Chapter 5
Late at night, shocking news arrived at Opal Palace: the Twelfth Prince was coming to visit.
“The Twelfth Prince? Why? How could this happen?!”
“We’re doomed! We’re all going to die!”
“Ugh… I should’ve told the kids I loved them during my last break…”
The servants of Opal Palace fell into chaos. Some were shocked, some refused to believe it, and some lost all reason in sheer terror. A few even began scribbling their wills through tears.
The chaos engulfing the palace was proof of Richard’s infamous reputation—and also a telling glimpse into the caliber of Opal Palace’s staff.
Servants of a palace are the hands and feet of royalty. They work in the most secretive corners and hear the most private things.
A good servant, then, must be skilled, perceptive, and, above all, loyal to their master.
But the servants of Opal Palace had none of these virtues.
And that wasn’t surprising.
Nearly all of the roughly ten servants in Opal Palace were spies sent by other royals.
They had no loyalty, and their abilities were equally lacking. If they were competent, why would they be stuck serving the Seventeenth Princess, a minor royal?
Put another way, even if they died by the Twelfth Prince’s sword here, their “true masters” wouldn’t care.
The cleverest of Opal Palace’s servants understood this well.
So they clung to Lucilia.
To the girl who, superficially at least, was their master—small, soft-hearted, and willing to grant unreasonable requests.
Compared to the Twelfth Prince, their power was minimal, but at least she was of the same royal bloodline.
With that logic, the servants knocked on Lucilia’s door.
“Please… protect us when the Twelfth Prince arrives.”
But they couldn’t even voice the plea.
Lucilia, having heard that Richard was coming, had spoken with a decisiveness they had never seen before.
“No. Tell him not to come.”
And she slammed the door shut.
Moments later, the sound of a lock turning echoed.
“…I knew I should’ve written my will!”
Someone screamed in a voice torn with panic.
What’s happening?
How did it come to this?!
I clawed at my hair, rolling back and forth on the bed.
Richard is coming here? Why? For what reason?!
Where did it all go wrong? Weren’t we done with this already?
Did he think I was being rude by running off alone? Or does he still think I’m an assassin?
Given the Richard in the original story, the reason might be ridiculously simple. Maybe he’s angry that I—who stole his jerky—dared to be insolent, and now he’s coming to kill me…
“Princess! Princess!”
Servants knocked frantically at the locked door.
“The Twelfth Prince has already left Ruby Palace! He won’t listen even if you tell him not to come! You must prepare to greet him immediately!”
Their voices were desperate. Never before, in either my memory or Lucilia’s, had servants clung to someone like this.
But right now… I’m the one in trouble, and you lot are on the enemy’s side!
I ignored their frantic shouting and tried to think how to survive this crisis.
I had no idea why he was coming, but Richard’s target was clearly not “Lucilia” but the “maid I met earlier.”
What would happen if he discovered my identity in this situation?
Richard was extremely moody and didn’t tolerate lies or trickery.
The moment he realized I was a princess, he might fly into a rage for having been lied to—and kill me.
But if I locked myself in my room?
Richard had already rudely barged into the palace without permission. He probably wouldn’t force his way into my room as well.
He might search Opal Palace for the “maid from earlier,” but she’s not here. Maybe when he cools down, he’ll just leave.
Alright. That’s the plan. I clenched my fists tightly.
And if, by some chance, Richard turns out to be crazier than I imagined and smashes my door to get in…
Then I’ll just apologize.
A weak and sad conclusion, but I tore at my hair once more.
Richard entered Opal Palace with a terrifying expression.
The servants froze, their faces pale with fear. Richard’s sharp gaze swept over them.
Even at first glance, it was obvious these were incompetent people—but none looked starved.
None were as emaciated as the child from the forest.
Richard’s expression twisted.
“Where is the princess?”
The man at the front went pale.
“Uh… she’s… not feeling well…”
“Not feeling well?”
A middle-aged woman stepped forward, taking over for the nearly fainting man.
“She has taken medicine and is resting. We are very sorry, but she instructed us to treat Your Highness well. We know it’s incredibly rude, but…”
Even the calm woman began babbling under Richard’s gaze. Thankfully, Luke stepped in beside her.
