Chapter 8
“Sister, where are you going?”
It was a bright Monday. Essela, coming down the stairs, spotted Olivia and her eyes sparkled.
Olivia’s face, framed by a deep green dress, looked unusually cheerful today.
She only ever looked like that on Wednesdays—the days she had her weekly appointment with the Crown Prince.
Olivia replied casually,
“Just… I have somewhere to go for a bit.”
“‘Just’? My lady, you’re heading out because His Highness the Crown Prince personally asked you on a date!”
Sally spoke proudly on Olivia’s behalf.
“Goodness! His Highness must adore you so much, sister! I knew it all along!”
Seeing Essela’s confident eyes as she bounded down the stairs in one leap, Olivia gave a small smile.
“Sister…”
Suddenly, Essela let out a dramatic sigh.
“Hm?”
“You’re just so stunning when you smile! At this rate, His Highness will fall for you all over again today, won’t he?”
“Exactly! My lady, your smile truly looks like that of a fairy!”
Hearing Essela’s affectionate words followed by Sally’s effusive praise made Olivia so flustered she didn’t know how to respond.
From deep inside her heart rose a warm, sweet, fluffy, and sparkling feeling—like cotton candy. Far too sweet.
If only Leopold would look at her the same way.
Essela, who had been silently watching Olivia, suddenly sighed.
“Sister.”
“Hm?”
“Sister. Dark colors are lovely, of course, but bright, cheerful ones would suit you wonderfully too. Let’s go pick matching dresses together next time!”
Sally nodded eagerly in agreement.
“Yes! My lady, you always prefer dark shades, but bright and vibrant ones would look beautiful on you too.”
Olivia gave an awkward smile and fiddled with the hem of her dress. A fragment of memory with Leopold, long recorded in her journal, surfaced.
“A noble lady like you isn’t the bright-type, you know.”
Those were Leopold’s words to her on her engagement day at fourteen, when she’d worn a white dress. Upon returning home, Olivia had sealed that white dress away as if locking it in a vault—and never wore bright-colored dresses again.
“Hmm… then how about this?”
Essela suddenly pulled out a necklace adorned with a pink gem and fastened it around Olivia’s neck.
Before Olivia could protest, Essela pushed her toward the front door.
“See? Bright colors suit you perfectly! Go have a great date and be sure to tell me all about it afterward! Promise?”
Just before stepping out the door, Olivia turned back to Essela. After hesitating for a long moment, she finally spoke.
“…Thank you for lending it to me. I’ll be back soon.”
Essela beamed brightly.
As Olivia’s carriage grew distant, Essela, still waving, turned to her personal maid, Veronica.
“Keep it a secret that I lent my sister the necklace, alright?”
If her older brothers found out, they’d surely give her sister a hard time again.
Essela gave a soft scoff and envisioned a grand plan.
For now, she was still yielding to her brothers’ interference—but once she made a successful debutante ball, she’d never leave her sister’s side again.
Veronica, watching her young mistress smile so brightly, swallowed a groan.
A truth known to everyone—yet unknown to the young lady herself. And something she must never learn.
“Essela must never find out.”
The Duke’s command from the day she became the young lady’s personal maid still echoed in her ears.
Even without that order, Veronica would never have wanted her mistress to discover the truth.
She could never let such a radiant young lady learn what had truly happened—all because of the sister she trusted and loved so dearly.
The meeting place was a coffee house on Ruehern Street.
Seated at the assigned spot, Olivia looked down at her necklace. The softly shimmering pink gem was exceptionally lovely.
Would something this flashy really suit me?
Overwhelmed by sudden worry, Olivia shook her head. Essela said it suited her, so surely Leopold would think so too.
This was their first date outside the Imperial Palace. Olivia’s lips curved upward as she thought of Leopold.
After all, he’d said he was looking forward to today too.
She remembered the card she’d kept staring at last night.
If only every day could be just like today, Olivia thought quietly—to play with Essela and go on a date with Leopold.
Then perhaps they could all share a harmonious meal together, with Father and her older brothers smiling at her.
Happy thoughts kept spreading. If mere imagination felt this sweet, she couldn’t fathom how joyful reality would be.
Just then, the door to the parlor where Olivia sat burst open.
“You’re early, my lady.”
Leopold strode in through the open doorway. His splendid golden attire, matching his hair, suited him perfectly.
Olivia’s chest swelled with a warm, aching fullness.
Sweeter than she’d imagined. Truly a cotton-candy kind of day.
Olivia smiled brightly.
