#118. For Me, It’s Like the Existence of His Majesty
The next morning, Count Grief came to my room and quickly swallowed when he saw my swollen cheeks.
“…You should have asked the kitchen for ice,” he said.
But what came from his mouth was a reproach aimed at me. I lowered my eyes as if intimidated.
“It got late last night,” I muttered.
Count Grief let out a restrained sigh, then quickly summoned a maid to bring ice.
“I’ll have breakfast in my room since the fatigue hasn’t gone away yet. By lunchtime, the swelling should subside enough to cover with makeup.”
The Count’s reaction didn’t surprise me.
Knowing that he was ignorant of His Majesty, I had spread a lie over the past year—that His Majesty had a violent temperament.
The Count’s response had been, “As long as Your Highness manages well, there’s no need for the Grand Duke to resort to violence.”
“And whatever happens inside the house, never let it show outside. That is also one of the virtues of a lady,” he added.
After checking that the swelling had gone down, Count Grief applied heavy makeup to my face while advising me gently.
I had heard that advice so often it was drilled into my ears.
Come to think of it, I had heard it in my previous life as well.
They didn’t call it a lady’s virtue then; it was the virtue one must have as a member of a noble family.
No matter how the family treated you, don’t show it outside to tarnish the family name.
In my previous life, I followed that advice faithfully. No matter how my family treated me, I accepted it.
I heard the advice not to do so, but I took it merely as advice.
Living for decades, I realized that such words only benefit those who oppress.
If the oppressed try not to show their suffering, the oppressors can simply continue with their exploitation without concern.
Only when the oppressors feel the need to clean up their own mess does the oppression ease.
But instead of preaching this decades-long lesson, I kept silent.
Even if Count Grief changed her mind now, nothing would really change.
In my plan, Count Grief already had assigned tasks that she could carry out without altering her intentions.
“Now, look. Isn’t it flawless? I’ll also teach you this method when we go over future makeup techniques.”
My reflection in the mirror was as perfect as the Count claimed. Despite the heavy application, it didn’t look overdone.
She was truly competent in what she was responsible for—a fact I could acknowledge, separate from my personal feelings.
“…His Majesty always says that official titles are more important than anything else,” I remarked.
The Count likely anticipated the king’s decision from the moment she saw my face. She remained silent and began tidying the makeup tools.
“If personal persuasion doesn’t work, there’s nothing left to do. One must accept the kingdom’s decisions,” she said.
Of course, it wasn’t the kingdom’s decision but the king’s personal one—but there was no need to tell Count Grief that.
“I just hope the kingdom will show a bit of goodwill in proportion to my efforts,” I added.
“…Are you referring to the matter you mentioned before?” she asked.
“Yes, that’s right. But if the conversation ends like this, His Majesty will probably ignore my suggestions…”
The matter I referred to was Tula’s social status.
I had portrayed Tula as a noble, exploiting the Empire’s ignorance of the Kingdom’s affairs.
But Tula was originally a commoner.
If she were to remain in the Empire, it wouldn’t matter much. But returning to the Kingdom meant it would be better to elevate her status while there was still an opportunity.
And it would look more natural if this were done before I had any power.
“I’ll choose the right moment to bring it up,” I said.
Regardless of her personality or attitude, Count Grief was capable and reliable.
Granting a baronial or viscount title to a mere commoner wouldn’t be difficult for her—and it wouldn’t harm the Kingdom either.
“Indeed. Since my presence might upset His Majesty, it’s better I leave a little earlier,” I added.
This way, I could free myself from the persistent company of the Count and enjoy some personal time.
Though I mentioned the king’s mood, it was really a hint that staying longer was uncomfortable. Count Grief, averting her gaze, awkwardly agreed.
“…As you wish, Your Highness.”
After the effort of reducing swelling, covering wounds, and fussing over makeup, Count Grief left the room.
This was also beneficial to me. I immediately summoned the maid brought from the Empire to redo my makeup.
