Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I wonder when my love for that character began. I’ve never actually grown attached to characters in books. Be it the main character or the villain, I’ve never actually come to love them. Perhaps it was because I saw them as nothing more than that. Characters in a book, fictional people in an imaginary world. 

It wasn’t the story that interested me. Reincarnation. A person dies in a modern world and finds themself in another, less advanced yet magical world. A common concept that was so overdone it had gotten boring and repetitive. The art was certainly beautiful, which was most likely how it caught my eye in the first place.

And yet, I just couldn’t bring myself to actually become attached to the characters. Athanasia was just a bit reckless, confident, and sometimes sarcastic. In her previous life she had lived to adulthood, so her mannerisms, while childish, had a strange elegance. She was careful, because any wrong move in front of the emperor could literally send her head flying.

She was humorous, appalled and shocked at things she couldn’t foresee. Her interactions with the other characters, minor or major, was a sight to behold. Athanasia was careful, because she read [A Lovely Princess]. She knew how terrifying her father was. The Princess also knew that she was only pretending to be a child, to earn her father’s affections in order to survive. She built those walls between her and the other characters because she knew that at any moment, it could all fall through.

It was only when an unfortunate accident had befallen her father when she realized those walls she built had slowly crumbled on their own. She realized she had come to love that tyrant emperor like a real father, and lamented over it as his memories and his love for her seemed to vanish.

Athanasia was a very humane character. Mature in some situations, immature on others. Usually the latter. 

And yet, and yet—I wonder, why was it that I just could not for the love of me, come to love her? I understood her. I analyzed her character. We followed her journey, [Who Made Me A Princess] was her story for heaven's sake!

But I couldn’t help but notice that lonely little girl. The Lovely Princess, the main character of the novel Athanasia read.

Jennette Margarita, from the beginning, was bound for misfortune. She was never meant to be happy, and was never meant to make others happy. Her creation was for the sole reason of causing harm to the one person she wanted the most—her family, her father, the tyrant emperor Claude de Alger Obelia.

From what Athanasia had told us, the viewers, Jennette was created with black magic. Her father was not even Claude, but Claude’s elder brother Anastacious, who was a twisted man who reveled in his younger brother’s pain. She was a chimera created with black magic through the conceiving of Anastacious and Claude’s ex-fiancé, Penelope.

Pitiful. She was pitiful. Her greedy mother wanted more, wanted things she could not have. She wanted power, wealth, so she couldn’t just settle for the ‘crippled’ younger brother. Oh no, she approached the to-be emperor at the time, Anastacious. She promised happiness with Claude, yet snickered and cackled to herself while calling him a fool. 

The woman tried to seduce Anastacious, but see, Anastacious didn’t care for her. In actuality, he went along because he knew he would be stealing something from his younger brother. He was stealing his younger brother’s oh so cherished fiancé, and my. What face would Claude make when he witnesses his fiancé dirtying herself with his damned elder brother’s scent?

They were perfect for one another. A crooked man and a crooked woman. Together, they created the child called Jennette.

So what was it, just what was it that made me love that supposed abomination that was meant to cause Athanasia’s precious father’s doom?

Ironically, the offspring of the most wicked duo in the world, was… was interesting, to say the least.

After Claude took the throne from his elder brother, killing him, Penelope fled. She ran, and gave birth to Jennette laughing and cursing the world. She died soon after. But what to do with the infant? 

Jeweled, diamond eyes. Those were key traits of the royal family, a trait Jennette possessed. Anastacious was dead, so one could only assume Claude was the father, as he was the only member of Royalty left alive after the massacre. Duke Alpheus saw chance and opportunity in the infant’s doe-like, crystal eyes. If one day he presented his daughter to her, how would the emperor compensate the Alpheus family for taking care of his lovely daughter?

And so, the ducal Alpheus family took in the child.

I pitied the poor girl. From the moment she was born, she was to be used as an instrument of power. It was saddening.

The young girl grew. Some knew of her existence, but only of the fact that the Alpheus family had taken in a child. Only a select few knew the secret of her heritage. But that secret was simply assumed. A lie, based on nothing but the Duke’s desire and anticipation. The only indication that she was related to the royal family in any way was her jeweled eyes. There was no proof of her being Claude’s child, but it was something that was automatically assumed.

All her life, Jennette Margarita had lived a lie. She had grown up being told she was the emperor’s estranged daughter, lost and unknown about. Everyone around her had fed the young and impressionable girl lies like a puppet.

‘You are the emperor’s daughter and sister to the princess. You cannot see them now, because they don’t know you exist.’

Sit quietly and do as you are told. One day, you may reunite with your father and sister when the time is right.

Truly, she was being manipulated.

Jennette had grown up without a piece of her family. With only dolls of her supposed father and sister to keep her company, she longed to meet them. To see them, to be complete. To fill that void in her chest.

She was thankful to the Alpheus family for raising her. Truly. Jennette loved them, but… it wasn’t the same as being loved by your actual family. It was painful. No matter how respectful the servants were to her, no matter how kindly Ijekiel and Duke Alpheus treated her, there was still this empty void in her heart. There was a wall, a wall so transparent that it may as well not even be there. Nonetheless, that wall still existed—the wall between her and the Alpheus family. No matter how close she was, she always knew she would never be their family.

Jennette longed for it. She longed to have those normal familial relationships she read so much about in books. Jennette wanted to have tea parties with her father. Jennette wanted to spend the night talking to her sister all night long. What did close sisters usually talk about? The weather? Gossip? Boys?

It made her giddy just thinking about it.

She just had to wait. One day, Duke Alpheus would decide the time was right, and she would meet her sister and her father.

Jennette became a very sheltered child in the Alpheus family’s care. She was rarely ever allowed outside the estate. She was offered books and dolls and dresses, but never could she step outside unless granted permission to. Other than Ijekiel, Duke Alpheus’ son, she had no one to call a friend.

Without the experience, she had remained a child even though she had grown. That was probably what charmed me the most. That child-like innocence had captured my heart.

Naive and trusting. Cheerful and bright, genuinely wanting to help the people she cared about. Jennette would never intentionally hurt anyone. Had she known any action of hers would offend or hurt someone, she would refrain from acting at all costs.

But like a child, she had many qualities a child offered. She was clingy with those she cared about. In her small world, it was natural to be afraid of losing the few things you thought you had. Selfish and possessive, afraid. No one would want to go back to that cold, dark void of loneliness again.

I sympathized with her. Jennette Margarita’s very existence was cruel. She was created to harm the very people she longed for. The moment she was born, she was seen as nothing more than a tool for prosperity. Ever since she was a child, she had been manipulated and shaped by the ones who raised her. She was fed lies that fell in their favor, and that was all she’d ever known.

In [A Lovely Princess], she was given a happy ending at the sacrifice of Athanasia. She was accused of taking Athanasia’s rightful place by many readers. I’ve seen them. Constantly, Jennette had been accused of events she and little to no control over. Even now, in [Who Made Me A Princess], she is detested by many for coincidences, circumstances she had no control over. She’s blamed for being a puppet, manipulated by the true masterminds who wish to cause harm for the protagonist Athanasia. But really, does she truly deserve the hateful remarks and accusations when she bore no ill will at all?

“Ahh. This is unfair. I wish I could be there for her, for that lonely little girl.”

I will change her fate. No matter what, I will not allow for that child to be treated so cruelly. If she is to be discarded in the end, abandoned and thrown away by the people she thought she would be loved by, then let me be there to love her in their place.

Chapter Text

I had always loved children. Their large, curious eyes enchanted me along with their wonder of the world. I had a very large family, so even when I entered adulthood my family tree continued to grow. Precious bundles of joy, with an innocence that melted your heart. Their adorable naivety instilled a parental urge to protect.

Prior to my sudden emergence in [Who Made Me A Princess], I worked at a daycare center for a few years and had aged into my late twenties. It made me happy taking care of children. However, never had I ever wanted to actually have a child biologically. Call me afraid, but I didn’t want to bear with the pain of pregnancy. I also lacked the male required. I was by no means promiscuous, but I was no virgin either. I didn’t like the action of intercourse, however, as my first time was a rather painful experience which solidified my resolve for no biological children. I did have intercourse after, but it still wasn’t very enjoyable for me. That relationship quickly ended.

“Bye Krissy!” I waved goodbye to the last child of the day as they walked away hand-in-hand with their parents. My smile slowly dropped as I watched them giggle without a care, my eyes lingered on their connected hand. Despite having a large family, that didn’t mean my parents were necessarily caring. They provided the bare necessities, yes, but… I wouldn’t lie if I said I was afraid of them more times than I should. Perhaps that was why I wanted to take care of children, to give them a happy childhood I felt like I never had. Perhaps that was why I felt pity for Jennette the most. She yearned and believed that the bonds of a biological family was the strongest bond in the world. 

Bitterly, a melancholy feeling spread throughout my chest at that realization. 

After cleaning up the daycare center, I retreated back to my studio apartment and threw myself onto my bed. With a sigh, I slowly crept my fingers around the smooth back of my phone, which I had lazily thrown aside. The newest chapter updated that morning, but I had to quickly go to work so I missed it.

After that, however, is hazy to me. Vaguely, I remembered saying, “Ahh. This is unfair. I wish I could be there for her, for that lonely little girl.”

And now here I was, with drowsy and half-lidded eyes, staring blankly at the wall. There were noises, but it was like I was underwater. It was weird and muffled, and my body felt numb as well.

“...tina! Wake up, this instant!” 

With a hard jerk and rough shove of my shoulder, I suddenly felt wide awake. I looked around for a moment at my unfamiliar surroundings. There were countless women who looked to be in their late teenage years to mid-thirties. Women who wore what looked like black and white maid outfits with long skirts.

“Kristina!”

Sucking in a quick breath, still in mild panic and confusion, I quickly looked up at the woman. She was an older woman who looked to be in her late forties to fifties, a stern and strict expression on her face. Her slightly wrinkled face was shining just a bit with sweat.

“What are you doing, sleeping at a time like this! Head to the Miss’ room this instant!”

“M-Miss?” I questioned, forced to stand up when she tugged hard at my wrist.

The older woman clicked her tongue.

“Yes, the Miss has—“

We both flinched as screams of pain seemed to echo through the hall. A beat passed before she roughly dragged my arm. “Come!”

I wasn’t sure how to describe what was running through my head. I can’t say I was sure myself exactly what I was thinking of. It was chaotic, muddled and confusing. Where was I? Who is this? Where is this? What’s happening???

It was when the older maid had brought me into a room where the most noise had been when I realized the situation I was in.

“Agghhaaaahh!”

“Miss, breathe, push! You’re almost finished! Miss Penelope!”

For a moment, my body froze stiffly in place the moment the realization hit me. I was witnessing a woman give birth.

“Wait, why—what is—“

“Kristina! Stay on standby with the water!” The woman barked harshly at me, abandoning me.

“Water? Water? What… what water? Wait, no, why, why am I…” I muttered to myself, unconsciously searching for any water in sight. Quickly, my body moved, finding myself firmly placed next to a tub of lukewarm water. Still in a state of loss, I turned my head at the increasing volume of screams.

“Miss Penelope, just a bit more!”

“Hah… aaAAAAGHH!”

For a moment, there was silence as a small cry was released into the world.

“Miss, Miss! It’s, it’s a girl!”

The infant’s cries rang out loudly. I averted my eyes from the woman to the maid, who had previously been placed in between the screaming woman’s legs. I then realized that the maid was heading toward me with the naked infant. My heart sped up quickly as panic roused through me. The maid shoved the baby into my outstretched arms, and for a moment I had no idea what I was supposed to do as the maid then turned away.

Warm. The baby is extremely cold right now, especially naked, so I should get them warm, right?

As if moving on its own, my body reached over to a nearby cloth and carefully swaddled the crying infant with it. I could feel myself trembling slightly. The baby was so tiny and light, I was afraid of dropping her. After securing the cloth, I held her close to my chest to prevent dropping her. Again, as if on its own, my free hand reached over for a smaller cloth and submerged it into the warm water.

The baby kept on crying, which was a good sign I think. It’s throat wasn’t clogged up with any weird liquid, it seemed.

Squeezing the smaller cloth, I then brought it closer to the infant to wipe her face.

“Shh, it’s ok, it’s ok,” I whispered. First, I gently wiped the infant’s eyes, and then moved on to her nose and face. She felt so small in my arms, with what looked like brown hair growing atop her head. Eyes still closed, her crying had become just a bit quieter.

Cautiously, I turned to the mother, or who the maids called ‘Miss’. After checking the condition of the infant for the last time, I held the crying child out towards her just a bit.

“Miss,” I began, imitating what the other maids had called her. “She appears to be in good health.”

I tore my eyes away from the baby, and finally took a look at the mother in question. Her skin was flushed and dripping with sweat. The woman's body was strangely thin as if she had been struggling for a long time, tired eye bags weighed under her green eyes. Under the corner of her mouth, I noticed, was a beauty mark. Like the infant in my arms, her long, slightly curled and tangled hair was brown.

For some odd reason, she looked a bit... familiar.

"My... my little girl..." She rasped. They were warm. Halflidded, and full of new motherly love—a gaze I had often witnessed. All of a sudden, her once softened and tired eyes grew wide as if in a crazed state. It scared me. She reached out her hand toward the infant, which I unconsciously held closer to my chest. The woman was staring at her child, but her eyes looked distant as if she was looking at something else entirely.

"This child... This child will take me higher...!" Her sickly face contorted into a look of insanity, twisting into what could only be obsession of sorts. I could tell, without knowing at all what was happening, that what she reached out for was no longer her child, but a delusion inside her head. She was reaching out for something impossible, and forcing it onto a small infant. This woman scared me so much that I hadn't noticed myself backing away. 

No longer was there the glimpse of a mother I had seen.

A maniacal and self-obsessed cackle emerged from her lips. “Higher, higher than anyone else! I will, I will become..!”

A violent cough interrupted her.

“Miss Penelope!” 

“Ah… her bleeding isn’t…!”

Penelope.

All of a sudden, my body froze into place as I took in the woman’s appearance once again, ignoring the panicked maids.

A petite frame that of noble ladies longed for. Long, brown hair that ended in waves. Green eyes that could only resemble a viper. Seductive, voluptuous lips that could catch the eye of any man. Below that, a single beauty mark.

Penelope Judith.

I stepped backwards, almost knocking into the drawer behind me.

“Then that means… this child…”

Slowly, and carefully, I gazed into the confused and quieted infant’s face.

Curious, blue jewel-like eyes stared back.

Chapter Text

Think, think, think, think! What happened before all this? I got home from work, went on my phone to read the latest chapter, and then… and then what? Is this a dream? No, it can’t be a dream. It’s too organized to be a dream.

Then is it possible that I really…? No, those types of things only happened in stories. I couldn’t have actually… went into this world, right? But, if I really am here, how? I didn’t die. I didn’t get hit by a truck, fall off a balcony, or take any sleeping pills! And why in the middle of Penelope giving birth, of all things?!

A small whimper brought me out of my panicked thoughts. I looked back at Jennette, who had become tears eyed as if afraid.

Ah, I must have been making a scary face.

“Shh, it’s ok. I’m sorry,” I cooed, resting her against my chest while rocking her slightly.

I’ll think about this later. I have to take care of a baby right now.

But… if this is Jennette’s birth, then Penelope will soon be…

I shivered just a bit. I always knew that Penelope was scary, but seeing her in person was completely different. Her face and words from earlier flashed back into my mind, unconsciously holding Jennette tighter. For a moment, I saw her look upon Jennette with a warm gaze. Even if that motherly expression had quickly corrupted into selfishness, I had hoped deep in my heart that Penelope had truly loved Jennette at least once.

To comfort myself that even if everyone put themselves over her, Jennette would have been loved by her mother at least; even if she never knew her.

Suddenly, the doors burst open. I jumped a bit at the sudden action.

It was… a man. His short hair looked like pure white snow on his head, with golden eyes decorated beneath it. He looked younger than I thought, but I could only assume… 

“How is the situation?”

“L-Lord Alpheus, Miss Penelope has…”

The white haired man looked over at Penelope, who I had only realized had just passed away. His face twisted into a strange emotion I couldn't figure out. It wasn’t malicious, but it wasn’t quite saddened, either.

“And… the infant?”

I felt eyes on me. Quickly, I stumbled over to the man with Jennette in my hands.

“She’s… healthy, it seems.” I paused. “My Lord.”

The area between his eyes scrunched up a bit at my appearance.

“Kristina, what are you doing here?”

What? I looked up at him with a confused face. What do you mean, ‘why am I here’? Was I not supposed to be here?

“I’m sorry, I brought her here, My Lord. Eurielle had suddenly fainted, and none of the rest of the staff knew about… her.”

Ah, that’s right. Penelope’s existence must have been kept a secret. Only a few knew about Jennette’s existence, and even less knew about her origin, so that… Wait, then who exactly was I? I wasn’t a normal maid slacking off, I was important enough to know about Penelope and Jennette.

The man who I could only assume was Ijekiel’s father, Roger Alpheus, stared at my face for a while, and then shook his head.

“Now the child…”

“Ah, that’s right! My Lord, the baby is very strange!” I turned my head for a moment in confusion. It was the maid who had shoved the naked Jennette into my arms earlier. I clicked my tongue, distastefully. She didn’t even have the decency to wrap Jennette after she came out. Didn’t she know newborns are extremely cold once they come out of the womb after nine months?

Roger’s face hardened as he looked back at me. “I thought you said it seemed healthy?”

Did she seem unhealthy? I carefully held Jennette in front of me a bit, analyzing her appearance as she stared at me with tiny eyes.

“She looks healthy to…” And then I realized I had forgotten a fact that was not normal to other infants. It was a fact that was key to the plot. I hesitated for a moment. Perhaps, it could be better if I didn’t mention it? Ahh, but then, Jennette lives here for at least fourteen years. He would definitely find out immediately. “... She has jewel-like eyes, My Lord.”

A weird expression had appeared on his face for a split second. “Jewel-like… eyes?”

He reached out toward Jennette, to what I assumed to hold her. Slowly, I transferred the bundled up Jennette into his arms as he looked at her face clearly.

“... Hah. Indeed, she—“

All of a sudden, Jeannette had begun to cry again. I flinched, immediately taking Jennette away from him.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” I repeated, cradling her against my neck. “Shh… it’s alright.”

And then her whimpers and cries quieted, soon making indescribable baby sounds.

“...”

I felt awkward all of a sudden. More people were looking at me. I realized I had just stolen the baby from Roger, who was a Duke and was a higher standing than me without permission. He’s held a child before, so he could have calmed her down without my needing to take her.

I felt very self conscious, awkwardly holding Jennette as she made happy babbles against my chest. Please don’t hurt me, I only just arrived here and am very confused.

With a sigh, Roger brought a hand to comb through his hair. 

“I will think about what to do with the baby later. Until then, just continue to take care of her.” I let out a relieved sigh as he turned his attention to the other maids and Penelope’s still warm corpse.

“The rest of you—“

I drowned out the rest since it seemingly had nothing to do with me. I felt baby Jennette tug at a few strands of my loose hair, which I only just realized was a weird lightly faded and pale grey-brown color. Softly, I separated my hair and Jennette’s tiny escaped hand to look at her. The face of a newborn was well-recognizable, a flushed pink-ish color and tiny yet somehow large eyes. Carefully, I rewrapped Jennette into the cloth so both of her arms were partially restricted.

A small giggle escaped my mouth when Jennette seemed to make a face similar to a pout. Softly, I rubbed the back of her clothed head and supported her neck, carefully holding her against my chest.

“I’ll definitely make sure you’ll be happy.”

It had been maybe an hour later when I quietly sat alone in a random room I found in the mansion. I wasn’t quite sure what to do. Earlier, I cleaned her body up a bit more and redressed her into a slightly thicker blanket to keep her warm. The desk I had been sitting at had a small lamp, so I sat near that as well. There were no hospitals in this place as far as I knew, and their existence was supposed to be a secret so no doctors had arrived.

So now, I was just sitting here with little Jennette under a warm lamp in a random bedroom I found, now thinking carefully about my situation.

From what I could figure out, I was a maid in the Alpheus estate named Kristina, which coincidentally or not had been my real name in my world. I was not mentioned or seen at all in the webtoon or novel, so I knew for sure I was not an important character. However, I was one of the few servants in the mansion who knew about Jennette and Penelope, so I was decently related to this thing called plot.

I left the door to this room open in case anyone needed to find me. I still couldn’t figure out my exact identity or what I was supposed to do. My latest command was to take care of Jennette, so I’ve just been sitting at this desk for nearly an hour.

I didn’t know much about newborns, but I was pretty sure you need to feed them pretty often. I was getting a bit nervous, but I don’t know the layout of this place at all so I can't find the kitchen to get a bottle of milk. 

But it’s almost been an hour and Jennette has not been fed yet. 

I would have asked other servants for directions, but I would have looked weird to normal servants when I carried a newborn baby around.

So now I’m just quietly panicking on what to do inside of this random room I found.

“... ah, Kristina. I should have known you were here.”

I quickly turned my head to the door, a nervous smile on my face. After a blink, I realized it was a woman at the door. The first thing I noticed was that she did not dress like a maid. Her frame looked very delicate and fragile, as if she could fall apart at any moment. Her dark hair was medium length and straight with bangs parted in three ways. Her eyes were gentle and kind with a soft dark amber color.

Immediately I stood up, only for her to raise her hand.

“You needn’t stand up, I’m just here to deliver this.”

She smiled gently and held up a bottle of what I assumed to be milk. I sighed in relief, a bit of my anxiety fading. The woman walked closer to me, offering the bottle in which I gladly accepted. Jennette blinked up at me with her jeweled eyes, suckling onto it with the corner of her lips slightly upturned into a smile. I had to resist the urge to cuddle and hold her closer.

“... You seem to care about her very much, even though you've only had her for an hour,” the woman hummed, sitting herself onto the bed. I paused for a moment, forgetting that I was a maid who supposedly was not supposed to know much about Jennette.

“Ah, I’m sure you’re mistaken…”

The noble woman’s lips creased into a warm smile that bore a strange resemblance to someone. Her amber eyes twinkled just a bit, begging a blurred image into my mind. Her gentle expressions reminded me a bit of how Jennette was going to be in the future, but she mostly resembled...

“Trust me. I made that exact expression when Ijekiel was born.”

Ah. So that’s who this woman is.

“Duchess Alpheus…?”

A strange look had crossed her face, as if it was blank with bewilderment and surprise. She tilted her head. “Yes?”

“Ah, no, it’s nothing,” I quickly stammered to avert my eyes. She was Ijekiel’s mother. No wonder I could not recognize her. Although Roger Alpheus had appeared many times throughout ‘Who Made Me A Princess’, there was hardly any mention of his wife. All I could remember was that she was most definitely alive when Ijekiel went to study abroad.

Duchess Alpheus laughed almost solemnly in a soft voice, her fingers curled ever so slightly while hovering over her mouth. “I suppose it makes sense as to why you’re so close to her. You have been attending to Miss Penelope since she arrived.”

My ears perked up at this new information.

“But I wasn’t, previously?”

Another blank expression. “What?”

