MHC 11

Chapter 11

Just as she was enjoying a simple appetizer, the main course arrived. From breakfast onward, the rich aroma of roasted meat had lingered in the air. In front of Cléo lay a beautifully presented lamb steak, seared on the outside.

“You said you liked lamb, so I managed to get a young one that was just slaughtered. The juices are exquisite; the taste is exceptional,” Karlis said, winking subtly as he presented a dish specially prepared for her.

He straightened his back and began slicing the steak. After savoring the slices, he showered it with all kinds of compliments and praise for the dish.

Cléo picked up a small piece of steak but then set it down. Following that, her fork slipped and clattered onto the plate. The sound drew the attention of everyone around, first to her plate and then naturally toward Cléo herself.

“Your Highness,” she said, her face graceful yet her eyes cold. Even her voice carried a frosty tone.

“I don’t like lamb,” she added.

“But… previously, when the chef asked about your favorite food…”

Cléo placed the knife she was holding in her other hand onto the plate. A loud metallic clink echoed as it touched the dish.

“That was…” she began, a trace of amusement in her voice.

“I simply answered according to your preference because I wanted the meals served to match your taste.”

Her response poured cold water over the conversation. Surprised by her unexpected reply, Karlis merely sipped his wine in silence.

“Shall we continue eating?” she asked, relieved now that she no longer had to endure his demands for praise. She deliberately chose mostly the garnishes. Thanks to the chef’s exceptional skill, even the vegetarian options were not unpleasant.

“Um…”

The silence during the meal was broken by a small, trembling voice.

“M-Madam…”

To her surprise, it was Helena speaking. Her large, expressive eyes looked steadily at Cléo. Her fluttering eyelashes accentuated her doll-like appearance. It was a shame that such beauty would be wasted on hypocrisy.

“Go ahead and speak,” Cléo said.

“W-What did you… do at the palace?” Helena asked.

“And why are you curious about that?”

“I just wondered what princesses usually do…”

Blushing, Helena’s face darkened, not from shyness but embarrassment. Even in embarrassment, her determination to continue the performance was remarkable.

“Me? There’s nothing special about me. I simply lived my family’s daily life.”

Cléo emphasized the word family. Their eyes darted between each other. Helena, untrained in proper etiquette, fidgeted, her legs shaking.

‘Should I reveal the truth… or not?’

Cléo thought. Disgust churned inside her. She considered them the “rats” Kun had mentioned. Did she have to endure this awkwardness for their sake, or accept their false kindness? She chose the latter—not because she desired their goodwill, but because, abandoned and denied divorce, she had no other choice. She had to do whatever it took to buy time.

“I confided my worries during the time I hadn’t seen them.”

She emphasized worries this time. Both of Helena’s shoulders flinched noticeably.

“Those who listened earnestly gave me sincere advice afterward.”

Attempting to romanticize bitter memories felt cruel. But the crueler reality was Cléo’s present.

“W-What kind of worries, Madam?”

“Well…”

“….”

“Were we close enough to share such personal matters?”

Helena immediately fell silent. Her lips twitched a few times before she stuffed some food into her mouth, ending the conversation. The rest of the meal ended quickly, perhaps due to the awkwardness.

While Karlis’s plate was empty, Cléo’s remained almost untouched. Seeing the nearly untouched steak, Karlis’s expression was so amusing that Cléo wished she could capture it and look at it whenever she felt down.

For dessert, a fig tart was served. Having been thwarted before, Karlis said nothing. The tart was another item Cléo had previously requested to suit his taste. Now he tried a different strategy to gain favor, offering her tea, napkins, or even a napkin folded into a rose.

Each time, Cléo mirrored Karlis’s gestures toward Helena—pouring tea, offering a napkin, giving a paper flower. Helena’s increasingly strained expressions were quite a sight.

As the dinner drew to a close, Cléo called Helena over.

“Helena, you asked me what my worries were.”

“Eh? Ah… yes…”

“Spring is coming soon, and I’d like to decorate the garden. I was discussing with my family what flowers would look beautiful.”

“Eh?”

“I thought repeating last year’s flowers would be boring.”

Helena tilted her head, blinking several times as she pondered. Cléo, in contrast, wore a serene smile.

“As for dessert, it didn’t suit my taste, so I’ll take my leave first.”

She returned the dessert untouched and left, leaving the two stunned. Karlis probably wouldn’t take her words seriously; he might even assume she had confessed everything to the palace. With her strained relationship with the royal family, he could not ask outright. He would have to stew alone.

But as initially intended, this was a temporary measure. Since the palace ignored her, she could not improve the situation at the ducal house. Eventually, Karlis would become suspicious—but until then, she had to act.

As Cléo slept, a rustling sound woke her.

‘…What is that?’

She stirred and drew the curtains to brighten the dark room. Moonlight softly illuminated the space. Cléo looked around and felt puzzled.

‘Did I hear wrong?’

Nothing seemed changed—so much so that the lack of change felt suspicious.

‘Maybe it was just sleep-talking.’

Just as she was about to return to bed, something on the small bedside table caught her attention. In the dim moonlight, she couldn’t make out what it was. Carefully, she reached for it. The object gradually became clearer.

‘A letter?’

A thin paper envelope, sealed with hardened wax. No emblem was stamped on it. It could only be from Kun.

‘But we parted only two days ago.’

Normally, letters take three to ten days to reach the recipient. Sending them faster is possible but expensive, and he wouldn’t spend so much just to exchange letters with a friend. There was no other explanation.

‘He didn’t reveal his identity easily… could he be some important person?’

If that were the case, it contradicted their first meeting. Cléo had been managing a barracks to help the poor, a place someone of privilege wouldn’t usually visit. Perhaps being a foreigner, he was unaware of the barracks supported by the palace.

‘Whatever the case…’

She had no answer. Cléo tore the envelope open. A fresh lemon scent wafted out from the partially opened paper, lifting her spirits. A faint smile appeared on her face.

“To my dear friend.”

The opening line greeted her, reserved for only one person. Unexpectedly, it was him.

The letter had somehow arrived at her room even though no one had brought it—unless Jane had secretly delivered it in her absence.

‘Thank you… even for taking care of the letter.’

Cléo resolved to bring Jane her favorite dessert the next day. Her excitement urged her to read the letter immediately. She moved to a spot with better moonlight and began reading.

“Writing a letter to a dear friend is my first time, so it may feel a bit awkward. Please forgive my strange wording.”

The soft, greenish glow made the moment feel all the more enchanting. His elegant handwriting complemented the subtle lighting perfectly.