“Make it subtle, as if you tried to cover my cheeks but failed,” I instructed.
Count Grief’s makeup had been excellent, almost too good to erase, but I preferred it gone.
I quickly wiped my face with a towel soaked in hot water.
The cheeks I had calmed with ice stung from the rough touch, but there wasn’t much time before lunch, so I hurried.
During lunch, the reaction of the other family members was surprising.
To be precise, it wasn’t surprising to me but rather to the innocently raised Sixth Princess.
They averted their eyes awkwardly and avoided commenting on my face.
The Fourth Prince, after the meal, even scolded me indirectly for exposing weaknesses.
He didn’t ask directly why I showed my injured face, but spoke as if referring to someone else.
Seeing this, the Sixth Princess was disappointed by her family’s selfishness, and I decided whom to support.
My plan was impossible without the trust of the one ascending the throne.
How could I trust someone who ignores me when my position seems weak?
“Already leaving, barely a week here… isn’t the travel time longer than the stay?” she pouted.
“It seems my homeland does not welcome me,” I replied.
Her expression softened. After years of trying to explain my treatment to my family with no result, the Sixth Princess didn’t argue as she had on the first day.
I gently pulled her into an embrace, my voice soft as silk.
Just a year ago, I hadn’t thought I could speak like this.
“I’m glad you welcomed me, sister. May I write to you after I return to the Empire?”
“Of course! I’ll reply for sure.”
“And…,” I hesitated, as if afraid of rejection.
“I don’t know about the Kingdom, but in the Empire, close friends sometimes swap their attendants… Could we do that?”
“Of course!”
True to her innocence, the Sixth Princess accepted my suggestion readily. Perfect.
With this, I could steadily plant influence within the palace while remaining in the Empire.
Information about the Kingdom could be obtained via the Information Guild, but placing someone inside personally had been tricky—now it was solved.
“Thank you. Even if I return to the Empire, knowing there’s at least one person in the Kingdom thinking of me will be a great comfort,” I said sincerely, though the reason was fabricated.
I left the palace swiftly but did not return immediately to the Empire.
If I were really going straight back, why would I have distanced Count Grief? I had plans she shouldn’t see.
With Count Grief out of the way, I escaped the stifling carriage and rode my horse.
Even over rough roads, riding was far more comfortable.
I arrived at a small village at the foot of the Ralke Mountains.
“You’re here,” Tula greeted.
I had secretly brought Tula here soon after Count Grief came to my townhouse. The destination was kept from the Count.
Since the Count would take Tula away otherwise, it made sense to use the situation to my advantage—especially to check the movements of the barbarians.
Now that I had decided to return to the Kingdom, the foresight paid off. Tula’s information collected over the past year would prove useful.
“So, did you find anything useful?” I asked, though her confident smile already answered the question.
“The chief of the barbarian tribe has a son. He’s around your age,” Tula summarized.
According to her, the boy, probably a year or two older than me, was still favorable to the Kingdom—or at least curious about life below the mountains.
“If handled well, he could be swayed to our side,” she added calmly, combing my hair.
“Good. Being around my age makes it even better. I’ll need to see if Count Grief’s training works as intended,” I thought.
The lessons on charm had worked well on the Sixth Princess, but would they work on a boy my age? That remained to be tested. Perhaps the Sixth Princess had simply been easy to sway because of her gentle heart.
“It’s best to form bonds while their minds are soft and attitudes flexible,” I reflected.
As with the Sixth Princess, I was not seeking immediate results.
After all, the chief’s son couldn’t do anything concrete right now.
Unlike the Sixth Princess, I wouldn’t have ongoing interaction with him either.
What I hoped to achieve was, in a sense, childhood memories—softening even those seemingly incapable of warmth or compassion.
Someone who appears unyielding, merciless, and emotionless can be made gentle.
For me, it’s akin to the existence of His Majesty himself.
