Zelda Maniel. With her white hair and hunched back, she didn’t leave much of an impression on passersby—just another elderly woman in the crowd. But her past, her younger years, were nothing short of remarkable.
She had once served as the Empress’s nanny. After the Empress married the current Emperor, Zelda became the head lady-in-waiting in the Empress’s palace. Then, when the Empress gave birth to a son some twenty years ago, Zelda once again took on the role of a nanny—raising the young prince with the same care and devotion she had given his mother.
To Zelda Maniel, the prince was like the final bloom of her life—a flower and a tree nurtured with her own flesh and blood. That child, who had grown tall and strong under her care, had just turned twenty.
It had only been a few months since Zelda had stepped back from the Empress’s side. In recognition of her unwavering loyalty and devotion to the royal family, the Emperor had honored her—a commoner—with the title of honorary noble. The noble title still felt strange to Zelda, a little ticklish, perhaps even undeserved.
And yet, “retirement” was hardly a severance. The bond between Zelda and the royal family remained. To the Empress—who had no birth mother—Zelda meant far more than just a caretaker.
In recent weeks, the biggest topic of conversation between Zelda and the Empress had been the prince’s marriage.
When Zelda asked whether it might be too soon to rush into marriage for a boy who had just turned twenty, the Empress sighed and said,
‘Nanny, do you remember Duchess Grey, my cousin?’
‘Is there anyone in this country who doesn’t know Duchess Grey? But why the sigh, Your Majesty?’
‘The duchess got married four years before I did and had her child not long after.’
‘Yes, young Lord Armin often played with the prince when they were little. But what about it?’
‘She was going on and on about how she’s finally found the perfect daughter-in-law. Wouldn’t stop bragging to me.’
The Empress heaved another sigh as she went on to tell Zelda, in full detail, her conversation with the Duchess.
Rumors had been circulating recently that the notoriously prickly and sensitive Duchess had mellowed quite a bit, though the Empress hadn’t known why—until now.
The Empress had invited her old friend to her quarters while the Duke was at the palace to see the Emperor. Even from a distance, just seeing her walk toward her, the Empress noticed something different—her gait was light and lively, like when they were young.
When the Empress pressed her about what had put her in such a good mood, the Duchess couldn’t hide her smile and finally shared her joy.
‘Armin was always a perfect heir, raised with every advantage,’ she had said. ‘But now? He’s finally done something that truly touched me—as a son.’
The Empress had always thought she and the Duchess shared the same fate—both mothers of sons, with no daughters of their own.
Watching the Duke and Duchess leave in a hurry, giddy that that girl was visiting their home again today, what the Empress felt was a mix of jealousy and longing.
‘So can you blame me for feeling a little frantic?’ she had said. ‘If she’s already found such a perfect daughter-in-law, shouldn’t our Zeta hurry up, too?’
She was envious—deeply and repeatedly envious. The Empress had always seen her cousin, who had married four years before her, as a rival. The only time she had truly felt defeated by Duchess Grey, who had married for love, was when she learned the Duchess was the first to bear a child—and that the child was a boy.
But the Empress, too, had conceived soon after marriage, and her son, now called Prince Zeta, had grown into his title. Since then, she’d considered such petty emotions beneath her.
And yet, seeing Duchess Grey so genuinely joyful had stirred up those long-buried, shameful feelings all over again.
There had always been a flood of noble daughters scrambling for her approval, desperate to win her favor. And now that her son had reached adulthood, it was only natural that he, the prince, would draw more attention than Armin, heir of a mere ducal house.
Still, she felt envious.
The only person the Empress could confide such feelings to was her former nanny, Zelda Maniel. The most loyal of the loyal, Zelda had never married and had stayed by her side her entire life.
Upon hearing her mistress’s frustrations, Zelda resolved to seek out a suitable young lady for the prince herself.
That very resolve coincided with a curious event—a frail old woman suddenly purchasing a grand estate. Zelda had spent so many years by the Empress’s side that she was well-versed in noble politics, but utterly naïve when it came to the ways of the common world. Naturally, that made her a prime target for a swindler.
She hadn’t suspected a thing. Which only made her more amazed—again and again—by the young lady who had come to her rescue. The girl was charming, bold, and full of spirit. Zelda couldn’t help but think she would be a perfect match for the prince.
She planned to invite the young lady to her estate, offer her a warm cup of tea, and gently inquire about her family and background—once the poor girl had recovered from the fright of nearly being harmed by a thug with a knife.
