Noticing the shift in atmosphere, Closette quickly added, “Come to think of it, didn’t you mention that Her Imperial Highness the Crown Princess has a keen interest in paintings?”
“I have heard she has been summoning renowned artists to the Imperial Palace quite often of late. Though, it seems she hasn’t found anything that truly captivates her…”
“Antonio recently came across a rather exceptional piece. If you don’t mind, would you like us to show it to Her Imperial Highness?”
Ikelia, who had been lost in thought, offered a soft smile.
“Since it’s an eye for art recognized by both you and the Duke, I suppose it wouldn’t be a bad idea. I will mention it to Her Imperial Highness.”
At this affirmative response, Closette curled her lips upward and cautiously raised a hand behind her back. Roselia, who was busy grooming Jucid’s hair, caught the signal of Closette’s thumb and flashed a meaningful smile in return.
* * *
Roselia walked through the Imperial corridor with a fluttering heart, clutching the painting wrapped in brown paper.
Her face was flushed, glowing with anticipation. While she was excited about the prospect of selling the artwork for a fair price, there was another reason for her agitation: the thrill of meeting the heroine of the original novel—a character she had adored so much she’d read the story ten times over. It had been exactly three years since she had transmigrated into this world.
In the original story, the Crown Princess was a cold, composed, and charismatic figure. It was a classic regret-romance where the male lead, the Crown Prince, misunderstood her icy demeanor, only to realize his love far too late, having wasted his time on bitterness and resentment.
In that narrative, she herself was nothing more than an extra who added a moment of tension before being discarded and erased.
Regardless, things were unfolding in a direction entirely different from the source material, so there was no need to worry.
Or was there?
Come to think of it, only about half a year remained until the day Roselia was slated to die in the original plot.
Had she truly changed her fate? Just as a flicker of uncertainty crossed her mind, the attendant guiding her reached the door of the Crown Princess’s reception room.
“Your Imperial Highness, a servant from the Baltezar Duchy has arrived.”
At the attendant’s clipped report, a calm voice drifted from within.
“Send them in.”
The attendant opened the door and stepped aside, gesturing for Roselia to enter. Roselia swallowed hard and stepped into the sun-drenched room.
“Welcome. Antonio, was it? Ikelia told me about you.”
A woman with blonde hair and violet eyes offered a serene smile. It was a beautiful, noble expression—neither excessive nor detached.
Evelionne De Rugvelzet. The Crown Princess of the Empire and the heroine of the original novel.
Staring at the breathtaking woman, Roselia was momentarily spellbound. Realizing she hadn’t offered a proper greeting, she jumped in surprise and bowed her head.
“I—I am honored, Your Highness!”
“That will be enough. Raise your head. You are the *il domestico* cherished by Closette, correct? To me, Closette is like a younger sister, just as Ikelia is. I was curious because that child sang your praises until she was breathless.”
“I—I am humbled!”
At the sight of the stiff, nervous Roselia, Evelionne let out a soft, kind laugh.
“You seem quite busy being honored and humbled.”
“I—Humbled…!”
As Roselia, nearly repeating herself, blushed and pressed her lips shut, Evelionne offered a genuine, heartfelt smile.
“I heard you had something to show me.”
Deciding that silence was the better part of valor, Roselia quickly unwrapped the painting and placed it on the table. A flicker of surprise crossed Evelionne’s face as she beheld the work.
Staring at the painting as if entranced, she murmured in an awestruck voice, “Who is the artist behind this…?”
“It is an unknown artist named Abelo Hunterm, Your Highness.”
Hearing the name, Evelionne spoke in a tranquil, moved tone. “The painting is… so warm. Just by looking at it, I feel as though I can understand the joys and sorrows of the figures within.”
At the Crown Princess’s appreciation, Roselia beamed. She felt a surge of pride, as if Mr. Abelo’s hard work were finally being recognized.
“I will pay a fair price for the painting.”
Evelionne opened a box on the table and withdrew a document that looked like a check. Looking at the amount written and signed there, Roselia’s jaw dropped.
One thousand *Berang*?
In the original story, the painting was only bought from Abelo for 500 *Berang*!
Shocked by the discrepancy, Roselia stood frozen. Mistaking her expression for mere surprise at the large sum, the Crown Princess smiled softly.
“This is the price for the painting, but it is also a bribe for you, Antonio.”
“A br—bribe?”
At the weighted word, Roselia swallowed hard and met Evelionne’s gaze. The Princess folded her hands on the table and continued calmly.
“It means I am counting on you. I want to provide continuous sponsorship to the artist Abelo Hunterm. I want to ensure he lacks nothing for his creative endeavors, and I would like you, Antonio, to handle the distribution of those funds.”
“You mean… me?”