In that instant, Leopold’s lips twisted.
.
.
.
“I greet the Empire’s little sun.”
Olivia Madelaine had always looked at Leopold that way.
With eyes that steadfastly declared love for him.
A woman who, though always gazing at him with desperate longing as if wishing for something, swallowed every complaint.
Hence, an easy woman.
Leopold looked at Olivia with cold eyes.
Ever since their engagement at age eleven—arranged without consultation—he’d never liked Olivia.
“Crown Prince, the Imperial faction pushed Madelaine’s eldest daughter as your fiancée. You know who I mean, don’t you? That green-eyed young lady. How dare she presume to be worthy of you.”
His mother, the Empress, had been entirely right.
People called Olivia a half-Madelaine.
Had Madelaine not been the leader of the Imperial faction—or had this not been the precise moment requiring balance between the Imperial and Noble factions—this engagement would never have happened.
He recalled Olivia barging into his palace last Wednesday without warning.
Not content with stealing Maria Etel’s place as his lover, she’d even taken away their time together.
Leopold dropped heavily into his seat.
“You understand, Your Highness. At least for today, please spend some time with the noble lady. After all, you do have ties with Madelaine.”
His aide’s nagging words echoed in his ears all the way here.
According to plan, he’d pretend to soothe Olivia while spending time with her.
But that intention had already been cleanly severed.
Leopold gave a sharp laugh.
“You’re always so diligent.”
“Oh—thank you—”
“I’d actually planned to arrive early today and play the gentleman waiting for you. Yet you always make me the late one.”
His voice, cutting in mid-sentence, dripped with irritation.
Startled, Olivia looked at Leopold. One of his handsome eyebrows was raised crookedly.
Her heart plummeted.
What had gone wrong? His expression had looked perfectly pleasant just moments ago when he entered.
“I—I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to see Your Highness as soon as possible.”
“Haha. I was joking. How naive.”
Leopold laughed breezily and gave a slight nod. A servant who’d been standing by the wall approached and set down a hot teapot, teacups, and pastries on the table.
Everything flowed smoothly—except for Olivia, who alone couldn’t match the mood.
Really… was it just a joke?
Olivia quietly studied Leopold’s face. He lifted his teacup with graceful poise.
“The aroma is quite nice.”
His brow was relaxed. When their eyes met, his sea-blue irises softened his gaze kindly.
“I seem to recall you liking sweet things.”
She had—until the day at seventeen when Leopold remarked she looked plump.
But Olivia suppressed that memory and smiled. Leopold’s smile had instantly drowned her in unease.
“Thank you.”
Yes. It really was just a joke. Otherwise, Leopold would have no reason to treat her that way.
Leopold picked up a cream pastry and popped it into his mouth. His expression softened, pleased by the crisp sugar cream melting on his tongue.
Though Leopold disliked sweets, the only confection he ever sought with hot tea was this crisp sugar cream pastry.
Good thing she’d mentioned it in advance. Olivia drank her tea with relief. The tea tasted especially good today.
“Ah. We’re missing something, Bertin.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Count Hajis quickly approached Leopold’s side.
What could be missing? Olivia wondered, scanning the table.
“Fig jam. Bring it quickly.”
“…Yes.”
Count Hajis’s reply came a beat late. Something odd flickered across the face of the usually loyal man, and it unsettled Olivia.
Fig jam… Leopold liked fig jam…
“Of all things to forget—it’s the noble lady’s favorite that’s missing.”
At the sound of his tongue-clicking, it suddenly struck her.
She’d heard news that Duke Etel had recently purchased a new orchard—planted entirely with figs, for his beloved youngest daughter, Maria Etel.
So that meant…
It felt like being doused with cold water. Olivia looked at Leopold.
His eyes narrowed slightly. Within those gently upturned blue irises, he stared at her with piercing coldness—
as if eagerly awaiting her reaction.
She couldn’t even tell if the teacup in her palms felt hot or cold.
What was his intention?
What reaction did he want from her?
Until now, Leopold hadn’t been great at keeping promises—but he’d always been kind.
When he broke a promise, he’d send flowers, gifts, and cards. He’d carved out precious time from his busy schedule to arrange today.
Most of all—
“What a pretty name—Olivia.”
Since their first meeting on Leopold’s ninth birthday, he’d been her radiant savior—the one she loved.
So the only words she could manage were these:
“…So I liked figs, did I?”
Olivia spoke dryly, as if commenting on someone else.
She removed her hands from the teacup. Beneath the table, her fingertips pinched each other painfully.
