Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 43

Miesa had slept all day. She barely touched her lunch before returning to bed, and when she woke for dinner, she wouldn’t even touch the veal. Eirik was worried as he watched her sit there, lost in thought, until the servant came to clear away the untouched meal.

“Are you alright?” Eirik asked.

“Yes,” she replied, but she still looked unsettled.

Eirik let out a long sigh. “I should have taken you out of the room yesterday.”

“No. I’m used to seeing people covered in blood. I am, but…”

She mumbled weakly, “There are too many voices in my head. I want to erase them.”

Then she began shaking her head nervously. Eirik quickly pulled her into a comforting embrace.

“Shh. It’s alright. It’s alright,” he whispered, lifting her up in his arms.

“A bit of fresh air might help,” he said, carrying her to the balcony. The sky was already dark, the long dinner having dragged on until nightfall.

It was early July, and the warm summer breeze was thick and heavy. Eirik realized it was the first time they had been out on the balcony together.

He sat down on a chair on the terrace, holding Miesa close. Looking up, he saw the night sky, dark as ink, with faintly twinkling stars.

“Look. The moonlight is bright tonight,” he said.

“……”

Miesa remained silent. Eirik rested his chin on her head and spoke softly, “Are your thoughts still in turmoil?”

“Yes.”

“When that happens, there is something you can do. First, close your eyes.”

This was a technique he used to calm his younger sister, Rosier, when they were children. It might seem childish to his wife, but he hoped it would help.

“Now, can you see the darkness? Imagine that darkness is filled with all your thoughts.”

“Alright,” she responded, her tone uncertain.

“Now, fold them up one by one.”

“How do I fold them?” she asked, sounding confused.

Glancing down, Eirik saw her frowning instead of imagining the process. Smiling, he gently rubbed the furrow between her brows.

“Just imagine folding them up. It’s all in your mind.”

“How many times do I fold them?”

“Keep folding until they’re all crumpled up and small enough to fit in a pocket. Do you see them all folded up?”

“…Yes.”

“Now, imagine putting that pocket far away.”

His memories drifted to his younger sister, Rosier, who used to rely on him in place of their stern father and bedridden mother.

The little pocket used to hold scary dreams and minor worries for his sister. What could be filling Miesa’s pocket right now?

“How do you feel?” Eirik asked gently.

“……”

“No use, huh? Let’s see.”

He had never tried so hard to comfort someone before, so he was naturally clumsy at it. Pondering ways to distract her, Eirik muttered to himself, “Stories about constellations might not work.”

“What’s that?” Miesa asked, her curiosity piqued.

Fortunately, it seemed her mother had never told her such stories.

“Miesa, do you see that there?” Eirik pointed out a constellation shaped like a musical instrument. He then found another shaped like a bird and began to tell the stories associated with them.

At first, Miesa barely listened, but gradually she seemed to grow more interested. When he paused, she immediately asked, “Are there more stories like that?”

Unfortunately, he had exhausted his repertoire. “That’s all for tonight’s stories. But I’ll think of more for tomorrow,” Eirik reassured her.

“Alright,” she said, looking up at the sky and tracing the stars with her eyes. After a moment, she asked, “Are we going inside now?”

“We can stay as long as you like. Would you like to stay out a bit longer?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied, her mood seemingly improved.

Eirik patted her back gently and sighed softly, murmuring to himself, “If only we could solve the food supply issue…”

Miesa blinked at him, curious. Realizing he had spoken aloud, Eirik smiled awkwardly and explained, “I was thinking it would be nice if we could be independent from the Esquillir Kingdom, but it’s a futile thought.”

“Independent?”

“There was a margraviate that once declared independence. But Cladis suffers from famines every few decades, making self-sufficiency impossible. So, independence is just a dream. Forget I mentioned it,” Eirik said.

“Oh…” Miesa nodded, seeming to understand. Eirik, feeling he had dampened her spirits, quickly changed the subject.

