• CHAPTER 10

“I want this one. Blue Lady.”

Taeri pointed at the champagne marked as the sweetest.

She figured Bridget might at least buy her a glass and then put her to work—but instead, Bridget cut her off instantly and scolded her sharply.

“What are you talking about? We’re ordering the cheapest one. Why should we fatten these people’s wallets? We’re here to sabotage their business, remember? Don’t forget that.”

“Well, if we’re going to drink anyway, it might as well taste good—”

“Did you already forget your role? You’re here to support me today. This isn’t a play date!”

“Okay, okay, I get it.”

Jeez, so uptight.

Since taking off her hat would basically be a public reveal of her identity, Taeri had planned to start off with a leisurely drink. But in the end, their order went in for the cheapest two glasses on the menu.

As they quietly waited for the unpleasant drinks to arrive and started discussing strategy, a noblewoman adorned with a peacock feather in her bodice fluttered her skirt and approached.

Taeri barely registered the unfamiliar face, but the woman greeted Bridget with a polite nod and spoke sweetly.

“It’s been a while, Miss Bridget. I thought you’d sworn off this place for good.”

Bridget, who was unwrapping a sugar cube with a crinkle of paper, frowned with a face that said, What the hell now? and didn’t respond.

Still, the noblewoman persisted with a smile, unbothered.

“I heard the runaway princess came back… have you met her? You’re connected to that side, aren’t you? What kind of personality does she have? Oh, I do hope she’s not the aggressive type. I mean, she is the daughter of that lunatic mage.”

So that’s why she was sticking around even after Bridget blatantly ignored her—curiosity.

When Bridget still didn’t respond, the woman amped up the tone, trying to coax her into conversation.

“I heard a little something—that you and the princess grew up together in the palace. Imagine, becoming a lady-in-waiting to someone so irresponsible. You must’ve suffered so much at such a young age.”

Hmm, was this what people meant by “passive-aggressive”?

And considering that very princess was sitting right next to them, it was a two-birds-one-stone kind of jab.

“Hey.”

Bridget finally dropped the sugar cube into her cup and spoke with weight in her voice.

“Yes, Miss Bridget?”

“Why are you suddenly pretending to be friendly? It’s so transparent.”

“Pardon…?”

“You used to ignore me even when I said hello. What, is this one of those things? Sweet on the way down, spit out when it’s bitter? You’ll choke like that. What makes you think I’m going to just swallow whatever you throw at me?”

Her tone was nonchalant, but her eyes fired off laser beams. The noblewoman, startled, beat a quick retreat.

Taeri, who had been watching, smacked Bridget’s arm in shock.

“Why would you say something so harsh?”

“That woman used to go around saying mages aren’t even human—they’re monsters.”

“Maybe she was just scared of magic?”

“Who cares? She suddenly comes over like we’re old friends, like I’ve forgotten everything? I can’t believe she had the nerve. She needs to be smacked in the head—with that ‘courage’ of hers.”

Clearly on edge and ready for a fight, Bridget made a bold declaration: from today on, she would bark back if bitten.

She’d spent enough time walking with her eyes down, pressed against the walls. Now, she was ready to be someone with sincerity and presence.

“Now that I’ve got you here, I’m not scared of anything.”

That comment caught Taeri off guard and almost made her emotional.

Sure, Bridget probably meant she’d found a good shield and could now live recklessly behind it, but… even that felt strangely touching.

Taeri had thought Bridget was doing well, that the worst was behind her—but seeing her like this, it felt like she was still enduring something.

Still carrying wounds, even in the everyday.

“…That lady wasn’t entirely wrong.”

“About what?”

“Saying you must’ve had a hard time.”

“I don’t dwell on the past.”

“Still, it was hard. You did well. I mean it.”

Honestly, maybe you’re the one who’s grown and evolved, not me. You’re strong and fearless now. Taeri smiled as she said it, and Bridget scoffed.

“Stop getting all dramatic just because I helped you a little.”

Bridget, ever the prickly doll, even showed her fangs to Taeri.

Taeri deserved some blame too, and if anyone was going to take her down a peg, it’d be Bridget.

That frank honesty was somehow refreshing—and at the same time, the cocktail they’d ordered finally arrived, its color surprisingly beautiful. With no warning at all, Taeri removed her hat.

She ran her fingers through her flattened hair, giving it a gentle shake. As she did, her black locks shimmered into a rich gold, catching the light and scattering radiant beams.