“I heard the Seventeenth Princess has been weak since birth.”
“Ha!”
Richard sneered.
“I came to ask something.”
“Y-yes! Please do!”
The man who had answered first bowed repeatedly. He seemed to be the steward of Opal Palace.
“There’s a blonde maid working here, right?”
“Huh?”
He repeated the question, then gulped under Richard’s murderous glare.
“Y-yes! There are two!”
“Which is younger?”
“Miriam. She’s fifteen this year.”
The middle-aged woman answered. Richard’s expression shifted.
“Fifteen? Is there anyone younger?”
“She is the youngest in Opal Palace…”
The prince paused, then said:
“Bring her here.”
“Eh?”
Hearing yet another command, Richard’s thin patience snapped. He drew his sword silently.
“Y-yes! I’ll bring her!”
The steward vanished, leaving a tense silence. Richard plopped into a shabby guest chair, sword still in hand.
Five minutes stretched like five centuries until a maid cautiously entered the room with the steward.
“You… called for me?”
Richard’s murderous glare pinned her in place.
A girl with short blonde hair and round eyes, a mix of fear and curiosity. Completely ordinary.
“Ha ha.”
Richard laughed.
The Opal Palace staff brightened, mistaking the laughter for a good mood brought by the Twelfth Prince’s visit.
Luke and the veteran attendants, however, were pale and staring at each other.
“Ha ha ha… ha.”
The laughter faded, and Richard stood, sword in hand.
“So this is the answer my sister gave me?”
“Huh?”
“Where is the princess’s room?”
The steward blinked. He couldn’t understand what was happening. They had brought the blonde maid as ordered—how was this supposed to answer the question about the princess?
That hesitation sealed his fate.
Thud.
It happened so fast that even the knights didn’t immediately realize.
“AAAAHHHH!”
Someone screamed as the steward’s head hit the floor, blood thick in the air.
“I’ll ask one last time.”
Richard’s tone was calm, as if nothing had happened.
“Where is Lucilia?”
“The innermost room on the second floor!”
A servant shouted, voice cracking. Richard spun and strode toward the stairs.
“Your Highness, wait!”
Luke hurried after him, but Richard didn’t stop. His eyes gleamed with murderous intent as he climbed the stairs.
How dare they lie to me?
Richard thought as he ascended. He had already seen the child working in Opal Palace, and despite the threat to their life, the staff refused to hand her over.
The answer was clear: Lucilia, the mistress of Opal Palace, was hiding the child.
Richard’s logic had flaws, but he wasn’t thinking deeply—especially not in his rage.
He believed it wholeheartedly and stopped in front of the innermost room on the second floor.
He kicked the door without hesitation. The thick wooden door shattered like sugar.
“AAAAH!”
Inside, a small figure tumbled from the bed.
“You… are Lucilia?”
Richard asked as he scanned the room. The princess was nowhere to be seen.
He approached the trembling child under the bed and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her upright.
“Where… is that child…!”
His words faltered.
Red eyes widened, frozen in shock.
“I-I’m… sorry…”
The girl had long blonde hair and wore a tattered dress. Her round green eyes were soaked in fear. She trembled as she spoke.
“I’m sorry… I did wrong…”
“You… you…”
I recognized that face.
“You… are the princess?”
From the moment Richard smashed my door, I was so terrified I couldn’t even squeak.
Even for a madman, I didn’t expect him to break down a locked door just because I was “sick.”
He held a sword in his hand, and it wasn’t clean.
There was no way I could stay sane.
“AAAAH!”
I slipped off the bed, landing on the floor. My hands shook uncontrollably.
“Where… is that child…!”
Richard yanked me upright. My shoulders ached as if they’d been crushed.
The room was thick with his murderous aura—it felt like the air itself was pressing down on me.
“I’m… sorry… I did wrong…”
I didn’t even know what he said. I barely knew what I was saying.
Am I really going to die now?
Had the miracle ended yesterday?
For some reason, breathing felt slightly easier now. The pain in my shoulder was also less.
“You… you…”
Heaven? Is this heaven?
“You… are the princess?”
A beautiful face stood before me.
Ah, yes—this is heaven.
I grinned foolishly.
“An angel.”