“Ah, no, sorry. The… stress from earlier is making my head dizzy,” I lied, hesitantly pausing in the middle. I wasn’t lying completely, because I was stressed, waking up to a woman giving birth. I glanced up to Duchess Alpheus, who had been staring at me blankly in confusion for some time now. “I apologize. Spots in my memory are a bit fuzzy, so I’m having a tad bit of trouble remembering some things.”

She shook her head. 

“No, it’s quite alright.” Her face fell just a bit, a saddened expression once again weighing down her eyes and smile. “We couldn’t have expected Penelope to suddenly fall into labor, never mind lose her…”

I stared at her for a moment, my mouth slightly agape. “You must have… cared about Miss Penelope quite a bit.”

She shook her head gently.

“She wasn’t the greatest person. I know it is wrong to speak ill of the dead, but… she was pitiable. Penelope always wanted more, and always craved affection. Perhaps it was because of the way she was raised by that disgustingly doting father of hers. She wouldn’t hesitate to use everything she had, even if it was wrong. But never would I have wanted her to die,” she explained solemnly.

“... I see.”

A pitiful woman, who then gave birth to a pitiful child. There was not much known about Penelope either, only that she was a snake of a woman who wanted too much. However, I’m sure there must have been circumstances in which she ended up that way. I glanced down at Jennette, who stared up at me with doe eyes. The bottle was almost finished.

Carefully, I removed the small bottle from her tiny mouth and placed it onto the desk. I then slowly lifted the infant’s body to my chest so that her chin was just barely over my shoulder. Softly, I patted her back lightly. I’d burped babies before, but never a newborn.

To my relief, a quiet yet very wet sound had come out of her mouth.

With a chuckle, I murmured to myself, “I suppose I’ll have to change later.”

Jennette began to fuss again, small whimpers and pants passing her lips. With a sigh, I cooed and shushed at her quietly, shifting my hold on her. Instead of resting against my shoulder, I cradled the infant in my arms while rocking her slowly. 

“Shh, shh, it’s ok, Jetty. You’re fine, it was just a burp,” I whispered quietly so only I could hear. With the subtle feeling that I was being watched, I glanced back at Duchess Alpheus. She was watching me intently with her amber colored eyes, lips pressed together while humming to herself. 

“You look better.”

“Pardon?”

“You looked so awkward and nervous when you first held Ijekiel,” she replied, eyes softened. I could only laugh nervously to myself. The reason why I don’t appear nervous right now is because I’m used to holding babies. 

Nonetheless, she had also given me more information about the ‘Kristina’ who lived here before. Ijekiel had been born before Penelope arrived in the Alpheus estate, and judging from the way the Duchess speaks to me, I’ve been working here for a long time. I was not a maid of Penelope’s, but a maid that belonged to the Alpheus family.

With another glance at the Duchess, who had begun to stare at Jennette, I began to hum.

“Would you like to hold her, My Lady?” I asked, gesturing to the infant in my arms. She blinked, a small blush creeping on her cheeks.

“Oh, no, I wasn’t…”

“Duchess Alpheus, it isn’t noble of you to lie,” I teased, shaking my head with a smile. The dark haired duchess pursed her lips slightly in a pout, her reddened cheeks just a bit puffed. She was adorable, reminding me off a chipmunk. She looked quite young, most likely in her early to mid twenties.

“I…! Mm... I-I suppose I could hold her for just a bit.”

Jennette, who had stopped crying, was quiet when I stood up and walked closer to the Duchess. With her arms held out just a bit, I began to lower Jennette into her arms. However, I froze for a second. Jennette cried earlier when Roger held her.

Duchess Alpheus tilted her head a bit. “Is something wrong?”

I shook my head. 

“No, no, it’s nothing. I just remembered something.” I’m sure it’s fine. Roger doesn’t have a very nice face, so Jennette was probably scared of him. Compared to the stoic and serious looking Mr. Whitey, Lady Alpheus is very gentle looking and eases the eyes. Carefully, I transferred Jennette  over to the duchess. 

Unlike how Mr. Whitey held her earlier, his wife looked more at ease with Jennette in her arms. To my relief, Jennette didn’t seem to mind, actually dozing off.

A small smile made its way onto the Duchess’ face. 

“My, well aren’t you the most precious thing?” She paused for a moment, before adding, “Save for my Kiel, of course.”

“Heh,” I chuckled, staring at the infant. Her jeweled eyes blinked. Curiously, I looked up at the Duchess, who seemed to be staring at her eyes as well. “You don’t look surprised. About her eyes, I mean.”

“Ah…” she muttered quietly, averting her eyes just a bit. “Roger informed me a bit about her before I came to find you.”

Curiously, I asked, “Has the Duke said anything about what we should do?”

She was silent for a moment before shaking her head. “Not yet. He was still thinking carefully. It makes sense, of course. These jeweled eyes can only mean one thing.”

That’s right. Those jeweled eyes can only belong to members of the royal family. Because Penelope was previously Claude’s fiancé before all of this, one could only assume that Jennette is the new emperor's child, however…

I straightened my back, resolved.

However, I know that isn’t the case. Very soon, Athanasia will be born. I don’t know in which story I had arrived, but either way, I know that Jennette’s life will not be an easy one. Whether this world I am in is ‘A Lovely Princess’ or ‘Who Made Me A Princess’, my words and wish have still been unchanged.

“I wish I could be there for her, for that lonely little girl.”

That’s right. That’s why I came here. No matter what happens, I will stay by this child’s side. Even if this world may bless her with prosperity or curse her to doom, I shall ensure her happiness.

After all, I am not just a mere onlooker and reader anymore. I am here, and I am here to serve this lovely princess as her most faithful servant.

Chapter Text

After a month, I managed to somehow get more used to life in the Alpheus Estate. I tried pretending my memory loss was temporary, until I got lost for around the eleventh time just a day after Jennette was born. Duchess Alpheus grew worried and wanted to call for a doctor, but I quickly rejected that proposal. 

“Mmm!” 

I smiled down at Jennette, who’s jeweled eyes were wide open. She suckled the bottle while reaching her tiny arms out to my face. 

The people in the mansion were slowly getting to know of Jennette’s existence. Rather, they had heard about ‘the infant the Alpheus Couple had taken in’. All traces of Penelope that had been in the mansion had seemingly faded away, her funeral quick and done within a week after her passing. I was appointed as Jennette’s nanny, in that month. Any time other maids would hold her, she’d suddenly burst into tears. Jennette only seemed comfortable in either me or the Duchess’ arms.

A week and a half after Jennette’s birth, Jennette’s room was decided as well as mine. I was moved nearby hers so I could quickly attend to her if she fussed during the night. I immediately noticed how farther away Jennette’s room was from where most servants and maids gathered. It made sense, of course. Her eyes were not hidden yet. Roger Alpheus was cautious. He didn’t want to risk a leak of Jennette’s eyes, especially if it could potentially reach the Emperor’s Palace.

Softly, I removed the bottle from Jennette’s lips and carried her onto my shoulder, which now had a cloth over it. Jennette’s room was much smaller than the room Athanasia had in the webtoon. It was to be expected of course. Although Athanasia lived in the Ruby Palace during her childhood, it was still a palace that belonged to the Emperor. The Alpheus Mansion couldn’t compare.

After successfully burping the little girl, I wiped her drool away with the cloth. She wore a little pastel green onesie with white mittens and lace blooming from her v-neck. While carefully supporting her neck, I held her close to my chest as I leaned back into the rocking chair. Quietly, I hummed to myself my favorite lullaby while mulling over my thoughts.

I, eventually, memorized my way around the mansion.

With the help of the Duchess and a few other servants, but that's beside the point. In the month I had remained here, I had found out a few facts of who Kristina was before I came to this world. 

Kristina was a commoner. Even less, she was an orphan who lived on the streets. That’s when the Duchess picked her up one day when Kristina was around nine and the Duchess was around sixteen. Ever since then, Kristina served the Duchess and came along with her when she married into the Alpheus family at twenty. 

It was only around six or so months before Jennette was born that Kristina had been assigned to care for Penelope. Apparently Penelope had appeared suddenly during the night just a few months after Claude became Emperor. Where she was in those few months in between, no one knew.

I glanced down to the infant on my chest, who had fallen into a peaceful slumber at some point. With a quiet chuckle, I stood up and walked toward her cradle. Above the cradle were little decorations that hung on strings. They were little bunny puppets stuffed lightly so as to not weigh it down. 

Gently, I placed the little girl in her crib onto her back. Softly brushing my thumb across her forehead, I smiled before turning to take the empty bottle on the dresser. Quietly, as to not wake the baby up, I glanced inside the room one last time before departing. With the bottle in hand, I strolled through the empty hallways of the Alpheus Mansion, the echoing footsteps as my only company.

Eventually, I walked into one of the main halls, servants and maids appearing one by one. My lonely footsteps were slowly drowned out by the cheerful sidetalk and shuffling of feet. Every now and then, I would feel countless stares at my back. I had gotten accustomed to the strange peeks and side glances. At first, I was very confused and uncomfortable, but it wasn’t long until I figured out why.

With a quiet gasp, I found myself stumbling over onto my knees, dropping the bottle in the process. My hands dug into the smooth glazed wood floor, momentarily paused in my thoughts. A snicker broke out, shifting my eyesight up toward them.

“Kristina, you should really be careful.” My eyes hardened at the realization of what had happened. Carefully turning my head, I narrowed my eyes at the woman. Her tied up hair was of golden brown, soft wavy curls rested on her shoulder and down her neck. The maid’s youthful appearance was strengthened by her sharp and bold tourmaline pink-violet eyes.

“The floors are slippery after all. Well,” she scoffed. “It’s not like a lowly beggar like you would be used to walking on them.”

I glanced to the side at the quiet snickers at her remark. With a slightly shaken yet composed sigh, I stood up and dusted myself off. Casually, without acknowledging her, I walked toward the dirtied bottle nearby.

That’s right. I never found out about Kristina’s poor background from Duchess Alpheus, no, not at all. I found out after being bullied about it by the other maids and servants.

“Lowly beggar?” I repeated. A haughty laugh was her response.

“Well, are you so simple minded that you’ve forgotten, or are you finally accepting it?” Her sharp nose was pointed high. “A dirty orphan on the streets like you should be put in your place. You’re only lucky you have a decent face. The kindhearted Duchess wouldn’t have picked you up otherwise!”

The main culprit of the taunting and bullying was a maid by the name of Protea Gladiolus. She was the middle child of a mid ranked noble family, but was still well educated. After a bit of working, I realized the maids and manservants of the Alpheus estate had been made up of a variety of mid ranked nobles and low ranked nobles. Kristina was the misfit, even amongst the few commoners that worked here. After all, she was just a dirtied orphan abandoned by all before the Duchess had found her. She couldn't even compare to the others.

With a slight frown, I dusted off anything that had collected on the small bottle. It wasn’t too big of a deal. The bottle was going to be washed, anyway. 

Without reluctance, I peered over my shoulder just a bit, closing my eyes while feigning a polite smile.

“Please excuse me. Have a nice day, Maid Protea.”

I caught a bit of her ticked expression before skipping off on my way. I discovered that Protea had basically been sent here by her father, as she was essentially the most useless of her seven siblings and three younger step siblings. She still held onto her pride as a noble, however annoyed by the reminder that she was merely a maid now.

I couldn’t help but pity her, though. Being the younger of the middle children, youngest from her birth mother. Usually middle children, who I had interacted and taken care of before coming here, were just that. The middle child, either loved or abandoned entirely. I could only imagine the betrayal she felt, bearing the status and glory of a noble one day and then sold off to work for a higher noble the next. She was just a child, too. Currently, she was around fifteen, but emotionally she was still very much a child. The reason why Kristina was the prime target of her bullying was probably because, out of all the servants including her, I was held very closely and favored by the Duchess. A lowly, dirty orphan who had no pride was the Duchess’ favorite. I would try to correct her behavior but… 

I sighed with a nervous chuckle.

I was a bit too tired at the moment. Taking care of an infant was stressful and needed a lot of attention. Jennette was usually well behaved and not as erratic as I would have expected, but she was still only a month old. I still had to wake up in the middle of the night whenever she fussed and quickly quiet her before she woke other servants. I also had to rush during the night for a bottle with her in my arms if she was hungry. That’s why I decided I would deal with Protea later, hopefully when Jennette is a bit more grown. 

And when I got more sleep.

Before I knew it, I had arrived at the kitchens. Peering inside from the bare doorway, I could see the chefs and cooking assistants working. Trying not to disturb them, I quietly entered the kitchen with slow footsteps.

“Kris?”

And so I was caught again.

A nervous laugh escaped me as I peered up at the large, bald man with dark skin.

“I was caught.”

“Yes, yes, you were caught.”

“Ahahaha…”

“Is that the little lady’s bottle?” He asked, tilting his head.

“Yes.”

“... You weren’t planning on washing it, were you?”

“Mayhaps.” The tall man gave me a doubtful stare.

“... and the other dishes along with it, were you?”

I suspiciously and forcibly averted my eyes from his silver intimidating eyes.

“... mayhaps.”

The bottle in my hand was promptly taken away as a large, rough hand began to mess up my hooded head.

“Hey!” A low, hearty laugh broke out.

“You sure are an odd one, Kris,” the man remarked.

“Odd? I’m odd, the giant says!”

This man was named Axon Bouvardia, a giant of a man of color who was over six feet tall in his early forties. He was the younger brother of a Count who had the strength of a bear, but decided to become a chef instead of a knight.

“Oh? Kris is here?” I turned my head over to a smaller and wider woman in stature, who had paler blonde hair wrapped into a messy bun to expose her violet eyes with slight wrinkles formed beneath. This was Axon’s wife, Freesia, who was older by just a bit into her mid forties. Freesia was a commoner, however, and was a chef alongside her husband.

Unlike the other maids and servants of the mansion, Kristina appeared to have a good relationship with the kitchen staff. Apparently she had the habit of helping with dishes when she wasn’t busy. The Bouvardia couple were examples of that, treating Kristina more comfortably. I noticed right away how different they treated ‘me’ when I finally figured out how to make it to the kitchen.

The Bouvardia couple, unlike the other servants, lived outside the estate in their own smaller manor. They had two sons, one eleven years of age and the other almost four. Whenever I swung by the kitchen multiple times a day, I would hear about them often. 

“Now, Axon, I believe you should leave washing the dishes to me? Including the bottle?” I spaced out for a moment, blinking while trying to keep up with the conversation. Freesia tilted her head with a slightly scary smile. “You do remember the last time you tried washing an infant’s bottle, right?”

“Haha… yes, ma’am!”

In an instant the fragile bottle was handed over to his wife. She began to walk away approaching a sink before turning just over her shoulder.

“And Kris?”

I straightened my back. “Yes?

She smiled, the mole under her right eye visible. “I know caring for a child is tiring, especially for a girl as young as yourself but, please try to get some rest whenever you can. You don’t need to feel obligated to us and overwork yourself.”

Obligated. That’s the first I’ve heard. Kristina was… obligated, to these people.

“... right. Thank you.” 

Slowly, Freesia retreated toward the sinks to continue washing the dishes. I glanced to Axon, who sighed while scratching the back of his neck.

“Damn, that woman is scary sometimes,” I heard him mutter under his breath. I let out a small laugh.

“But you love her, don’t you?”

“Hell yeah I do,” he replied, his lips spread into a proud grin. “She’s my wife, after all.”

I smiled, skipping my way to the magic storage. It was similar to fridges in modern times, but instead was a magic device that could keep foods and ingredients fresh with magic. Times worked strangely in this world. Instead of being breastfed, babies were indeed fed through bottles of milk. Even Lillian York fed the infant Athanasia via bottle. Novel and Webtoon logic was weird, but it was one of the things you just didn’t question. Until you experienced it first hand. I suppose I know now how they managed to keep milk fresh, through magic. Which, seemed like a cheap ploy in itself.

Gingerly, I took out a duplicate bottle of milk.

“It’s about time I head back. You never know when a baby may wake up crying for food,” I half joked. A low chuckle rumbled from Axon’s throat. 

“Right. Tell the little lady Uncle and Aunty said hi, will ya?”

“Pfft. I don’t think a month old baby would understand, but sure. See you.”

With a dismissive wave of my hand, I disappeared behind the wall into the labyrinth hallways once again. The magic chamber worked in mysterious ways. It preserved the quality of raw ingredients such as foods that would usually spoil and rot without being cooled such as dairy, fruit, or meat. However, when taken out to prepare, nothing had changed about the food other than it being slightly colder than room temperature.

I gazed down at the small bottle in my hand. Even this bottle of milk was just a bit cool to the touch, and by the time I Jennette drank it, there would be nothing wrong. I was skeptical in the beginning after finding out and dripped a few drops into my mouth to taste. It just tasted like what one would expect milk to taste like. There was no sourness of spoiled milk.

Another sigh to myself. Magic works in mysterious way—

“Oof!”

I stopped abruptly. Something had crashed into me. I felt my eyes narrow in irritation. In irritation, I looked over my shoulder thinking it was another servant of sorts trying to pull a sick prank.

“That’s enough, who…”

I quieted myself, my hardened eyes widened just a bit when I noticed the small tuft of white hair pressed into my long skirt. Large, nervous golden eyes rivaled by the sun itself stared up at me.

“Young Master Ijekiel…?”

Chapter Text

“Young Master Ijekiel…?” The young boy with snow colored hair seemed to have shriveled into a ball, cheeks darkening in embarrassment at being caught. His tiny hands that were clinging onto my skirt dress just seconds before had quickly let go, the toddler retreating backwards a few steps.

“—Young Master Ijekiel!”

In the strangely empty hallway I had been walking in, there was the echo of a servant calling out to him. Ijekiel jumped a bit, nervously darting his eyes from one way to another as the voice became louder. Promptly, the nealy three year old child had decided on scurrying behind me once again, clinging to my long skirt.

“Young Master Ijekiel, where are…!” 

The servant rounded the corner, and then spotted me and the small child’s attempt to hide. She looked very familiar, but I couldn’t quite figure out why. Her short desaturated maroon hair was tied up into a ponytail, descending into small poofy curls behind her neck. Because of her uniform dress, I could tell she was of the same job as I was placed in, which meant she was a caretaker.

Ah. She must be Ijekiel’s nanny. I hardly ever saw her, only glimpses in the hallways from time to time as our schedules are busy enough, however…

“You are… Kristina? I’m so sorry for the trouble,” she apologized before glaring slightly at Ijekiel. “And you—Young Master Ijekiel Alpheus! What were you thinking, sneaking out during nap time?!”

I arched an eyebrow.

“Sneak...?”

“I had put the young master to nap in his bed, and not even ten minutes later, he had disappeared and thrown that manor into a panic! Do you know how much trouble you have caused?!”

I winced a bit at her scolding tone and then glanced down at the shrunken toddler. His tiny hands tightly grabbed onto my uniform skirt, pressing his face into the fabric as if to hide. I pressed my lips together, glancing back up to his Nanny.

“I understand your frustrations, but yelling at the young master, who is a mere two year old child, will not help him learn to know what he did was wrong. In fact, continuously using that tone of voice will only make him resent and become afraid of you.” I paused, looking at my senior in the eye. “I’m sure you don’t scold him like that often, of course… right?”

Her fingertips twitched just a bit as her body stiffened. I trust that she most likely doesn’t physically abuse him or use any vulgar words. After all, she is the nanny of the Dukal House of Alpheus’ only son, so the Duke and Duchess would have chosen carefully, however… 

I glanced back at the golden eyed boy, who was still hiding behind my long skirt. Judging from Ijekiel’s actions from the rising tone of the Nanny’s voice, she scolds him quite often. A two year old child would not cower behind the back of someone just at the appearence of their caretaker, nor would they choose to run away the moment that caretaker left the room.

“Oh? Have you found Ijekiel?”

A familiar tranquil voice echoed throughout the hallway. Immediately, the toddler snapped his head up and then released me. Ijekiel’s light footsteps quickly went past his Nanny and leapt into the woman’s arms.

Instinctively, I brought my hand toward my chest and bowed.

“Mammy,” the child rasped, eyes wide and cheeks lightly flushed. The Duchess laughed, shifting her hold on the boy more comfortably.

The Duchess glanced up toward me and Ijekiel’s Nanny. “Erith. Kristina. Good afternoon to you two. I deeply apologize for the trouble my Kiel has caused.”

“The Duchess has no need to apologize for anything. It is our duty as servants of the Alpheus Dukedom that we are to care for the Young Master at all times.”

Amazing, such a perfect, instantaneous response. As expected of a trusted servant of the Alpheus Duke. She needs to be educated in her actions toward children, but she’s still a very experienced and devoted servant to the Duke and Duchess. 

Duchess Alpheus smiled before diverting her attention back to her son. Now seeing them together in person, one could definetly see the resemblance. Although Ijekiel’s more defined characteristics like his hair and eye colors were blatant giveaways of him being Roger Alpheus’ successor, Ijekiel’s rounded eyes and softer smile bore great similarity to the Duchess.

“Now,” the Duchess began, tilting her head. “Why in the world did you sneak out like that? Do you know how much you had worried me?”

In comparison to his caretaker, who’s name was apparently ‘Erith’, the Duchess used a gentle and leveled voice. I’m sure that if she had sung a lullaby, any child would have been out at ease immediately.

“Ah, ah…” Ijekiel paused to think about his words. Although he was almost three years old, he was a bit more on the silent and shy side and rarely talked unless begged to. “... am sowry.”

With a sigh, the Duchess held the two year old tightly and gave him a small hug.

“You didn’t worry just me, but everyone else in the mansion. Your father was concerned as well.”

Ijekiel’s eyes lit up. “Papa?”

The Duchess lightly brushed her thumb against young Ijekiel’s cheek. “Yes, Roger was very worried so you must apologize to him later, too.”

Ijekiel frowned and cast his eyes down. “Am sowry.”

The dark haired noblewoman laughed softly to herself. “Now, why did you run away during your nap time?”

Ijekiel stopped for a moment, and I saw his amber colored eyes glance quickly in me and Erith’s direction for a split second. Erith’s body stiffened, I noticed, her already straightened posture somehow even straighter than before.

Depending on Ijekiel’s words, Erith might be in a troubling position. There was a small settlement of dread inside me. Despite Erith’s yelling at Ijekiel being too much, a Duke’s only heir going missing is a very stressful situation. She must not have expected it, and she would have definitely been punished severely as it was her job to care for him. However, I also know she must be a decent person. Assuming she’s been Ijekiel’s Nanny for the entirety of his childhood even in the story, he was taken care of well. As she was chosen to take care of their only son, she must also have been trusted a lot. Sure, she needs to be taught better on how to handle children and alternative ways to deal with them, but otherwise she isn’t a bad person.

“Du—“

“Baby.”

I stopped myself midword, not expecting those words to come out of the toddler’s mouth at all.

“Yes?”

“A baby,” Ijekiel repeated. Me and the Duchess both shared the same confused expressions before the Duchess looked at Erith.

“Erith, what is the meaning of this?”

“Ah,” Erith began, just as confused and surprised as we were. “Many servants pass by the Young Master’s room, and many as of late have been talking about the infant the Duke and Duchess have recently fostered. The Young Master must have caught on to that and…”

“I wanna see baby,” Ijekiel proclaimed, his large eyes looking up at his mother. 

There was only one person Ijekiel was referring to.

