Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 39

As the sound of Gella calling for a knight reached them, Maleca’s face twisted into a demonic scowl, “Dialle, let go of her mouth quickly.”

“Aaagh! Kyaa!”

As soon as Big removed her hand, Miesa screamed. But Maleca ignored it and grabbed Miesa’s face. The bathroom door continued to rattle.

“If this keeps up, those brutes will break the door. Maybe we should delay this until―”

“No. Today’s a perfect excuse. Just hold her tight.”

“Still―”

“The ebony wood won’t break easily. We’ll just say we locked the door because she was causing a ruckus.”

Miesa’s screams grew fainter, and her mind raced.

What should I do? I have to do something to buy more time.

Kneeling with her arms held and her face grabbed, Miesa had few options left.

“Ptooey!”

“Argh!”

Miesa spat in Maleca’s face. Maleca grimaced, muttering curses as she wiped her cheek, careful not to smear the red rouge on her fingers onto her own face.

“Crazy bitch.”

How long can I hold out like this? Miesa’s eyes widened as she closely watched Maleca’s actions.

The problem was that their faces were too close. As Maleca reached out again, she momentarily narrowed her eyes.

“What?”

Their gazes unintentionally met. Maleca’s sharp eyes glared at her.

Realizing her mistake, Miesa quickly lowered her gaze. She immediately realized this was an even worse decision.

“You’re acting like a human.”

Meeting her gaze was already odd, but to suddenly avoid it too? Maleca muttered to herself, prompting the confused Dialle to hurry her.

“Hurry, do something. At this rate—”

“Be quiet.”

Maleca didn’t budge. She had forgotten her original task and was now only staring at the princess, doggedly like a hound that had caught a scent.

“Something’s strange.”

Did she figure it out? Miesa felt her entire body turn cold. She knew she should crinkle her nose and laugh it off, but her face wouldn’t move.

Miesa kept her eyes on the floor, breathing heavily. She had never been caught by anyone before, but today she had let her guard down.

Because of an uncertain threat, she had undone everything she had worked for. She felt her blood freeze. She wished the goosebumps covering her were just her imagination.

Maleca, who had been scrutinizing Miesa’s exposed shoulder and collarbone as if ready to devour her, noticed something.

She roughly pulled Miesa’s arm forward, confirming the fine hair standing on her arm with her own eyes.

“Well, look at this.”

Her murmuring voice was tinged with a sinister smile.

Realizing she had been caught, Miesa looked up. Filling her view was Maleca’s face, grinning like a devil.

At that moment–

“What’s going on here?”

It was a man’s voice.

“Young master! Right now—”

Before Gella could even explain, there was a loud crash. The door flew off its hinges, and the marble floor echoed with the noise of the debris.

“Restrain them,” Eirik commanded, quickly assessing the situation.

Maleca, already certain of her suspicions about Miesa, stood up triumphantly and shouted, “Wait! The Cladnier family might not know this, but—”

The knight hesitated at Maleca’s tone, but Gella, who had just burst into the bathroom, did not.

“Wait.”

That kind of trick only worked in the noble’s world. Gella’s world was completely different. Without hesitation, she grabbed Maleca by the hair.

“Aagh!”

Maleca flailed her hands but only managed to look foolish. Dragged out of the bathroom by a brute commoner, she could only scream in disbelief.

“You dare, you wretch!”

“A noble can make a royalty kneel, but a commoner can’t even pull a noble’s hair?”

Amidst the confusion of Gella’s curses and Dialle’s loud shouts, Eirik lifted Miesa into his arms.

“Are you alright?”

Only when she was cradled in his familiar embrace did her body begin to tremble. Miesa buried her face into his chest, feeling the warmth of his body and his comforting scent. It felt like she could finally breathe again after being suffocated.

Like someone who had been drowning, she clung tightly to his clothes. Even as he moved, causing her to sway, she held on desperately. Eirik sighed softly and held her tighter.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Ow! Get off me!”

“That thing’s been perfectly fine all this time…”

Eirik, carrying Miesa out of the bathroom, stopped in his tracks. Amid the uproar, one of Maleca’s comments caught his attention.

