“Are you going to accept it?”
“Accept what?”
Adeline was eating the soup the maid had brought. It was a creamy broth rich with clams. Every spoonful lifted to her lips drew a faint smile—an exquisite blend of flavors. The seasoning was top-tier, and the salt perfectly measured.
“It’s the third time the chef made that soup, you know?”
“So?”
Of course she knew. She hadn’t even touched the first bowl before throwing it. The second she tasted once—and threw as well. The horrified maid had screamed, but Adeline hadn’t blinked.
She mocked that the first smelled like a beggar’s meal and the second tasted like sewer water. The maid had surely repeated her cruel words word-for-word to the chef. A chef who likely saw working in the Crown Prince’s palace as the honor of a lifetime, now forced to endure a brutal test at the hands of the princess who had suddenly returned.
“Why did you do that?”
The maid asked reproachfully, watching Adeline hum happily while eating. The girl seemed to genuinely like Adeline, so she decided to answer honestly.
“The first one was mashed potatoes with goat’s milk. The second had onion and salt added.”
“So?”
“That’s what the fourth-class slaves eat.”
The maid’s mouth dropped open.
Adeline Vita may have been a princess, but she wasn’t born royal. She was from the slave class—Vita.
Though slavery had supposedly been abolished across the continent, Marma remained a rigid class society. The powerful clung to the hierarchy by replacing “slave” with words like “Vita.”
Naturally, a revolt broke out. When the uprising of the Vita class spread beyond control, the king resorted to a shallow tactic.
“As a father to the people, I will adopt a girl of the Vita class and raise her with love.”
That girl had been Adeline—a puppet chosen by the king to calm the people. The chef had probably wanted to remind her of that fact.
“Then… will you keep doing this?” the maid asked hesitantly.
“If you’re asking whether I’ll throw the plate every time the food doesn’t please me, yes.”
Naturally. She deserved to be treated properly. If that chef dared to repeat the offense, he’d be remaking the same dish until he died.
Adeline grew curious about how the maid would report this to the Crown Prince. Would she say the princess had gone mad? Or simply that she was always like this?
The maid kept hesitating, glancing nervously between thoughts. Adeline let her stew.
“P-Princess?”
“What is it?”
“Shall I brush your hair?”
So she’s decided not to report it. Adeline, a bit disappointed, nodded lazily from her half-reclined posture on the bed.
The maid approached with an ivory comb. Despite her young age, her fingers were surprisingly skilled. She applied perfumed oil and massaged the strands before gently brushing.
“I heard before I came that Your Highness had silver hair.”
“So?”
“Up close, it’s more like soft, cloudy gray.”
“Disappointed?”
“No. It’s beautiful.”
This time, it felt sincere—her hands were careful, devoted.
She’s unpredictable. Adeline was certain this girl was a spy sent by Cesare. Yet she neither hated nor looked down on her.
“Your eyes too… I’ve never seen anything like them.”
“My eyes?”
“They said they were like violets, and I didn’t believe it. But they really are a deep, bluish purple—like a butterfly. Have you seen a swallowtail?”
Of course. Black wings veined with shimmering violet.
“The other maids haven’t arrived yet. They were supposed to come today, but maybe they’re late…”
The Queen’s head maid was in charge of assigning royal attendants. And since she despised Adeline, she was likely busy picking out the most incompetent ones she could find.
Adeline closed her eyes and drifted into thought.
Her father visiting last night had been expected. But Cesare still hadn’t shown himself. Not because he was too busy—there had to be a personal reason. But what?
“Would you like the newspaper?”
The maid asked again. Adeline was starting to get irritated by her constant questions. But the girl quickly caught on and brought one without waiting for a reply.
“It’s all I could get from the staff lodgings.”
Of course. These were third-rate tabloids that obsessed over nobles’ scandals—who was cheating, who broke up, or who was murdered.
“Um, Princess?”
The maid interrupted again as Adeline read the paper with a serious face.
“Will you accept it? That, um… that thing.”
