Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 17

The next morning, the Pointy and the Big came in. Without a word, they started inspecting Miesa’s body, lifting her clothes as usual.

“See? If they had done it last night, her lower half wouldn’t look this clean.”

“He still hasn’t touched her. They’ve even sent people away.”

“Who would want to sire children with this? Most likely he doesn’t get aroused at the sight of her naked body. Anyway, we’re to keep an eye on her for the time being…”

Listening to their whispered conversation, Miesa closed her eyes. She had endured this many times, but today it felt particularly filthy. All thanks to the shame the black-haired man had awakened in her.

When she lay quietly, they eventually left, and the morning passed peacefully.

In the afternoon, the Big returned, waking Miesa and making her wash up before sitting her at the table. Miesa picked up some bread and began munching away, then took a swig directly from the syrup jar.

Whenever there’s an opportunity to eat, it’s best to go for the fatty or sweet things first. This wisdom came from nearly starving to death several times.

She reached to grab her hair with her sticky hands but stopped and instead shook the tablecloth. Messing up the hair the man had washed yesterday would surely lead to the Big yanking out her hair during the next bath.

Now, what to do?

She hadn’t caused any significant trouble in the past few days, and Miesa’s impatience grew. She needed to do something that would make the household frown—a big, disruptive act.

Should she break something valuable? No, this household only used cheap items, like the 2 Jeres fence materials. Plus, she was being given treats made with expensive butter.

Maybe she should attack someone again. She had pulled the Pointy’s hair yesterday but hadn’t followed through, so that was inconclusive.

Wait a minute. She realized she was too unscathed recently. No injuries, even healthier than before, which made her anxious.

Upper body? Lower body? Hands? Feet? Face? She pondered and walked out of the room, checking each part in her mind.

Then she saw the stairs. It was a perfect option—not too dangerous but still effective. She walked toward them, feeling satisfied. From afar, the Big called out lazily.

“Princess, let’s go together!”

Her words were polite, likely for the sake of others, but she made no effort to hurry. Miesa turned, scrunching her nose with a laugh, and took a step.

Pretending to stumble naturally required some acting skills, so she focused on her gait. Just as she was about to let her legs give way—

“Wait, this is too dangerous. Let me carry you.”

Oh no. She hadn’t noticed the man approaching while fixating on the stairs. Her face was about to stiffen, but a habitual cackling laughter escaped reflexively. Why is this man always lurking around?

“Mrs. Dialle, I’ll take over from here. You can go rest.”

The Big, who had been watching from a distance, respectfully answered and left immediately. As Miesa fumed, the man climbed the stairs and picked her up.

“Shall we go to the greenhouse where no one else is around? It would be more comfortable.”

Comfortable, my foot. Miesa looked away, trying to show her refusal, but the man didn’t catch on to her subtle signals.

“All the birds have been moved elsewhere, so there’s no need to worry. Ah, the key?”

He directed the last part to the waiting butler, who quickly fished out a jangling key from his belt and handed it over. In the end, Miesa found herself carried by the man to the greenhouse.

“Do you really dislike birds?” the man asked, setting Miesa down on a bench in one corner of the greenhouse. If it had been any other question, she wouldn’t have answered, but she truly never wanted to see birds again. Reluctantly, she nodded.

“Why? Is there a reason?”

How should she explain? Miesa lowered her head and closed her eyes, as she always did when deep in thought.

Piles of corpses. Black, ravenous birds covering them. The king laughing gleefully at the sight.

“The birds ate them.”

“Ate what?”

She didn’t want to tell him more. Miesa clamped her mouth shut and sat in silence. But the man pressed on with another question, clearly not ready to let the matter drop.

“Is there something uncomfortable when you speak?”

That’s not it.

“It’s okay. No one will come here, so you can speak freely.”

His eyes were earnest. Miesa sighed deeply and opened her mouth.

“…Ah…”

What should she say? She hesitated with her mouth open, and the man asked again.

“Is it difficult for you to talk?”

Well, in my head, I can speak just fine. In my head, I can say anything, but…

Unable to find the words, Miesa closed her mouth again.

“Have you maybe not used your voice for so long that you don’t remember how to arrange the words?”

He wasn’t wrong. Miesa blinked slowly.

“I thought so. That’s why you could mimic what others said so well.”

She hadn’t even thought deeply about it herself. So she didn’t know how to explain it, but maybe he was right.

“If that’s true, please say so. Even just a little.”

Her voice would sound strange. Miesa kept her mouth shut. She really didn’t want to do this. But looking into his earnest face, she felt compelled to give a proper response. It wasn’t fear or gratitude. Maybe it was because his face looked so serious.

“Yes.”

Her voice trembled ridiculously. Just as she began to feel annoyed, the man spoke again.

“I see. Could you follow me for a moment?” He gently took her hand, seeking her permission, and placed it on his throat. Then he made a sound, ranging from high to low, like singing.

Puzzled, Miesa narrowed her eyes, and he explained calmly, “When you’re not making a sound, your larynx is here. And when you make a sound, it moves depending on the pitch.”

Fascinating. Miesa’s eyes widened at the new information.

“When you’re not making a sound, it stays in its natural position. This is where your natural voice is. It feels more comfortable here. Someone taught me this during my voice change.”

What’s a voice change?

“Now, try it.”

Following his example, Miesa discovered that her larynx found its place at a lower pitch. It made sense. The ridiculously high voice she usually made couldn’t possibly be her real voice.

“Good. Now, try saying what you want to say.”

“What’s a voice change?”

Even those simple words brought a smile of delight to the man’s face.

“What’s a voice change? That’s your first question?”

He chuckled and explained earnestly that men’s voices change at a certain age.

“Anything else you’re curious about?”

Not really. Miesa lowered her head.

“Or is there anything else you want to say?”

Despite her silence, he asked again.

“If there is anything that has been uncomfortable during your stay here, or if there is anything you need, please let me know.”

Ah, there is something urgent. Miesa paused, trying to recall how to convey this.

“‘He still hasn’t touched her. People are waiting.’”

It was something the Pointy had said in the morning. Her voice even mimicked the Pointy’s, high-pitched and sharp.

The man didn’t understand. Desperate, she spread her legs and mimicked the act she had performed before the king. The man hurriedly grabbed her hand to stop her.

“No, I understand now. Please, don’t.”

So, when are you going to do it? But unlike Miesa, who was anxiously waiting for an answer, the man’s face remained calm.

“Well, I need a little time.”

Though his face was calm, his earlobes were red. This man seemed to be quite shy.

Anyway, the maids had said they would observe for a while, so she wouldn’t be dragged before the king tonight. Miesa closed her mouth.

“Is there anything else you’d like to say?”

No. Miesa wriggled her fingers, feeling uncomfortable with her hand being held. The man let go of her hand but then gently helped her up by her elbow.

“Let’s try to get to know each other better, shall we? That way, I can address your discomforts a little faster.”

What does that mean? Miesa stared at him, and he smiled a little.

“Let me show you around the greenhouse.”

She followed obediently for a few steps before the man raised his eyebrows. He seemed to have noticed something.

“Wait. You weren’t actually uncomfortable walking, were you?”