On the outside, she looked like the most lovely and adorable princess, but the court scholar knew better. Let your guard down, and you’d never know what might happen.
When he stood there momentarily dazed, Seraphina blinked and asked softly:
“Teacher, is something wrong?”
“N-No, not at all.”
Even her speech was polite—it sent shivers down his spine. He quickly collected himself, brushing it off as the princess just being in a better mood today.
He checked the materials for today’s lesson and asked:
“Princess, about the assignment I gave you…”
He didn’t expect her to have done it, but asked out of courtesy. The last time he hadn’t asked—assuming she hadn’t done it—he’d paid the price for it.
“Why didn’t you ask if I did the homework?! Did you think I wouldn’t?!”
“No, Princess, I didn’t mean it that way—Ack! Not the beard, please!”
Of course, she hadn’t done the homework. But she had yanked out his beard anyway. So today, he asked as a formality… and then:
“Yes. I did it.”
“Then today, we’ll go over the part you didn’t—pardon?”
Surely, he’d misheard. Yes, that must be it.
While the scholar stood frozen in disbelief, Seraphina held up a sheet of fine paper before her.
It was filled from top to bottom with neatly written notes.
“I did the homework, Teacher.”
The scholar froze at the sight of it.
The princess… did her homework?
In all the years he’d taught her, this had never happened.
He slowly approached her desk like a creaky wind-up doll.
‘It has to be a prank. She couldn’t possibly have done it properly.’
With trembling hands, he picked up the paper, expecting to see scribbles or perhaps insults scrawled across it.
But when he actually read the content, his pupils trembled as if caught in a storm.
It was all correct. Not only was it real—she had answered every problem, and all of them were right.
“P-Princess, did you… perhaps have someone else do this for you?”
It was the only explanation he could think of, and he blurted it out before realizing the mistake.
How dare he doubt the princess? She would surely explode in fury.
Just as he prepared to retract the question, her voice interrupted him.
“Oh, no. I did it myself. Emma—no, Madame Gray—was watching the whole time. You can ask her.”
If it were anyone else, he might have doubted it. But Madame Gray would never lie.
So then… the princess really had done the assignment herself?
Still reeling, he asked cautiously:
“Th-Then… could you tell me about the seven virtues upheld by the Church of Zera?”
“Yes. In Zera, the doctrine teaches humility, mercy, kindness, patience, purity, temperance, and diligence. And among them, the most valued is…”
Sitting with a perfectly straight posture, Seraphina answered without hesitation.
This wasn’t a dream. The princess had really studied.
Tears of joy poured down the elderly scholar’s cheeks.
“Oh, Princess… I always believed in you! That one day, you’d… sniff… care about class…”
As the elderly man openly wept, Seraphina scrambled down from her seat, startled.
Flustered, she wrapped her small arms around his waist.
“I-I’m sorry. I caused you so much trouble. I’ve reflected a lot. From now on, I’ll listen in class and always do my homework. I’m also really sorry for breaking your glasses and pulling your beard.”
“Huaaah, Princess!”
The scholar sobbed even harder at her heartfelt apology. The very hands that had once plucked his beard now gently comforted him.
He couldn’t stop crying. Seeing him like that, Seraphina felt guilt pierce her conscience.
‘I must’ve been a real monster if just doing my homework makes him cry like this…’
Though her childhood memories were hazy, she remembered being an absolute menace.
But apparently, it had been even worse than she thought.
As she patted the weeping scholar’s back, Seraphina quietly swore to truly live a good life from now on.
–
“Did you hear? The etiquette scholar actually cried during class, overwhelmed with emotion.”
Even days later, the Astorian royal palace buzzed with news of Seraphina.
The princess had suddenly changed. Even those who were skeptical at first were now starting to believe it.
The once tantrum-throwing, constantly crying princess had vanished without a trace.
One of Quillian’s ministers nodded gravely.
“She no longer fusses during meals, and she’s performing flawlessly in her lessons.”
“What could’ve happened? Did she finally mature?”
“Mature? Please…”
One of the ministers who’d been listening scoffed quietly.
The others turned to him, curious. With a shrug, he said:
“Just a few days of good behavior and you’re all ready to forgive her? She’s not just any princess, you know. She’s the Demon King’s Princess.”
The nickname “Demon King’s Princess” made several faces around the table turn pale.
That phrase reminded them of the prophecy—a prophecy they’d momentarily forgotten in light of her recent change.
The prophecy that foretold the world’s destruction.
The minister who had been critical now wore a scowl.
