Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 22

Before lunch, Eirik finished all his tasks and returned to the mansion. He nodded to Cullen’s second brother, who was on guard duty, and entered the bedroom, finding his wife on the floor with Gella, painting.

“I’m back. What are you doing?” he asked.

“It’s said that for someone with a troubled mind, music or theater is good, but painting seemed like something we could do in the bedroom,” Gella proudly explained, though there was more paint on Miesa’s face and arms than on the canvas.

“Where did you hear that nonsense?” Eirik asked.

“Well, it’s not from any study or research. I just heard that Young Madam Miesa had been through a lot, so I thought something to express her emotions might help,” Gella replied.

While Gella was rambling, Eirik narrowed his eyes and gazed at Miesa’s face. Despite being covered in paint, there was a slight, familiar expression—the same awkward look she had when talking about her gait in the greenhouse. It was clear she was proud of fooling Gella.

He couldn’t help but smirked. He had always heard about his observational skills, but thanks to his wife, he now felt like an investigator, catching even the slightest hints of her emotions.

“No need for that. From now on, just read her books. She’ll have a nice nap.”

“Books, like fairy tales, you mean?” Gella said, clearly impressed by the idea, while Eirik kneeled beside his wife to gauge how much paint to wash off his wife.

“So, I just wait outside?”

“No. Aren’t you busy as it is? Come back tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, I continue my duties… Alright.”

Gella bowed politely and left the room, but no sooner had Cullen closed the door behind her than she began to grumble.

“Who makes someone work like this? Do both medical and maid duties? I thought there wouldn’t be any need to stay after the war, but if this is the case, I’d rather go back to my village to practice medicine—”

“Didn’t you hear the head maid? You get paid double.”

“Oh, I get paid double? Then I can’t complain.”

Just as she awkwardly laughed, the door suddenly burst open, making Gella jump. Eirik glanced at Gella and Cullen with indifferent eyes before asking, “The change of clothes?”

“Right, I need to help her wash up. On it.”

“No, the location of the clothes.”

Eirik’s irritation was apparent, having to repeat himself. Gella pointed to the location, and with a brief nod, Eirik closed the door.

“He’s always so succinct with his orders. It’s familiar, but still…,” Gella mumbled to herself in bewilderment.

Cullen, indifferent, interrupted, “The commander is often like that. Why is this surprising all of a sudden?”

On the battlefield, formalities among knights are often minimal. With urgent reports, there’s no time for pleasantries. 

However, Gella still seemed unconvinced and murmured, “But he’s so polite to the young madam.”

“He’s always been strict with etiquette. He’s never once swore at us either. What’s so strange about that?”

“There’s something… hard to explain.”

Gella tried to raise her suspicions, but Cullen couldn’t understand. Spending time in the hallway meant missing out on how the commander treated his wife.

“Showing respect to his wife, even with two guards around…”

Gella felt frustrated. Something subtle was definitely there, but with Eirik being a walking rulebook, it was hard to pinpoint.

“Well, it’s just… how can they be so affectionate when they can’t even communicate properly? Or maybe not affectionate, but still…,” Gella paused to choose her words, shaking her head. “Never mind. If they’re getting along well, that’s great. It’s not my place to worry about it anyway.”

“Did you enjoy playing with the paint?” Eirik asked.

Miesa shook her head. “Not children’s books. Adult conversations.”

Understanding her meaning, Eirik nodded. Although her speech was clumsy, it seemed she was more interested in books that could help her improve her speaking skills rather than simple children’s tales. She probably wanted to read something with more dialogue.

“Ah, I see. Novels would indeed be more helpful. They contain plenty of conversation,” Eirik agreed.

“And ‘That person lacks the basic manners for a conversation,’” Miesa mimicked someone’s voice, making Eirik chuckle.

“Okay. I’ll make sure to bring you some books that cover basic manners and conversational skills,” he said, standing up to head to the bathroom.

Eirik rolled up his sleeves and began filling the bathtub. Thanks to the fire in the corner of the bathroom, which kept the water constantly heated, it didn’t take long to prepare the bath. He closed the window that had been left open for ventilation, and soon the bath was ready.

After gathering a few glass bottles and setting them on a shelf, Eirik looked at Miesa, who was pointing at the door.

“You’ve hurt your arm, haven’t you?” Eirik raised an eyebrow, puzzled by her actions.

Miesa, standing at a distance, shook her head. “It’s fine.”