Her unmistakable orange irises returned to their true color.

It felt a bit like a magical girl transformation. Honestly kind of addictive.

The bartender, who had the best view, gaped first.

“Gasp… it’s Sonetti…!”

His cry was the flare that set the room ablaze.

In an instant, the buzzing venue froze like an ice kingdom. No one moved, no one breathed.

To them, the princess of Izaris might as well have been a final boss.

Taeri briefly considered softening the mood but decided against it.

They feared magic—and she didn’t mind using that fear to her advantage.

She sipped her drink in silence while the rest of the room stayed locked in awkward paralysis. Eventually, people began to thaw, glancing nervously at one another and loosening their stiff limbs.

Soon after, they overcompensated—laughing too loudly, moving with exaggerated grace, pretending like absolutely nothing had happened.

When the effect landed perfectly, Bridget gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up and whispered behind her hand.

“They’re coming. This time in a group. Guess they were too chicken to approach alone.”

Turns out, the brave-yet-sneaky group was a bunch of gentlemen who’d been chatting near the window with books in hand.

“If it’s not an imposition, may we greet you? Are you indeed Princess of Izaris?”

Despite expecting this, their politeness caught Taeri slightly off guard. She nodded.

Immediately, gasps and murmurs—“Oh my,” “Good heavens”—erupted in true high society fashion. One man stepped forward.

“To think we’d meet the princess in a place like this. It’s an honor.”

“Hmm.”

“Welcome to our humble gathering.”

“Thanks.”

Short and curt.

Her tone balanced between haughtiness and nonchalance. The man faltered, clearly thrown off, but Taeri smiled gently as if to say, What, I’m not allowed to speak informally to you?

This, she thought, is what being a princess is all about.

To leave no room for anyone to say “how dare you.” To remind them no disrespect would be tolerated.

The man, recovering, looked like he had just remembered, Ah right, she’s royalty, and reached for her hand for a kiss—then hesitated.

“I would offer a gesture of affection, but as Your Highness surely has a consort, I hesitate to touch you. I shall instead offer a respectful greeting.”

Consort? As in… husband?

She didn’t have one. And more importantly—

“The governor didn’t seem to have a problem with it.”

Was that not allowed? Sorry, she was completely clueless about their etiquette.

She had asked honestly, out of curiosity.

But the people listening nearby were so stunned by the comment that their eyeballs practically flew out and stuck to the walls.

“The gov—uh, I mean, the Governor? Haha, well, perhaps the Governor assumed the Princess was unmarried.”

Hmm. Claude hadn’t seemed particularly concerned about that last night.

As she debated whether his approach or this man’s was more appropriate, she caught a flicker of smugness on his face—and sure enough, the next comment hit like a punch.

“Surely you’re of age to marry, yet you remain without betrothal or partner. Understandable, but still… unfortunate.”

Understandable? Unfortunate?

Even accounting for their old-fashioned worldview, the man’s attack felt outdated.

Trying to challenge a woman of higher rank by labeling her as someone who “still hasn’t managed to marry”? Really?

He clearly wanted to stick her with the label of a “problematic unmarried woman of a certain age.” Taeri wasn’t even annoyed—just unimpressed.

“You sound like my grandfather’s grandfather. Try broadening your perspective. The world’s changed. You’ve got some learning to do.”

But he only looked down on her further and asked:

“Are you currently seeing anyone?”

“If you mean have I dated—sure, a bit. For quite a while, actually. Five years.”

“Five years? And you still didn’t marry him?”

She was about to snap back with, Ugh, enough with the marriage talk already, when she noticed him turn and mumble something to his friends.

Just four syllables.

Unsettling.

What the hell did he just say? Was he trying to win the “most annoying man alive” award?

As she brainstormed the best form of retribution, Bridget suddenly leapt up like a lightning bolt.

“Unsettling? What’s so unsettling about that? If being with one person for years is unsettling, is changing partners daily supposed to be better? That’s a ridiculous, pathetic way to judge a woman!”

“What did you just say? You’re insane—!”

Just as she promised, Bridget ditched all civility and formality and lunged forward, fiercely protective.

“Shut it, brat. You insulted our princess. Apologize now with your head on the floor—or I’ll spit on you and show the world how villains deserve to be treated!”

Taeri had been alarmed at Bridget’s turbocharged reaction—but in that moment, she genuinely admired her.

Seriously, how could someone be this hilarious in a confrontation?