MFTR 08

8. …Could this really be bullying this time?
 “Are you truly…?”

The voice tried to remain calm, but the tremor in it was unmistakable. In the end, the sentence trailed off unfinished.

After a moment, the order to raise her head came, and Anette slowly lifted her gaze.

Sitting on the sofa was the Empress Dowager, who looked far too young to have a grown son and even a grandson. She seemed even younger than the King of Hayworth, though she must be five or six years his senior.

‘Are all royals from Alkan naturally this youthful-looking?’

No, the Empress and Empress Dowager weren’t of direct imperial blood, so perhaps the imperial family’s condition for taking a consort was a youthful appearance.

Anette, who had absentmindedly thought that she too might now fit that condition, quickly shook her head inwardly.

‘I don’t just look young—I am a child.’

The tension was so high that even the most absurd thoughts popped into her mind.

Meanwhile, the Empress Dowager sat upright, her pale sky-blue hair neatly swept back without a strand out of place, and examined Anette with a cold and piercing gaze.

The intensity of that gaze, which swept her from head to toe, was overwhelming, and Anette swallowed hard—just as the Empress Dowager’s brow sharply lifted.

Startled, Anette quickly cast her gaze downward, only to feel a sharp stare pricking at her cheek.

“Hah, I’m speechless.”

At last, a voice full of exasperation slipped out.

Lowering her head, Anette felt a chill settle in her chest.

She knew it too well.

She wasn’t Bridget, who had been raised in the palace with grace. She was just someone who rolled around the dirt with knights while hunting magical beasts—someone even called the seed of a beast. Of course, the Empress Dowager wouldn’t approve of such a person as the match for her precious son.

And now, something inexplicable had happened, making it even harder for the Empress Dowager to accept.

When she had first come to the Empire, she had expected such a reaction. But after receiving kindness from the Emperor and Empress, she had unwittingly begun to hope.

She swallowed a heavy sigh, afraid someone might suggest replacing the bride altogether.

“Does Kardien know?”

“I contacted him right away, but I heard the Grand Duke was off hunting magical beasts. So I’m not sure if the message reached him yet…”

“Hmm.”

At Charlotte’s response, the Empress Dowager sighed deeply and nodded.

Watching this, Anette suddenly realized something—her soon-to-be fiancé, the Grand Duke of Harzent, was someone deeply loved.

‘Perhaps he’s the imperial family’s weak spot.’

That would explain why the Emperor personally created a purification stone for him and even went so far as to arrange this political marriage, just in case a proper match couldn’t be found.

‘That’s probably why they were so kind to me.’

Because she was to be the Grand Duke’s wife.

Anette suddenly felt a strange twinge of envy toward the Grand Duke, whose face she hadn’t even seen.

She had spent her life clinging not only to her parents but to her only remaining family—Franz.

If it weren’t for her, Franz might not have lost his mother, nor fallen out of his father’s favor.

He might have already become crown prince, rather than still competing with his much younger brother at the age of twenty-seven…

“We’ll soon be family, so let’s speak comfortably.”

Suddenly, the Empress Dowager said this.

Startled, Anette quickly replied, “Yes, of course,” and then blinked in confusion.

Whether as a princess or a future duchess, it wasn’t surprising that the Empress Dowager wouldn’t use honorifics. What was strange was how naturally she had referred to Anette as someone who would “soon be family.”

At that moment, the Empress Dowager signaled the maids, who swiftly set the table with elegant tea sets and a variety of sweet desserts.

Seeing the charmingly arranged table, Anette’s mood lifted slightly without her even realizing it.

She, too, had once dreamed of participating in a proper tea time—like Bridget or at least a noble lady—rather than gnawing on dry jerky in a tent set up by her subordinates.

Of course, seeing noble ladies flee at the sight of her had made her give up on that idea long ago.

“Oh my, some of these aren’t from the palace, are they?” Charlotte asked in surprise as she inspected the table.

The Empress Dowager cleared her throat and replied,
“The Empress doesn’t care for sweets, but I wasn’t sure about the newcomer’s preferences, so I had them prepared.”

“I see. I recognized some of these from a famous dessert shop in the capital,” Charlotte said with a smile, mentioning that she occasionally received them as gifts from noblewomen unfamiliar with her tastes.

Anette looked in awe at the almond-studded cookies, colorful macarons, custard-filled tarts, and jewel-like strawberries glistening on top. Then, overhearing their conversation, she was suddenly struck by a realization.