“What thing?”
“The Lion King’s…”
“If you don’t say it quickly, I won’t answer.”
“His proposal!”
She whispered it like someone might be listening, lips twitching all morning, now finally blurting out what she’d been dying to ask. That’s what she meant earlier too—Adeline remembered the maid had been there when it happened. She’d missed the important parts while sleeping, but remembered the Lion King’s proposal vividly.
She must have been dying to ask. Adeline closed the newspaper with a snap and looked at the girl.
If she told the truth, Cesare would hear of it. Adeline hadn’t forgotten that—not once since she left Nova and returned to Marma.
“The Lion King is Marma’s benefactor.”
“Pardon?”
“They say even in Nova that he drove out the bandits who ruled the southern border. A warrior whose strength is so overwhelming, people wonder if he has divine blood. And he’s young and handsome to boot. You’d think he’s all brawn and no brain, but he’s clever too, no?”
“Princess? What are you saying…?”
“Why do you think a man like that would propose to me?”
The maid fell silent, eyes filled with anxiety.
Adeline smiled calmly.
“Because I’m beautiful. Obviously.”
The maid dropped the comb in shock. Adeline had no intention of answering her actual question.
“What was your name again?”
“Pardon?”
“Your name. I think I heard it, but I don’t remember.”
“C-Collin… Collin Dobby.”
Collin. A nice name.
Adeline smiled faintly and unfolded the paper again.
“Go on now, Collin. I think the other maids have arrived.”
Outside, the noise was growing. “Adeline.”
“…Don’t call me that.”
Her voice was icy. Low and razor-sharp, it cut through the air with a clarity that left no room for misinterpretation. It was the first time she’d acknowledged that she even knew his name—and she made it clear he had no right to speak hers.
“You have no right to call me by that name.”
Lachiel Baltica narrowed his brows slightly but said nothing in return. He merely stood before her, quietly observing. After a long silence, he finally spoke.
“Since it’s the first time, I’ll let it slide.”
“So, what do you want?”
Adeline arched a brow as she asked, her tone cold and curt. There was no warmth in her voice, only a firm, steely distance.
Lachiel didn’t respond right away. He stepped closer, slowly, as if testing the boundary between them.
“Your wound… seems to be healing.”
She looked down instinctively at her shoulder, where the bandages were now clean and firm. Her body still ached, but she wouldn’t show it.
“Is that what you came here for? To admire your handiwork?”
“No,” he replied simply. “I came to give you a choice.”
Adeline scoffed.
“A choice? From a man who kidnapped me and dragged me to a shack in the woods? You think I trust you enough to listen?”
His expression didn’t change.
“I didn’t drag you here. You would’ve bled out if I hadn’t taken you.”
“Then maybe you should’ve let me.”
There was no tremble in her voice. No hesitation.
Lachiel’s jaw tensed slightly, but still he remained calm.
“I’m heading to the capital.”
At that, her expression changed.
“What?”
“The emperor summoned me. I leave at dawn.”
Adeline’s heart skipped.
“…And?”
“You’re coming with me.”
Silence fell between them like a heavy shroud.
Then she laughed—softly at first, then bitterly.
“Are you insane?”
“I gave my word I’d bring the Princess of Marma to the capital alive,” Lachiel said, eyes locked with hers. “And I keep my word.”
She stared at him, incredulous.
“You… you don’t even know me.”
“I know enough,” he said. “Enough to know you’re not safe here. Enough to know you’re brave. And enough to know that you’re strong enough to survive what comes next.”
Adeline clenched her fists beneath the blanket.
“…What if I refuse?”
“You can try,” he said coolly, “but I won’t let you.”
His voice was gentle—but firm as steel. Not a threat, but a promise.
She looked away, teeth grinding softly.
She didn’t want to go with him. She didn’t want to leave with the Lion King who carried rumors of blood and tyranny like armor. But the truth was, she didn’t have a choice.
Marma was behind her.
The capital—Nova—was ahead.
And somewhere in between was her destiny.