I didn’t think the other servants’ gossip would reach that far, nor did I expect Ijekiel to show interest enough to do something as dangerous as to sneak out. However… is it really alright to reveal Jennette’s existence to him now? Is it too early?

“Young Master, about the baby…”

“Alright.”

… Excuse me?

“Duchess?” I questioned.

“I don’t see why not, they are to meet eventually. There’s no harm in little Kiel meeting her now,” she replied, smiling at me.

“I… if the Duchess allows it,” I could only comply. I suppose it’s not that big of a deal if the Duchess herself says it’s ok, but… it would be unknown to me if something as simple as this would affect the plot. Ijekiel is only a toddler, and Jennette is still a baby. I’m sure it would be fine… right?

“Kristina will accompany me and Ijekiel. You may return to your quarters, Erith, and await your punishment.” The Duchess’ expression hardened as she threw a final glance toward the caretaker.

“... Yes, Duchess.”

I then led the Duchess through the halls, throwing a final glance back to Erith, who had only bowed with her head lowered.

With a slight creak of the door opening, I walked into the room. Quiet. 

“Jen?” I called out carefully. In the middle of the room, was her white cradle. Still sleeping peacefully inside, was the little girl loosely wrapped in her cloth blanket.

“Ah, she’s still asleep it seems.” 

Ijekiel made little toddler sounds with glittering eyes, so eager to see her. The Duchess laughed, “Shh. She’s sleeping, Kiel.”

While I placed the glass bottle of milk onto the nearby desk, the Duchess walked over to the cradle while holding Ijekiel. He was leaning over, trying to get a better look.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he kept repeating, reaching a hand out.

“Hehe, Kiel, don’t move around so much. You might wake her.”

Smiling fondly, I wondering if Ijekiel’s first encounter with Jennette was also this heartwarming originally. Before they were characters in a story, before being restricted and forced to behave to the will of the world we had read, they were children. Merely children, who shouldn’t have had to worry about the standards and expectations of others, within the story and outside of it.

I frowned. She was just a child, a child who didn't deserve the unnecessary and unfounded dislike she had gotten. Just a child, a victim of the world and people around her.

Lowering myself just a bit, I met his eyes. “Young Master, would you like to hold her?”

“ Baby ,” his eyes shined. I chuckled to myself, turning to roach out toward the sleeping infant.  

Carefully, I lifted Jennette and held her to my chest. The Duchess had let Ijekiel down, so he had been gripping onto my long skirt excitedly. “Please sit on the chair first, Young Master.”

With vigorous nods, he quickly walked over to the single person sofa. Although he struggled for a moment, he managed to hop on top of it, watching me expectantly. With a smile, I slowly approached him and lowered myself.

“Hold your arms out, but be very careful. She may be a bit heavy for you.”

Cautiously, I transferred Jennette into the toddler’s hold. His soft face was scrunched seriously, afraid to drop her as well.

“Hehe, Kiel, you can relax just a bit,” the Duchess remarked, a hand hovering over her mouth as she giggled to herself.

Ijekiel blinked, focused on the infant in his hands, before making an almost bewildered expression. Jennette began to shift, eyes open and closing in a half asleep state. That was, until she seemed to notice an unfamiliar face in front of her.

The two children stared at each other awkwardly for a moment, unsure exactly how to act. Jennette’s jeweled blue eyes had opened, wide awake. She then suddenly broke into a sweet smile, letting out nonsensical babbles of baby talk. Ijekiel noticeably relaxed, golden eyes clear and cheeks flushed in awe.

The Duchess smiled gleefully. “Isn’t she cute, Kiel?”

But it doesn't seem that he’s noticed. He’s all fluffy and in awe that I could almost see the carefree, floating flowers drawn into the background of the two.

“...Kiel?”

He’s just staring, mouth agape at Jennette, who has continued to make happy baby noises.

“... Ahaha. Young Master is in his own little world.”

He seemed so fascinated with her existence in the mansion. In a giant home filled with adults, his parents and servants, I imagine he’s never seen anyone even remotely near his age before. Jennette’s tiny existence was intriguing to him, a kind of person he’s never seen before. A tiny bundle of smiles, a precious jewel.

“... perhaps he’s lonely,” I murmured, my expression somber for a moment.

“Pardon?” The Duchess had asked. 

I blinked at the realization of my words, and shook my head. “No, it's nothing. I just, I imagine that the Young Master has not seen anyone near his age before. He must be lonely, without any friends or companions he could bond with...”

Children are usually very social. There would be some shy and reluctant children, as well as cheerful and energetic. However, humans are beings who naturally crave companionship in one way or another. Children are no different. Thinking back to the story, Ijekiel and Jennette only had each other as playmates for practically their whole lives. Only each other, without ever even allowed to experience other relationships. Ijekiel, who was also used as an instrument to gain future influence and power. Jennette, who was restricted and only allowed contact with Ijekiel specifically so she would get attached to only him. Sheltered from the outside, of course she would never know what it felt to experience true, healthy companionship. A friendship not orchestrated by another, but one formed by mutual respect and care.

I swore I would make her happy, and I intend to show her everything she shouldn’t have been kept from.

“Has he been put to bed?” The sound of a door closing behind her, carefully as not to disturb him. The dark haired noblewomen slowly made his way over to where he had been sitting. The snow haired male was seriously working on documents at his desk, with only the fireplace going and a candle for light. 

“Yes, I made sure he was asleep before leaving. Today was quite eventful for him, after all,” she remarked, reaching out a hand to fix his hair. She smiled slyly ever so slightly. “And what have I told you? Working so late into the night, with such little light, is unhealthy. It won't be long until this pure white hair of yours turns grey.”

Roger Alpheus sighed, lifting a hand to pry hers away from his hair.

“I heard Ijekiel had visited her,” he interjected, the younger woman pouting in response as he completely disregarded her concern. As if to console her just a bit, he rubbed the back of her fingers gently with his thumb.

“Yes. I presume it wouldn’t cause much harm. They’re still children after all, it’s good for him.” She shifted her hand in his, holding it lovingly against her cheek. “Have you thought about what to do?”

He was quiet for a moment, a pause as he grumbled to himself.

“The current situation makes it unpredictable. I’ve caught word that one of His Majesty’s concubines is of child. Things could get dangerous if I act too rashly.” He took his reading glasses off for only a moment. “For now, I’ve decided to lay low. Whether that child is born or not, I will most likely have a better idea of what to do when the time comes.”

A crackle of wood. The fire continued to dance in an unprecedented rhythm.

“I’ve been thinking. Perhaps we should find Kiel a playmate.”

Roger’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Little Kiel is growing quickly, and becoming curious of the world around him. He’s intelligent, but it also worries me. In a span of a few minutes, he had avoided all the servants in the mansion and left just on the rumor of a baby being cared for.” Duchess Alpheus tilted her head. “Precious Jennette is much too young to accompany him, however.”

The Duke held the bridge of his nose in deep thought.

“... I’ll think about it.”

The Duchess smiled, placing a light kiss onto his palm before withdrawing. 

“I already have a few candidates in mind.”

Chapter Text

“Bwao, oah, owaahh.”

I chuckled. “Just what are you trying to say?”

“Ooah, oogoo bsdjms.”

I stifled a laugh at the infant’s attempt to reply, holding her closely to my chest as she sweetly giggled away. The weather had begun to change gradually. Obelia was a rather warmer country, but there were still months that leaned on the cooler side. Only recently had the mornings become damp with dew instead of cold with frost.

“I’ll be able to show you your first blooms of spring soon,” I faintly muttered to myself.

“Owah?” 

Smiling, I pressed my lips lightly onto the tuft of hair growing on her head. “Nothing to worry about, sweetie.”

Ever so slightly, I heard the low yet hushed whispers, as well as the distant beckoning of a maid. 

“Young Master! Please, don’t wander so far!”

Oh dear. 

“Are you getting sleepy?” I asked quietly, despite knowing there would be no response. The child just blinked her wide eyes up at me. “Aha. I suppose it should be alright then.”

Carefully, I stood up from the rocking chair and made my way towards the door with silent steps.

While holding the babbling infant with one arm, securely, my other hovered over the door handle. Muffled giggling could be heard and I sighed.

“Young Master. Please stop causing trouble for your nanny,” I spoke in a slightly hardened voice, opening the door abruptly. There was a startled gasp as the head of white hair turned to face me. 

Narrowing my eyes pointedly, I then added, “That goes for you as well, Young Master Uriel.”

The darker skinned boy with pale blonde hair only snickered nervously to himself as the two boys began to shy away from me. 

“Again these two…! I apologize Kristina, again, for interrupting you and the young miss.” 

“Aha. It’s fine, really. Children should be full of energy, after all.”

About three months ago, Freesia had brought their youngest child over, per the Duchess’ orders. From then on, Uriel had visited frequently as a playmate to keep the newly three year old Ijekiel busy. Unfortunately, that meant Erith had to take care of two extremely energetic and nimble toddlers.

“Abwooo!” 

At the cooing sound of the baby held in my arm, the two boys seemed to snap their heads in my direction. 

“I wanna see!” Uriel walked up to me and jumped giddily for the child. In contrast, Ijekiel merely stood bashfully, slowly approaching behind his playmate. With a sigh and playful roll of an eye, I lowered myself and allowed a better view of little Jennette.

The infant stared up at the two boys, blinking her jeweled eyes. I didn’t have to worry about revealing her to anyone at the moment. To children like Ijekiel and Uriel, they wouldn’t know the weight of those eyes yet. Erith is also one of the loyal few within the estate who are permitted to know of her eyes, as she is also a nanny.

“Phwoo,” Jennette blew a tiny raspberry, a giggle escaping Uriel as he softly poked her squishy cheeks.

“It’s a funny sound.” 

Uriel mimicked the baby by shutting his eyes tightly and sticking out his tongue. Jennette gave out a delighted laugh, reaching out towards the boy. 

“... Ehe.” Uriel grinned a bit, letting Jennette take hold of his hand.

Uriel didn’t appear, not in the Lovely Princess, not in Who Made Me A Princess, and most definitely not in Suddenly Became a Princess One Day. 

Ijekiel and Jennette were lonely children, children who didn’t have many social interactions. Ijekiel had been sent to an academy in Arlanta, but he seldom mentioned any friends. Jennette’s exposure to those of her age were limited even more. For someone who would have been their childhood friend, someone like Uriel would surely have been mentioned, right?

Then again, since the narrative of the main story followed Athanasia, who knows how many details of the other characters’ childhood were left out.

“I wonder what changed…” 

Ijekiel had begun to pout, staring at Uriel who had been slowly attempting to urge Jennette out of my grasp.

“Uri, bad! Ca-can’t play all by yourself!” Ijekiel was getting a bit better at speaking, but his speech does stutter a bit when he talks too fast. Uriel looked over his shoulder and made a face.

“You play with her all the time!” His playmate argued.

“Jetty is my sister, so-so, I get to hold her!”

“Your sister, so I get to hold her.”

I’m not letting any of these bickering toddlers hold her .

“Aa! Aa!” Blissfully unaware of the mess that had been unfolding in front of her, the little girl bundled in my arms only made cheerful cooing noises. The excitement only made her more energetic.

“... How about this?” I asked, achieving the attention of the two boys while straightening. The gold and violet eyes of theirs looked up at me. Gesturing to the inside of the room, while throwing a glance to Erith I reasoned, “If both of you behave, I’ll let you take turns , holding her.”

Excitedly, their eyes lit up—

“ If you behave . If the young masters continue to make trouble for your nanny, I won’t let you see Jennette ever again.”

It was a bluff, a threat without any true meaning behind it, but it’s purpose had been served. The toddlers looked up at me with a gasp and an appalled expression.

“Y-You can’t do that! That’s mean!”

“... but aren’t you two being mean to Erith? Always having her follow you two when you come here every day?”

There was silence for a moment.

“... Not… every day…” Ijekiel mumbled, ears turning red.

They’ve been doing this every day for three months.

“...”

Patiently, I waited. Even Jennette had quieted down, only staring up at my face curiously. She giggled, not quite understanding what was happening. It was Uriel who caught on first, turning around to face his nanny.

“Sorry,” he spoke, looking up at Erith. Ijekiel hastily followed, his blush more apparent.

“A-Aim sorry.” 

Erith herself looked a bit flustered, being apologized to by two children who, inherently, had a higher standing than her.

“It-it’s fine...”

I sighed, satisfied. It’s good to teach children to be polite earlier on. Surely, they’ll grow and mature, but there’s no harm in letting them learn themselves when to apologize and thank others.

I looked back up to Erith, holding the door open.

“I can look after them for a few hours, so you can rest for a while.”

She blinked, surprised.

“You don’t need to go through the trouble.”

I smiled. “I insist. You’ve been chasing down these two nonstop, so you deserve some sort of downtime, don’t you?”

“... There’s really no need—”

I gave my senior a pointed look. “ Please .”

Her cerulean eyes wavered, conflicted. With a resigned sigh, she turned ever so slightly.

“I will oblige just this once.” 

She gave one last glance to the toddlers that had enthusiastically entered the room, and then turned her heel down the empty hallway, the light clacks of her shoes against the smooth floor.

After watching her figure grow smaller, I stepped back inside the room with little Jennette still in my arm. Patiently, yet impatiently, the two boys both sat themselves onto the usual sofa—despite there being a rocking chair by the window not so far away. 

Jennette’s nursery room was of mild size. In the corner opposite of the door was the moved crib, made with wood and painted snow white. The little puppeted bunnies still hung above it, which had become Jennette’s favorite toys. Despite the stuffed bees and jingling lambs that had been placed inside her crib, she was always drawn to the bunnies the most. If she was already awake, I could hear her giggling before I opened the door, only to see her joyfully reaching out towards the white and brown decorations above her.

It had reminded me of the stuffed rabbit Jennette had always clung to even in her teenage years whenever she was down.

In the left corner of the wall, the crib in the right corner, was the rocking chair painted white to match the crib. I usually sat in it in the evenings when lulling her to sleep. She likes being by the window, which is why they were on opposite sides of it. Beside the rocking chair was a small dresser filled with baby garments and some toys, being the only thing between the brown single-person sofa that the two boys had claimed. That was where I usually fed Jennette throughout the day, but when people come to see her (which, most of the time are the little two) it’s all theirs.

Like now, for instance.

Ijekiel looked up at me with an expectant expression, anticipation apparent in the way he was kicking his legs. Next to him, Uriel sat with a toothy grin, a shimmer in his eyes, all while Jennette was babbling away in my arms.

This happens every time, the two of them battling with each other to hold her. Granted, they are children, with their unrivaled curiosity and selfish, yet innocent, monopolization.

Sometimes I wonder if Jennette ever tires of constantly being held. Gazing down into her jeweled eyes, she merely giggles away. I sigh, shaking the smile that creeped onto my face. Simply a baby, j’adore, without a care in the world as children should be.

Lowering myself, I carefully transferred Jennette over to Ijekiel’s reaching arms.

“Remember to be careful,” I told him, knowing how excited children can be. Uriel pouted in the corner of my eye and I chuckled, turning to him slightly.

“Be patient, you can hold her after.”

With puffed cheeks, he leapt off the sofa leaving Jennette and Ijekiel with their nonsensical babbling. Glancing at the two, Jennette trying to grab his strands of white hair, I also watched Uriel looking through the toys in Jennette’s drawer.

She didn’t have much yet. There were some wooden blocks and toys that made jingling sounds when you moved them, but most of the toys collected so far were stuffed animals. Granted, she was still too weak to be able to play with them on her own. 

Uriel was digging through the drawers, squinted eyes and a tense face, before suddenly brightening up into a grin. With a hop and skip in his step, he plopped next to Ijekiel once again, a… stuffed bunny in hand. It was a grayish color, small, just a bit bigger than the bottle Jennette is fed with.

“Netti, Netti,” he cood in an attempt to get her attention, waving the stuffed rabbit in front of her. Ahaha. It was like he was trying to coax a small animal to favor him.

Jennette blinked her doe-like eyes after noticing the bunny, immediately breaking out into babbles and reaching toward it instead. Ijekiel gasped, sharply turning toward the older three year old with a betrayed expression.

“Uri!”

“She likes it!”

Despite earning a pout and a glare from the young alpheus, Uriel deliberately ignored him. It was lucky that they were toddlers with no sense or care of status. 

“Now, now, you two. No fighting.”

“Mmmmmm,” Ijekiel grumbled with puffed cheeks dusted pink. He held Jennette closer, trying to block the stuffed animal with his arm. “Jetty, look at m-me!”

The baby only looked up at him, confused. She realized it was Ijekiel though, so she continued to babble happily nonetheless.

“Abababuuu~”

Ijekiel’s face flushed a light pink at her sheer adorableness, smothering her in tight hugs.

“Young Master, gentle, gentle,” I reminded him, careful so she wouldn’t be crushed. The boy noticed Jennette beginning to squirm so he immediately stopped, instead resorting to rubbing their cheeks together.

It was adorable, I’ll admit, though I was still focused on making sure he wasn’t being too forceful with her as well. Even though she’s just a bit over four months old, she’s still a baby. While the siblings bonded, Uriel had begun to sulk, retreating back to the drawer to play with the wooden blocks.

This had more or less become the usual in the past three months. At a point, Jennette would begin to get hungry or sleepy, or fuss about when she needed to have her diaper changed, which would then quiet the two for a bit. Despite how energetic the toddlers were, they too usually became sleepy whenever Jennette did. When rocking Jennette to sleep, the two boys would have been sitting in front of me while laying their heads together, dozing off. Erith is there, so after putting Jennette to bed, we carry the two back together.

Seeing as the three of them are seemingly energetic as of now, I can assume there will be no such sleep for a while longer.

Chapter Text

“Jen, look here.”

Her curious jeweled eyes looked up at my face, distracted from the bright flowers. I laughed.

“No, no, not at me silly girl,” I corrected. I shifted my gaze a bit higher than the flowers while waiting for her to imitate my movement. “There. Do you see it?”

“Ababwu?”

I chuckle as it approaches, it’s bright white wings delicately fluttering. “See? It’s a butterfly.”

“Baubwa?” 

Ah, perhaps the butterfly is a bit… too close?

Tentatively, the insect landed gracefully on top of Jennette’s head.

“Oh dear,” I laugh. The girl only looks confused, trying to look up at the strange object on her head. Still supporting her with my left arm, I brushed her hair with my right hand. “Just a moment, sweetie.”

Jennette closed her eyes as I brushed it with my fingertips, carefully allowing the butterfly to climb onto one of my fingers. Success came after a moment, the delicate white dusted wings of the butterfly folding and unfolding. Slowly lowering my hand, I brought it in front of her.

“See? Butterfly,” I smiled. Jennette’s jeweled eyes sparkled in awe.

“Baubwa~” she babbled, reaching toward the winged creature only for it to fly away in a hurry. Her eyes couldn’t follow, growing puzzled once again, erupting laughter from within my chest.

It’s been seven months now, and little Jennette is almost eleven months old. Despite it just turning December, the heat is akin to mid autumn. The weather was nice today, so I brought little Jennette out to see the flowers. It would return to cooler weather next month, so it was best to enjoy a warmer day while it lasts.

“Aa, atchu!”

Jennette let out a small sneeze before leaning back into my shoulder. She curled up a bit in my arms, grabbing onto my uniform with her tiny fists, and rubbing her cheek near the crook of my neck.

I sighed, softly petting the back of her head with my spare hand. In response, she tilted into my hold with a small smile. With a quiet chuckle, I lightly kissed the top of her head.

Hearing faint snickering, I glanced to the open passageway where a few maids huddled together, whispering to one another. It was Protea and two other maids, stealing constant glances at me and Jennette with slighted grins.

My jaw clenched and I narrowed my eyes. I turned my head partially, looking at them with a hardened expression.

“Is something the matter?” I called out, albeit not too loud so as to not surprise the baby in my arms. Curiously, Jennette looked up at me.

A bit nerved and shocked at me speaking, they stood silent and judging. Now that I had noticed them, they hesitated before breaking out into mocking smiles.

“Dear me, of course not! There's nothing wrong. Please, don’t mind us, and go back to playing around.”

… How funny that they were the ones saying that. Taking care of a baby was anything but ‘playing around’. 

“Aa…?” Jennette made a confused babble.

With a slightly irritated sigh, I turned away just a bit. It is what it is. I shouldn’t get into big fights while Jennette is around.

“... Speaking of playing around,” I realized, glancing over. A light breeze passed over me, caressing the baby in my arms with drowsiness. “You three must have a lot of free time to be gossiping so blatantly on a nice day like this.”

A lowered gaze. “And your point?”

With a slight shake of a head, I simply replied, “I’m just saying, it’s a beautiful day. The sun is bright and the air is nice, perfect weather for drying the wet laundry. You should spend it happily instead of being spiteful.”

My statement earned sneers and narrowed gazes. “Your arrogance knows no bounds. You’re just a lowly, abandoned beggar after all, who are you to tell us what to do?”

I sighed.

It can’t be helped. These kinds of people are like children. Whenever you try to scold and reprimand them they may feel bad for a moment, however… If I learned anything about children when in trouble, even if you get mad at them, it sometimes has the opposite effect when you punish them. Having a distrustful relationship, it will only sow the seeds of more resentment. Continuously, they will grow up learning to evade you and find loopholes. 

Like water that appears so clear, it still so easily slips through your fingers.

With a tilt of the head, I added wryly, “It can’t be helped. If you wish to tarnish my name for your own satisfaction, who am I to stop you? Does it matter at all, I wonder.”

In the end, who cares? It’s short lived excitement, that becomes entertainment only if you will it to be. 

With a hum, I brushed the back of Jennette’s head.

“Yes, I think it’s useless chatter in the end.”

From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the maids’ exasperated expressions. As a maid began to approach me, there was a loud call in the distance.

“Krissy!” 

The maids stiffened. Running down the short bushes of flowers, a certain toddler with snow white hair and golden eyes came quickly on his little feet.

“Young Master, please, not so fast! The grass may be softer than the hallway floors, but you can still get hurt!”

Ah, the familiar worrying muses of Erith trailing shortly behind little Ijekiel. Turning ever so slightly, another figure caught my eye.

Oh.

A refined and elegant giggle followed, daintily holding a parasol to block the sun.

“Let him be, Erith. It is a beautiful day, after all.”

Instinctively, I lowered my head in a light bow.

With a light smile, she greeted me. “Good morning, Kristina. It looks like you and the little one are faring well?”

Jennette gave a sleepy babble in response, recognizing her aunt's voice.

“Yes, Duchess. A magical afternoon to you.”

Duchess Alpheus smiled and threw a glance towards the trio of maids.

“Oh?” The Duchess tilted her head, her silken midnight grey hair lightly guiding the wind. “How nice of you three to join us on such a lovely afternoon.”

With a slight jump, the three of them quickly bowed as if it had escaped their mind. In sync, they repeated, “Greetings, Duchess.”

The lady of the house peered at them for a moment with slightly clouded yet focused eyes, like multiple thoughts intertwining within her head.

“Enjoying such a nice day leisurely without care like the three of you are…” The Duchess hummed to herself. “Eileen, are you perhaps done with your assigned duties for today?”

The tallest of the trio straightened and spoke quickly all at once. “Y-Yes, Duchess! I have finished all of my chores.”

The noblewoman twirled her parasol daintily, glancing to the shorter two.