She had assumed the Empress Dowager would naturally dislike her. But the fact that she had arranged separate desserts just for her made her think that perhaps… she wasn’t completely hated after all.

It was a baseless hope, of course—but Anette couldn’t help loosening up a little.

And with that, hunger set in.

In fact, she had skipped lunch because her stomach had suddenly become upset after hearing about the tea time.

Besides, she had no gift for conversation, nor experience attending such events, so she had no confidence in carrying a proper dialogue.

‘Better to eat than to say something stupid and ruin the mood.’

She remembered Sara once saying that adults liked children who ate well.

She wasn’t sure if that applied to her, but…

Reasoning that not eating the prepared food would be worse, Anette looked at the desserts with shining eyes.

Meanwhile, a maid began pouring tea from the teapot into the cups. The air was instantly filled with a fruity, floral aroma.

Anette, enchanted by the scent, looked mesmerized—until she noticed the sound of clinking china and froze.

She blinked at her cup, then glanced at the Empress Dowager’s and Empress’s cups across from her.

Unlike their cups, which were filled with a clear reddish tea, hers held a murky brown liquid with frothy white bubbles on top.

‘…Is this really bullying this time?’

When she was younger, cruel maids had sometimes mixed dirt or pebbles into her meals.

‘Unless it’s dirt, what else could make that color…’

Suddenly disheartened, Anette found herself at a loss—unsure whether this was a servant’s prank or the Empress Dowager’s doing.

‘I’d rather ignore it, but… can I even drink this?’

Just as she was struggling with the thought—

“Your Majesty, even if Sir Hayworth’s body has turned young again, surely his taste buds haven’t. Drinking hot chocolate by yourself?”

Charlotte’s words made Anette’s head snap up.

Her plummeting heart bounced right back.

“This is hot chocolate?”

“You’ve never seen it before?”

“No!”

Realizing that her drink wasn’t a targeted prank, Anette responded enthusiastically—then stopped, feeling a little embarrassed.

“I mean… chocolate isn’t common in Hayworth…”

It wasn’t a lie. In Hayworth, chocolate was a rare and luxurious delicacy. Even Bridget and Raon only had it occasionally, brought in from the Empire.

Still, openly admitting she was seeing it for the first time felt a little shameful for a princess.

Most people knew her circumstances, and she had tried not to care what others thought, but… somehow, she didn’t want to seem pitiable here.

“So you don’t know yet whether you’ll like it.”

Fortunately, the Empress Dowager didn’t seem to think much of her comment. She simply stared at Anette, as if encouraging her to try it.

Her expression was still cold and unreadable.

But Anette couldn’t stop thinking: maybe… just maybe, the Empress Dowager didn’t hate her as much as she thought.

‘After all, she did prepare all this for me…’

Ahem.

Just as she found herself foolishly thinking that the Empress Dowager might actually like her, Anette blushed and quickly reached for the cup.

Earlier, when she thought the drink was mud, she hadn’t noticed the sweet aroma. Now, it hit her nose gently.

And gulp—

“……!”

The moment she swallowed a sip, Anette’s eyes widened.

A heavenly sweetness filled her mouth, and she was overwhelmed by delight.

Clutching the cup in both hands, she eagerly drained the rest of the hot chocolate.

Only after setting down the now-empty cup did she realize the Empress Dowager was staring intently at her.

“It was really delicious! Thank you,” she said, blurting out her thoughts before quickly bowing.

When she looked up again, the Empress Dowager began fanning herself and suddenly asked,

“Are your clothes uncomfortable?”

“……Pardon?”

“No, nothing.”

Anette tilted her head in confusion, but the Empress Dowager said no more.

Just then, Charlotte picked up a cookie and offered it to her.

“Since you’ve had hot chocolate, something light like a cookie is better than cake or macarons.”

“Oh, I see!”

Just as she was about to attack the strawberry tart, Anette nodded at the advice and happily took the cookie.

The crunchy almonds and rich butter flavor were divine.

Then silently, the Empress Dowager pushed the plate with the strawberry tart toward Anette. Surprised but grateful, Anette gave another bow and picked up her fork.

Biting into everything the Empress Dowager and Empress offered her, time flew by until her stomach began to feel full.

“……!”

Only then did Anette notice the wrecked table in front of her—and her noticeably rounded belly.

Panicked, she quickly tried to hide it, but her tiny hands did nothing to cover the protruding tummy.

‘No, this can’t be happening!’

She had vowed to appear graceful and proper—as a princess and future daughter-in-law—but now her eyes filled with despair at the sight of her bloated belly.