Chapter 22
“If that’s the case… Your Highness, would you be willing to teach me how to read and write?”
It wasn’t hard to put on a face of embarrassment and shame. I had spent my entire past life genuinely ashamed of being illiterate—so much that it became second nature for my cheeks to flush with humiliation at any moment.
“Read and write…?”
The crown prince looked as if he had been struck.
From the look on his face, which basically said You couldn’t read?!, it seemed he hadn’t been informed by Zion about my illiteracy yet.
“…You mean, that’s all it takes?”
His twisted brow and deep blue eyes now carried even more visible pity and sympathy than before.
The kind of pity and sympathy that a man with such strong compassion for humanity naturally felt… always turned into guilt.
And I have to use that.
The drizzle had just begun to soak my hair—perfect to make me look even more pitiful.
“Do you remember, Your Highness? At my debutante ball, you asked me to dance?”
I saw the crown prince tense up rigidly.
He must be recalling Odette’s shriek of rejection.
“I hated it. Why should I dance with you?!”
He was probably reliving that moment.
“And why bring that up all of a sudden—”
“It’s because… I couldn’t write your name on the dance card with my own hand.”
“…Lady Albrecht.”
“It was devastating, the thought of you discovering how lowborn I really was…”
The rain slowly soaked through my white nightgown and robe. Back when I was learning to beg in the streets as part of that gang of gutter rats, I’d learned exactly when I looked the most pitiful.
When soaked in the rain, when I lowered my eyes, when I trembled.
And now I had hit the jackpot—all three at once.
“You may say it’s ‘just reading and writing,’ but Your Highness, you’ll never understand what it feels like to want to disappear into thin air rather than be exposed as illiterate.”
“…”
“Every time the butler said I was an idiot who didn’t even know her letters, that I’d been abandoned by my own mother…”
Odette’s voice genuinely trembled—and she had to pause.
What am I doing, getting caught up in my own feelings?
Now wasn’t the time to wallow in actual sorrow. It was time to manipulate and perform.
“So please, Your Highness. Give me the ability to read and write. It would be more precious to me than any jewel you could bestow.”
After staring at me for a long moment with a complicated expression, Johann finally nodded.
“…Alright. If that’s enough for you.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
I gave him my purest, most innocent smile—a carefully calculated smile, down to every detail.
The crown prince quickly averted his eyes.
He looked confused. Probably because he couldn’t find a trace of the Lady Albrecht he had so despised in the girl standing before him now.
His expression, trying to rid himself of a moral debt only to find that debt doubled, was a sight to behold.
Taking advantage of the moment, I quietly opened the locket.
[ Johann’s Disgust -5 ]
[ Johann’s Disgust: 70 ]
But my smile vanished instantly.
Seventy?! S-e-v-e-n-t-y?!
I was stunned by the absurdly high number.
This damn game… The setting says that 100 disgust means they feel murderous rage!
Even after I avoided the “Crown Prince Rampage” event, and even though Johann believed I was the reason the purification succeeded—this was still the disgust level?
Cold fury bubbled up inside me. But I had no time to get emotional.
A Disgust Level of 70 meant I couldn’t afford to let my guard down for even a second.
I forced down my rage and closed the locket.
Before dawn, the crown prince departed.
Surprisingly, he had a talent for teaching, and thanks to Han Suwan’s memories, I had experience learning letters before. Within two hours, I managed to read the geometric patterns as proper script.
I reopened the postcard Zion had sent me.
“The purification reward and your ongoing allowance for maintaining dignity will be arranged in the hidden account under your name.
Below is the monthly dignity allowance.”
Hmm… the letters were becoming easier to read—Wait, what?
Are all these zeros… my monthly allowance?!
That amount was fit for a direct member of the royal family!
The Count had been stealing that much from me? I was shocked as I kept reading.
“Your family is likely receiving funds under the pretense of dignity allowance as well. It’s part of the dirty money I stole from the Count’s criminal enterprise.
It’s like taking 100 Atashas from his right pocket and putting 1 Atasha in his left. I imagine your father jumping with joy over his dignity funds like a monkey—makes for decent entertainment.
If you ever need cash, go to any Kleist Bank. Show this locket to the bank manager.”
Even the handwriting gave away how thrilled he was to be robbing the Count. He must already be dismantling the criminal operations.
Is this what it means to be a male lead? That’s some serious initiative.
No wonder I haven’t been injected lately.
In my past life, toward the end of my fake purification act, the Count’s surveillance got lax too.
Even so, the servants never forgot to administer the injections. Not once.
How could I forget how violently my father beat the servant who forgot the shot?
If they’ve gone three days without even thinking about the injections, it means the Count’s entire business is collapsing fast—and maybe even beyond repair.
After enduring that filthy temperament for three years, now that he had the chance, Zion was probably hitting back with all he had.
I smirked and tore the postcard to pieces.
Once Zion wipes out the Count’s operations, Father will only have two sources of money left.
The Albrecht Pharmaceuticals—passed down through generations—and the Ulrich Casino, which began with the Count.
I tossed the shredded postcard into the fireplace and fell into thought.
The Count and Fernan are at the palace. The servants and maids don’t have time to monitor me…
At that moment, a knock came at the door.
“Who is it?”
“This is Malea, my lady.”
She must’ve come early in the morning to avoid being seen.
She’s not bad at reading the room, I’ll give her that.
“Wait outside.”
I leisurely changed out of my damp nightclothes with her waiting. But as soon as I put on a new chemise—
“Ouch!”
A pin pricked my waist. I picked it up and stared at it for a long while. I already knew who did it.
So petty. Definitely that woman’s doing.
She must still be bitter about how I humiliated her a few days ago. But this wasn’t an urgent matter.
I tossed the pin away and called out to Malea.
“You may come in.”
Pushing a trolley, Malea stepped into the room cautiously, clearly worried about upsetting me.
Just three days ago, she’d been lying in my bed eating cookies like she owned the place. And now she was tiptoeing around me.
That was a significant improvement.
“You hadn’t left your room for three days, my lady… I was worried, so I came to check on you.”
“How disgusting. You weren’t worried about me, Malea. You were worried about your own safety.”
I responded coldly as I sat down on a Baroque armchair. Malea was wearing a hair accessory made of Chappelle pearls.
“Seems you’ve managed to secure a spot as an attendant maid.”
“How did you know?”
She looked as if she’d seen a ghost.
“Those Chappelle pearls—your mother cherishes them. You wouldn’t have gotten them unless you were promoted.”
The reverent look on Malea’s face showed that any arrogance or defiance she once had was completely gone.
She must have learned something during the past three days.
“You were right, my lady. The gallery was full of cheap fakes. When I pointed it out, the butler secretly led me into the confined madam’s quarters.”
“And then?”