“Cecily, Protea—the same goes for you two I assume?”

Protea hesitantly nodded while Cecily quietly agreed. The Duchess then smiled angelically, clapping her hands together.

“How wonderful! I didn’t know we had such hard working servants within the estate!”

The three nervously glanced at each other before Eileen bowed lightly, quietly saying, “You praise us too much, Duchess.”

The Duchess of Alpheus tilted her head, shifting her hold on her parasol before slowly turning from the three.

“If I had known any better, I would have told Sophia to assign more work to our oh so diligent and loyal maids. After all, they have so much time to idly chat and interrupt a fellow servant while she, too,” The Duchess glanced over to me. “Is working very hard on taking care of our beloved and cherished young lady.”

She smiled, looking over her shoulder.

“Wouldn’t you three agree?”

It had then occurred to them, as well as I, that this wasn’t an acknowledgment of their work. 

This was a threat.

Without meeting her gaze, Eileen spoke for the other two in a, “… Yes, Duchess.”

“Oh,” the Duchess suddenly said with a gloved hand to her mouth. “I must have not spoken loud enough. After all, only Eileen appeared to hear my words.”

A moment passed by before the three then responded in synchronicity, “Yes, Duchess.”

There was a scarily dark and dull glint in the Duchess’ eyes while under her parasol’s shade. “Then I assume this won’t happen in front of me again, is that correct?”

Finally, the three then all agreed with their heads lowered and bowed down.

“… Of course, Duchess.”

Her expression brightened. 

“Good! Then you three are free to return to your quarters to rest until tomorrow. Be ready,” she said in an airy tone, twirling her parasol with her amber eyes contradictorily clear with pent up aggression. “For after tomorrow’s dawn, there will be more work for our dear hard working maid servants.”

The trio of maids bowed before scurrying off out of her sight, Protea lingering just a bit to lock eyes for a split second before disappearing into the shadows of the building.

The three had disappeared leaving a strange feeling welling up inside me. It was only when Jennette’s bables brought me back to the present moment.

“Abwa! Abwa!” She cheered confusedly, gripping a small fistful of my hair.

“Ah, sorry, Jen,” I murmured, lightly rocking her with a hand supporting her back. Ijekiel was at my side on his tippy toes to see.

“… I apologize once again, Kristina,” The Duchess suddenly said. I looked up to her with a tilted head.

“What for? The Duchess has nothing to be regretful about.”

She gave me a sullen smile.

“You’ve always had to deal with being the target of your peers’ aggression and jealousy. No matter what I do, it seems my words can do nothing about restraining them.” 

The Duchess gazed over to where the three of them once stood.

“The three of them may have run away in fear after scolding them today, but that doesn’t stop them from bullying you out of my sight from tomorrow or the days after.” 

A moment passed by as my and Erith gazes lingered onto the Duchess’ figure.

“… Duchess, I’m afraid you misunderstand.”

She peered at me, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes in confusion. I held Jennette to my chest as she looked up at me as well, hearing my voice.

“Those words, the gossip and talk of those maids or any of the servants here—they don’t mean anything to me,” I replied, a light breeze caressing my cheeks. I looked down to the baby in my arms and knelt so that Ijekiel could play with her. “I am no noble, nor anyone with status. It’s true, I am just an orphan in the end who was lucky enough to be taken in by the Duchess.”

Memories of readers who would insult and tear Jennette apart with names and slander each chapter she appeared in began to resurface in my mind.

Status. Greed. Envy. Ego. Entitlement. Ignorance. A human heart bears many of those wicked things, and expresses them even towards children who have done nothing wrong. The need to protect and defend is only an act to disguise what truly is petty and unfounded displeasure of their own insecurities. Evil and hateful people will do anything to put down those who are better than them, only because they unconsciously know how horrible their hearts are in comparison.

Even towards a little girl who lives in fantasy, there are many who seethe with anger only because they know she is kinder than they will ever be.

“… However,” I firmly began. “The words of people who only judge me by how I was made or how I rose to my current state of being, or the hate and irritation of how I’m treasured by people who look beyond such surface thoughts.”

I met the Duchess’ gaze. 

“How am I supposed to care for the words of cruel people who refuse to change and never intended to understand me from the start?”

… Perhaps I went out of line, as the expressions on Erith and the Duchess’ face were questionably stunned to say the least.

“Ah, forget what I said, but really they don’t—“

“No, no,” The Duchess remarked, shaking her head. “That was worded very well. I just didn’t know you had such thoughts.”

It had momentarily left my mind that I wasn’t ‘me’, but a Kristina who had different mannerisms than ‘myself’. 

“I,” I quickly stammered, “had time to think.”

The Duchess gave a small smile, and Erith gave a sigh. In the midst of ‘adult conversation’, the little two have been babbling away to each other blissfully unaware. Jennette gave a small yawn, however, and I gazed up at the sky.

“The Little Lady is getting sleepy, so I think it’s about time for the two of us to retreat for the day,” I say, softly booping the baby’s nose with my finger. She gave a tired grin, confused, but thought it was funny.

Slowly, I stood up while Ijekiel then retreated to his mother’s skirt.

“I suppose that’s alright. We must talk again privately sometime, without the timely restrictions of the sun,” Lady Alpheus replied, running her fingers through her son’s hair. Adjusting my hold on Jennette, I then curtsied to the best of my ability.

“This maid will excuse herself then. Good night, Duchess, Erith.” I looked down to meet the boy’s eyes. “And goodnight to you, Young Master.”

Ijekiel held up a hand to give a little wave before I turned and began heading back inside, baby in my arms. Just as I pushed open the doors connected to the main hallway, I caught the silhouette of curly golden brown hair rushing to dash away.

Protea?

I had thought she already left. Her panicked figure as she turned the corner lingered in my mind for a moment longer, before brushing it off and continuing on my way. On the path to our bedrooms, I passed a few other servants. To prevent rumors of Jennette’s imperial blood, I often held her to my chest. She often liked being held like that, comfortably nestling her head into the crook of my neck. 

The familiar muffled creak of her room’s door as I nudged it open, slowly entering the simply decorated room. I gently placed the baby down into her crib, brushing my thumb against her cheek. Jennette gave a tired smile and babble, eyelids growing heavy as she tried hard to stubbornly stay awake. I chuckled, petting the soft hair on her head. 

After a short amount of time, the little girl began to breathe slowly as she slept away.

Confirming her sleep, I turned and made my way out of the room, sparing her crib a glance before quietly closing the door. Jennette tends to take short, but frequent naps throughout the day. She’ll most likely be awake again in an hour when she usually gets hungry. Until then, I make my way to the kitchen for her solids and milk.

As it’s just past sunset, there are noticeably less servants within the hallways. Not that I minded it, as it made interactions with my coworkers less frequent. I have been getting less attention as the months go on, but I still catch wind of whispering and snickering with the occasional glance.

The halls are dimly lit with candles, but the kitchen lights always appear to be on. The only time they’re turned off is when everyone is asleep after midnight. After that, they come back just before dawn.

I peered into the kitchen, not seeing Axon or Freesia. Which was a bit unusual, as they’re usually always in the kitchen. Shrugging, I made my way to the magically cooled chamber. In the mid shelf were where Jennette’s solids and milk bottles usually were. Looking through the options, I was prompted to pick out Jennette’s favorite, sweet potato puree. It was mild and not as sweet as the others, but little Jen seemed to prefer that. After picking the small container of puree, I then realized none of her bottles were in the chamber.

Confused, I tried to see if it was placed on other shelves, but no tiny glass bottles were seen.

Closing the door to the cooling chamber, I then looked around. Axon and Freesia still weren’t here so I couldn’t ask them where they were. While past Kristina seemed to have a close relationship to the kitchen staff, ‘I’ didn’t know anyone else’s names. To put it simply, when I ventured into the kitchen for the first time, it was like going to a family reunion and meeting your distant aunts and uncles who gush about how much you’ve grown despite having no knowledge of them at all.

Until a male cook passed and placed a cutting board of fruit onto a counter. His hair was a dim colored light brown, tied into a tiny ponytail that tickled the back of his neck. He was perhaps only half a head taller than me, and had a pretty slim build in comparison to the knights I’ve seen outside the manor. His arms were just barely built enough for him to lift moderately heavy items around the kitchen.

“Iveson,” I called out. He visibly flinched and jumped, turning his head at the sudden call of his name. The man had pretty tranquil lime colored eyes. He was one of Axon’s assistants, and I only remembered his name because I recalled Axon shouting for him multiple times.

“Hi! Kristina!” I tilted my head at how unusually shy he looked.

“Do you know where the baby bottles are?” I asked, pointing to the cooling chamber.

“Oh.” He seemed to calm down a bit more at my question. He paused to think about it. “Oh right! We recently got a new maid for the kitchen staff, and she, uh…”

I raised an eyebrow, prompting him to go on. Iveson scratched his cheek while laughing nervously.

“Well, she’s very clumsy. She’s been slipping and tripping, breaking dishes in the process and… the glass baby bottles being some of the countless victims.”

At first, I didn’t quite process it correctly. The moment I did, however, a flurry of panic and anger welled up inside me.

“There’s… no bottles left???” 

“No, but it’s all ok! Freesia went to talk to the Duke about it, and I’m sure they have a spare bottle somewhere!”

I gave a heavy sigh, clutching the baby food and holding it to my chest.

“And what of the new maid?”

He seemed a bit more delayed this time.

“Uh… well, she’s really, really new, so when she broke the bottles, Axon got really frustrated. Freesia was the voice of reason, but was… really scary herself,” he explained. “She sent her back to her room for the day, and then left to talk to the Duke.”

Back to her room. Which means that she’s still working here at this time. Which also means that there's a chance she’ll cause more trouble in the future.

“Thank you, anyhow,” I sigh.

“O-Oh, no problem.”

I turned and left the kitchen’s premises, baby food container in my hands. In the past few months, I had memorized the general layout of the estate so making my way to the Duke and office was no problem.

Although, I had wondered if the Duke has some sort of dislike of me. I seldom had to visit his office to talk to him. Even though I have a seemingly close relationship with the Duchess, Roger often gives me judging side eyes.

Well, it doesn’t matter to me. I was content in taking care of Jennette. Whether people liked or disliked me mattered not, including the Duke.

Shortly, I arrived near the Duke’s office. Once I stood in front of the door, I was about to knock when the door handle began to twist. I flinched, instantly backing up only for the door to open.

It was Freesia.

“Oh? Kris,” she exclaimed.

“Kristina?” came the Duchess’ voice from inside. From over Freesia’s shoulder, the Duchess stood up from her spot on the Duke’s sofa. “What brings you here?”

Still a bit confused at why Freesia was the one who opened the door, I replied, “I came for… the bottle.”

The way Iveson explained the bottle breaking incident made it sound like it happened earlier in the day. I met with the Duchess just a bit ago outside as well. For what reason would Freesia be here for so long just to ask about spare baby bottles?

“Ah, so you found out? I’m sorry about that Kris,” Freesia said. My eyes trailed down to her hand, where she carried a box. She lifted the wooden box up carefully. “I’ve just gotten new bottles, but they aren’t filled quite yet. I can give you one for the little lady once I return to the kitchen.”

“Ah. I see.” I peered back into the room, seeing Roger at his desk with his hands folded. My gaze lifted back to meet Freesia’s. “Then I will retreat with you.”

She smiled softly. “Then let’s get going then. We wouldn’t want the little lady to wait too long.”

I locked eyes for a moment with the duchess before the door closed behind Freesia.

Our footsteps clacked in the dimly lit halls. The sky was a dark blueish purple, with barely any hints of pink blurred along the horizon.

“How has the Little Lady been doing?” Freesia asks, vaguely looking over her shoulder.

“She’s happy and healthy, always with a smile on her face,” I reply, looking at my reflection in the window. With a chuckle, I add, “When she’s not sleeping that is.”

“Has she learned to walk yet?”

I smiled. “Jennette still needs help. Though I’ll often walk into her room to find her standing waiting for me.”

Freesia lets out a laugh. “She’s an energetic one. Uri was similar, always so eager to move around on his own two feet since he was a baby.”

“How’s Uriel anyway? It’s been a bit since he and the Young Master have had a playdate,” I asked. The two of them haven’t seen each other for a couple of weeks now. Uriel used to come and bother me and Jen alongside Ijekiel almost every day.

“Don’t worry about that boy,” Freesia hums. “Trust me, he’s just as anxious to see his friend and the little one again. Every day, he begs me and Axon to take him here.”

A chuckle. “But he is still unwell. Recovering, but I wouldn’t want to risk getting the other children sick. My boy has always been a resilient one, but the Young Master and Little Miss are still young and more susceptible to illness.”

She sighs.

“I don’t know what I would do if Uri gets any of them sick.”

I chuckled to myself, imagining the restless Uriel begging his parents to see his companions. A simple common cold wouldn’t get him down.

The glass bottles clinked against each other with each step Freesia took. With a pause, I looked back up to her figure.

“How long… has that new maid been working here?”

“Hm…” Freesia hums to herself, pondering about it. There was a strange stiffness in her shoulders the moment I brought her up. I suppose she isn’t very well liked, even by Freesia.

A lower pitched laugh escapes her throat. “Perhaps only a week? I wonder how you haven’t met her yet. I suppose you barely miss each other.”

My eyes narrow. A week. I had been noticing a gradual shortage of milk bottles in the cooling chamber lately, but thought nothing of it until now. With how much trouble she has already made in her first week, I’m surprised she hasn’t been fired yet.

“Does she belong to a noble family?” I ask. She vaguely nods.

“I believe she’s the youngest of Marquis Stilo. She is a pain, to put it simply, but she will learn in time. It’s just her clumsiness that is a flaw.”

Marquis. A higher status than Axon’s family, right under Duke.

“What is a Marquis’ daughter doing seeking work under a Duke? And part of the kitchen staff.”

Freesia looks back at me. “I’ve asked her myself. She simply said that she applied to work at the palace originally, but was rejected because she was inexperienced and too young. So, she settled with working here until she’s old enough to get accepted.”

I stopped walking.

“So it doesn’t matter what she works as, as long as she gets experience as a maid for a year or two?” I ask. With arched eyebrows, Freesia turns.

“Perhaps...?”

With determination, I turned away and started sprinting with vigor.

“Kristina?” Freesia called out. I slightly turned my head.

“I’ll be back for a bottle in a moment!”

If all she wanted was experience as a maid, then she didn’t have to work in the kitchen. Working in the kitchen with no experience was even more dangerous than working as a normal maid—for both herself, and our colleagues.

As I slowed my pace in front of the Duke’s office, I stood there with heaving breaths.

I didn’t want to risk more of Jen’s bottles breaking, and quite possibly her food. Back in the real world, making so many mistakes around children was very dangerous and put the children at risk. Dropping glass constantly is very dangerous, and if shards are missed, someone within the kitchen staff could get injured.

Just as I was about to knock, however, I heard muffled voices beyond the door.

“... palace… quite a predicament…”

“... more is there to do?”

“We… only wait.”

“... tell Kristina?”

I narrowed my eyebrows after hearing my name being mentioned. I went closer to the door, nearly pressing my ear against it.

“I don’t know what the emperor is thinking. Not only is the massacre itself a problem, but for us, the birth of the new princess—”

“What?”

My body froze and I unconsciously pushed the door open to see the surprised faces of the Duke and Duchess.

“Kristina?” Duchess Alpheus had let out.

“What was that? New… Princess?”

Before I had realized it, quickly, the story had finally begun.

Chapter Text

While pulling the white covering over my head of hair, I could only think about what had happened the night before.

“It is nothing of concern. You are to take care of Jennette as you were before.”

Those were the abrupt orders I was given by the Duke. Although I was one of the included few who knew of the Dukedom’s secret princess, I was still being left in the dark about the nitty gritty details. However…

One thing’s for sure, the massacre still happened. The real deciding factor of which world I had been brought to won’t be known to me for a couple of years, still.

As I dusted off the skirt of my dress, I turned to leave my chambers. Well, it’s not that it matters anyway. Whether Jennette’s fate in this world is to thrive as the future empress, or to be cast aside and abandoned by all—I will always be with her, no matter what.

The rattle of the baby’s bedroom door knob resounded as I peeked in.

“Je~n,” I hummed quietly. There had been no response, so I took a step forward to get a better view of the crib. Through the wooden bars, I could see the little girl’s body laying down, her chest slowly rising and falling. 

Still asleep.

Carefully, I closed the door in front of me. Despite it being the crack of dawn, she had not woken yet. After receiving news of Athanasia’s birth and the Ruby Palace’s massacre, I went back to Jennette. Frankly, she did go to bed later than usual, but the girl had a habit of rising alongside the sun.

Oh well. It just gives me a bit of time to get her breakfast and milk.

Slowly closing the door, I carefully shut it so that it wouldn’t disturb the baby’s sleep. Giving one last, careful glance, I turned my heel and went on my way. The halls were dimly lit only by the crack of light from the sun pouring from beyond the window panes. Any of the candles that may have been lit along the desaturated walls were long extinguished. Nonetheless, that was all I needed alongside the dull sound of my heels clacking against polished wood.

I liked it, the mornings. It’s quiet in the hallways, and not many people are working. If servants are awake, they’re usually cleaning or in the kitchen—less likely to be roaming around leisurely.

The shiny surface of the floor turned into smooth stone as I entered the kitchen’s premises. Despite it being almost seven in the morning, the kitchen was quite busy. I’m sure the Ducal family must be having breakfast soon. The cooks are also in charge of making meals for the servants, so it’s quite intense here. It was a bit overwhelming—the crackle of fire from the iron stoves, the clinking of dishes, the sound of boiling soup and water, along with the various voices talking over and with each other. Amongst the people rushing back and forth, Axon was easy to spot with his height. His casual warm and welcoming attitude was focused and slightly agitated, as he usually gets when it becomes busy in the kitchen. He was yelling offhandedly to a younger assistant who was attending to the large ham that was being roasted above the large open hearth. 

Axon seemed a bit more irritated and on edge than usual. I didn’t want to disrupt anyone, so I opted to go straight to the cooling chamber for Jen’s soft food and milk.

“Oh Kristina, good morning!”

I looked to my side to meet the girl’s honey colored eyes. Kavya was another cook assistant with long black hair braided past her shoulders accompanied with smooth, light brown skin. She was closer to my—physical—age, I believe only a year older making her seventeen or eighteen. From what I remembered from small conversation, she came from a baron family of Siodonnan descent.

My response came in a silently mouthed, ‘Morning’, with a smile. She beamed back, and then ushered on her way with pristine clean white plates stacked in her arms. Although I don’t think I’ve become close enough to any of them, I have been making an effort to talk to my coworkers. I’ve been able to make small conversations with Iveson, Kavya, and a few others in the kitchen staff. Luckily, Kristina previously seemed to be a more quiet person so my sparse behavior wasn’t too strange. Although, my relationship with the other servants haven’t improved at all since I arrived most likely from the vast difference in statuses. In contrast, the kitchen staff were made up of either well off commoners or lower nobles.

Thinking about it, Roger Alpheus was more of a generous man than I had thought. He was among one of the highest ranks in the empire, save for the royals, yet he had a decently diverse staff of a multitude of ranks. In fantasy worlds, it was rare enough to see people of color. I had noticed before that even though—in memory at least—there were no people of color in the original novel and webtoon, there were a good amount of darker staff here . Kavya and Axon were two I was acquainted with, and I’ve seen while looking out the window, sometimes servants with dark spirals and textured locks. 

In a predominantly early euro-centric inspired nobility, I was surprised. But it made me a bit happy.

My eyes trailed after Kavya’s figure as it disappeared behind the wall, before lowering myself to peer inside the cooling chamber. Unlike the night before, there had been many glass bottles of milk prepared, cooled and unscathed. I breathed out a relieved sigh, before pausing to gaze at the small glass containers of mashed food. For today’s breakfast, I wanted to perhaps get Jen something a little warmer since mornings were getting chilly these days, but…

I glanced over my shoulder to the busy people behind me. Perhaps another day.

After a moment of consideration, I retrieved a container with oatmeal and small slices of peach on top. I rubbed my thumb against the glass while the door closed. Jennette was going to be a year old soon. It felt like just yesterday when I held her in my arms, wrapping her newborn body snugly into a towel. Now, she can practically stand up on her own. Before long, she would begin to walk and run and see this colorful world while on her own two feet.

‘ At least ’, I thought, tilting the glass bottle of milk with a parted frown. ‘ At least, the small world that was confined to this manor. ’

A shaken breath escaped my lips as I turned my heel, only to be shook as with a heavy push to my side. I quickly stumbled before my mind could process it, stepping over the long skirt of my dress, slipping and falling onto smooth stone. Pain shot through my right arm and side as it slammed against the kitchen floor, wincing as the trauma spread to an ache. Added to that, there was a heavy weight pressing against my opposite side. My eyes fell onto the hands that gripped onto my uniform’s shirt, hands that didn’t belong to me.

There was an audible groan emitting from the weight pressing into me, and I turned my head slowly to see red hair. It was different from Erith’s red hair, which was more of a desaturated cerise red with small waves and curls. This girl’s hair was shoulder length and let out with very slight waves at the end, a vibrant ginger with more red tints. 

Who is this?

In the eleven months of me being here, I don’t think I’ve ever seen this girl before. Frankly, I don’t know my colleagues that well, but very few people wake up this early unless…

“Ah… that hurt.”

She had a higher pitched voice, slowly sliding off of me to rub her knees.

“Kris, you ok?”

Ah, so much for not wanting to bother the kitchen staff. Axon’s voice came from behind me as I began to push myself off the floor. I nodded regardless, cringing at the sting of my elbow. The attention of the staff pressured me with their gazes, eyes I vaguely met as I quickly scanned the room, eventually falling onto the girl who bumped into me. 

She was pretty young, maybe around Protea’s age. There was a neat fringe that covered her forehead. Her eyes were large with long ginger eyelashes, the blinking irises like smooth aquamarine. The girl’s cheeks flushed as her eyes met mine in her mid attempt to stand up.

“Not again ,” came Axon’s hardened voice. It alarmed me, since it was a tone he’s never even used when stressed by the staff. My gaze flickered up to him as he gave a long, irritable sigh while massaging the bridge of his nose. I turned my head away, down to the floor.

“I’m sorry for making a ruckus.”

“No, not you Kris, you’re fine,” I heard him reply. “What is it now? Slipping again? Dragging another with you, and breaking more bottles? We already went over this yesterday.”

More bottles?

The sudden reminder forced my vision towards the shattered glass a few ways away from me, the oatmeal and milk splattered onto the kitchen floor. 

"Oh my god, I'm so so so so sorry."

The girl quickly fell to the floor and began to pick up the fragmented pieces of the glass bottle.

"Don't!" I stopped her, grabbing her wrist. She jumped slightly at my sharp tone, pumpkin tinted hair falling over her shoulders. With a sigh, I gently let go and stood up. "Just stay here, and don't touch the glass."

Nervously, the young girl only nodded and sat quietly. I looked over to the mess again, only for another servant to crouch while wearing thick gloves, supplies in hand and ready. Guiltily, I began to reach out.

“Oh, I can…”

The dark haired man with freckles looked up at me and shook his head, looking down and scraping up the glass and ruined food. 

