Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 30

Now he’s definitely going to be angry, right?

He had every right to dislike her just for being around, but now she had outright rejected the gift he had kindly brought. She had turned someone’s life upside down and was now refusing his goodwill. But Miesa didn’t know what to say in such a situation.

The damage was done, and anything she said would likely make things worse.

But the reason for Eirik’s stern expression was completely different from what she expected.

“Something happened while I was away, didn’t it?”

Oh no.

“What happened?” he asked, leaning in to meet her eye level.

That look. Those piercing eyes were fixed on her again.

“……”

Should she tell him she started craving sweets due to the lack of food? And confess this to the ‘heir of a grand noble house’ who lacked for nothing?

She turned her head to avoid his gaze. But he didn’t let up. He gently grabbed her chin and turned her face back towards him.

“Tell me exactly what happened. Whether you eat the pastries or not doesn’t matter. But your attitude is drastically different from before. I’m asking what happened while I was away.”

Afraid he might see right through her, Miesa hurriedly lowered her eyes.

Watching her intently, Eirik continued in a calm tone, “I haven’t known you long, but you’re more straightforward than you seem. You haven’t been particularly difficult or done anything without reason.”

“……”

“If something is so unbearable that you can’t even look at it, there must be a reason. Isn’t that right?”

His rational approach irritated her even more. If he had just gotten angry or ignored her, her days would have been much easier. But his constant questions, observations, and attempts to understand made everything more difficult and bothersome.

Most of all, it was painful to hear him say kind things about her. Not being difficult, not acting without reason—no one had ever defended her before, and she felt like crying every time.

Eirik persistently knocked on her hard shell, slowly but steadily. It terrified and overwhelmed Miesa. She breathed heavily in distress.

“Are you alright?” Eirik asked, immediately pulling her onto his lap and gently patting her back.

“Breathe slowly. Slowly,” he soothed, trying to calm her down.

“If it’s hard to talk now, you can tell me later,” he said, still expecting an eventual explanation.

Feeling that he was terribly relentless, Miesa closed her eyes. If only he were less tenacious, her life would be much more comfortable.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. The carriage rattled on, with Eirik’s hand still holding her securely. But he remained lost in thought.

As the silence dragged on, Miesa grew increasingly anxious. As she calmed down, she felt ashamed. Compared to his calm demeanor, her behavior earlier seemed childish and irrational.

She hated feeling guilty and embarrassed in front of him. Lost in thought, she suddenly realized what she needed to do.

What am I doing? No matter how much we hold each other’s secrets, he knows mine. If things went badly, I’d need his cooperation more than ever.

She couldn’t afford to let things go wrong. He treated her too much like a human, causing her to almost develop unnecessary emotions and pride. But that wasn’t what mattered now.

She needed to get along with him. With this goal in mind, her heart felt lighter.

Determined to break the awkwardness, she asked, “So, who are you going to give the pastries to?”

Eirik, who would normally have answered kindly, replied in a flat tone, “I’ll take care of it.”

Realizing she needed to find another topic, Miesa pointed out the window at a passerby.

“…What’s that person doing?”

“He’s probably promoting a new shop,” Eirik replied.

Despite several meaningless exchanges, the conversation didn’t continue. Seeing that he was distracted, Miesa understood she needed to give him the answer he wanted.

“Actually,” she began hesitantly, “my mother was from the southern region, Halieti.”

Eirik, who had been staring straight ahead, finally turned his gaze to her.

“…I see.”

He sighed lightly and added, “I looked into it once, but different people said different things. Were you from the Halieti region?”

The former king had three queens during his lifetime. The first queen was the daughter of the Duke of Salachez. After giving birth to the first prince, Vermel, she passed away shortly thereafter. Salachez then promoted a daughter from a cadet branch, who they could easily control, to the position of the next queen.

However, the second queen also fell ill and died soon after giving birth to two daughters and a son. 

The king had no choice but to accept Salachez’s request, not wanting to create a rival for the first prince, Vermel, who had been recognized by the other families.

Thus, the third queen was chosen from an undistinguished family. This third queen gave birth to Miesa as her first child, and a few days later, the king himself passed away. The last queen, left with no support, lived quietly with the newborn Miesa in Celia Palace, overshadowed by Vermel’s growing power and ruthless consolidation.

Even the nobility of the capital were often confused about the last queen’s origins and her family’s region. Some said she came from a family in the east; others said she was an old vassal of Salachez.

“So, you dislike everything from that region?” Eirik asked.

“…Yes,” Miesa replied, closing her mouth and hoping he would drop the subject.

Eirik, sensing her reluctance to talk further, sighed deeply.

“Anyway, it seems I’ve done something unnecessary. This is why I ask you to tell me about these things.”

“……”

“It’s beneficial for you to tell me what you like and dislike. It will help me avoid making mistakes unknowingly.”

“Yes. I understand,” Miesa said.

He looked forward again.

“So, do you dislike all kinds of sweets?”

Miesa didn’t know how to answer. Saying she disliked them might mean he’d never offer her anything again. Saying she liked them…

Seeing her hesitate, Eirik concluded decisively, “The ones you’re used to eating are fine, right?”

“Yes, that’s right,” she agreed.

Eirik patted her back approvingly. “Good. Being honest is good.”

Just when she thought the conversation was over, he continued, “And there was something else, wasn’t there?”

Miesa’s eyes widened, and she quickly shook her head.

“That’s all.”

“That’s all?” he sighed.

“……”

“Well, I think you—”

He stopped mid-sentence, staring at her face before sighing again and falling silent.

Though she found it contradictory that the man who always urged her to talk would suddenly stop, Miesa sensed it wasn’t a pleasant topic and chose not to ask.

She felt his occasional enigmatic glances but stayed silent as the carriage continued its tour of the city.

Eventually, three hours passed, and as promised, the carriage returned to the square to pick up Gella.

“……”

Gella’s eyes scanned both of them, particularly focusing on Miesa’s attire as she pretended to sleep in Eirik’s arms. Noticing this, Eirik raised an eyebrow, and Gella quickly looked away, feigning indifference.

The carriage arrived at the margravate, but it couldn’t pull up directly in front of the mansion. The Margrave’s carriage was already occupying the space.

Eirik found his father’s almost daily outings before dinner increasingly frustrating, but he couldn’t skip paying his respects. He directed his own carriage to pull aside and disembarked first.

To his surprise, his father’s carriage didn’t stop and continued past the mansion, heading out of the estate as if in a hurry to meet his mistress in the suburbs.

Suppressing his disappointment, Eirik turned back to his own carriage. He narrowed his eyes at the scene inside. His wife was already nestled comfortably in Gella’s arms. Gella’s steady posture, despite being hunched over by the carriage’s ceiling, reassured Eirik that entrusting Miesa to her care had been the right decision.

“Hand her over to me,” he instructed.

“Yes, here…” Gella swiftly handed over the young madam and then climbed out of the carriage. As was her habit, she checked inside the carriage and pointed to the box behind the cushions.

“What should I do with that box?”

“You take it,” Eirik replied.

Gella, thinking it a lucky windfall, grabbed the box from the upscale pastry shop. As she hurried to catch up with the young master striding ahead, she heard him ask without turning back.

“Can you handle a dagger?”

She felt it would be prudent to say she couldn’t, but lying wasn’t an option either. Hesitating, she responded respectfully, “I’m good at anything that cuts.”

“Good,” was all he said, offering no further explanation.

Gella followed him with a puzzled expression.