But the girl, terrified, had thrown herself not into Zelda’s arms—but into those of a young man whose face she recognized instantly.
Armin Grey.
The moment she saw him, Zelda clicked her tongue inwardly. A sharp needle, no matter how well hidden, always pierces through the cloth.
If even she, with her notoriously discerning eyes, found the girl pure and lovely, how could others not see it?
But Zelda Maniel had spent a lifetime as the nanny of an Empress and a Prince. And so she knew—better than anyone else—that the finest things in the world, the most desirable, the most coveted, always belonged to the royal family.
And whatever the royal family desired… they would have it.
* * *
After helping the elderly woman on the street, Armin didn’t go to the café we’d originally planned to visit. Instead, he rushed to take me home. I had been badly shaken, sure, but it felt like there was something else weighing on Armin’s mind—something he didn’t say, likely because he didn’t want me to worry. But whatever it was, I learned the truth a few days later through a sudden shift in my own circumstances.
It was a sunny day when an unexpected visitor arrived at the estate.
A man stepped down from a golden carriage, dressed in the height of formal attire, and asked for me at the door.
Startled by the sudden visit, I threw on whatever clothes I could find and hurried downstairs. Once he confirmed my identity, the man held out a violet velvet cushion toward me—on top of it was a letter.
“What is this?” I asked.
“It is a summons from Her Majesty the Empress.”
“…What?”
Her Majesty the Empress?
I blinked in disbelief, staring at the man, but his expression didn’t change. He merely repeated himself, like a wound-up doll.
“It is a summons from Her Majesty the Empress.”
His outstretched hand felt like it was urging me to take it, and without thinking, I reached out and picked up the letter. Everyone in the house looked on in stunned silence, unable to make sense of what was happening.
“Miss, what does it say…?” Michelle asked, snapping me out of my daze. I hadn’t even thought to open it.
The letter was made of thick, luxurious paper with golden embellishments. Inside was a time and date—and the message that Her Majesty herself had invited me to her palace.
My first reaction was simple: I didn’t want to go.
But I didn’t have the courage to refuse. I was far too scared for that.
And to make matters worse, the date on the letter was today. Right now. There wasn’t even time to mentally prepare myself.
“I’ll wait outside until you’re ready,” the attendant said politely.
I scrambled to stop him, panicked. “E-Excuse me! I think there’s been a mistake with the invitation—”
“There is no mistake. The date is correct,” he replied calmly.
No matter how many times I asked, the answer didn’t change.
In the end, I had no choice but to get ready in a rush and climb into the golden carriage like a lamb being led to slaughter.
It had all happened so fast that no one, myself included, could properly react. Even as the carriage made its way to the royal palace, the whole situation felt utterly unreal.
The golden carriage brought me to a stunning white palace. In front of it stood a beautiful woman with golden hair, adorned with jewelry so extravagant I knew she had to be someone important.
As far as I knew, there was only one person around that age as beautiful as Duchess Grey—and that had to be Her Majesty the Empress.
Standing just behind her, watching me warmly, was someone else I recognized: an old woman dressed differently from the maids around her. While the others wore dresses of green fabric, hers was a soft sky blue—just like the outfit she had worn when I met her before.
“Oh, you’re here. Come in, we’ve been waiting for you,” the Empress said.
In this unfamiliar, intimidating place, where I felt like a complete outsider, I instinctively latched on to the only familiar face.
“…Grandma?”
The Empress burst into laughter. “Hohoho! Zelda, she called you grandma.”
Gasps rippled through the surrounding attendants. It was clear I had just said something terribly inappropriate. I scrambled to think of a way to explain, but—surprisingly—the “grandma” and the Empress didn’t seem bothered at all.
“You’ve got good spirit. I like it,” the Empress said with a soft smile, warm and gentle like a breeze in spring. “Now then, shall we go inside and talk?”
She didn’t bother hiding the curiosity in her eyes as she looked at me—as if she were trying to figure me out. As if we’d known each other far longer than we had.
‘What… is even happening right now?’
This wasn’t something you could explain away as a friendly gesture toward the girl who helped her old nanny. No, it was far too personal. Far too familiar.
But I couldn’t exactly put my finger on it either.
So I just smiled awkwardly and stepped up beside her, climbing the steps to the Empress’s palace like a stiff, awkward robot.