“Alright. While Isaac cleans up, the rest of you continue on what you were doing.” Axon returned to work mode, speaking with a strong voice everyone could hear. A moment had passed, a brief few seconds, before the chefs and assistants went on like nothing had happened. Sound, which had disappeared for what was only about two minutes, returned and filled the kitchen.

I stood up, dusting off my apron and skirt as Axon continued.

“Kris, hold on. Just wait outside for a bit. I can at least make warm food for the little lady for the trouble.”

“Oh,” I replied, about to open the cooling chamber again. Looking off to the side, I remembered the brief thought that crossed my mind earlier. I also looked at the stressed kitchen staff, who were now rushing since they were a few minutes late. Meeting Axon’s eyes I eventually said, “It’s fine, I’ve already delayed you guys enough already.”

“I insist, and I already told you it isn’t your fault.”

“Really. I don’t want to make you guys any later than you are.”

“How could you call us part of the Alpheus Kitchen Staff if we can’t even make warm food for a baby?” Axon asked. Turning with a vague smile, he concluded, “Come on, it won’t take any time at all.”

I pressed my lips together, relenting a sigh. Axon is very stubborn, and someone I can’t easily refuse. He just exudes the energy of someone who has everything under control, and even if it isn’t, he somehow will be able to fix it.

“… If you really say it won’t bother you, then alright.”

My hand slid off the handle of the cooling chamber as I began to exit the kitchen.

“And don’t think that I’ve forgotten about you.” I looked over my shoulder for a brief moment as he began to scold the girl. She was looking down with a clumsy smile, dusting off her skirt as Axon continued. 

“I’m really really sorry, I won’t do it ever again, I promise!”

Turning away, I continued forward to wait outside the kitchen.

“Just… go back to your room. We’ll figure your punishment later.”

My back gently knocked against the wall, leaning against it while I waited. Shortly, the girl walked out of the kitchen, hands folded in front of her almost somberly if not for the small proud smile on her face. It surprised me, something inside me feeling somewhat annoyed to see that expression after the ruckus we had made. The girl’s aqua colored eyes flickered over to me, erasing her smile and putting on an embarrassed one.

“Oh, you’re Kristina right? I’m so sorry for bumping into you. And. Breaking more dishes.”

“… are you?”

Her expression faltered for a moment. The hand holding my aching arm dug into the folds of my sleeves. This is the first time we’ve met, and from the incident just now and how Axon had reacted, I could only assume this is the new member of the kitchen staff who repeatedly makes mistakes. Normally, I wouldn’t doubt such a young girl. The kitchen floors are more slippery than you think, and with so many things going on, an inexperienced daughter of a noble would of course make mistakes every now and then.

But, that expression…

“Are you really sorry?” I asked again. She tilted her head with a dumbfounded look, mouth parted slightly. The girl then broke into a smile.

“No, I’m not. Are you going to report me to the Duke and Duchess?”

I could only stay silent. Last night, I was going to ask to transfer her position, but the shock of Athanasia’s birth had made me completely forget. My visit to the Duke’s office then ended without ever bringing up this girl. 

She closed her eyes and clapped her hands together.

“I’m Bella, Belladonna Stilo. I’d appreciate it if you did report me.”

Her reaction shocked me, leaving my mouth agape and eyebrows narrowed. She wants to be reported?

I remembered what Freesia had told me last night about her. 

“... I thought you wanted to work at the palace,” I said.

“Oh, I do! But how can I get into the palace if my only experience is in the kitchen?” She replied in a hushed voice only I could hear, stepping closer with hands folded behind her back. The girl tilted her head again with a smile. “What kind of castle needs a fourteen year old chef?”

She was a year younger than Protea. Though, I was surprised. I didn’t think the palace would reject a fourteen year old for being too young. I guess being the daughter of a Marquis isn’t enough to be employed.

“So, please report me. It’d be better for everyone if I was a normal maid than a kitchen hand.”

I could only look at her wordlessly as she hummed to herself whilst skipping off happily, auburn hair bouncing against her neck. The vague sound of footsteps came from behind the kitchen wall, Axon peeking over with a tray in hand. My hand slips off my sleeve, turning to face him. However, I didn’t miss his eyes lingering on my arm.

“Kris, you sure you’re good?”

Nodding, I lifted my hands to take the tray from him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s only a bit sore from the fall.”

There was a slight discomfort from my right arm as the weight of the tray shifted onto my hands. There was a newly procured bottle of milk sitting on the tray, accompanying two porcelain plates, a cup of orange juice, and a couple of utensils. One plate had a cluster of vaguely steaming scrambled eggs with thin cuts of ham, a slice of soft bread, and some orange slices. On the other plate was avocado toast, a sunny side up egg, and some strawberries. I looked up at him with a questionable face.

“Jennette can’t eat this much.”

Axon looked at me with a blank expression before howling with laughter.

“Kris, the plate’s for you. It’s your breakfast.”

I blinked up at him.

“But breakfast for us isn’t for another hour.”

“You may as well pick up your breakfast early since you’re here now. Consider it one less of a trip back.”

The avocado toast looked so pretty, and neatly arranged with egg and fruit. Servants’ food was usually less luxurious than the nobles’ of course. Ham, and any sort of meat was expensive after all, especially when it’s high quality. But it’s not just meat, exotic fruits and vegetables are also as expensive. Because of Obelia’s climate, fruits like oranges or strawberries are ok, but as far as I knew, avocados were still predominantly imported from overseas.

“Is it really alright to have this?”

“Of course. Kris is important, too. The Duchess dotes on you, so good guess is that she wouldn’t mind.”

I looked over the tray once again before meeting Axon’s eyes and lightly curtsying with my feet.

“Thank you.”

There’s a weight that presses against the cotton fabric on my head, rubbing roughly and messing up the folds. It surprises me. I don’t think anyone’s ever done that to me before, at least, not since I was a kid. Maybe an older cousin I was close to? Though it’s been years since our families had drifted apart.

Axon gives a hearty chuckle, retracting his large hand and returning to the kitchen. Carefully making sure my grip on the tray was steady, I turned my heel and began to walk through the less empty halls. Since breakfast for the servants gets served in about an hour, many of the maids and valets tend to treat the short period before breakfast as quiet social time. It’s even better since the noble family is having their own breakfast, meaning the head maid and butler are more lenient.

Speaking of head maid, I don’t think I’ve seen that woman since Jennette’s birth. The head maid anyway, the woman who had woken me up after coming to this world. Did the Duchess call her Sophia, yesterday? Though I’ve seen the head butler, Gyali Ammou, on occasion. A very strict and timely man, one who reminded me of the Duke. Which makes me wonder, since as a nanny and maid, I would have most definitely seen her at least once again this year, right? 

I didn’t think about it too often, though I should have asked the Duchess at least once. She usually stops by every once in a while herself, so any reports about Jennette’s health and progress have gone to the Duchess directly.

The orange juice in the glass cup swished back and forth as I stopped. Report.

‘So please report me.’

I should have told Axon to reassign her, though I don’t even know if he has the power to do so. For all I know, the Duke or Duchess intentionally placed her in the kitchen, or perhaps Marquis Stilo has firmly requested his daughter to work in the kitchen. The Stilo’s are a higher rank than a mere relative of the Bouvardia family, and I wouldn’t want to somehow place Axon and Freesia in a difficult position.

Plus. I’m sure if they could reassign her, they would have for all the trouble she’s caused in the kitchen already.

Panic washes over my body as my feet seemed to trip over themselves, watching the tray of food and drinks tilt as I stumbled. The plates slide to the edge, orange juice and milk splashing against the glass and my fingers fumble against the handles of the tray.

“Ah—“

The reflective metal slips out of my fingers, only to feel the steel lightly jab against the top of my stomach in abrupt halt. The orange juice waves back and forth violently at the sudden force of its stop, some of it splashing out of the cup and onto the tray. My hands are free, however, so I grew confused at its prevention from falling.

“I told you that beggars aren’t used to these floors.”

Wavy dark blond hair from her side parts hang partly over the silver-like tray, the color under the splattered orange juice reflecting the dark pink of her sharp eyes.

“Protea?”

“Are you going to take it, or what?”

“Ah, right…”

My fingers find their way around the warm handles, weight shifting back to my arms as the now sixteen year old girl pulls her hands away. I felt eyes toward my back, vaguely looking over my shoulder to the servants eying me with the same ones as before. Men and woman with harrowed eyes and thin lips, ones with edged smiles so sinister yet amused. Except, not exactly. It was similar, but almost with dissatisfaction? Like their game which could have been more entertaining than it was, had been interrupted.

I had thought about it now that the panic had subsided. Was I almost tripped again?

“Hello? Have you suddenly gone deaf?”

My attention returned to the younger girl.

“Ah, sorry?”

Her hand had risen, giving my right shoulder a push forward forcing my feet to move along with my body. I winced, however, my shoulder aching from before. Did I fall harder than I thought? Protea’s hand lingered in the air for a split second and her expression lingered in my mind before being replaced with a scowl.

“It seems you beggars can’t do anything here. Off with you!”

I shook it off, looking forward while walking with an increased speed. There were some murmurs and hushed whispers behind me as I got further and further away, but I could vaguely hear it while repeating her face in my mind.

Did I see correctly? Protea’s expression then…

“Why did you do that?”

“Are you stupid? We just got scolded by the Duchess yesterday! Do you want to dig a bigger hole than that!”

“We’ve never been punished when doing worse before…”

… was she shocked because I was injured?

Chapter Text

By the time I had reached Jennette’s bedroom and opened the door while balancing the weight of the tray with the other, the little girl had been standing up in wait for me. 

“Eee-eee!”

Jen was bouncing while clinging onto the painted wooden bars of her crib, jeweled eyes twinkling like a newly polished gem. Whatever thoughts of the previous hour that had troubled my mind flew away in an instant, feeling my cheeks warm at the sight of her chubby baby face.

“My little princess!”

I gently set the tray on the desk, switching directions shortly thereafter to take the baby, whose hands were reaching up to me, out of her chamber of sleep. Jennette babbled joyfully as I lifted her high in the air before carrying her comfortably in my arms. She nestled into my chest, face pressed against my neck as her tiny fingers clung to the fabric of my uniform shirt. Jennette was wide awake, so she must have woken up long before I came back. I hope she didn’t stay alone for too long. My trip to the kitchen for her food and milk sometimes happens before or after she wakes up, but I try to make them as short as I can. There wasn’t any danger in leaving babies unattended as long as they were safe, but I also didn’t want to risk another maid or servant to enter while I’m not there.

“Are you hungry? I’m sorry for taking so long. But you can’t eat just yet,” I tell her, even if she doesn’t know what I’m saying. She coos, so regardless I take it positively. Instead of turning toward the desk, I straighten and lower myself onto the rug and blanket on the floor. While laying Jennette down with one hand, I reach beneath the crib for a diaper—or at least, Obelia's version of a diaper. It isn’t very colorful or made of synthetic and easily stretchable cloth like how it is in the modern world, but it’s not just a piece of fabric either. It’s actually pretty absorbent and cushiony.

As I unbutton her onesie, she giggles and babbles away. Jennette’s a pretty well behaved baby, and doesn’t usually stir unless pretty upset. Even then, her temper is easy to manage as long as she gets distracted. As long as I hand her one of her smaller, sound making toys or continue to talk to her, she’s satisfied. Jennette seems to enjoy analyzing her surroundings while I change her diaper otherwise. Luckily, she hasn’t pooped during the night—though that does mean I should expect something sometime today.

Her diaper changing ends quickly, and I take her into my arms again. After I stand up, I still don’t go towards the food immediately though. About two rooms down is actually a small bathroom with an old faucet. It’s not in the best shape or well maintained since our quarters are farther than the others, but it still works. With Jennette against my chest, I make a quick trip to said bathroom to wash my hands. 

While Jen is still learning to use her hands and utensils to eat, I still have to help her.

The trip is also quick, so before long I’m entering her nursery again. The door creaks slightly as I push it with my foot before walking forward to the desk. Just as I outstretch a hand towards the plates, I notice something. There was an object that wasn’t there before. At least, I didn’t think so. It was a napkin of sorts towards the right of the tray.

Did Axon slip it there earlier before I left?

I was a bit glad since juice was trailing beads of liquid across the tray, collecting under the plates most definitely. Jutting my foot out, I pulled Jennette’s baby chair over. Since I started feeding her solids, the Duchess had procured me a baby chair to help feed her.

‘Babies can be very messy when they eat, especially as they start using their hands. You can’t be feeding her solids on the sofa forever!’

A small smile spread across my face at the memory. She was a charming woman. It was hard to believe that snow-haired duke managed to marry a girl like her. Though, it most likely could have been an arranged marriage. Even though I could tell they were happy with each other, love and care could still be found in a marriage not originally made for love.

Jennette’s little feet slipped through the holes made from smoothened wooden planks. She sat quietly, eying up at me as I turned back towards the tray. Gingerly, I grasped the thin cloth material through my fingers and slowly soaked up the juice that had spilled. Lifting a plate with one hand, I dabbed it under the porcelain platter and where it had sat before doing the same to the other. Strangely enough, it soaked very well, but the material wasn’t that coarse. It was actually a bit on the softer side, silky. Was it really ok for Axon to give this napkin to me? It feels higher quality.

There was this strange feeling at the back of my mind, one I couldn’t quite figure out. After all the juice was cleaned, the white napkin had been stained a light orange. All the while, Jen had been watching me with the occasional look at her surroundings while babbling to herself in baby talk. The weird feeling didn’t seem to subside even after I cleaned it all up. Carefully, I looked at the napkin over again, spotting a different blotch of color on it. It was a flower design. If there was a design on it, then it meant that… this wasn’t a napkin, but a handkerchief.

Worry manifested in my chest. Oh no, did I just dirty Axon’s handkerchief? Did he accidentally drop it on before he left?

There weren’t any initials or anything like that, just a simple embroidered flower. It was beautifully done, the rose gold colored thread seamlessly weaved and layered together. Small, hardly noticeable at the corner, yet you could tell it was done with love and care. Did Axon do this embroidery, or did Freesia? Women during these times traditionally did embroidery, as men geared towards being knights or businessmen rather than cooks—norms the bouvardia couple went against. I could imagine Axon embroidering his family’s crest flower onto a handkerchief.

“… Hm?”

“Abwa?”

Bouvardia family… right? The flower? If I remember correctly, bouvardia flowers had a bunch of tiny blooms, connecting at the top into a thin stem. The flower here was pinkish yellow. In fact, the color that represented the Bouvardia family was an almost violet purple. I only knew this because Uriel and Ijekiel would color together. Uri would proudly draw in wax crayon his family crest and the color associated with it, especially because it resembled the color of his eyes. It wasn’t exact, of course since it was a toddlers’ drawing, but he was very insistent about the shape of the flowers.

Then, why was this bouvardia more peach colored? With multiple textured petals instead of four small ones, hanging off the stalk into a pointed tip, kind of like a…

“… Sword.”

Rose Gold Gladiolus. This was Protea’s handkerchief. The Gladiolus family, whose color was predominantly rose gold or a peach colored pink. 

I had just dirtied one of a child’s precious belongings. I wouldn’t normally be so bothered since Protea was among the main servants of the estate that were entertained with picking on me. Yet, if I remembered correctly earlier, Protea had actually stopped the tray from falling. She had helped me. It’s nothing compared to the numerous times she and the others had actively tried to sabotage and talk about me, but I’m the adult here for goodness sake. The others have no excuse nor justification, but from that expression. That expression earlier…

Protea was just a child. A child that needs to be guided, but a child nonetheless.

And I had so carelessly stained something of hers. What if it was something from her family? Of her mother’s?

“Uuu… ua…”

“Ah…” I turned toward the teary eyed Jen, who had been growing impatient and lonely at my silence and loss of attention. I placed the damp handkerchief back on the tray, picking up her breakfast and a spoon. “I’m sorry Jen, Krissy was just a bit distracted.”

I’ll think more about it later. Jennette matters the most right now.

Sliding the plate in front of her, I then held the spoon near her face until she grabbed it herself. The eggs weren’t hot anymore but still warm, luckily. A smile returned to the baby’s face, eying the metal utensil before glancing at the food in front of her. She began to pat and stab the eggs with the tip of the spoon, cooing and babbling. It’s been a bit since Jen has had eggs. Jennette tends to play around with the spoon or fork to see how it affects the food in front of her. Eventually she tires and urges me to start feeding her with it if she can't figure out how to feed herself. She succeeds sometimes, though.

It seems this time she can’t tell the difference between a spoon and a fork, however. Jennette keeps trying to stab the scrambled eggs, as if it will stick to the spoon. When she mistakenly thinks she’s gotten a piece of egg, she puts the head of the spoon in her mouth to gnaw on it with her small teeth and gums—only to realize there wasn’t anything on it. 

That goes on repeat for a bit longer. I can tell she’s getting tired of using the spoon on the eggs. But she hasn’t given me her upset eyes yet. Jen throws occasional looks at me, trying to judge my expression to see if she’s doing well. It doesn’t go well though, and I can’t help but smile each time she shoves an empty spoon in her mouth.

“Uuu…”

Jennette begins to get upset, and she drops her spoon. She doesn’t look at me though. I’m a bit amazed. Jen usually gives me at least one defeated look by now. Instead, Jennette reaches her small hands out to the orange slices. She’s given up on the eggs for now and has opted for the fruits—things she recognizes the easiest and knows how to eat. Immediately, she bites the orange flesh and I can see her suck in uncoordinated huffs whilst mashing her teeth without actually chewing it. 

“Ahaha.”

I can’t help but laugh softly. Jennette seemed focused on the oranges for now, so it didn’t seem I needed to step in for a bit. I may as well eat a bit myself while watching her. From the metal tray, I lift my own white plate and gently place it beside me as my own chair is shifted toward hers. The sunny side up egg isn’t quite cold yet, which surprises me since it’s been quite a long time since I left the kitchen’s premises. To make the least mess and a quick breakfast, putting the egg on the avocado toast would be best. There was a butter knife and fork left on the tray, so lifting the egg onto the toast was easy. That way, if the yolk was still runny, it wouldn’t spread onto the plate.

Before I awoke in this place, I used to eat avocado toast before work since it’s easy to prepare. The avocado toast here still tastes relatively the same as home, yet there’s a strange depth compared to the modern world. The avocado is still creamy, but there’s a slightly more prominent earthy flavor. Combined with the egg, it provides a pretty savory experience. One thing that was a bit off though was the bread, since it was a bit older. The toast Jennette has is probably the one Alpheus’ like, a softer brioche. Because Jen is a baby, it’s not good to give her food that would be difficult to chew. The inside of the toast I have is fine, but the crust is a bit difficult to tear.

Though, brioche is a pretty sweet bread. When I was younger, my siblings would have it with condensed milk for a dessert-like snack. While Jennette likes fruits, she doesn’t seem to like things that are too sweet.

Lowering the hand holding the toast, I looked down to Jen, only to see her looking at me intently. Tilting my head, I could only smile and chuckle.

“Jen, what’s wrong?”

The girl smiled wide and giggled sweetly at being acknowledged, waving her sticky hands and babbling away. She had finished two orange slices already, pieces of the flesh still messily intact, however. I didn’t expect too much about that. It’s difficult for young children to completely clean fruits with pulp. I was also such a child, though it developed into the habit of only sucking the juice from the fruit and never eating the pulp inside.

Tilting my head, I was about to take another bite. But, I stopped it just a partial way from my lips. Jennette had attempted to grab her toast, clasping it tightly with her small fingers. Carefully, while staring at the slice of bread intently, she began to take small bites out of it. 

Was Jen… trying to imitate me?

I couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle.

“Awh?” Her babble was muffled by the bread in her mouth as she looked up at me. Basking in warmth, the two of us continued to finish our breakfast. Before long, our plates would be partially empty, and her bottle of milk barren of a single drop.

An hour of dawdling later, I am walking through the halls with Jennette pressed against my chest. It’s a bit difficult, supporting her with one arm and holding the tray of dirty dishes in the other. At the very least, my arm had stopped aching. Although, it still felt off. I didn’t want to leave Jen alone again, however hard it may be. It can’t be helped that there aren’t any maids and servants who help me. While I haven’t seen the maids who helped with Penelope’s birth, I can only assume few who know of Jennette’s eyes and royal heritage are busy with their own jobs. Until she gets her magic eye changing ring, no one will help me take care of her day-to-day activities. I can tell just me knowing is already risky. While the Duchess has faith in me, my impression on Roger makes me think he isn’t as trusting.

Well, luckily, Jen’s favorite cuddling position limits the outsider view of her eyes. I’m cautious when I bring her out, though. I still get stares and whispers when I walk with Jennette, but the servants are smart enough not to try anything. As little as they think of me, they wouldn’t dare risk hurting the young miss the Ducal family is fostering.

“Phwoo.”

“I know, I know, Young Miss,” I murmur, shifting my arm securely. I dressed her in a blush pink bonnet and a white dress sewn with red ribbons. It’s a bit colder today, but Jen still enjoyed playing outside. The greenhouse isn’t very far, and appears just as warm as it is in spring and summer. Jen had also taken one of her bunny plushies with her, a brown rabbit that had a collar with a bell. “Krissy just needs to drop this off, then we can play.”

The empty glass cup and bottle dragged against the stacked porcelain plates with every little imbalance. I was used to it, not being helped. Eleven months, and the only thing I’ve earned from my coworkers outside the kitchen is gossip and becoming one’s source of fleeting entertainment. My soles clacked against the polished wood, finally spotting the wall that divided the kitchen and hallway.

The bell’s jingle rang when I stopped to peek. There were hardly any people in the kitchen compared to an hour or so ago—probably because the majority of them are finishing up breakfast. Axon was still working the kitchen, but now Freesia had joined him. I was noticed immediately by Freesia with a smile.

“Kris, have you come to get breakfast? A bit later than usual, I see.”

“Oh no, actually I came to turn in the dishes from… breakfast.”

I stepped into the kitchen, hand trembling whilst holding the weight of the tray. Freesia walked forward and took it from me, relieving me of the burden. Jen had sensed the presence of other people, turning partly while sucking on the rabbit’s ear. Freesia met Jennette’s jeweled eyes with her purple, and the girl babbled a cheer. She had begun to reach out toward Freesia’s face. Absentmindedly, I wondered if it was because Freesia’s eyes were the same as Uriel’s. It’s been a long time since she’s seen him, after all.

The middle aged woman smiled, reaching out to lightly caress her small tuft of brown hair.

“You should be mindful of showing those eyes,” Freesia warned light-heartedly, Jen’s eyes closing as she poked a finger over the tip of her nose. The blonde woman’s eyes lifted to meet mine. “And what did we say about dishes? Axon or I will pick them up.”

I shook my head. “You two are busy as is, the least I could do was bring them over since we’re heading out anyway.”

Freesia made a surprised face.

“Oh? Where are you two going?”

With a small laugh I replied, “Just to the greenhouse. She loves the flowers, after all.”

Freesia gave a little hum while Axon came to greet Jennette as well.

“Hey, Little Lady,” he spoke softly, brushing the pads of his fingers against her cheek. Chuckling, he continues, “Uri is gonna be jealous when he hears about this.”

“Now, don’t provoke that boy any more,” Freesia remarks from over her shoulder.

“Should I draw a picture of her so he won’t be lonely?”