“Who knows what she’s planning now? She could be playing nice only to demand something even bigger.”
There had been times when the princess sweet-talked Quillian, only to demand lavish gifts afterward.
It seemed this minister believed she was up to her old tricks again.
“She’s clever. She probably understands her situation. There’s been increasing talk about how she’s being treated.”
“…You mean isolation?”
The other minister nodded. The proposal to confine the princess to the temple had been circulating for a long time.
According to the prophecy, the royal house of Astoria had always eliminated seeds of unrest before they could grow.
It was a tradition upheld for five hundred years.
In this generation, the plan had failed only due to the late queen’s wishes and Quillian’s fierce opposition—but unrest remained.
After all, Seraphina’s angelic appearance masked behavior as wicked as a devil’s.
They might not be able to kill her while Quillian stood firm, but calls for her to be confined in the temple had never gone away.
One of the ministers, carefully watching the mood, hesitantly spoke.
“But… what if she really has matured? Children do grow up, after all.”
“Hah. Have you forgotten all she’s done? Everything she did was straight out of a villainess’s playbook.”
At that moment, the click of heels echoed nearby. The ministers turned in surprise to see Emma standing there.
The one who’d been speaking ill of the princess flinched—but then relaxed when he saw who it was.
He bowed respectfully.
“Madame Gray. I trust you’ve been well—”
“Were you just speaking ill of the princess?”
Emma’s voice was sharp as a blade. The chilling tone made the minister flinch before covering it with a forced smile.
“We weren’t slandering her—just stating facts. The princess’s misdeeds are well known. Surely you, Madame Gray, of all people, have suffered the most.”
Everyone knew how much Emma had endured, being the one closest to the princess.
So they thought—surely she, of all people, would welcome criticism of the princess.
But then…
“The princess has certainly been troublesome and overly reactive. But not because she’s the child of prophecy—just because she’s a child.”
Emma’s voice was edged with rebuke. So were her eyes.
“Children have a hard time sitting still. They throw fits when they’re served something they don’t like. They misbehave. My own children did the same. Of course, such behavior needs correction.”
“Then you agree with me, don’t you, Madame?”
“No. I absolutely do not agree with isolating the princess in the temple. That would be abuse—nothing more than violence.”
Once confined to the temple, she would never leave again. It was, in essence, imprisonment. And Seraphina was still only ten.
The minister’s face contorted in frustration.
“You’re being foolish, Madame Gray. What if the princess really does bring about the world’s end?”
“Then I will stop her, even if it costs me my life. Is that enough for you?”
Emma’s voice rang with the weight of a solemn oath. She sounded ready to lay down her life here and now.
The minister stared coldly at her, but knew nothing could be gained from continuing the argument.
“…Then if you’ll excuse me, Madame.”
After the ministers hurriedly left, Emma let out a soft sigh and continued on her way.
Though she didn’t agree with them, she still worried about Seraphina.
‘It’s true that her behavior’s been problematic. And His Majesty has always been too indulgent…’
Quillian protected Seraphina too fiercely, making it difficult to correct her behavior. But now… things seemed to be changing.
‘The princess is starting to change. I don’t know why, but… it’s a good thing.’
Many—Emma included—were beginning to welcome the shift. The maids, the scholar—they all shared the sentiment.
But not everyone did.
Some didn’t just doubt the change—they didn’t want it.
One such person was Theodore, the king’s younger brother.
‘They say the princess has been behaving lately. How annoying…’
Seated in his private study, Theodore brooded. Though he shared royal blood with Quillian, his hair was blood red and his eyes pitch black.
His dark gaze was fixed calmly on the table.
‘When the princess throws tantrums, it makes it easier to shake the nobles and sway public opinion.’
He was beneath Quillian in both birth order and ability. His chances of claiming the throne were slim.
But he had one hope.
Seraphina.
‘Since the princess was born, support for Quillian has weakened. To me, she’s a very useful niece.’
Quillian had gone against the will of many to spare the princess’s life. That alone had disappointed a great many people.
And when she started acting like a tyrant, people began to believe she really was the child of prophecy.
As that belief spread, Theodore’s support base grew stronger.
‘But now she’s going all quiet? That won’t do. The princess needs to fulfill her role.’
He had no use for a gentle princess. She needed to become more villainous—more wretched than ever.
And if that wasn’t possible, then he’d just make sure everyone believed she was.
Theodore rose to his feet, his chair scraping ominously against the floor. His dark eyes gleamed faintly.
‘The princess must grow up exactly as the prophecy foretold—a villainess.’
