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10. The Heroine’s Plight

It was a cold, moonlit night. In a room adjacent to the Crown Prince’s, the most luxurious in the main palace, Beatrice quietly stared at a letter in her hands.

A small amount of moonlight shone distinctly on the letter.

Her blue eyes welled up with tears. The piece of paper that the Crown Prince had furiously brought to her contained a simple message in the handwriting of a man who had once shaken her but now filled her with dread. It was a threatening letter, demanding the lifting of Margaret’s confinement order.

She had to admit it. She really didn’t want to, but there were no other options left.

Beatrice Mary Rosen painfully acknowledged that she was no longer the beloved lady of the Empire. Her voice was choked with emotion as she murmured.

“This isn’t right.”

She wanted to cry. In fact, tears were already falling from her eyes.

She never imagined her options would be so limited.

Beatrice looked at the handheld mirror she had carelessly thrown aside.

A noblewoman with the most dazzling blonde hair and praised blue eyes, but with a sorrowful expression, stared back at her.

A woman who would soon become the Crown Princess and then the Empress when the Emperor passed away. A woman adorned in the most precious clothes and jewels anyone could imagine.

Yet, she was not satisfied. Beatrice added, as if making an excuse.

“I didn’t know it would be like this.”

In the past, she didn’t wear such a gloomy expression, nor was she so opulently dressed.

She prayed to the goddess she had once served so faithfully. Although she no longer had any remaining faith or devotion, she still hoped that all of this was just a dream.

Goddess, she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I want to rest. I really do.”

She knew no one would hear her prayer. Beatrice could no longer be as faithful to the goddess as before. There was no place for the goddess left in her heart.

Abandoning her meaningless prayer, Beatrice looked around her.

The Crown Prince… and besides him…

Nothing.

“There’s nothing left.”

‘I’m not even sure if this is right anymore.’

She buried her face in her hands.

She wanted to be happy.

Florencia frightened her. She despised the Archduke, who tried to bind her by claiming he had been saved by her.

She was burdened by guilt for not being able to reciprocate the pure love of the devoted knight, and the assassin, who looked at her as if she were a toy, still haunted her vision.

Haha. A hollow laugh escaped her lips. Although wanted posters for the Archduke and the assassin were everywhere, no one in the Empire had the ability to bring them in.

Beatrice suddenly realized her happiness was no longer guaranteed.

“…Just once.”

So, she prayed desperately to the goddess she no longer believed in. Please, just this once—

“—Let Margaret Eilish disappear.”

Let everything end in a happy ending.

* * *

Two years ago, Beatrice vividly remembered stepping foot in the capital of the Empire for the first time.

As the daughter of a modest viscount from a small estate near the borders, she had little to draw others’ attention except for her renowned beauty and deep piety.

The fact that she caught the Crown Prince’s eye was nothing short of a miracle.

She saw her fairy-tale-like meeting with the Crown Prince as a confirmation of her faith in the goddess.

Given that her family, the Rosens, had significantly less wealth and honor compared to other families, Beatrice doubted whether making her debut in high society was the right choice.

“…Was it unnecessary worry?”

Standing among extravagant dresses adorned with jewels, she felt disappointment in her own modest attire.

There was no need to worry in the first place.

She was the most insignificant presence in the room. Everyone was laughing behind their fans at her, and with no social experience, she didn’t know how to handle the situation.

It felt like the whole world had turned its back on her.

“Oh my, look at that dress.”

“For a debutante, you’d think she’d manage something decent, even from a poor family.”

“Looks like they can’t even afford that. Well, she’s from the Rosens, after all.”

“Oh dear, I’ve never heard of that family before. My apologies.”

The comments were uniformly insulting. The contemptuous glances were blatant, and when she made eye contact, they greeted her with mocking smiles.

She could sense that they would laugh at her inability to respond, and Beatrice felt like she was losing all her self-esteem.

When she went to get champagne, high-ranking nobles’ servants would cut in line and take her turn.

Beatrice had to endure such comments about everything from her hairstyle to every accessory she wore, even the creases in her dress when she sat down.

It was hellish. Whether she responded or not, she was constantly ignored, and for the first time, Beatrice felt ashamed of her family.

Her disdain for noble society was inevitable.

Of course, there were some exceptions among the men. Those who already had wives often sought mistresses, needing less from them since they had their own families to worry about.

All they desired was beauty and a compliant nature.

Thus, to them, Beatrice Rosen was an ideal prey.

An innocent maiden freshly arrived from the countryside!

‘If it’s your first debut, you must be quite lost. It would be an honor to request the first dance from such a beautiful young lady.’

They treated her generously once she met their standards, as if they would grant her any request.

Beatrice felt humiliated by their benevolent glances and outstretched hands and had to excuse herself, claiming she felt unwell. The nobles whispered again.

“Is there an epidemic this year?”

“Didn’t the second daughter of Eilish miss out for similar reasons?”

“Well, her sister is so formidable, isn’t she? Though, it’s not commendable to neglect noble duties.”

“What nonsense. Are you saying there’s never a disgraceful show of duty? There’s an example right there.”

“My, Lady, standing too close makes it easy to overlook.”

Their conversations, meant to ridicule Beatrice, soon turned to the second daughter of Eilish.