“Honey…”

“Do you draw, Axon?” I asked. The larger man hummed to himself with a low rumble.

“I can sketch a little, nothing too serious.”

“Can you embroider?”

Axon arches an eyebrow as I reach into my apron pocket with my spare hand. The still slightly damp silk folds between my fingers as I hold it up.

“What’s that?”

While handing it to him, I replied, “I found it on the tray when we had breakfast.”

Axon spreads it out to look at it closer, Freesia also piquing interest and looking from behind him.

“… Yeah, it’s not ours. Wouldn’t be so peachy, and the Count’s flower isn’t like this one.” Axon presses against the embroidered cloth. “Don’t know all too well who it could belong to, though. Too many flowers and too many noble families.”

“Oh? That’s a Gladiolus Flower though, isn’t it?”

“Is it? Been a while since I’ve seen one.”

I sighed. “I… thought so. I ran into Protea earlier. She must have dropped it onto the tray by accident.”

Freesia gave me a concerned look.

“Are the others picking on you again?”

Alarmed, I shook my head.

“No, no, Protea didn’t do anything. She actually…”

I’m pretty sure she was trying to help me, at least. I wasn’t entirely sure if she truly dropped the handkerchief by accident, or was planning another trick. Protea seemed genuine, at least that’s what I’d like to believe.

Holding my hand out, Axon gave it back and I stuffed it into my pocket once again. I suppose I would have to wash it later and figure out when to return it. Jennette had nestled onto my chest again, and I bid my farewells to the Bouvardia couple. The walk to the greenhouse was uneventful, to my pleasure. Before long, I had pushed open the frosted glass doors for warmth to fill my body.

Jennette gazed around, taking in the lush greenery and brightly colored blossoms as I approached the center of the greenhouse. There was a small gazebo in the middle of the greenhouse, usually a place where visitors—likely higher up the social ladder—could lounge around and talk. But the greenhouse was empty as ever today, as the Alpheus Family rarely ever had visitors either. It was probably more common before Claude had taken the throne.

I flinched unconsciously, lowering Jennette onto the marble floor of the gazebo. The throne. I was nowhere near prepared for what the future may entail, for the future in fifteen years time where Jennette may have to fight for the throne under that man’s watchful eye. The piercing, yet cold sun of Obelia. 

While I watched Jennette turn her head, grasping her plush rabbit and cautiously crawling to explore her new surroundings, I took the small opportunity to look at the stained handkerchief in my pocket again. I hope, at least before the debutante comes, that Jennette’s life will be unburdened with danger.

Chapter Text

Tiny, baren feet slowly pat after one another against the polished wood floor. Carefully, they then overlap against the soft carpet with great effort.

“Ba, ba, geee!”

Quickly, she fell into my arms, enveloping her into a large embrace with an unstoppable grin.

“You did it, Jen! I’m so proud of you!”

It was only about two weeks since the news of Athanasia’s birth, and two weeks until Jen’s birthday. Yet, this little baby with soft swirls of caramel had finally taken her first full steps. Granted, it was more like half steps and a stumble, but steps nonetheless!

Internally, I had crossed one milestone off of the mini list I had made in my head. She had already started eating solids a while ago, had actually been standing by herself a week-ish ago for a full seven seconds before falling, now completing her first half-steps…

As she sat in my lap while trying to gnaw on my fingers, the realization had struck me. Jennette hasn’t… spoken her first word yet, has she? She’s attempted to speak half-words that resemble her usual babbles and squeals if anything—like ‘butterfly’ or ‘Keeb’ for Young Master Ijekiel—but nothing that greatly resembles a concrete word. 

Perhaps it’s my fault. When I worked in daycare, parents would often tell me how their child’s first words were ‘Mama’ or ‘Papa’. Sometimes couples would claim it’s the opposite compared to their significant other, or occasionally a parent would say their child’s first word was something abstract like ‘Poopoo’ and ‘Water’. There was a time when a mother, embarrassingly, admitted that her daughter’s first word was ‘Shit’. She had divorced her husband by then though, and the toddler was happy with Mama One and Mama Two.

“Bwa?”

While staring off into thought, I lightly poked the almost-one-year-old’s nose. Babies will try to imitate their guardian. It’s how they learn most of their habits—how they speak, being one of the most telling. If possible, I’d like her first words to be something like ‘Mama’ or ‘Papa’. However, I don’t think I’ve been very consistent with my speech. Without either of her parents present, teaching her the significance of those words is rather difficult, too. The only words I can think of, at the top of my head, that I mention often around her is probably something like ‘food’ or ‘bathroom’. If not those, her name is the most common. But, I don’t think she’s ever babbled anything close to those words. 

Especially her own name.

“Jen,” I call, setting her in front of me.

“Gee?”

“Can you say ‘Jennette’?” I ask. The baby only stares up at me, puzzled. “Or, uh. Hm. Maybe ‘Jen’?”

“Beh?”

… Close, yet not so close. Very similar to her usual babbles.

“Maybe ‘Food’?”

“Buu!”

“‘Foo-ood’.”

“Ba hu?”

Ahaha. She said it completely differently than the one before, so I guess that’s a no-go, too. I scoop my hands under her armpits and pick her up. After shifting my arms to position her weight against my chest, I let out a small laugh.

“Well, it’s fine. Jen can take all the time she needs.”

I can feel her snuggle up to my chest with a small yawn. I suppose she’s tired. With a soft turn, I take a few steps toward the crib and carefully place her down. She seems to have grabbed ahold of the ribbon on my collar, however; grappling tightly. Gently, I place my fingers inbetween hers to pry her grip open, and she eventually changes her target to them instead. Jennette’s little face is contorted with stress between her eyebrows and a frown.

“Geee…”

“Jen, it’s alright. You know I’m not going anywhere.”

I always wait until after she falls asleep to do anything else. Jennette has been more clingy than usual, lately. I wonder why, as there hasn’t been any change in our time together. Stubbornly, she holds onto my finger even as sleep begins to overtake her.

“It’s alright, Jen,” I reassure once again, a softer voice this time.

Many minutes pass before her grip loosens, and her breathing becomes softer. Quietly, I retract my fingers and set her hand on her tummy.

After taking a glance toward the window, it’s probably only been an hour or two since noon. With it being such a bright day, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to wash Jennette’s clothes. Usually I would hand the basket to another maid, but with it still being bright out I could probably find the time before Jen wakes up for her dinner. I took a small glance to the basket of baby garments of basic patterns, taking a few strides before grasping onto the handles.

“Alright,” I murmur aloud, leaning over and then standing up straight. Something falls out of my apron pocket in the process, I notice. Taking a step away, I peer at the ground thinking I somehow dropped one of Jen’s dresses or onesies. Instead what my eyes lay on is a small handkerchief.

Ah.

Tentatively, I lower myself once again and pick it up carefully, rubbing the soft texture between my fingers before stuffing it into my front pocket. Quietly, I make my way towards the door and close it softly on my way out, making sure once again that Jen hadn’t stirred in her sleep.

I haven’t given Protea’s handkerchief back.

It’s not that I haven’t tried to or didn’t want to. Strangely, I haven’t actually seen her lately. I also haven’t really been picked on as much by the other servants and maids. They all seemed busier than usual? Diligently working even in their free time instead of lazing around and mocking me and my origins. 

Which was a bit odd, since as far as I knew, there weren’t any events hosted by the Duke anytime soon. Nor were there any palace events—other than Athanasia’s birth—which would require more work for the servants. I would have been informed as well if there was after all, since I’m a nanny.

“I wonder why…”

Well, not really my problem. It actually works in my favor, since it means I can do my job without having to avoid my coworkers. None of Jen’s bottles have been broken since that event two weeks ago, so frankly I’ve been working with ease. It’s enjoyable really, I haven’t had to worry about anything dangerous going on.

Speaking of dangerous…

That new kitchen hand hasn’t been around lately, either. I’ve been trying to avoid the kitchen other than getting Jennette’s food and milk, but even then I haven’t seen that young girl at all. I’d rather not meet with someone who deliberately destroys Jen’s milk bottles after all. But even that has gone strangely quiet, making my job easier.

“Kristina?”

I’ve arrived at an intersection of hallways, stopping to turn my head.

“Oh, hey Erith,” I greet, trying my best to bow shallowly while holding the laundry basket. She walks beside me as I continue on.

“It’s unusual to see you without the Young Miss in your arms,” she says, giving a glance to the bundle of dirty clothes in my hands. The maroon haired woman gives a smile. “I see she’s been replaced with a pile of laundry.”

I let out a small laugh.

“She had fallen asleep just a moment ago. Since it’s a bright day today, I thought it wouldn't hurt to wash her clothes before she wakes up.”

Erith gives a hum as we pass by the windows.

“Young Master Ijekiel has also been put to sleep for his afternoon nap, along with little Uriel.”

“Uriel is here today?”

“Yes,” she replies, tiredly. “Ever since he recovered from his cold, he’s been coming to play with Ijekiel from dawn to dusk nearly every day.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Sounds like a handful.”

As someone who used to work in childcare, handling multiple children at once can be very tedious and stressful—especially when they’re so full of energy. I can’t even imagine Uriel, who was already energetic already, coming to make up for the time he’s been sick. Though it seems, even though Ijekiel has always been on the quiet side, he handles and enjoys Uriel’s company well. 

“Speaking of the Young Master,” I suddenly remembered. I turn to look at Erith. “Erith, how long have you been his nanny?”

“Similar to you and the Young Miss, shortly after he was born,” she responds casually.

“So then, you’ve seen all his milestones?”

“Milestones?”

Oh. I guess there isn’t an exact term for them here.

“Like, his first steps and his first words…” I trail off.

“Ah, those,” she laughs, looking off into some distance in reminiscence. 

“What we’re Young Master Ijekiel’s first words?” I ask. After a moment, I then reiterate, “Between the Duchess and the Duke.”

“Hmm…” Erith pauses in remembrance. She stays quiet, pondering, for a few minutes. “I believe it was ‘Mama’ for the Duchess. The Duke was always so busy back then that he was hardly able to see his son, so the Duchess often went to see him to make up for it.”

Ah. So not much change from the present, huh? The young woman gave a nervous chuckle.

“As a result, it was natural for him to call for the Duchess first. However…” Erith began to quietly tail off, leaning closer to me in a whisper. “Though ‘Mama’ was his first word, ‘Mammy’ was his second. There were another one or two words before he even began to call the Duke, ‘Papa’.”

Erith wore a slightly pink blush of pride and embarrassment as she hushly said this. It wasn’t until a moment later when I realized why.

“I see,” I replied with a smile. Ijekiel still calls the Duchess, ‘Mama’, presently. So back then, his second word ‘Mammy’ must have been Erith—who he calls ‘Nanny’ even now.

“Why the sudden question though, Kristina?” 

“Oh.” I look down into the pile of laundry. “I was just starting to worry. Jen—er, the Young Miss hasn’t spoken a full word yet between ‘Mama’ or ‘Papa’.”

Vaguely, I continue with a glance to the side, “I understand that not all children start off with those as their first words, but…”

The heels from our work shoes click and clack on the polished floor, echoing slightly in the long, empty hallways.

“In regards to the Young Miss, I don’t think you need to worry, Kristina.” Erith hums to herself. “In the Young Miss’ case, it’s normal to be unable to say ‘Mother’ or ‘Father’. Especially so if both of them aren’t present in her life.”

There’s a haze that begins to bloom in my chest, weighing heavily with guilt. It’s been nearly a year since Penelope’s passing, there was no helping that. However…

I am the only person alive in this world who knows that Claude is not Jennette’s real dad. It was almost relieving, knowing that tyrant who easily threatens to kill or torture children wasn’t that sweet girl’s father. With the little I knew about Penelope and his brother, at least they weren’t that kind of scum. Anastasius was a different kind of bastard for sure from what little the story had shown before I came here, but at least he didn’t have violent murderous tendencies. Penelope was selfish as all nobles were, but she was completely normal in comparison to the obelian siblings.

And yet, there’s this tinge of guilt. For as long as she grows up, Jen will have to think Claude is her father because who else knows otherwise? Even if I raise her giving her knowledge of the truth, it wouldn’t do good for her or the people around her, either. She may just grow up as Lovely Princess’ Jennette from the novel, hating and resenting Claude for killing her father and depriving her of her parents’ warmth. 

I don’t want either of those futures for her, yet I don’t want to lead Jennette on that her uncle will love her simply because she’s family. That man is a heartless bastard after all, with no regards to his own biological child. Even in the world of ‘Who Made Me A Princess’, Claude only spent time with Athy on a whim. He was never fatherly towards our protagonist. Athy was always the one who had to visit him, to coax him into tolerating her adorable baby charms just to live another day. She was always the one initiating their conversations and the time they spent together.

Yet that grown man hadn’t done a thing, even continuously drinking himself to death on each of her birthdays resenting her for being born. How did Athy feel, knowing that? That every year when she was supposed to celebrate her birth, her own father, despite how close they had gotten, was cursing her existence? Even on her debutante, Claude retreated back to his chambers to drown in the alcohol and resentment. How quickly that man jumped to kill Athy just because he encountered her in the gardens. Even if he had lost his memory, no normal person has so much hate and annoyance in their heart to premeditate a murder on a child. So easily was Claude’s interest gained and lost, and how easily he held no regard to others.

I still haven’t forgotten him threatening to kill Jennette just because she got lost. Nor have I forgotten his nonchalant behavior when she was downing. I could never, ever, accept that man. Never.

That man won’t ever be Jen’s father in my eyes, nor did he ever deserve to be Athanasia’s.

“Kristina?”

I snapped out of my thoughts, turning abruptly to Erith.

“Yes?”

“Are you alright?” Erith’s blue eyes drooped down with narrowed eyebrows full of worry. “You had such a heavy expression on your face.”

“Oh,” I uneasily inhaled. I sighed and offered a reassuring smile. “Sorry about that. Something was on my mind was all, it’s alright though.”

Erith was quiet for a few moments, staring at me with an unreadable expression.

“Kristina, you know,” her mouth hung agape slightly. “Sometimes, you talk and feel older than you look. Every now and then, your face would look distressed and worn, like you had aged ten or so years.”

Oh.

I tried to keep my expression neutral to her comment. No one had really commented on my change in behavior, so I thought I was alright acting as I usually did. Yet, I kept forgetting that ‘Kristina’ is seventeen. Kristina from the twenty first century was nearly ten years older, but not who I am now. Of all people, I didn’t think Erith would be the first to find my behavior strange. Especially after a year in this body, since Kristina wasn’t acquainted with Erith at all before I came here.

There was an expression on Erith’s face that looked like she wanted to say something else, but was reluctant. Her words changed, and I could tell what came out was thought over carefully.

“You must have had to grow up quickly. I’ve noticed even before, though we hadn’t ever interacted face to face, the divide between you and our peers. Both in behavior and maturity.”

I could tell that she didn’t want to abruptly call out to my background. She and the Duchess were aware after all, that I was looked down upon by my coworkers because of my past. Erith was treading very carefully, glancing over as if afraid of accidentally crossing a line. It was then when I realized she wasn’t talking about my behavior after I’d become this Kristina. She must have been watching out for Kristina, even before I arrived.

With an exhale of relief, I gave Erith a small smile.

“Erith, you… you’re too kind.”

There was a part of me that wondered what the original Kristina was like. It wasn’t the first time when I’d picked up on strange behaviors of hers. The only reason I was able to easily live as Kristina was because she was already a quiet person. She paid no mind to the harassment from her peers. Kristina seldom opened up to anyone, that even the Duchess who seemed to regard her as a daughter or younger sister, hadn’t noticed Kristina’s change at all. Her speech and temperament was already similar to my own. The kitchen staff, too. Kristina was someone who felt in debt to anyone who treated her kindly, often trying to lessen the burden on them by making her presence as small as possible and doing her share of work. She was a hard worker, loyal and diligent. Even on the first day when I had arrived, her body already knew the way back to her room, and after that the Ducal office—places she’d visit often.

But, Kristina was just a sixteen year old girl. She was just as much a child as Protea. My shoulders slumped slightly as a mellow sadness filled my heart. I wish I could have met her, not taking her place as Kristina, but as someone else. 

How lonely that child must have been.

Chapter Text

Shortly after, me and Erith parted ways and I made it to the laundry grounds outside. There were already some sheets being aired out, likely hung there before lunch. The usual laundry maids slack off for a few hours and pick up the drying laundry right before sunset. I’ve watched them before while taking little Jen out to play outside or on walks, so I know no one would swing by here anytime soon.

A small sigh as I move the little garments into the cold tub of water. The washboard a little ways away still has soap slowly dying on each ridge. The laundry maids don’t even clean up or put away the equipment. 

“Well,” I mutter, gently scrubbing the small clothing while lathering it with spare soap against the washboard. “I guess it works in my favor.”

Compared to our servant uniforms, Jen’s laundry doesn’t get too dirty so insistent scrubbing isn’t needed. As she grows and goes outside more though, I’m sure her clothing will be more difficult to wash. Absent-mindedly, I let my thoughts drift to the future. Jen’s first birthday is very soon, and very quickly will come her second, then third, and so on. And each year is a year closer to the ‘beginning’ of the story. 

In truth, I don’t know what I should do when the story begins. Or rather, what I can do. I want to say that I want to change things, but realistically, there’s only so much I can do myself. There’s also the matter that I don’t know which story I’m currently in, either. A lot of my actions from then on when the story starts… really depends on which world I’m in—the world of [Who Made Me A Princess], the world of [Suddenly Became A Princess One Day], or the world of [Lovely Princess]. The storylines are very different after all. 

And also the fact that… if this world truly is the world following the story of [Who Made Me A Princess], I do not know its ending. So at the end of the last [chapter], I do not know what kind of fate is in store for my little princess—whether it would be a happy end, or like the novel, an unjust one.

It was almost as if I was involved in a game of chess before it had even begun. I know which moves the opposition may take and how that would affect me. But I am clueless as to what my own moves would be, and if my actions would result in a predetermined win, or if my carelessness would only place the people on [my side] in a checkmate.

Depending on the story I had awoken in, if I’m not careful in observing the events around me, I could instead be leading my Lovely Princess to unhappiness. And that’s the last thing I want to happen.

So I need to watch carefully, somehow. Especially events concerning the royal palace. But there’s still a couple of years until then.

Except if this is the world of [Lovely Princess] in which there would be no cues at all as to what story this would be from the palace, I can only—

“Well this is a surprise!”

A person’s shadow is cast over me, a younger, high pitched voice coming from behind. I halt my scrubbing, looking over my shoulder to a head of short, ginger hair. There’s a smile on her face, tilting her head to have a better look at what I’m doing.

“I never thought I’d meet you again here of all places.”

“You’re…” I stiffen as my defenses go up, already on edge. “… Belladonna, right?”

She frowns and then pouts, hands on her hips as her bob bounces in her shoulders.

“Now, now, I think I introduced myself as ‘Bella’, didn’t I?”

I force a smile.

“Belladonna,” I repeat, turning back to the laundry and letting the corners of my lips fall. “What are you doing here?”

“Well isn’t it obvious? I got transferred to the main house cleaning unit. I’m on laundry duty today, but didn’t know you were, too,” she muses in a sing-song like voice, pulling her sleeves up. Oh. So she’s the one who left all this equipment and laundry out. “… Hey, don’t look at me like that. They called for lunch in the middle of my work, what else was I supposed to do?”

I try to ignore her and don’t bother trying to clear up the misunderstanding, taking the bundle of soapy clothes and walking to the clearer tub of water. Unlike with Protea or the other maids and servants, I don’t know how to act around her. I can always ignore the maids who gossip or try to goad me into a reaction—however, I do not know much about Belladonna. And what she’s done that I’m uncomfortable with, isn't exactly an attack against me specifically either. She’s younger, but she’s intentionally trying to cause harm and disrupt her coworkers for her own gain.

“Hey? Helloo, Kristina! Oh, I hear you’re also called Kris. Can I call you that?”

The water soaks into the clothes. One by one, I take them out and squeeze as much liquid as I can.

“… I hope you’re not causing trouble like you were in the kitchen,” I say, squeezing one of Jen’s onesies, a pale yellow one with white ruffles at the sleeves. I can hear her splashing the water in a separate tub.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t dare to. I only did that because I wanted to be transferred here anyway. Now that I’m a normal maid, my goal is accomplished.”

Her voice rises in a gasp, as if remembering something, and I hear her footsteps approach me. I look over my shoulder again, and her face is only a few inches away from mine in a tilt. Her aquamarine eyes close in a wide smile.

“I have to thank you! If you hadn’t reported me, I wouldn’t have been able to get my dream job.”

Never in my life have I heard anyone refer to cleaning as their ‘dream job’. Then again, I was told that she wanted to work at the palace as her end goal, didn’t she? I suppose this would have been just her first step to the actual ‘dream job’ she wanted.

I close my eyes, standing up and walking towards the long ropes strung between wooden poles. 

“You seem to have misunderstood something,” I say, gently whipping the excess water before hanging some of Jen’s clothing up. Turning to look back at her, I lower my hands. “I wasn’t the one to report you, and I’m not a laundry maid.”

There’s a puzzled expression on the young girl’s face for a moment as she straightens. She tilts her head again, however, with another smaller smile.

“I’ll still thank you anyway. You were involved in the last accident that led to my transfer, after all.” Belladonna’s eyes narrow in an almost confused manner however as her hand raises to the corner of her mouth. “But then… if you’re not a laundry maid like me, what are you? A room service maid? Someone who also works in the kitchen? I guess that’d make sense since you were there last time.”

I pause, meeting her eyes. Unlike before, she seems a bit more genuine. I don’t sense much of that strange, mischievous vibe she had exerted before. The girl is cunning, but now seems a bit easier to be around. Much better than that vague suffocation I felt.

Turning my head, I gesture to the clothes pinned onto the laundry wire.

“Can’t you tell? The reason why I’m washing these clothes, even though I am not a laundry maid?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I take notice of her analyzing the clothes.

“You work under Erith? Ijekiel must be a handful to have multiple nannies.”

“That’s the Young Master to you and me,” I lightly reprimand, turning back to her again with my arms crossed. “You’re lucky no one else heard you say that. I hope you haven’t been calling him by his name this whole time.”

“Oh! Uh… sorry, it just slipped,” she exclaims quietly, hand flying to hover her mouth. Belladonna seems genuinely shocked, at the very least. It doesn’t look like an act. With another sigh, I shake my head.

“No, I am not working under Erith as one of the Young Master’s nannies.”

My attention shifts back to the small pieces of clothing, lightweight as they vaguely wave in the breeze.

“I am the nanny of the Young Miss.”

There’s a silent beat. The girl’s face is held in a pause, before her pupils dilate and eyebrows raise in both surprise and confusion.

“The Young Miss…?”

“Oh…” My eyebrows narrow as the realization hits me. Come to think of it, she’s new to the Alpheus Estate in general. She had only been working in the kitchen this whole time, and had likely been working as a cleaning maid for the majority of her transfer. It’s easy to assume baby food and milk bottles belong to Ijekiel—who is still a toddler—as well. Her confusion and shock make sense, and I don’t think many servants talk about Jen much either.

“Right now, the Duke and Duchess have taken in the daughter of one of their relatives as their financial situation isn’t great, so they cannot afford a trustworthy nanny. As a result, I have been assigned as her sole caretaker.”