Her wrist, which had been swollen the night before, had significantly improved. But Eirik still doubted that she could manage washing herself properly.

Just as he was about to question her again, Miesa said, “Embarrassing.”

Eirik narrowed his eyes, surprised by the unexpected word from someone who often acted childishly.

Then she added, “Eirik’s face… embarrassing. I’m uncomfortable.”

“My face embarrasses you?” Eirik asked, confused. “What do you mean?”

Miesa sighed deeply, attempting to explain. “Why is Eirik’s face red? It makes me uncomfortable.”

Realizing that his blushing was making her uncomfortable, Eirik’s ears reddened again, but he quickly suggested an alternative.

“How about I wash off the paint and wash your hair, then leave you to bathe alone?”

Miesa didn’t answer verbally but spread her arms in agreement. Eirik took off her dress, leaving the slip she wore underneath.

“You know, you don’t answer much,” he gently chided. “From now on, try to speak out loud, even if it’s just a few words. Practice makes perfect.”

“…Okay,” she whispered.

Pleased, Eirik praised her, “Good job. Keep answering like that, even if it’s just short replies.”

With an awkward smile, Miesa stepped into the bathtub, still wearing the slip, and murmured, “Okay.”

“That’s it. You’re doing well,” Eirik encouraged.

The awkward smile on her face became more pronounced as Eirik turned to focus on selecting the right glass bottle from the shelf. Her slip, now wet, clung to her skin, revealing more than he intended to see.

“How did you spend your morning?” he asked, hoping to make conversation.

Miesa took a moment to think before answering, “Gella, good.”

“That’s good to hear.”

An awkward silence followed. Eirik created a thick lather of bubbles and poured them into the tub, obscuring her body from view, making it easier for him to focus.

“Seems like you got paint everywhere,” he remarked, gently scrubbing her hands, arms, and face, then washing her hair.

After explaining how she should wash the rest of her body, Miesa pointed to the door. “Now, go,” she said.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

Seeing his hesitation, Miesa’s gestures became more urgent. The finger pointing at the door became more polite now.

“Now… go. It’s fine.”

Frustrated by her own short speech, she gestured quickly toward the door, her words curt but her hands showing politeness.

“Alright. Call if you need anything,” Eirik said with a laugh, standing up and turning to leave.

After leaving the bathroom, Eirik stood by the door just in case. Soon, a few loud thuds made him reconsider, but the sound of running water resumed, indicating that everything was under control.

After a while, the door opened, and Miesa emerged, mumbling something under her breath. Her robe was on backward, and as soon as she saw him, she spoke up as if she had been waiting.

“Tomorrow, Gella, bathe me.”

Her pronunciation was noticeably more natural, perhaps due to practice while washing.

Eirik nodded and replied, “Yes, Gella will bathe you starting tomorrow. By the way, the robe is backward.”

After explaining that the ribbon should be in front, she expressionlessly returned to the bathroom. Shortly after, more thuds echoed from within, followed by the sound of something falling. She eventually emerged, properly dressed, but grumbling.

“Eirik’s face turns red, makes it hard for me.”

“Ah, you suffer because of my shyness. Are your injuries alright?” Eirik coaxed her to sit on the sofa and began reapplying ointment and bandaging her wounds.

As he dried her still-damp hair, he suggested gently, “Now, let’s talk about today.”

Despite his kind words, Miesa remained sullen, her jaw clenched in annoyance. Eirik took her small, delicate hand in his, marveling at how pruney her fingertips had become after the bath.

“Are you comfortable here?” he asked.

“Good. Fine,” she replied.

“I heard you like meat, so I instructed the kitchen to prepare a variety of meat dishes. But why were you so thin?” Eirik asked.

Miesa hesitated before responding in a flat tone, “‘Why bother with food? It’s a hassle.’“

Eirik’s brow furrowed at her words, but Miesa continued with a slightly proud, awkward smile.

“‘She probably puts more food on her body than in her mouth. Just give her some dried herbs. Easy to clean up.’“

Eirik couldn’t understand why she seemed genuinely happy as she said that. He asked, “Were Mrs. Maleca and Mrs. Diella always your maids?”

“Yes. Five originally. Now, just two.”

“I see.”

“They seem quite disrespectful.”

His low, murmuring voice hinted at something darker. Miesa, sensing his mood, grabbed his hand in a hurry.

“If they get hurt, Vermel will know.”

“Vermel… The name the king used before he ascended to the throne.”