The Crown Princess was effectively offering her a service fee and proposing a long-term professional relationship.
Caught off guard, Roselia asked, dumbfounded. Evelionne shimmered her violet eyes and smiled.
“As you know, my movements are restricted. I say this because I trust you, Antonio—someone who knows the artist personally—more than an Imperial attendant.”
Just as the Crown Princess implied, she had miraculously met Abelo in the original story by sneaking out like a spy, struggling to find the time.
Though flustered, Roselia slowly nodded.
“Of course, starting with this: if you bring me works from other excellent unknown artists, I will pay handsomely for each. I am trusting your eye for art, Antonio. How does that sound?”
This… I might be able to pay off my debt faster than I thought.
Moving past her confusion, Roselia, who had quickly calculated the benefits once money was on the table, felt a capitalistic grin creep across her face.
“Of course!”
“Pardon? O—of course?”
“I meant you can leave it to me.”
“Aha! I see! Of course!”
Seeing Evelionne respond with a fresh, bright smile, Roselia felt a bittersweet pang of emotion.
That was when it happened.
The door was suddenly thrown open without warning.
“I heard a servant from the Baltezar Duchy had arrived.”
The man who strode through the door had dazzling blonde hair and gold eyes that mirrored Evelionne’s—yet his gaze was far colder.
He was someone who could barge into the Crown Princess’s quarters without invitation. In the original novel, he was the volatile male lead who tormented the heroine until the bitter end, only to repent in a desperate, final grovel.
He was also the man who had sent the original Roselia to the gallows.
Esteban Vandeloup De Rugvelzet, the Crown Prince.
If Klaus had provided the motivation for her execution, Esteban was the one who had directly signed the warrant. Though she had never experienced that fate, her entire body stiffened at the sight of the man who had authored the death of the Roselia she knew.
Ignoring Roselia’s presence entirely, Esteban glared at Evelionne with disdain. “What kind of scheme are you plotting, Crown Princess, that you’re meeting a servant from the Duchy behind my back?”
Knowing the original story, Roselia was well aware of his vile temperament, so she discreetly tucked the check inside her clothes.
The Crown Princess, likely fearing the painting might be destroyed by the tyrant’s rage, calmly turned her head while sliding the canvas under the table.
“A scheme, Your Highness? I was merely exchanging well-wishes with Closette.”
“You summoned a servant of the Duke just to inquire after the young lady’s health? Do you expect me to believe that?”
At the Prince’s unreasonable words, Evelionne’s expression turned icy. “And if you don’t? What exactly are you suggesting?”
Esteban let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Who knows. Perhaps you and Marquess Herden are joining hands with the Duke of Baltezar to stab me in the back.”
“Your Highness!”
Unable to hold back, Evelionne protested. When anger flared across her face, the Crown Prince approached with a mocking sneer and snatched her wrist.
“Or perhaps you plan to push me off a cliff, just as my mother hanged herself under the pressure of the nobles? Unfortunately for you, I am not so weak.”
“Your Highness, please…!”
The Crown Princess winced in pain. Seeing that the Crown Prince’s misunderstanding was escalating into violence, Roselia reluctantly stepped forward.
Or, she tried to.
Klaus, who had just stepped through the open door, pushed her aside.
Stumbled like an obstacle by the suddenly appearing Duke, Roselia stared at him with an incredulous expression. Klaus, appearing out of nowhere, looked uncharacteristically furious.
“Cease this, Your Highness.”
“Oh, the Duke of Baltezar. Speak of the devil, and he appears. Isn’t that exactly the case right now?”
“Release her.”
The Duke, who rarely displayed his inner state, was visibly seething. Perhaps because Klaus’s hostility further provoked him, madness flickered in Esteban’s golden eyes.
“Are you ordering me now, Duke Klaus De Baltezar?”
It felt as though she were caught in the center of a thunderstorm. How had she ended up trapped between the two central figures of the original novel?
Roselia, left standing blankly in the corner like a piece of discarded luggage, felt completely out of place.
“Stop it, both of you! Your Highness! If you continue like this, I will not attend the upcoming meeting regarding the Laphelios treaty!”
The treaty had been conducted largely under the Crown Princess’s expertise. No matter how much the Crown Prince despised her, he held her diplomatic value in high regard.
Since the third treaty was fast approaching, Esteban had no choice but to back down, though he did so with a look of intense, brooding dissatisfaction.
“To think a Crown Princess would threaten the Crown Prince using a treaty as leverage. How impressive.”
“…”
As the Crown Prince strode out, the Crown Princess let out a long, weary sigh. When Roselia sighed in sympathy, the gazes of both the Duke and the Crown Princess finally landed on her.
“Why are you here?”
Under Klaus’s suspicious, glaring eyes, Roselia was momentarily left speechless.