I had attempted to explain, though it was still difficult. It was a lie after all, a vague repeat of the explanation I was told to give if any uninvolved servants pestered me for Jen’s identity. That was the public story about Jen’s identity, as well as the reason they had taken her in despite having a healthy heir already. Everything’s a lie though, and no one has ever asked about her before so I never had a reason to explain to anyone until now.

“I… see,” she murmurs, eyes cast down. There’s still a complicated look of shock that remains on her face.

“It’s not exactly new news, has nobody told you?” I ask, as I am curious myself. Because I’m almost an outcast from the normal maids and servants who work here, I have no idea what they gossip about when it comes to Jen—or anything at all.

Belladonna shakes her head, seemingly uneasy.

“No, I didn’t know about this at all. Er, maybe I have but completely forgot?” She takes a breath, gazing at the baby clothes on the drying wire, and then the baby clothes still soaking in the tub of water. “Um… what’s the Young Miss like? Or like, how old is she?”

I had to think about that for a moment.

“Jen—The Young Miss…” I trail off for a moment, catching myself almost casually saying her name. “The Young Miss is very cute. She’s pretty well behaved, an absolute angel. I do worry about her sometimes, but all in all she’s a healthy little baby.”

Casting my eyes to the sky, I continue, “Her birthday is in two weeks. She’ll be turning one.”

“One…”

I hear the girl murmur to herself. Her eyes rise to meet mine.

“Then, if you’re her only nanny, how old are you?”

“I turned seventeen just a few months ago,” I say in response, walking back to the last half of Jen’s clothes. Well, Kristina’s body anyway. If my soul—or, mental age continued, I would be twenty-seven. Realistically though, I don’t think raising a child would be easy for a seventeen year old without any experience.

“Sev—Seventeen?! That’s so young!” Belladonna’s voice raises in exclamation.

Returning to squeezing the water out of the baby garments, give an involuntary chuckle. Isn’t this girl only fourteen? She’s the younger one in this situation.

Belladonna seems to ramble aloud to herself, completely forgetting to do her job.

“Then… Kristina, how were you able to become a nanny so quickly? Did you grow up helping look after kids, or something? Did you have a lot of siblings, or like, how did you grow up?”

I halt my hands movement against the damp fabric, feeling my body stiffen.

Belladonna… hasn’t heard about me.

A sigh. Of course she hasn’t. I suppose the maids and servants only gossip about me to my face. Why would they talk about little Kristina, if it weren’t to tease me? Plus, Belladonna is the only daughter of a Marquis. Among all the children and relatives of nobility who work here, she’s definitely one of the highest in rank background wise.

There’s no way someone of her status would have tried to talk to ‘me’ had she known.

I had already become accustomed to those gazes, ever since I arrived here. And yet, I hesitate a bit. Perhaps it’s because it’s been a long time since I was able to freely talk to someone who doesn’t know Kristina's background. Erith and the Duchess don’t mind at all, nor do the kitchen staff it seems. And yet, I still seem to hesitate.

“… It’s nothing like that. The only reason I’m working as the Young Miss’ nanny is because…” Even I do not know the proper reason as to why I of all people was chosen to take care of Jen. There are definitely more suited maids and servants in this mansion. Likely, the reason could be…

“… The Duchess favors me, is all.” My reply comes out a bit flat, blunt, yet quiet. “The Duchess trusts and thinks of me like a sister, simply because she had taken me in from the streets about a decade ago.”

I squeeze the remaining water gently, and hold the wrinkly garment in front of me.

“I’m nothing more than an orphaned commoner.”

Even though she may not have known before, she would have caught wind of Kristina’s past eventually. I would prefer to tell her myself, rather than her finding out through second hand gossip.

“Oh,” comes the girl’s reply. “So that was it.”

… ‘That was it’? I look back at her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Belladonna waves both of her hands up in defense.

“It’s just that—while it’s different from what I imagined—it isn’t as bad as you made it seem to be?” The ginger begins to ramble in between nervous laughter. “Or like, you suddenly got all depressed and down and I thought it was something super big that I accidentally stumbled into.”

I wouldn’t call it being depressed. But isn’t her behavior strange?

“I’m a commoner,” I repeat, just to make sure she understands.

“Yes?” Her face is blank in pure confusion. My mouth parts as I mull over my thoughts for a moment longer.

“I am not a noble.”

“Yes???” She repeats once again. Why is it that she sounds the most confused? Everyone has had somewhat of a response to it. Even among my coworkers who are commoners, Kristina was still avoided and ignored. Among the servants with status, my treatment in this year alone was even worse. Younger or older, their view of me was of the same wavelength.

“Belladonna,” I pressed. “I am a dirty orphan with not even a family name, who’s only reason for being able to step foot on these lands is because of the pity of a powerful noblewoman.”

There’s a strange look of stillness on the girl’s face, and I find myself breathing a sigh as the idea has finally settled in. 

“Who…” Belladonna’s voice is quiet, small yet begins to grow louder, filled with emotion with eyebrows narrowed and her face reddening. “Who told you such horrible things?”

Out of every reaction, I did not expect this one. Not at all.

“What?” I startle.

“You keep giving me this look as if I’m crazy, but here you are talking about yourself like that like it’s normal?!” Belladonna is yelling now, and I’m more confused than ever.

“I don’t… think of myself as unfortunate.” More than anyone, I think Kristina’s past—her troubles and hardships, how she was able to live on her two feet was commendable. 

“I don’t either! Or like, I don’t think of you as unfortunate either! Wait, no, that’s not what I—“ The aqua eyed ginger stammers over her own words, trying to find some semblance of articulation. She bemoans to herself in frustration, muttering things under her breath leaving me puzzled. Is she that upset over this? 

“It doesn’t matter! Whatever background you have doesn’t bother me, so stop treating me like an idiot to drive me away,” she affirms sternly, placing her foot down with a pointed tone. It leaves me almost at a loss for words, my own head having trouble wrapping around her odd reaction. “If anything—if anything, it makes me want to get closer to you because the Duchess clearly favors you the most out of anyone.”

There appears to be some mild misconceptions about me and my idea of self worth, but it seems to be more of a trouble to correct her in the fired up state she’s in now. It wasn’t my intention to push her away. I just… thought that she hadn’t grasped it—the unspoken social hierarchy.

“I… Thank you for your consideration, but. You wish to work in the Imperial Palace, correct?” I clarify.

“Yes.”

Her response comes quick, and firmly.

“Then even if you personally think so of me…” I trail off. Personally, I am a bit delighted. That in this older fashioned world, there is someone who has almost the innocence of being unable to care about such things. However, because she is such a high ranked noble as well, speaking so boldly of those ideals would be nothing but harmful to her. 

“In the Imperial Palace—no, if you wish to get along with any of your noble peers, caring about one’s family background and status is important.” I explain it to her in a steady voice, as if I am talking to a child at daycare. “Even if I am favored here, it doesn’t change the fact that I continue to be looked down upon by nobles and other commoners.”

I frown. After all, if the people here had that kind of decency or mindset, they wouldn’t have singled out Kristina so much. Despite being chastised and reminded by the Duchess time and time again, Kristina has still been picked on by her peers. The fact that I still do my best to avoid confrontation now is proof of that.

“It’s because I come from such a high status that I don’t care about those things,” Belladonna huffs. Her hands are clenched against her hips as she turns slightly. “Besides—I don’t wanna get along with anyone here, anyway. I’m here to climb statuses, not make friends. All the ones from higher nobility like me are easy to irritate. They’re so sensitive to the most minuscule and useless of things.”

I can’t see her face as she says this, and yet I cannot suppress the laughter that spews from my throat. Perhaps it’s from the buildup of shock and confusion. And yet, it delights me, so. There’s a rush of euphoria that comes from this young one’s refreshing attitude—a kind of outlook you can only have with that kind of privilege, I suppose.

But she’s right, in some aspects. It’s so easy not to care about those things when you have power and status. Though, it doesn’t change the fact that society at present tends to nitpick those things purely for self satisfaction and entertainment.

It’s truly strange. It feels as if the image of Belladonna from when I first saw her is completely different from the girl that stands before me now. Perhaps a noble girl of her wits can survive in this thing called ‘High Society’. It’s as if nothing can stand in her way, of her ideals or of her goals.

I gather up the remains of Jen’s damp clothing, standing up from the stool and walking towards the drying wire once again.

“… I sincerely hope that you make it to the palace one day,” I find myself murmuring, pinning the small garments up carefully. Making sure this little pink dress has been secured, I gaze over my shoulder ever so slightly. 

“But before that happens—“ I start. “You have to start washing those dirty clothes.”

Her eyebrows raise in realization. Through all that talk, she hasn’t touched the still tainted pile of laundry at all. A rush of panic seems to cross her face as she quickly pushes up her sleeves while talking to herself, pacing away to the pile. It takes a few hours for clothes, especially servants’ uniforms and bedsheets, to air out and dry. And sunset is approaching quickly, before long they may not be fully dry before nightfall.

The impression of Belladonna Stilo who had cunningly caused a ruckus after ruskus threatening others’ safety for her own selfish needs has begun to fade a little. That image has been dulled away by the present girl scurrying to finish her day’s assigned workload diligently.

I couldn’t suppress the smile on my face. It turned out she was a normal young girl after all.

Chapter Text

The past few days have been… Well, they’ve been peaceful.

Strangely so. It’s not like my days with Jennette aren’t peaceful, but even when I walk the halls, it’s been pretty quiet and uneventful. 

“Eep-eeee!”

“Hyup!” The nearly one year old giggles away into babbles, cheering with glee as I twirl her in the air. “Round, and round, and round, and round—Jen, my little butterfly!”

She even waves her stubby little arms as if she’s flapping her imaginary butterfly wings. It’s adorable.

“Abb-puuuu!” Jen blows a raspberry as I gradually lower her.

“I think that’s enough spinny-time, Jen,” I sigh with a chuckle, my voice cracking slightly as my tired body lowers onto the grass. “Krissy’s getting a bit tired, and I don’t want you to get dizzy.”

I lower her carefully so her feet are steady on the earthy green ground below. Her steps tremble as she stumbles toward me, stomping with her little blue doll shoes. She grabs ahold of my knees for support, looking up at me with a sweet joyful smile.

“Eep-eee, Eep-eeee…!”

One of her tiny hands reaches toward me, and I let her grab onto some of my fingers. Only a week away until this little girl turns one. Despite such a big event in her life, there won’t be something like a celebration or party held for her at the estate. I mean, how could they do that without showing the birthday girl herself?

Jennette blinked her large jeweled eyes at me, leaning forward to nibble on my fingers.

“Jen, be careful, not too hard,” I remind her. I can feel her teeth against one of the joints of my index finger. She somehow understands me and takes heed, making sure not to bite too hard. I sigh, leaning my chin in my spare hand.

It’s difficult. I really wish we could celebrate it more lavishly like for other noble children, but… she doesn’t have that ring to hide those eyes of hers. I hear Ijekiel’s first birthday was quite an event. Thinking back to his fourth birthday, it was a spectacle as well. I do hope the Duke gets that eye color changing ring soon. Jen’s getting bigger everyday, and her curiosity of the world grows, too. I’ll be taking her outside to the gardens and around the manor often, and there’s only so much I can do to hide her eyes from other servants.

My eyes rise to one of the windows of the mansion. I… haven’t been bothered by my coworkers. In a while.

It’s not like I’m asking for it. I hear there’s going to be a different event hosted by the Alpheus’ soon, which is why there’s been a lack of maids slacking off for the past week or two. But even still, it’s a strange feeling, not being targeted by my peers for once. It makes taking Jen outside much easier though. I’m not part of the cleaning crew, so I don’t need to be rushing at all.

In fact, I’ve been leisurely enjoying the past few warm days with Jen. The flowers’ petals have begun to fall off though, so the gardens aren’t as pretty as they were months ago. Jennette seems happy regardless though, just getting the chance to feel different textures of greenery in nature. 

“Eep-eeb?”

The girl tilts her head, looking up at me after losing interest in my fingers. I give a little smile, taping the soft point of her nose playfully before wiping the drool off my fingers with my apron.

“Kris!”

Adrenaline shoots through my veins and I quickly pull Jen against my chest as she makes confused babbling noises. Carefully, I use my hand to shield her face as the footsteps come closer.

“I thought that was you! You know, I could see your back from the window and thought, ‘wow that looks like Kris’ and here you are!”

Slowly, I turn my head to the person behind me, feeling the cold sweat on my neck.

“Afternoon to you too, Belladonna.”

The aqua eyed ginger makes a face.

“Geez, I thought I said to call me Bella!” Jen makes babbling noises at the sound of a new voice, and I unconsciously try to cover her face further. Belladonna blinks, arching her head. She hadn’t taken notice of Jen until now, luckily. I was glad she didn’t catch sight of her face from the window.

“Huh? That’s…” her voice trails off as a paused expression replaces the joyful one she had worn a second ago.

“This is the Young Miss,” I explain, turning my head away. Jen makes an almost deflated babble. I’m sorry Jen, but I can’t just call you by your name so casually around others. I was caught off guard, since I don’t usually have to stealth hide Jen’s face. Usually the other maids don’t approach me while I’m with Jen, Erith being the exception. Even then, I don’t bother trying to hide her face since Erith knows about her bloodline as well.

“Ah-poooo.”

“Yes yes, I know my lady,” I respond quietly.

“Helloo, I’m Bella,” Belladonna introduces herself beside me. Jen tries to turn her head to the new voice, but I shield her vision as best I can. I can feel her tiny eyebrows scrunch under my palm in frustration, opening her mouth to lick my hand. No matter how wet you make my hand, I really can’t let myself free your vision.

If I could, I would. But there’s all sorts of trouble that could follow if I let someone see your eyes.

Out of my peripheral vision I see Belladonna stare at Jen.

“Um…”

“She’s not good around strangers yet. Duke’s orders,” I lie. It’s a boldfaced lie, and if anyone asked the Duke he would have no idea, but I’m sure he’d catch on if it was a lie to hide her identity. 

“Oh. Uh, ok.”

It’s good that she doesn’t seem to pry further. I’m glad she doesn’t mind me hiding Jen from her. Or, hiding her from Jen? Hiding them from each other.

“Don’t you have work to do?” I turn to her.

“I’ve already finished. All I had to do today was help clean the windows,” she says in a nonchalant tone, chin resting in her hands. She mimics my position, knees bent. 

“Alone?”

She closes her eyes and hums.

“No, with my new roommate and other maids. Work is actually really easy, I’m practically bored to death,” she muses, strands of her ginger hair waving in the wind. 

“Don’t let the head maid hear you say that,” I advise, weaving my fingers through Jen’s little tufts of hair. Her hair is almost shoulder length now, but still too thin to really get tangled. She seems to have given up the idea of removing my hand from her sight, so she’s been gnawing on my pinky finger.

“Mawawawh,” she babbles.

“So you got a new room when you transferred?” I ask, now that Jen’s curiosity has waned.

“Yeah, I had to. I don’t like my roommate though, and it’s obvious she doesn’t like me either,” the young girl beside me grumbles, frowning. She sounded almost disappointed, to me at least.

“I thought you said you weren’t here to make friends,” I smile. She whips her head to me with an almost insulted expression. Or not?

“Friends? God no, I just said she doesn’t like me!”

“You wouldn’t worry about whether others like you or not if you didn’t want to have some sort of relationship,” I say, playfully tilting Jen’s head back. Her eyebrows scrunch from under my fingers, reaching up and grabbing them. Closing my eyes, I arch my head slightly against my shoulder, feeling the breeze. “The same goes for me. I don’t care about what my coworkers think about me.”

Most of the time it’s prejudice for my truthful background anyway. Prejudice, and self motivation for entertainment. There’s nothing I can do about it if there haven't been misunderstandings, nor if I haven’t done anything wrong. That’s just how it is here it seems.

“Didn’t you say I have to be aware of how people think of me?”

“I did, but then you said you didn’t care.”

“I can still notice what people think about me and not care about it,” the young girl huffs.

“Why don’t you like your roommate anyway? Just because she doesn’t like you?” I wonder aloud. In my mind, I think about the daycare kids and their little squabbles. Kids can get into arguments about the smallest things because to them, those small things are important. Just as easily, they can also get into fights and denounce their friendships.

They usually make up and forget about it by the end of the week though.

“What kind of person do you think I am? I’m not that petty,” she says incredulously. Maybe she isn’t petty but her first impression, while faded, hasn’t been erased from my mind. She’s a kid, but that doesn’t mean she’s pure of heart. Belladonna analyzes the look I gave her and hmphs, straightening to push herself up. She brushes the grass off her skirt and lightly brushes through her bob of orange hair.

“For your information, I don’t like her because she’s not easy to get along with. She’s always glaring at me, never taking the hint. I try to be nice, but she’s plain insufferable,” Belladonna rants. She flails her arms continuing, “Everyone else likes me a lot though, so it’s clearly something wrong with her. It’s like she’s always in a bad mood, and even accused me of stealing something.”

“Wow, sounds like a lot.” My voice comes out a bit monotone, starting to get a bit tired. Jennette tries to arrange herself between my legs while being unable to see, turning around to face me. “If she bothers you so much, why don’t you change rooms then?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, you’re still young and naive,” she replies. There’s a funny feeling that passes inside my chest for a fleeting moment. Young and Naive? “It’s not so easy to change rooms, do you really think the head maid would allow something like that for no reason?”

I pause, a sliver of Jen’s eye barely peeking between my fingers to look at me.

“I wouldn’t know,” I reply, pulling her closer onto my chest as I lay down. She snuggles into me, closing her eyes with a wide smile. “I’ve never met the head maid. Or like, it’s been almost a year since I’ve seen her.”

“???” There’s a funny sound that comes from Belladonna’s throat. “How do you go a year without seeing the head maid??? As a maid???”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. I’ve been wondering that as well. Logically speaking, I should be coming to meet her the most. Strangely enough though, if I am to report to anyone about Jen, it’s always…

“Probably because I can just talk to Erith or the Duchess,” I concluded matter-of-a-factly, stroking Jennette’s head. I don’t really need to make many reports on Jen. Erith tends to visit with Ijekiel and the occasional Uriel, so if it’s status updates on Jen’s health, they usually swing by to see for themself. I’d say I would only actually pursue one of them or talk to the Duke once a month or so. 

… not that I talk to the Duke often, anyway. He doesn’t seem to like me as much as his wife does. While Roger Alpheus doesn’t seem to hate me, he makes our conversations to the minimum and only about Jen’s development. As a subordinate, I’m not supposed to ask many questions either, and as we don’t share a close relationship at all there’s no other reason to interact. I wonder how that guy managed to marry the Duchess. They seem way too close to just be an arranged marriage, and yet some part of me hopes the Duchess didn’t settle for a bland man like that. She has such a cherie yet graceful and elegant disposition, and Roger is… Roger. It’s honestly a wonder how Ijekiel and Jennette’s personalities turned out the way they did.

But it also doesn’t surprise me, seeing as the Duchess has been the only one of the couples I’ve seen spend time with Jen. Which I find hilarious, since Roger is the one who’s actually related to Jen.

“Must be nice to have connections, huh,” Belladonna says almost sarcastically. 

“It was only the age you were lacking in, I heard? You’ll likely have the ability to leave in the next year or so in that case,” I say, glancing up at her. “The Duchess already knows the reason why you’re here, so getting a recommendation wouldn’t be hard.”

“I guess so…” Belladonna’s voice fades out quietly as she mumbles to herself. She’s biting the nail of her thumb, murmuring to herself in thought. “It’d be much easier if I was as loved by the Duchess as you, though.”

Jen’s breathing is soft against the rise and fall of my chest, her less-stubby baby fingers loosely gripping onto the front of my apron. It seems she had fallen asleep. Slowly, so as not to disturb her, I remove my hand from her face. No need to fear her eyes being shown to strangers if they aren’t open.

“Why do you want to work at the palace, anyway? The pay isn’t too different from the pay here, most likely,” I ask, gently brushing stray hairs away from Jen’s face. After thinking for a moment, I then reiterate, “Not that someone of your status would need money…”

“Isn't it obvious?” Belladonna’s voice comes out, fired up with enthusiasm. She flails her arms around dramatically, a wide grin lacing her face. “For the Emperor of course!”

The fingers brushing against Jen’s face stills as I hear this. The girl continues to ramble on though.

“If I had continued building experience as a kitchen hand, I would never in my wildest dreams ever be able to meet with him! I mean, come on, what kind of emperor meets with their kitchen staff? Not even the Duke does it!” Her ginger locks bounce with her dynamic movement, clasping her hands together almost dreamily. “But as a standard cleaning maid, I’ll have the chance to roam around the palace and maybe—maybe clean his room…? And what if—what if by chance, I meet him? On a romantic moonlit night, alone, with no one to see… I’ve never seen him up close before, but I bet he looks as handsome as god himself!”

“Are you—“ I stutter, “—being serious, right now?”

It’s all I can manage in my cold daze. She peers down at me, still with a hopeful and shining look in her eyes.

“Of course I am! I’d also get the chance to meet the new princess, and if I can support her and get favored by the Emperor too, then there could even be a chance that I—“

“The Emperor,” I rasp. I’m so shocked, and my mouth feels so dry. My fingers stiffly curl, and I slowly sit up with at least enough rationale to not wake Jennette. “The Emperor is at least ten years older than you.”

“Age gap marriages aren’t uncommon. My mom and dad have an eight year difference, and even the Duke and Duchess seem to have a few years between them,” she explains, a delighted tone accompanying her speech. 

“He is the Emperor,” I stress, blood beginning to circulate throughout my chilled body. Stress has begun to concentrate behind my neck and my ears feel hot. I no longer see her face, I’m almost afraid to look over my shoulder and face her.

“Is it status you’re worrying about again? I’m a Marquis’ daughter,” she states. “He’s had concubines lower status than mine, even commoners. The Princess’ mother is a commoner! If anything, I wouldn’t say I’m too bad of a match myself. I’m still young, cute, and I don’t mind at all being a mother to—“

She doesn’t get it.

Not at all.

Not in the slightest, this—this child.

“Belladonna.” My voice comes out strained, yet firmly laced with venom as I quickly whip my head towards her. It surprises her so much that I can see her flinch as her gaze meets mine. “That man is a murderer. He has killed a palace full of women, commoner and noble alike. He rose to the throne through killing. That kind of man, falling for a child like you? You—who has no problem with making mistakes in front of your superiors just to draw negative attention?”

I had risen to my feet in fluid motion, taking heavy steps toward her, Jen beginning to stir in my arms. Her aqua eyes startle as my face grows closer, an anxious expression akin to nervousness enshrouding her face as my shadow is cast onto it.

“The Emperor is dangerous. He’s more likely to kill you for a cute mistake than spare a single forgiving look your way.”

He’s done it before, and wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.

That man is a sociopath who wouldn’t hesitate to seek a child out just to kill her. No one would stop it, no matter what status or power you have. Under our tyrant Emperor, everyone is equal. Be it the commoners or nobility, we are nothing but pests that even his closest friends cannot even object to without the threat of death. 

“Huu… waaah!”

Jen’s cries against my chest bring me out of my enraged state. My furrowed eyebrows and narrowed eyes widen as I rush to soothe her, holding her closer to my body and now taking precaution to shield her eyes by taking a step backwards and turning away. I gently coo at her in a softened voice, hoisting her up against my chest more comfortably.

