Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 166

Epilogue

“Nea, have you not given birth to the child you conceived back then?”

“Pardon?”

The workroom for the maids of the Cladnier mansion. The very person who had once been the queen of this country was lying long across the worktable, and everyone blinked in confusion at her words. However, the madam simply grew irritable instead of explaining.

“Rita. Peel off the thin skin as well. It’s too bitter otherwise.”

Miesa handed the basket of walnuts to a maid named Rita, then turned back to Nea.

“So, Nea, haven’t you given birth yet?”

When Nea, the maid, couldn’t answer out of sheer confusion, Madam Manere, who was seated off to the side, perceptively stepped in.

“Madam, I don’t know when exactly it was, but if someone becomes pregnant, they usually give birth within ten months.”

“Oh, I see. Then she must have given birth back then and gotten pregnant again?”

Miesa had never witnessed anyone giving birth. Even when she was on the throne, she hadn’t seen or heard much about such things, so her curiosity led her to ask again.

“It must be hard to work with a belly that big, right? It looks difficult even to walk.”

“I’m fine, Madam. I do mostly seated work anyway, and I’m naturally healthy… And actually, it’s better to move around a bit to make giving birth easier.”

“Until when will you keep working, then?”

At Miesa’s last question, the maid named Nea broke into a cold sweat and glanced around nervously.

“After I give birth next month, I want to rest for about three or four months, then come back depending on my condition… May I return?”

“Will your body be alright in just three or four months? Wouldn’t it be better to rest a bit longer before coming back?”

Since Miesa had never seen someone with such a swollen belly before, she was genuinely worried. Her belly was much bigger compared to Hagail’s.

“No, no, it’s alright. Four months—no, three months will be more than enough.”

As Nea flailed her hands hastily, Miesa nodded in response.

“Alright, let’s talk again after seeing how you’re doing then. By the way, was the child you had before a daughter or a son?”

“A daughter. My sister also has a daughter, so we’re raising them together.”

“Really? So it was a daughter. She must be pretty, taking after you.”

Of all the things said today, this casual remark from the madam astonished Nea the most. Her mouth fell open in shock.

For someone who had managed palace attendants—elegant and sophisticated women—and who was, herself, unrealistically beautiful, to compliment Nea’s swollen, puffy face near her due date was beyond belief.

“No, not at all… I mean, I’m nothing like…”

“Why not? Nea, you’re tall and pretty.”

In the meantime, Rita, who had washed her hands and returned, meticulously peeled the walnut skin with a sterilized needle. Miesa popped a piece of the freshly peeled walnut into her mouth and continued,

“Nea, reduce your work hours by half until you give birth. I’ll let the head maid know.”

“But…”

“Are you worried about your wages? You’ll receive them in full, so don’t worry.”

“Oh, Madam, thank you…”

“This is nothing. We have plenty of money.”

As Miesa answered indifferently, she watched another maid sewing and began to nag.

“You. That stitch doesn’t look right.”

“Yes, Madam! I’ll undo it and redo it right away.”

“Why bother redoing it if it’s not going to tear? Just add a few more stitches to make it secure. No need to undo all that work.”

Despite such moments of generosity, the lady of House Cladnier often uttered startling words.

“Dina, you’ll need to redo yours. If you stuff it like that, it’ll burst out like human entrails.”

“Yes, I’ll take some out.”

The maid named Dina hurriedly removed some of the stuffing from the winter vest. Hearing Miesa speak so casually about something bursting out like entrails sent a chill down everyone’s spine.

The maids, all anxious, secretly wondered when Madam would finally leave, but Miesa had just now remembered why she came today.

“Oh, Manere, take that out and spread it.”

“Yes, Madam.”

Madam Manere unfurled the shawl she had been holding. The luxurious shawl, with its glossy sheen, was decorated with intricate lace along the edges.

“Remove the parts with the holes and embroider flowers in their place.”

“……”

Miesa’s words brought a heavy silence to the workroom. When would Madam ever let go of her obsession with yellow floral embroidery?

Handkerchiefs, stockings, even hair ribbons—day after day, she brought something new and placed it on the worktable, and now it was even the shawl.

“Madam, this shawl is far too fine for floral embroidery. It just wouldn’t…”

“It’s fine. I’ll only use it in the garden.”

That was a bit of a relief. The maids sighed quietly in relief.

After all, whenever Madam went out, she dressed appropriately as the lady of House Cladnier.

Inside the mansion, however, she wore whatever she pleased. Today, she hadn’t bothered to style her hair in an elaborate bun or updo; instead, she tied her platinum-blonde hair simply with a ribbon adorned with floral embroidery. She wore a loose dress that didn’t constrict her body, and she was lying sideways across the table, her arms crossed.