“Gag her.”

At the command, Valellk moved swiftly. Gella, eager to help, untied her sash and shoved it into Maleca’s mouth.

“That, that woman, the princess is—ack, mmmph!”

These were the last coherent words Maleca managed to utter.

Eirik, soothing the anxious Miesa in his arms, whispered softly, “I understand the situation now, so don’t worry anymore.”

Then, raising his voice, he called for an attendant. “Find Cullen and bring ten elite knights with him.”

Turning to Gella, who was panting with disheveled hair, he asked, “What happened?”

“I was a bit late because I was changing my bandages this morning. When I got to the bedroom, no one was there. It seemed strange, so I asked Sir Vallek, who was on guard, and he said the young madam had already woken up.”

Gella, still agitated, gestured wildly as she recounted the events. Eirik, cradling Miesa, sat down on the sofa as Vallek handed him a small jar.

“She was holding this?”

“She was probably trying to put makeup on her. The red rouge is smeared on her hand too.”

“That’s odd.”

When Eirik entered, the bathroom was in disarray. Holding Miesa down, the tousled hair, everything suggested a fierce struggle.

If Miesa resisted so fiercely, there must have been a reason. He checked Miesa’s face in his arms, noticing a smudge of rouge on her chin. Wiping it off with a handkerchief, he saw that the spot seemed slightly swollen.

Eirik sniffed the rouge and looked at the two maids. As he expected, their faces turned pale, and they lowered their heads.

Gella, peering over his shoulder, said, “Something’s strange, right? Give me two days, and I’ll analyze its ingredients.”

Eirik gently placed Miesa on the sofa and stood up slowly. Walking purposefully toward the royal maids, he said, “There’s no need for two days, Gella. You can see a good precedent yourself.”

He scooped a generous amount of rouge onto his finger. Seeing Maleca’s sharp face fill with terror, he signaled to Vallek.

Immediately, a rough hand forced Maleca’s mouth open. With her jaw already sore from the makeshift gag, a loud crack was heard as it dislocated, followed by a pained scream.

“There’s no need for a gag anymore.”

“Ah, aah…”

Although the cloth was removed, Maleca couldn’t speak properly due to her dislocated jaw.

Eirik unceremoniously pushed his rouge-covered finger into Maleca’s eerily gaping mouth. He then scooped out the jar again, scraping the bottom, and shoved it down her throat. As he withdrew his hand, Vallek clamped Maleca’s mouth shut to prevent her from spitting it out.

Eirik pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his fingers, then stared intently at Maleca’s face. He still hadn’t heard the sound of her swallowing properly.

“Mrs. Maleca, it seems you’ll need to lift your head a bit for this to go down smoothly.”

At his words, Maleca’s head was tilted back. Eirik pressed firmly on the center of Maleca’s wrinkled throat with his fingertip. A choking sound escaped through her nose, and finally, a gulping sound was heard as the contents were swallowed.

“If she vomits, it would be a waste of effort for both of us. Keep her mouth covered.”

After giving this instruction to Vallek, Eirik stood up leisurely and looked down at Maleca and Dialle.

“Mrs. Dialle, how long do you think it will take?”

“What? What? I don’t know anything about this…”

“I see. You don’t know anything.”

Eirik, noticing Maleca’s face turning increasingly ashen, gestured behind him.

“Bring a chair here.”

A servant quickly brought over a chair. However, the servant immediately regretted his decision as blood-tinged foam started to ooze from between Vallek’s fingers, splattering onto Eirik’s trousers.

“Cough, cough. Ugh…”

“Gella, check her.”

As Gella approached to examine Maleca, who had rolled her eyes back, Eirik turned around. Sure enough, Miesa was watching with an unusually bright gaze.

“She’s dead.”

“I see.”

“The foam is purple.”

Eirik, wiping his trousers with a towel handed to him by a servant, said to Vallek, “The body should be intact. Fix her jaw.”

While Vallek attended to the corpse, Eirik fell into brief contemplation.