“Shh, shh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I quietly murmur to her, letting her cry out into my neck as I caress the back of her head. I let my emotions overtake me, upsetting me and raising my voice. My eyes flicker over to Belladonna’s, who stands there with a troubled expression—one as if she wants to object, yet cannot find the words to. I swallow a lump in my throat, pressing my lips together tightly.

“If you’re only here for the chance to hook up with someone and get yourself killed, I suggest you go to the Duchess and leave.”

There’s no softness to my reprimand and I offer no look of sympathy. I simply stare at the girl, before turning my heel and leaving back into the estate’s mansion. Children deserve to dream, but they also deserve the truth when jumping into danger. Especially when that danger is likely to take away the exact future they dream of.

Chapter Text

“Jetty!”

“Kee-waah!”

Jennette releases out a gleeful squeal as Ijekiel rushes in, embracing the nearly one year old practicing her standing. He’s gotten much more excited these days about seeing her, ever since Jen’s been standing and trying to walk much more. Erith doesn’t try to rush after him, peeking in from the door a moment or so after Ijekiel arrives. It’s gotten to the point where Erith doesn’t frantically worry about Ijekiel anymore, as long as he’s within eyesight. 

Jen stumbles a bit, her weight pushing Ijekiel backwards allowing the recently four year old to support both of his friends’ weights. Uriel grunts slightly before helping Ijekiel reclaim his balance, huffing out a sigh before crossing his arms.

“You can’t just surprise her if you’re gonna fall,” he says, unable to wipe off his cheeky grin as Jennette begins to reach out to him as well. She beams at him, grabbing onto his sleeve while still hanging onto Ijekiel for support.

“Oo-weee!”

Look at him, trying to act mature by avoiding her gaze. It only makes the baby confused at his unusual lack of attention, tugging on his sleeve tightly again.

“Oo-weeeeee!”

His lip trembles a bit and he gives in, holding out both arms and picking her up. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Erith’s eyes widen with a step forward, yet unsure of what to do. Worry clouds my mind as I straighten onto my knees with my hands held out, but he seemingly carries her with ease. No sign of struggle at all, though it’s more of a hug off the ground rather than actual carrying.

“Uriel, isn’t she heavy?” I ask. My arms don’t move however, in case he loses her grip. He looks up at me and shakes his head.

“Mm-mm, I play with kids by my house a looot,” he says, swinging Jen in his arms a bit. “Jenny’s waaay lighter than them!”

Even though he shows no weariness, I still look with caution. It’s not like he hasn’t been able to hold Jen before, but even when he or Ijekiel asks to carry her, I’m the one lifting her into their arms.

“Uriel, can you please put her down? She’s still very fragile,” I reason. Jen is quiet in his hold, squirming as her legs dangle several inches off the wood floor. Uriel throws a glance at Jen before carefully bending his knees to solidify her footing. His hands remain under her armpits however, to make sure she can stand before letting go. She stands on her own for a few seconds before falling onto her bottom with a tiny gasp.

“Oh!” Uriel’s knees weaken for a moment as he lowers with his hands held out, his eyebrows furrowing as a guilty look plasters on his face.

“Jetty, Jetty, are you hurt?” Ijekiel asks, walking around to see her face. Jennette sits there, blankly without a response for a few seconds, before breaking out into wide smiles again.

“Abuabeee!”

A collective sigh of relief fills the room as it appears she’s unharmed. Just to make sure, I scoot closer and pick her up. She turns her head to me and reaches out onto my shoulders as her weight presses into my torso. 

“Eep-eeee!”

Ijekiel pouts in front of me.

“Jetty loves Krissy the most,” he mumbles.

“I do take care of her everyday,” I reply. I tilt my head and give him a smile. “But she loves the Young Master a lot, too. She loves the Young Master, the Duchess, Erith…”

“Does Jetty love Papa, too?” He asks, his pouting expression quickly replaced with curiosity. His golden eyes twinkle, though I’m unsure to respond. I don’t think Roger has actually ever visited Jennette.

“Of course she loves the Duke,” I smile. That’s what I claim, but if Roger were to enter right now, she wouldn’t know what to do with him. Honestly, there’s only a few days until her birthday, and he hasn’t even gone to see her once since her birth. She’s your relative for heavens’ sake.

“Does Jenny… love me?”

The mumbling is quiet, a question that comes from the older of the three. He’s uncharacteristically quiet, his eyebrows narrowed—perhaps still guilty from nearly hurting her. I sigh softly with a smile.

“Of course she does, Uriel. Isn’t that right, Jen?”

She turns her head in my grasp, looking over to the darker skinned boy with her aurora-like sapphire eyes. Their eyes meet for a moment and she giggles, removing one of the hand on my shoulder to reach toward him.

“Ooo-weeeee!”

Uriel’s mouth wiggles into a smile, reaching out a finger for her to grab onto. It isn’t long until Ijekiel pouts, feeling left out, and grabs onto Jennette and Uriel’s locked fingers, completing the trio. Me and Erith share a look before erupting into soft laughter.

At some point, me and Erith have juggled nanny duties whenever she brings the kids to visit Jen. Most of the time we watch over them together, but there are some days where one of us watches over the three of them while the other takes the time to do other chores.

Like now for instance.

The event that the Alpheus Dukedom is hosting will be tonight, so all the servants in the estate are busy and bustling throughout the hallways. I’m a bit busy myself, gathering little things and extra supplies to set up a small party. It’s more of a selfish wish of mine, but I truly do want Jennette’s first birthday to be a memorable one. Though Jen won’t ever remember it, the people involved will. I want Jen to be able to grow up knowing she was loved, from the moment of her birth all the way past adulthood.

Though, I don’t believe I’ve ever left the estate in my year of being here. Practically all of the toys in Jennette’s room came from the Duchess. As a result, I haven’t had any time to get any presents for Jen. In a way, this party would be my birthday gift for her. Years later, I wonder if I can show Jen pictures of her first few birthdays. Would she feel embarrassed when me and the Duchess gush over them together?

I can only smile to myself clouded in distant daydreams, loosely holding onto the handles of the woven basket of long colorful ribbons and patterned tablecloth. Talks with the Duchess about a small party between the few who knew of Jennette began quite a bit ago, and would be set up in a larger room close to Jennette’s bedroom. There’s no way we could decorate it lavishly with fancy candelabra or waxed marble floors. Of course I wouldn't want it to, if given the option, anyway. After all, it’s a celebration for a one year old’s birthday whose best friends include two more children under the age of five—adult chaperones and guests being a handful of servants and the ducal family. No one would have the time for any of the usual romantic fantasy activities such as dancing or socializing, especially for a secret gathering for a child with a secret identity. I’m grateful enough that Axon and Freesia plan to sneak in a small cake for their little lady during lunch. The fact that I know a few of those that know are eager to come is almost enough for me. 

So even if it isn’t a grand outdoor garden party where both nobles and servants could watch with all sorts of eyes like it was for Ijekiel’s birthday; or that it isn’t even an open gathering where commoner children could participate in free food and children’s festivities like it was for Uriel’s birthday back at Axon and Freesia’s manor—I’ll be satisfied. There is only one Jennette after all, and she will only have her first birthday once. And even if no one should remember it, even if it’s not as gallant and glorious as other children’s, I will remember and cherish it dearly. Because like all children, Jennette deserves love too—be it her past, her present, and her future. Even if she grows and the people who also cherish and love her begin to fall away, I will be there to wish every one of her birthdays with her.

“I’m so tired of this crap!”

A wet and dirty rag is thrown harshly against my face, lingering for a moment, before falling off onto the wood floor. 

“Like seriously! It’s not our fault that the old hag has been lazing around and suddenly rushes us to finish cleaning!”

“Dahlia, keep your voice down…”

“Don’t give me that ‘keep down’ shit, Larissa! I know you guys are sick and tired of her fucking nagging too!”

I cringe instinctively at the loud and casual use of profanity. Even when I became an adult, I was never much of a fan of swearing and rarely integrated it in my vocabulary. Especially after I began to work in childcare, there was even less use of it. It gave me a bit of whiplash when I came here, as it wasn’t uncommon for servants and maids young and old to swear like sailors. Carefully, I looked through my peripheral vision. There was a small group of maids by the windows only a few feet away from me. A small huff of a sigh exhales from my mouth. It's honestly amazing how they managed to hit me with a stray rag without intending to for once. Rearranging the basket to one arm, I slowly bend my knees to grab for the rag with my left hand.

“That’s not the point Dahlia. You know how nasty she gets whenever she hears anyone talking shit about her.”

“What, nastier than she already is, Protea?”

I whip my head as I rise back up.

“Protea?”

The words leave my lips unconsciously. I regret it the moment the attention shifts onto me, the group of maids turning to me. From the stiffness of my shoulders, I can sense the other servants in the direct vicinity focus their gazes back on me as well. Even if I cannot see it, I can feel it, all too well at this point. The sixteen year old girl with tourmaline pink eyes—of which I’ve silently been desperate to find for the past few weeks—meets mine. Her expression changes into something strange for a split second, but I couldn’t decipher it fast enough before it straightened out once again. I purse my lips and tightly press them into a line before resigning. I’ve been wanting a chance to do this, so even with all these eyes on me, I have no choice but to do it here now.

Though I would have preferred to do this in a less busy area, quietly, maybe even between the two of us. I wanted to confirm my suspicions from last time, and perhaps even gain a friend of sorts. The situation isn’t ideal for a talk, but…

“Protea, I—“ My hand pauses mid-air with the dirty rag as I take a few steps forward. Glancing at it for a moment, I change directions and place it into the hand of the cursing maid from before, before turning back to Protea and her golden curls. “—wanted to talk to you.”

It’s a heavy silence that rings throughout the hallway, filling it thickly with a nonsensically empty substance as the younger girl’s eyebrows furrow. It feels like my words aren’t for anyone, like I’m talking into a jar of congealed honey. They don’t echo at all, being absorbed into the thick nothingness without even a single response. I can feel the sweat against my neck as the pressure that I usually try to ignore begins to seep into every root of me like muddy ink on cotton stringy parchment. 

My hand rummages through my apron pocket—that apron pocket where it constantly laid in wait, practically collecting its own dust. It feels like it has, the always soft clean material mysteriously feeling moist and textured. As it slips out from the folds, my eyes lock onto it. It’s perfectly fine, almost too dry. My whole body feels like it’s enveloped in drying honey, slow and difficult to move in. 

It’s uncharacteristically dry, my throat reciting the words I feel like I’ve been thinking of saying for weeks as I try not to avert my gaze from hers.

Pretend they aren’t looking at you, at your every move.

“This—“

Her eyes fall onto my hand as I hold it out—her eyes widening and pupils dilating as her expression freezes. I do my best to smile, despite the discomfort.

They’re looking for a crack.

The embroidered Rose Gold Gladiolus is shining.

A weakness.

As if in the blinding, torturous spotlight.

“This handkerchief is yours, isn’t it?”

But she doesn’t move. No one moves. Her eyes are locked onto the rose gold gladiolus engraved onto the silken fabric. 

My whole back is soaked with heavy cold as a hard bucket smacks behind my neck and I can feel my soles click forward in shock, slipping on the dirty window dust water as I’m pushed roughly onto the shiny wooden floor. Pain shoots up my whole shoulder area and knees from hitting the floor and the basket rolls, ribbons flying and the bunched up tablecloth falling out.

A hiss of pain as the blunt corner of a heel presses into my thigh.

“Wow, wow, wow.”

There's an agonizing noise that strangles in my throat as the heel is pushed deeper, a sharp aching pressure reverberating throughout my leg.

“Commoners are reaching a new sort of fucking low, huh?”

The voice belongs to the older swearing maid from before.

“GhaAh!”

My voice is completely foreign to me. I can hardly recognize it, focusing on the heel that twists into my thigh as I can feel her knee into my back, forcing her weight onto me. My bonnet slips from my fringe as she pulls fistfuls of my hair, tightly forcing my head back as my fingers unconciously grab at her wrists.

“Dirty sewer rats stealing things now? Habits die fucking hard huh, shit eating beggar.”

Hard knuckles collide into my cheek clumsily without any kind of direction or knowledge, purely out of irregular bursts of passion. She wraps her fingers into balls of my hair, slamming my face against the hard polished floor to continue her assault.

“Does your bastard kind even know what that handkerchief is worth? It was embroidered personally by the late fucking Countess, you grubby shithead!”

“Lia, that’s enough! If you make any obvious marks, the Duchess is gonna—“

“Shut your fucking mouth, Filli!”

Everything’s a blur in my head between the pain and the ringing in my ears. My head hurts, like there’s a pressure closing in even without it colliding with the floor and with the maid’s aimless hitting. My eyes feel hot being stung by instinctual tears, watering over and clouding my gaze while trying to conflictingly claw at her disorderly random hits. My body’s scream of pain and my inner thoughts trying to remember this girl is also a child are at war.

I don’t know what to do and it hurts.

It’s all combatting with each other. This girl is stressed, they’ve never been this relentless before so she’s obviously taking it out on me but god it hurts. There’s a ringing in my head and I’m helpless. I can’t run, and I can’t fight. I’m hardly able to defend myself.

My eyes travel around the blurred silhouettes of people, so many people. I see pink tourmaline, frozen with curled blonde locks. I can feel my lips tremble, squinting through the liquid blurriness.

Please.

Her eyes tremble and she quickly averts her gaze, lips tightly closed shut as she backs away into the window and I feel something fall inside me. The stinging blurriness overflows, staining the corner of my eyes as it falls across my face.

This isn’t anything new.

What was I thinking? That it’d be different? That just because she seemed to help you once, that she’d choose you over peer pressure?

I’d known it from the beginning.

That Kristina was an outcast. Who would help an outcast?

There’s a static filled haze as repressed memories I thought I’d overgrown flood back to me.

Even though that child did nothing wrong.

Even though that child was just lonely.

Even though that child just wanted to be loved.

Little Kris was alone.

“Hey, hey, hey, what the hell?!”

My body feels lighter, but I could honestly hardly tell. Everything’s connected with each other and it all just aches and hurts. In the haze, I can tell there’s a small ruckus. A different one from what just happened.

It’s fading in and out, and then it suddenly becomes clear.

“Kris! Hey, are you still conscious? Kris! Kriiis!”

For a moment, everything becomes eerily clear before the pain and aching slowly returns. There was a face near mine and I’m sitting up, leaning against someone else. Aquamarine.

“Bella… donna?”

“I told you to call me Bella!”

The haziness in my head fades in and out, gradually replaced with clarity. There’s an anxious silence hanging in the air now, and the sparse crowd has surrounded in an awkward avoidant manner.

“You good?” Belladonna’s voice is clear and like it usually was.

“Uh…”

“Wait no, don’t answer that. That’s a stupid question.” Her gaze is a bit hardened, but not at me. The ginger’s lips slowly press into a smile, a sinister one reminiscent of the one I saw that day. She begins to speak in an almost sing-song voice, “But wow. I didn’t know you guys were like this.”

Her aqua eyes lift around the hallway, as if to address everyone, but eventually focus onto the huddle of maids in front of us two.

“Especially you, roomie. Like dang, I already didn’t like you before, but this is a new kind of low isn’t it?” Pink Tourmaline meets with Aqua. The ginger tilts her head, strands of hair tickling my cheek. “Letting your friend do this kinda stuff, Protea?”

There's clear animosity between the two, and I see Protea’s face cloud with an expression I’ve never seen on her before—even when she was harassing me.

“All this over…” The silken fabric with rose gold embroidery had been cast aside onto the floor at some point. Belladonna’s eyebrow arches. “A rag?”

I can see Protea flinch.

“That’s too much even for you, Bella!”

My eyes slowly shift up. The maid who had done this to me had said that, face fuming red with pinkened knuckles.

“Uh, I don’t wanna hear that from you Lia,” the ginger against me remarks. She straightens and begins to push herself up, pulling me with her. I try my best not to weigh her down, pain aching throughout my leg. It just happened to be my left leg that took most of the damage—be it the fall, the maid’s heels, and… is my ankle sprained?

I wince as pain shoots through my leg again when I put pressure on it. Not sure, but it definitely hurts.

“With this many people just lazing around, the head maid is gonna be piiissed,” Belladonna mentions musically. Though I’m avoiding everyone’s eyes, I can tell they all noticeably react to it. There’s a cute smile that graces the girl’s lips. “We better hop to it, or else we’ll all be yelled at!”

Belladonna begins to walk down the hallway, and I try my best to hobble in step with her. There’s little movement from the crowd of maids and servants.

“One more thing!” She suddenly exclaims loudly, stopping in her tracks. Belladonna looks over her shoulder. “This girl might not remember because of that concussion you gave her, but I’ve memorized every single one of you!” 

Her voice is cheery, but her eyes are shadowed and a sinister smile spreads across her lips. A shiver 

“So you better keep on your toes. Because even if the Head Maid doesn’t punish you, the Duchess favors this little one the most out of every. single. one of you.”

Belladonna winks, waving high in the air with her free arm.

“Bye-Bye!”

“Oofta! That took forever! Why is your room so far away?” Belladonna helps plop me onto my bed. She lets out a long exhale, crossing her arms. “Like I get it, yadda yadda, ‘The Young Miss isn’t good with strangers’, ‘Duke’s orders’, etcetera, etcetera, but isn’t this overkill! It’s practically a whole wing over!”

Awkwardly, I glance over to the door. After a moment, I slowly begin to stand up again.

“Hey, hey! What the heck! I just got you here, where do you think you’re going!”

Belladonna puts her hands out and forces me back onto the bed.

“Erith and the kids,” I begin to say. “They’re still in the other room. I have to tell them…”

… tell them what? That Kristina got bullied by the maids again? I can’t possibly tell them that. Maybe Erith, but definitely not when the kids are there.

“Agh, jeez, I’ll just tell Erith the situation!” Belladonna places a hand at her hips, a finger pressed to her temple. She points out a finger. “And don’t worry! I’ll just tell her beyond the door or something, Duke’s orders, got it, got it.”

She plops herself next to me with a big sigh.

“For someone who just got jumped, you sure are a handful,” she exhales, kicking her legs. Her legs halt, and she’s quiet, glancing over to me. “… hey, are you really good? You were really weird back there.”

“Well…” I offer a wry smile. “I’m as good as someone can get.”

“No, you seemed so much more down than usual,” Belladonna continues to explain. “Like, really down. In your own head kinda down. I’m gonna find the Duchess to send a doctor or something, but like…”

She trails off.

“The doctor can’t really help with the internal internal stuff, y’know?”

… oh.

“Yeah.” My voice is only a murmur. “Yeah, a doctor can’t really help with this, huh?”

In more ways than one.

“Maybe I can help your worries and stuff if the doctor can’t?” Belladonna offers.

“…”

I give her a small look. There’s… a lot of things. A lot of useless, finished things.

Things that have nothing to do with ‘Kristina’, but everything to do with ‘Kris’.

‘Kris’, who does not belong to this story.

“…”

And yet, some part of me yearns for it. This kind of quiet moment. Someone to open up to, just a bit. Even if they aren’t friends.

“… I got over it. Issues I had, a long… long time ago,” I start with. “I got help, long, long ago. It didn’t matter anymore. It shouldn’t have. It just… all came back.”

They didn’t tell me that in therapy. 

I can only chuckle, a very slight chuckle. It shakes a bit, just to lighten the mood. My explanations are as vague as can be, but it already helps. 

My parents never hurt me, but I definitely felt neglected when I was younger. I had my needs, was fed, was warm, was financially stable—and yet, I always felt as if there was never anyone I could confide in. I loved my parents, and I loved my younger siblings.

But often, I wondered if I was loved back.

Singled out at school, but still did well in it. There was nothing wrong with me, and yet I just couldn’t connect to anyone. I was neither the best, nor the worst. In every sense of the word, I was normal and average. By the time I reached adulthood, I already had gotten over my feelings. Perhaps all I did was push them further down.

Everything I did, every breath I took with every day I aged, I wondered if anyone loved me just as I loved them. Perhaps it’s why I loved Jennette—a little girl who by all accounts was perfectly healthy and was taken care of. She wasn’t as smart when compared to an adult like Athanasia or a genius like Ijekiel, but that didn’t mean she was stupid. She was pampered by those around her, a girl who loved, yet constantly feeling like she was never loved in return. Not by the man she thought of as an uncle, not by the boy she thought of as a brother, not by the man she thought of as her father, and not by the girl she thought of as her sister.

How cruel is it, to live constantly loving yet feeling as if you were never loved in return?

Isn’t it lonely to lead such a life?

There’s nothing wrong with you, and yet you are constantly alone. 

Even if it’s how the world works, it’s cruel.

“In the end, I’m still cold,” the words spill out. “I really thought we could’ve been friends.”

Perhaps in my desperation, I assumed things about Protea—that maybe she was someone just as lonely as I was. That perhaps all those strange times—when she gazed over at me, Jen, and the others—she wanted something like that. Maybe I was wrong.

“Well, of course you’re cold,” Belladonna states with a huff. She pats my back, the layers of cloth sticking to the skin on my back. “You’re literally soaked still.”

Her nose scrunches up, muttering something about a stink that makes me laugh halfheartedly. 

“Plus, whatever you were muttering about friendship, we’re already friends silly!”

My heart skips a beat.

“… we are?”

The girl gives me a look.

“We collided at our first meeting, I swooped in and saved you like a knight against your bullies, we’re having a heart to heart, and you still think we’re not friends???”

It’s my turn to give her a look now, laughing softly.

“I don’t think colliding into each other means we’re friends?”

“That’s how it is in novels, something called fate or whatever,” she goes on, chin in her hands. “Plus, we call each other by cute little nicknames. That’s what besties do.”

With a small smile, I don’t bring up that I’ve never called her by a nickname.

“You’re not mad about what I said?” I ask. It’s been about three days, almost four since we last talked. And it wasn’t exactly on the best terms.

“Oh that,” her eyes drift off someplace unseen. “I think you’re wrong. But I can see where you’re coming from, I’m still going to the palace though.”

Belladonna’s gaze is staring at something I cannot see. A future she desperately wants to see, to desperately cling onto even if it means forfeiting her life.

“There’s a lot of reasons I want to go to the palace after all, not just because of the hot Emperor.”

I scrunch my nose in disgust.

“Ew.”

Belladonna’s aqua colored eyes roll and she stands up. She stretches her arms, groaning as she does so.

“Any-way,” she muses. Her hands drop to her sides, arching as they connect at her back. “I have to… now let’s see, uh, talk to Erith? And then the Duchess? And then get you a doctor??? There’s so much to do.”

Her eyes pop open.

“Oh no, and then there’s the Head Maid!”

I can’t help but laugh as she shrivels up into her list of things to worry about. There’s a skip in her step as she begins to make her way out of my room.

“Well, see ya!”

“Wait,” I interrupt. She’s at the door, holding it open as she leans back with narrowed eyes.

“What now?”

“… Thank you,” I smile. My fingers curl against my apron’s fabric, letting my body loosen into the bed’s blanket. The tips of my shoes touch the floor, and I place my hands neatly into my lap as I tilt my head, damp and tangled hair falling from my shoulders.

“For everything, Bella.”