor’s madness? It made sense.
Instead of going through the front door, I decided to take a walk in the garden to clear my head. I dismissed the maids and sat in a small pavilion, closing my eyes.
'Ugh, my hand really hurts.'
I hadn't expected the slap to hurt *me* so much. My wrist was throbbing. It was a strange irony—ever since I’d woken up in this body, I’d been plagued by constant physical pain. Fever, stomach aches, and now a possible sprain from hitting my own knight.
'Is this my ordeal? The price I have to pay for being a wealthy, beautiful villainess?'
I took a deep breath of the cool night air. I was just about to head back inside when a shadow fell across my feet.
"Hello, Princess. We meet again."
I looked up, squinting against the moonlight. A familiar face was smiling down at me—grayish-brown hair, emerald eyes, and that unmistakable beauty mark under one eye.
It was Ian Child. The man I’d met at the Lemut estate.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice flat.
Ian didn't seem bothered by my lack of hospitality. He bowed with a grace that was almost too perfect.
"I had the honor of visiting the Altsbeit family today, and I was hoping I might have the chance to see the noble Princess once more."
"Why me?"
I studied him. He was incredibly handsome—not as striking as Askin, perhaps, but he had a kind of gentle, alluring beauty that I’d always found difficult to resist back in my old world. But in this world, beauty usually came with a hidden agenda.
"I’m afraid I haven't done anything to deserve such a warm welcome," he said, his smile widening.
"You haven't." My eyes narrowed.
Ian didn't miss a beat. He turned to a servant waiting nearby, who brought forward several heavy boxes.
"I brought a small gift," Ian said, gesturing to the crates. "This is a vintage wine from the Kingdom of Adete, across the sea. It’s a rare vintage, produced only in a small region I visited just last month."
He opened one of the boxes to reveal several dusty bottles of dark glass.
"I heard the Princess has a refined taste for fine alcohol. I hope these find their way to your table."
"..."
* * *
I was at a loss for words.
Alcohol was the last thing I wanted to see. My memories of Charlize’s frequent hangovers—and my own recent experience with the "raspberry incident"—made the idea of a drink sound like a punishment.
But Ian Child was watching me with a look that was almost too helpful. It was suspicious. Why would a man I barely knew show up at my home with a crate of expensive wine?
According to what I knew, Charlize was a notorious drinker. She loved alcohol, collected it, and was known for being more agreeable when she’d had a few glasses. Ian had clearly done his research.
"Is... something wrong?" he asked, his smile faltering slightly. "Do you not like this particular vintage?"
I stayed silent. I didn't know what this man’s game was. If I accepted the wine, I’d be indebted to him. If I refused, I’d be acting "out of character," which might raise questions.
'What do I do? If I don't take it, he’ll think I’m onto him.'
But what if the wine was poisoned? A villainess like Charlize must have a thousand enemies who’d love to see her dead.
I hesitated, my hand hovering near the box. Finally, I reached out to take one of the bottles.
Ian’s expression brightened as he handed it to me. But in the moment our fingers brushed, I flinched and pulled my hand back as if I’d been burned.