Although it was a relief for Beatrice, the jibes were aimed at both families, leaving her feeling no better.

“Anyway, it’s the same old excuse. When something unpleasant happens, they claim to be ill. One can only hope they’re wise enough to realize how tiresome that is.”

“Who has the luxury of realizing such things when ill? All they can do is rely on their guardians.”

“It’s a problem if the guardians aren’t perfect either.”

“But ultimately, it’s the individual’s issue. We would like them to recover and show their faces, but—”

“Then Lady Hartlaine’s wish won’t be fulfilled.”

“Hoho, I can’t think of a counter-argument. Lady Secrea wins this round.”

The conversations were cutting. Beatrice thought about the other lady from Eilish who had claimed to be ill.

Did she know such discussions were happening? A slight sympathy arose, but that was all.

Eilish.

She had heard the name vaguely. Most stories involved embezzlement of estate taxes or other unsavory acts, but it was undeniable that the eldest daughter had immense power.

She was engaged to the Crown Prince.

Her younger sister seemed to receive her affection wholeheartedly. Indeed, the nobles seemed cautious when discussing Margaret.

Beatrice had to suppress the urge to escape to the terrace, feeling that she had no one to relate to.

If she ran away, it would only solidify her insignificance.

So, Beatrice prayed. If you truly exist, please have mercy. Don’t let your servant suffer at the hands of the wicked.

Then, Florencia and the Crown Prince appeared, capturing Beatrice’s attention.

“…No escort today, I see?”

“He’s always been cold. But considering he still enters with her, His Highness must be kind-hearted.”

“Who knows. She’s been doing a lot lately; he might just be keeping an eye on her.”

“Lady Eilish is pitiable. Even with her status, her relationship with her fiancé is a mess.”

Ah, that day. Beatrice had never once forgotten the day she first met the Crown Prince.

She had etched into her memory the sight of the man looking down at the crowd with a nonchalant expression from the stairs.

And beside him, the villainess with a face of despair and a yearning for love.

Florencia, with her silver hair tinged with purple and eyes as blue as the night sky, was undoubtedly beautiful. Her beauty was such that even she felt it overshadowed her own renowned looks within the estate.

“Was it the Count of Hartleim?”

She turned her head towards a young lady who had been mocking her. Her eyes, resembling the night sky and as dark as the crown prince’s hair, narrowed sharply.

Beatrice, standing beside her, noticed the crown prince’s look of boredom and heard him click his tongue.

Anyone could see the distance between them, confirming the rumors that their relationship was strained. Beatrice believed that Florencia was taking out her frustration on her, for the love she had not received.

‘Poor thing,’ she thought, momentarily forgetting her own position.

Florencia slowly descended the stairs, her red dress trailing behind like a curtain. She gazed intently at the young lady hiding her face behind a fan, her eyes filled with malice.

The woman, who had just been leading a group in mocking others, froze. Florencia walked towards her, the click of her heels echoing sharply.

“Would you mind repeating what you just said?”

“…My lady, I…”

“Oh, my apologies. I should have greeted you first.”

With a flick, her fan unfolded. Beatrice watched in a daze as Florencia, holding a beautifully decorated fan, poured out her mockery.

So this is what it means to be a noble, Beatrice thought, feeling a bit uncomfortable. It was nothing like the peaceful conversations she had with the people in her estate.

She covered her mouth with her hand instead of her modest fan, feeling like she might vomit.

“I apologize for not greeting you. I never imagined that the young lady who spends time with the crown prince would speak to someone as insignificant as me. Forgive me for not expressing my gratitude for such an honor.”

Beatrice realized for the first time that Florencia could twist words to imply that even though she seemed to only cling to the crown prince, she was more perceptive than she appeared. It was astonishing.

Florencia responded with a clear, melodious laugh.

“If you truly think of it as an honor, you should show it on your face. Don’t make me say that your white, beautiful face looks like a statue today.”

Florencia seemed angry. Although she didn’t show it on her face, the meaning behind her words was clear: ‘If you’re grateful, smile. Did you plaster your face with makeup so thick that you can’t even smile?’

“No matter if you are the crown prince’s fiancée…”

“Oh, Lady Hartleim, what nonsense are you spouting now?”

Florencia openly frowned, her face scrunching up. The murmurs around them grew louder, commenting on how the Count’s daughter had wounded her pride.

Florencia clicked her tongue dismissively and smiled cruelly.

“Because it’s ‘me,’ I can tell if your concern is genuine or a mockery. The fact that I’m the crown prince’s fiancée is well-known, so don’t bring it up here to defend yourself.”

As you said, it’s quite tiresome.

“…”

“You were going to talk about my younger sister, weren’t you? Well, you needn’t worry at all. She will come out when she is ready.”

However,

Florencia’s voice dropped to a chilling tone.

“When she does come out, I better not hear her mention you. I will make sure to send you an invitation. It’s a tea party hosted by the Eilish family.”

The Count’s daughter could only bow her head in silence.

Comments about the flower of the social world flitted around, and Beatrice looked up at her in a daze.

Had she ever felt so keenly the difference in their worlds?

Beatrice quietly bowed her head and withdrew from the scene. It no longer mattered how she appeared, heading for the terrace.

With a heavy sigh, she opened the terrace door. And then…

 

Yes, that was when she saw the crown prince for the first time.