chapter 09
“Ah, so it was you.”
It was the maid who had been crying her eyes out in the Duke’s office.
“H-Hello! I’m Cassie Goldriver. I’m sure you already know that…”
Cassie blushed as Eatrice recognized her.
“I just wanted to thank you for helping me earlier! If it weren’t for you, I really…”
Her voice trembled again, eyes tearing up as she rubbed them furiously.
“I don’t even want to imagine what could’ve happened! I’m only safe because of you.”
“……”
“I only recently joined the household and believed the rumors—that you were cold and unapproachable. I’m so sorry. But even so, you stepped in to help me. Thank you.”
Cassie bowed so deeply her head nearly touched the floor. When she looked back up, her face was red again, likely from holding back more tears.
Eatrice briefly thought Cassie, with her flushed face and hair, looked just like a carrot.
“I understand,” Eatrice replied simply, nodding slightly in acknowledgment.
But Cassie took that as an enthusiastic acceptance.
“Thank you so much! So, I…”
Still fidgeting, Cassie bounced on her feet, face even redder—almost like a tomato now.
Eatrice noticed her hesitating and decided to speak first.
“Do you have something else to say?”
“I want to serve you, my lady!”
The little maid shut her eyes tightly and shouted, practically steaming like a boiling kettle.
“I can serve you better than that wicked—uh, I mean—than nanny Arta! Please let me be your personal maid!”
“Alright.”
At Eatrice’s cool response, Cassie slowly opened her eyes.
It was a decision made half out of necessity—she really didn’t have a personal maid—and half out of mild curiosity. Having someone on her side in the ducal house didn’t sound like a bad idea. She’d just tell Mel, the butler, that she no longer needed Arta and wanted Cassie assigned instead.
“Really? Thank you so much!”
Cassie beamed as if she’d just been knighted.
“I feel like I’ve been granted a noble title!”
“Let’s not get carried away…”
Before Eatrice could say more, Cassie dashed out of the room—only to burst back in a moment later.
“I brought all the good stuff for you, my lady!”
She pushed in a tea tray, but it had more than just tea.
“This is fortisea leaf tea, great for stress. Here’s a Mont Blanc to recharge your sugar levels, and then—”
Not only the tray, but even her little apron was stuffed with items.
Is she a peddler? Eatrice wondered, watching as Cassie kept pulling things out like a magic bag.
“Sweets are the best medicine for a bad mood!”
Grinning, Cassie laid out a spread of desserts.
“I’m fine.”
“You most certainly are not! You could’ve been hurt—or worse—all because of that wretched Vivian, and then got falsely accused on top of it!”
Cassie bit her lip as if she’d been the one injured.
“Please try this, my lady.”
She offered a round cake with chestnut cream and powdered sugar on top. Eatrice took the porcelain fork Cassie handed her and hesitated.
“You’ve probably had Mont Blanc before, but this one’s from my favorite shop…”
Cassie trailed off, noticing Eatrice’s awkward expression.
“Wait… don’t tell me… this is your first Mont Blanc?”
Cassie stared in disbelief, and Eatrice couldn’t deny it.
Her meals had always been whatever Arta haphazardly brought from the kitchen, and once she’d grown up, she’d been too busy fighting on battlefields or serving in the knights. Beautifully decorated desserts had never really been part of her life.
“How could they treat you like that?! It’s unthinkable! My grandmother always said children should grow up eating sweets!”
Cassie’s eyes welled up again.
“I’ll bring you lots more, just trust me!”
Even through her frustration, Cassie clenched her fists with resolve and pushed the plate toward her.
“That cream on top is chestnut purée. I promise it’ll lift your spirits!”
Eatrice reluctantly took a small bite.
“…!”
Cassie lit up when she saw Eatrice’s eyes widen slightly.
“Tastes good, doesn’t it?”
As soon as she took a bite, the rich chestnut cream melted in her mouth, blending perfectly with the crisp biscuit layer. It was delicious.
When Eatrice gave a subtle nod, Cassie beamed.
“Let’s eat lots together from now on! I’ll bring you every dessert in the capital!”
And so it began—Cassie’s promise became reality. Like a mother bird feeding her chick, she brought Eatrice sweets every day.
Eatrice often wondered where Cassie even found all of them. Later, she learned that Cassie’s friendly nature had quickly won over the palace chefs—and even the owners of the dessert shops.
Thanks to her, enjoying tea and sweets while reading letters became part of Eatrice’s daily routine.