“By the way, do you know anything about Captain Tilberg of the guard?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of person is he?”

Miesa, still sitting sideways on his lap, rolled her eyes thoughtfully. Then she said, “A swindler.”

“A swindler?” Eirik asked, surprised.

“No, a traitor,” she corrected.

Captain Tilberg’s behavior the previous day had indeed been unexpected. But the words “swindler” and “traitor” were hard for Eirik to reconcile with the man he had seen.

“Dear, do you know what a swindler is?” Eirik asked.

“‘A swindler is someone who deceives others to achieve their own desires’,” Miesa replied, repeating the definition he had once taught her word for word. This only increased his curiosity.

“That’s correct, but…”

“Why are you asking about the Captain of the Guard?” Miesa inquired.

“He came yesterday for an investigation,” Eirik explained.

“Tilberg? Here?” Miesa’s face brightened, and Eirik’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“Wait, you’re happy to see a swindler? Even though you called him a traitor?”

“He’s a friend. We’re close.”

“A friend? You’re friends with Tilberg? How so?” Eirik pressed, trying to make sense of it all.

“Do you know what a friend is? Do you have a specific reason for calling him that?” he asked.

“We used to spend a lot of time together,” Miesa replied.

“You and Tilberg? What did you do together?”

“He taught me many things.”

“Like what? No, asking like this will get us nowhere. Let’s go back to why you called him a swindler,” Eirik said, trying to gather his thoughts. “What did he want, and whom did he deceive?”

But Miesa quickly changed the subject. “Is Tilberg coming again?”

“Miesa, you need to answer the questions,” Eirik insisted.

“……”

Miesa clamped her mouth shut and turned her head away. Eirik was shocked to see that.

“Wait, are you changing your attitude just because we consummated the marriage?” he asked.

Had she been answering his questions merely to achieve her goals? He couldn’t believe how quickly she had changed her demeanor after their first night.

But Miesa seemed just as taken aback by his words. “What? Do you mean we have to do that again?”

A more serious issue had arisen. Eirik, flustered, let out a small laugh, forgetting his original line of questioning.

“Did you think it was a one-time thing?” he asked.

“I didn’t know it was something that had to be done multiple times,” Miesa muttered, then hastily began to clarify, “I didn’t talk much today. Really, I barely said anything about Tilberg.”

“No, I didn’t plan on doing anything tonight. We’ve had a long day,” Eirik said, shaking his head in exasperation.

“You must be very tired and worn out. I had no intention of anything like that tonight.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Miesa agreed, her shoulders relaxing in relief. “I am tired and worn out. Truly,” she said.

“Would you like to go to bed?”

Miesa nodded weakly, and Eirik gently carried her back to the bedroom.

By dawn, Miesa, who had been awake all night unable to sleep, slowly sat up. She looked at Eirik lying beside her.

The moment Maleca had died.

Seeing the woman die without a word had been exhilarating. But soon after, a sudden shock left Miesa feeling confused.

It was strange, like the ground becoming the sky or fish flying. The ease with which Maleca had died seemed absurd.

This led to a primal fear. The confusion terrified her. She didn’t want to think deeply about it, so she slept to avoid it.

The one who calmed her down was this man. As the chaos subsided, gratitude towards him filled its place.

How relieved she had been to hear his voice. What would have happened if he hadn’t shown up then? Maleca would have gone to the palace and reported her condition. And…

Miesa shook her head to dispel the thought. She looked at the man sleeping beside her, lying perfectly still on his back.

She wished they could live together for a long time.

She no longer wished only for his well-being and longevity. She wanted to live with this kind, polite man who treated her well, for as many days as possible.

To ensure he was really asleep, she reached out and held her hand near his nose, feeling his steady breathing. She smiled softly and withdrew her hand, gazing at his face for a long time.

As dawn broke and bright light began to pour in through the curtains, she propped herself up on her elbow to see his face better.