“No?”
Leopold feigned ignorance and tilted his head.
“…I do enjoy them quite a bit during fig season.”
Leopold gave a quiet chuckle—as if he’d expected exactly that.
Her eyes burned. Afraid her vision might blur even slightly, Olivia dug her nails deeper into her palm.
She couldn’t afford to show any weakness, even for a moment. Olivia straightened her back.
“Olivia.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Her own voice sounded stiff. Thankfully—it would’ve been disastrous if she’d sounded tearful.
“Your cheeks lack color. Are you unwell?”
His tone carried genuine concern. Her fingertips trembled, though she didn’t feel the pain.
“You look tired. Let’s call it a day.”
So this was Leopold’s true intention all along.
Olivia blinked rapidly. Her thickly curled lashes felt as if they might droop from dampness.
A servant placed the fig jam on the table. Oddly, seeing it made Olivia want to laugh.
“Of course.”
“Hm?”
“…Your Highness is so kind.”
Though it was a pity that kindness didn’t extend to her. Olivia gave a faint smile.
Leopold frowned. Olivia subtly gestured behind her.
While everyone, including Count Hajis, kept their heads bowed, the youngest servant—who’d been openly gawking at her—quickly lowered his head in alarm.
“Since you’ve taken such special time for me… you don’t need to send flowers today.”
This was her last shred of dignity. She didn’t want comfort from flowers anymore.
“Flowers? Are you saying that because you want me to send them?”
When Leopold chuckled again, Olivia felt once more that something was terribly wrong.
“Which flower do you wish to receive from me, noble lady, that you’d speak so directly?”
Leopold’s words reached her slowly.
Those flowers had been from Leopold.
Or so she’d believed—never once doubting it.
They came from the Imperial Palace, after all, accompanied by precious gifts and heartfelt cards.
Her expression slipped. Fortunately—or unfortunately—Leopold, rising from his seat, paid her no mind. Seeing Olivia hadn’t moved, he gave a gentle smile.
“Oh dear. My fiancée is frail indeed. Rest a bit before leaving. And Olivia—if you want flowers, perhaps learn to wait patiently until they’re given? Like a proper lady. Oh, by the way—”
In an instant, Leopold leaned over Olivia. His slow hand tapped the gem of her necklace.
“Didn’t I tell you? Bright colors really don’t suit you.”
His falsely gentle tone drained all strength from her body. Leopold turned away.
Like a receding tide, everyone vanished in a moment.
When the door clicked shut, Olivia was alone in the parlor. In that quiet space, she suppressed her despair and chewed over the facts.
All those precious gifts that arrived time and again, the flowers that filled her room no matter how many times she refused them—
even the cards bearing sweet floral messages and tender consolations that once made her heart flutter—
none of them had come from Leopold.
Ha. A bitter laugh escaped her lips. Just this morning, her day had felt like cotton candy—but now it was as if she’d been dumped into mud.
She felt hollow. No—more than hollow; it was as if her blood were turning icy cold.
Because the flowers and cards she’d believed were kindness were all lies.
Because all the time she’d spent preparing for Leopold had just been invalidated.
Because even Essela’s encouraging gesture—lending her the necklace—had been dismissed.
Amid the suffocating rush of emotion, Olivia steadied her blurring vision.
Don’t cry foolishly, Olivia Madelaine.
She muttered to herself inwardly. She had to stay calm.
First, she needed to find out—who dared provoke her like this? After blinking away the moisture in her eyes a few times, her clear green irises gleamed sharply.
Olivia rose from her seat and walked toward the parlor door. As the steady click of her heels echoed, she gathered her scattered thoughts.
Less than half an hour had passed since their appointed time. She’d given Sally some coins and told her to go play, and instructed the coachman to return in a few hours.
Only her disguised guard remained.
Borrowing the coffee house’s carriage risked drawing unwanted attention, and waiting for a private carriage would take too long.
How could she reach the Crown Prince’s palace without anyone knowing…? Just as Olivia opened the door to leave the parlor—
“My lady?”
A familiar voice echoed down the corridor.
“How is it I see you here?”
It was him—the man with jet-black hair and red eyes, impossibly gentle. He widened his eyes in disbelief at their meeting and smiled.
With that harmless smile…
“…You promised to give me a gift, didn’t you?”
Olivia’s voice cracked ever so slightly.
The man’s eyes swiftly assessed her. When he noticed the sharp nail marks on the back of her hand, his red irises briefly turned cold.
“…Of course, my lady. What would you have me do for you?”
