LLTEEFM 50

Chapter #050. “If It’s for You, Your Highness, It’s Not Hard for Me at All”:

As a result, the moment I returned to the palace, I collapsed face-down on the bed without even changing my clothes.

“You must be very tired.”

Tula asked as she untied the ribbon of my dress. It was understandable she found it strange—I had only met with Lady Martina, yet I looked as exhausted as I did after facing both the Grand Duke and the Emperor in succession.

“Tula.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Is it hard for you to tailor my clothes?”

Surprised by the abrupt question, her reply came a bit delayed.

“Ah, no. Not particularly. Why do you ask? Is there some issue with the clothing choices…?”

I had my eyes closed, so I couldn’t see her expression, but I could feel her anxious air, thick and tangible. I really was earning a lot of misunderstandings from the girls today. I didn’t even have the energy to lift a hand, so I simply shook my head slightly.

“No, no. Your choices have always been perfect. ─It’s just that, if you’re okay with it, I’d like to continue entrusting my wardrobe to you.”

On the way back, I’d realized something. In my previous life, the reason tailoring didn’t tire me out was not only because I had fewer options, but because I rarely got involved in the process myself.

When His Majesty had bestowed me with a hundred bolts of silk, insisting I have clothes made, I had no choice but to personally decide what to make and what embroidery to include.

But other than such special cases, I usually left it all to my spouse. Even if the choices were limited, keeping up with seasonal ceremonial outfits, casual wear, nightgowns, and more must have been annoying.

When Lady Martina had insisted, I had no choice. But except for that, having Tula take care of my wardrobe like this was a huge help.

If Tula ever said she was having a hard time, I’d consider assigning the task to another handmaid as a dedicated wardrobe assistant.

“Of course. If it’s something Your Highness needs, I’ll do anything.”

Truly a praiseworthy answer. But I couldn’t just appreciate it blindly, so I spoke sternly.

“I appreciate your sincerity, but if something is hard, say so. You’re a precious person to me, like my right arm. If you can’t focus on the important things because of something that could be delegated, that’s a loss.”

I don’t know how Tula replied to that. Because as soon as I finished speaking, my consciousness started to fade.

At most, she probably said thank you or reassured me she was fine. I was sure of what she’d say, so I didn’t wait and let myself fall asleep.

It was easy to tell when the child fell asleep. Her irregular breathing evened out, and the tension left her shoulders.

Whether she knew it or not, she never fully relaxed her body unless she was asleep. Even when exhausted, her back remained straight and her shoulders squared.

The only time she ever truly let go was in sleep.

“If it’s for Your Highness, it’s never hard for me.”

Tula whispered softly, knowing she wouldn’t be heard, and smiled gently.

Though it might sound presumptuous, Tula thought of Blanche as her own child, whom she had once lost.

Waking Blanche each morning, helping her wash up, dressing her for the day, and at night, changing her into pajamas, bathing her, putting her to bed, and singing lullabies—none of these were things Tula needed to do.

Blanche was six, and a very precocious six at that. She could choose her own clothes, wash up herself, and even if exhausted, if nudged awake, she would get up, clean up, and change on her own.

Even a nanny didn’t need to attend to her so closely. Blanche might not know it, but Tula did. And if truly necessary, lesser maids could be summoned for such tasks. After all, Blanche gave Tula many other orders to carry out.

And yet, just like Blanche said, Tula was more of a right hand than a nanny now, and she still cared for her personally, because she loved her.

Which is why these menial, unnecessary tasks became, for Tula, precious moments to ease her fatigue. Like now—stroking the sleeping child’s head to help her fall into a deeper slumber.

“That’s why, you can ask me for anything.”

Tula turned off the light, and in the moon- and starlight-filled room, she softly hummed a lullaby, though no one was there to listen.

Even the one singing it felt like she’d have pleasant dreams.

Was it a mistake to dismiss it as just Lady Martina’s misunderstanding?

The next morning, after a deep sleep, that was the first thing that came to mind.

“I was too tired yesterday to think properly…”

I didn’t remember exactly what I said, but if my vague, offhand words could make Lady Martina react like that, then maybe the Grand Duke’s behavior could be interpreted that way.

“I always thought the Grand Duke was in love with someone else… someone unnamed.”

That person he kept projecting onto me—I always assumed he had once loved her. Someone from a bygone era, lost in memory.

Which was why I thought whoever the Grand Duke loved had nothing to do with me. In fact, if he was mourning someone dead, then it meant he wouldn’t fall in love again, which worked out perfectly for me.

“But… what if that’s not the case?”

Whether or not he had feelings for Lady Martina didn’t matter. What mattered was whether he had someone he loved—and whether that person was a ghost from the past or someone still alive.

Because everything around me was gradually pushing me toward the role of Grand Duchess.

It was fine when it was just others’ assumptions. But what if, at this rate, I actually married him? And only after that, he told me he had someone else he truly loved?

“Well, that’d be a bit of a problem.”

A loveless marriage was fine. But marrying someone who loved someone else—that would bring all kinds of complications.

So, I decided to find out. Was it possible the Grand Duke liked someone alive?

“If a man constantly picks fights with only one woman, can you say he likes her?”

What would be the proper response from a nanny if her six-year-old—whom she treats like her own daughter—suddenly asked that?

There might be a correct answer in some textbook, but Tula didn’t know it. So she froze on the spot. Blanche, who had somehow learned perfect table manners without being taught, continued eating without pause.

“Uh… did someone perhaps bother you…?”

Blanche paused her fork midair and looked at Tula with a face that said, I can’t believe you just asked that.

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?”

Tula realized how silly her worry was. Even at three, Blanche had made other children cry.

But that didn’t stop a caregiver from worrying. So Tula asked again.

“Still… you never know, so…”

Blanche still looked incredulous but answered sincerely—perhaps because it was Tula who asked.

“It’s not about me.”

Only after that clear reply could Tula finally relax.

“I see. Then… why did you suddenly ask something like that?”

“Well, remember how you said Princess Electra and Prince Latro like each other?”

“Ah, yes.”

The pair who couldn’t act their age and constantly dragged others into their love squabbles. Tula grew tired just thinking about them.

Why did such smart, educated people act like that? Just last night, they’d been bickering again at dinner.

They always fought, yet somehow it always ended with one of them inviting the other to tea. At this point, the staff at Jasper Palace all suspected they were fighting just for an excuse to drink tea together.

If that’s true, it’s an incredible nuisance. Even if it’s not true—it’s still a nuisance. Adults might see through it as love games, but a child like Blanche could easily misunderstand.

Still, they matched in status and were both living in a foreign land. Getting permission from their home countries and marrying would honestly make everyone’s lives easier.

“Come to think of it, Princess Electra and Prince Latro are always proper and polite with everyone else. But when it comes to each other, they pick fights and act petty—so is that why you said they must be in love?”

Tula wanted to summon them both right now and show them this scene. Look at what your love games have caused.

“Well, that is part of it, but…”

“So then, if even a man who normally knows his place and manners picks fights and teases only one woman, could that also be love?”

Tula just wanted to close her eyes and disappear.