One of the maids, sensing the mood, picked up the shawl to examine it, while the others focused back on their work.

Having watched them work for a while, Miesa finally brushed the walnut crumbs off her hands and got off the table.

“I’m leaving. Now, don’t slack off—work hard.”

“Of course, Madam.”

“I mean don’t have fun while I’m gone. Gossip all you want when I’m here.”

Of course, Miesa knew that they couldn’t behave the same way they used to. Still, she couldn’t help but pout a bit, so she didn’t forget to point her finger at a maid named Lizel as her parting words.

“Lizel, make sure you break up with that man.”

“Yes, understood.”

“I’ll give you three days. This time, really break it off.”

“Yes, this time, definitely…”

Satisfied with Lizel’s anxious nodding, the tyrant vanished, content.

The next stop after the maids’ workroom was the kitchen. Miesa and Madam Manere were walking slowly down the hallway when an unsettling noise erupted from the kitchen.

“Didn’t I tell you yesterday that the fish had gone bad?”

“So I told you to throw away what was in the basket, but you didn’t, and now you’re yelling at me?”

“What’s going on here, making all this noise?”

The moment Miesa entered, the kitchen fell silent. The kitchen maids, who had been watching nervously, pointed at the two people who had been shouting.

“Um, Madam…”

One of them began. After hearing the story, it turned out that the spoiled fish had been used in the stew, ruining all the prepared lunch. After listening to the argument, Miesa pointed her finger at one of the quarreling maids.

“This one is at fault.”

“Pardon?”

The head cook and the maids looked puzzled, tilting their heads as Miesa explained.

“Yesterday, when the head cook was telling me about the butcher’s son over there, someone asked how many turkeys they would slaughter, interrupting the story.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“And then she said, ‘I’ll throw away what’s in the basket, so don’t touch it,’ before moving the carrots.”

“Did I?”

The maid exclaimed indignantly, but Miesa wasn’t done.

“After that, you took the carrots and headed to the storeroom, then chatted with the kitchen assistant about the new vegetable seller being handsome.”

“Oh my…”

“‘Did you see the veins popping on his arms when he lifted things? It looked like his sleeves would burst’—that’s what you said.”

“Y-yes, I said that… but, please, enough!”

The kitchen maid, on the verge of tears, waved her hands in embarrassment. Everyone in the kitchen had their mouths agape, but secretly, they found it amusing to see someone who often slacked off and blamed others finally being embarrassed.

“So, you said you’d throw it away but didn’t, and then tried to pin it on someone else?”

The head cook, now furious about the ruined lunch, joined in, and Madam Manere also commented, “Worse than that is talking back to Madam with ‘Did I?’ when she’s speaking.”

“Indeed, Madam. What should we do about her?”

Miesa thought for a moment before waving her hand dismissively. “Send her away.”

“Should we let her go quietly?”

“I’ll leave how you deal with her to the head cook.”

With the situation settled, Miesa, as usual, took her seat at her spot—in front of the kitchen workers’ dining table.

But the head cook didn’t come, seemingly busy with other things. It looked like they were still trying to decide on a replacement menu for lunch after dealing with the guilty maid.

“Head cook, hurry up and finish that story from yesterday.”

“Madam, but… well…”

The head cook hesitated, torn, while Miesa waved her hand.

“We boiled lots of sausages the other day. Just serve those again for lunch.”

“But it would be the same menu as this morning…”

“I don’t mind. Just throw some ingredients together and boil it.”

The head cook sighed in relief at that. After giving some rough instructions, he returned, smiling sheepishly as he asked, “Madam, is there anything you’d particularly like to eat?”

“Roast pork thigh.”

“You can’t eat that all the time. Isn’t there anything else you’d like?”

The head cook asked again.

“The roast turkey yesterday was delicious too. It’s a pity Madam can’t eat birds.”

Miesa was fine now, as long as she didn’t make eye contact with the bird, but she still couldn’t eat it. Since she couldn’t eat it herself, she wouldn’t stop others from having it, and so poultry was still often cooked at the mansion.

“No, I don’t like it. Who knows what might be inside a bird’s stomach.”

“What’s there to be afraid of in a bird’s stomach? Oh, are you worried about bugs? We clean out the guts before cooking, you know.”

“Don’t push Madam if she dislikes it,” Madam Manere quickly intervened. The head cook, disappointed, eventually continued the story he had been telling.

“So, that butcher’s son—apparently, he got into trouble with a woman this time.”

“Really? What happened next?”

Miesa’s eyes gleamed with interest as she listened.