Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 82

Miesa remembered how the former Margrave disliked her. While she pondered what to do, she heard him asking Gella,

“Does that girl have trouble climbing stairs?”

“Pardon? Oh, do you mean madam’s legs? She’s fine,” Gella responded.

“Is there no way to heal her?”

“The muscles were torn, so it’s difficult,” Gella explained.

His gentle tone felt strange. Miesa casually hooked her arm over the railing and half-draped herself as she continued up the stairs, passing the former Margrave.

“My, madam!” Gella exclaimed, hurriedly following her and bowing her head to the former Margrave. “Excuse us, my lord.”

“Yes, yes. You should hurry and follow her,” he replied.

Why was the former Margrave suddenly acting so amiable? Miesa rolled her eyes. Was he planning to harm her, perhaps out of resentment for losing his title?

“Gella, go and find out why everyone’s acting like this.”

“Yes, it does seem strange. I’ll go check now,” Gella agreed, sensing the uneasy atmosphere and heading out of the bedroom.

Feeling anxious, Miesa paced the center of the bedroom, trying to calm herself by looking at the scarecrows on the terrace. While Gella found them frightening, Miesa thought they were rather cute.

“Not sure…”

Everyone was evasive. Gella asked several maids what was going on, but no one gave a clear answer. Eventually, she trudged to the kitchen, where lunch preparations were in full swing.

“Ah, Gella. We can’t talk right now, we’re busy with lunch,” one of the kitchen maids said.

Gella shrugged, remembering that the master had once suggested she learn to cook, something she had completely forgotten.

“Oh, it’s not that. I was just wondering if there was something to snack on.”

“Really? Well…”

One of the kitchen maids sidled up to her, whispering softly, “What about the madam?”

“She’s in her room. Why?”

“Oh? No reason… nothing…”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing. What is it? Tell me,” Gella pressed.

Before the maid could answer, the head cook strode over, gesturing sharply at the maid and then at Gella. “Don’t slack off, get back to your station. And Gella, come with me.”

Gella followed the head cook, grateful to have someone from her hometown to confide in. They sat at a table used by the kitchen staff for meals.

“The madam’s food is all right, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Why? Is there something wrong?” Gella asked.

The head cook sighed, glancing around to ensure they weren’t overheard, and muttered in a bored tone, “Everyone’s just on edge.”

“Why exactly?” Gella asked, frustration creeping into her voice.

“Well, when she was the young madam, she was like a cute little child…”

Now, however, there was a palpable reluctance to accept her as the lady of the house.

Gella raised her voice, indignant. “She was always meant to be the lady of the house. How can everyone’s attitude change overnight?”

“Who knew she’d become the Margravine overnight…”

Especially those lower-ranked servants who had always been kind to her were now bewildered by the sudden shift in circumstances.

“The great madam is gradually stepping back from household affairs, and now everyone’s unsure of their place and just watching their backs.”

“……”

“Don’t worry. No one’s going to be disrespectful. We’re a bit short-handed because the great madam refuses to accept more staff, but we’ll manage.”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“You have it the hardest, being cooped up in the bedroom all day,” the head cook said sympathetically, still managing to pack some food for her.

“…I see.”

Miesa accepted it quietly.

This was the normal reaction, after all. The previous overly friendly behavior had been almost strange. Yet, a part of her heart felt cold and inexplicably sad.

She fiddled with the bib around her neck.

The memory was still vivid. The maids had sat around her, admiring her, saying she was pretty but that her outfit could use some work. They had quickly cut leftover fabric and embroidered flowers with green and yellow thread.

When they wrapped it around her neck, the maids had clapped and cheered. She had found the overly cheerful atmosphere annoying and had tried to tear it off, but the maids had looked so disheartened. Even Gella had urgently grabbed her wrist, so she had thought she had no choice.

In truth, deep down, Miesa liked the bib. The simple maids who pricked their fingers while making it, only to apologize for not doing a better job, were endearing. This was before she had opened up to Eirik.

When she wore it, they were happy, like the maids of Celia Palace in her childhood. She tried to lock away those childhood memories, but the bib was an exception. But now, everything had returned to normal.

“I need to hear if Lizel is getting along with that man.”

“……”

“And Nea, who’s pregnant. I wonder when she’s due.”

“Shall I go ask them?”

“No. Just…”

Miesa mumbled, her energy drained.

“If I don’t hear it directly, it’s fine.”

Gella’s heart ached, but she couldn’t force the maids to chat in front of the madam.

“Madam, let’s do some makeup,” Gella suggested, trying to sound cheerful as she opened the medicinal pouch. She pulled out various colored rouges, successfully diverting Miesa’s attention.

“…Where do you use black and brown?”

“I’m not sure either. Maybe on the eyebrows?”

“This one is definitely for the cheeks and lips.”

“You shouldn’t use too much.”

“Is it too much?”

Miesa adjusted the amount of rouge on her fingers, using a towel Gella handed her. She applied the soft, petal-like color to her cheeks and lips.

“You look pretty!”

But looking in the mirror, Miesa saw her face resembling Vermel’s clown. She thought she shouldn’t trust Gella’s words and wiped the rouge off with the towel.

“I think someone in the dressmaker’s shop used the same thing…”

Recalling her memory, she wiped her cheeks and lips until they looked more natural. ‘A little bit’ really meant just a tiny amount.

“Wow! It’s so lovely.”

“Enough of that.”

Miesa stopped Gella’s exuberance and reached for the perfume bottle. The scent was overwhelmingly strong.

“This must be used sparingly too.”

Gella wrinkled her nose, covering it.

“Where do you apply this? On the face?”

“That would make your nose hurt. Maybe on the nails?”

They pondered for a long time before deciding they needed to ask someone. But there was no suitable person.

“Well, I need to go gather more wolf-eye mushrooms,” Gella said. The previous batch wasn’t enough, and she had planned to go again soon.

“I’ll tell the master and quickly run to the shop.”

“Oh? Okay, sure…”

Miesa felt a bit embarrassed. Buying these things to impress him, and having to ask how to use them, both felt embarrassing.

“Besides, he’ll see you with your makeup today anyway, right?” Gella said with a wink.

“…Something’s different,” Eirik remarked.

Even in the dim light of the candles, Eirik noticed that Miesa’s face looked different than usual.

“I’ll take my leave now…” Gella mumbled, biting her lip and stepping backward. Eirik’s eyebrows raised as he looked between Gella’s urgent departure and Miesa’s flushed face.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s… embarrassing to say,” Miesa replied, her voice barely a whisper.

“Overcome your embarrassment and tell me slowly,” Eirik encouraged.

Miesa wished she could hide under the bed. But she had decided to be open with Eirik about everything, so she forced herself to speak in a small, timid voice.

“M-makeup…”

“Are the ingredients safe?” Eirik’s first response was dry and matter-of-fact.

“Gella said they’re fine.”

“Well then…”

Eirik started to say it was okay but paused, sensing something was off.

“Why is makeup embarrassing?”

“Well… it’s because…” Miesa’s face burned even more. Why did she keep making the same mistakes, trying to act like everyone else?

‘What if he laughs?’ she thought. ‘No, he wouldn’t do that.’

Her husband might look sad, but he wouldn’t mock her. Yet seeing him sad because of her efforts to look nice would be even worse.

“I just wanted to look… pretty…” she finally admitted.