Rumors had spread among the noble sons who had seen her at the House of Glass. Letters poured in, all expressing curiosity about the mysterious, previously unknown daughter of the Bellanelle Dukedom.
While organizing the pile of letters, Eatrice noticed a familiar handwriting—it was from Lewis, a few days old.
To my dear friend, Eatrice
I’ll skip the usual “How are you?” because I know you’ve been through a lot.
The Duke personally sent me a letter recently, asking for details about the incident with the runaway cart. He thanked me for being there with you that day.
I told him everything the maid did to you—no sugar-coating. I truly hope my testimony helps with the trial.
Even if the outcome won’t erase what you went through, I hope it gives you some peace.
By the way, how about visiting the library at our Magic Tower? It might cheer you up. There’s a great collection—history, art, swordsmanship books. And of course, I’ll be there too.
Your true friend,
Lewis Eurean
Reading that last part, Eatrice shuddered. She could almost hear Lewis’s smug, flirtatious voice.
She tossed the letter carelessly atop the pile of unopened ones.
“Another one from Lord Eurean? He’s been writing more often lately!” Cassie chirped.
“Seems like it,” Eatrice replied, opening another.
Dear Eatrice,
Ignoring my letters now? That’s cold. I’m deeply hurt.
Again, Lewis’s dramatic voice rang in her head. Eatrice shoved the letter to the edge of her desk as Cassie poured tea and chattered away.
“My lady, are you going to the Empress’s birthday celebration soon?”
Cassie held out another envelope.
“I heard the Emperor absolutely adores her, so the celebration is huge every year!”
Now that she thought of it, Lewis had mentioned it in one of his letters too.
“You’ve received an invitation this year!”
As Eatrice took the envelope, the imperial seal in golden ink caught her eye.
The Empress’s birthday celebration, held at the imperial palace.
Her grip tightened.
Because that palace… was where Adrian was.
The bleeding wouldn’t stop. No matter how much pressure she applied to the wound, the blood kept pouring.
“I have to stop the bleeding—stop the bleeding first…”
Eatrice muttered like a madwoman, cradling Adrian in her arms as she tried to find the source of the wound.
Adrian, despite bleeding from his chest, looked up at her quietly, leaning into her arms.
“I’ll get a priest. I’ll save you. Somehow. I will…”
She didn’t even know what she was saying anymore.
“Don’t go… Dame Bellanelle.”
Nobody’s coming anyway.
Adrian’s quiet truth shattered the denial she’d been clinging to.
He was a prince imprisoned in the dungeon, already defeated in the political struggle with Vincent. No priest would dare defy the future emperor and the current duke to save him.
Especially not when the very people who sent the assassin were those two.
“Brother Hedon promised me… He swore he’d let you live.”
But that promise had been broken.
Hedon had not only imprisoned Adrian—he’d sent an assassin to finish the job.
I betrayed you in our final battle, hoping to save your life.
But the result of that betrayal now lay bleeding at her feet.
“I’ll carry you. Even if no one comes, I’ll escape with you. We’ll cross the border. We’ll be okay.”
Eatrice kept rambling, her mind unraveling.
She tried to lift him, but his body already felt cold and heavy—like a corpse.
When she forced herself to try again, he winced in pain.
Finally realizing the truth, she sank to the floor and held him tightly. It hit her all at once.
Her lord could not survive. This filthy, freezing prison would become his grave.
“It’s alright… Don’t tremble,” Adrian said faintly, feeling her arms shake.
“I’m glad I got to see you before the end…”
Even speaking was difficult, but he kept talking—for her sake.
Eatrice stared into his fading violet eyes, straining to catch his every last word.
“I have no regrets… My knight.”
Those final words broke her completely.
How could he say that?
How could someone dying from betrayal say they had no regrets?
“Your Highness…?”
She called out to him again and again.
No answer came.
Something inside her cracked with a painful snap.
Then Eatrice drew her sword and raced for the imperial palace—to strike down everyone responsible for Adrian’s death: Hedon, Muriel, Vincent…
And maybe, she hoped, to die at the end of it all.
After that, the world turned red. A storm of blood raged.
“My lady!”
Cassie’s voice broke through the memory soaked in blood.
“Oh my goodness, you’re sweating so much! Did you have a nightmare?”
“Cassie, bring me paper and a pen.”
“Suddenly?”
“Yes. I’m writing an RSVP for the celebration. I’m going to the palace.”
