YMPDKMA Chapter 12

The chamberlain couldn't hide his shock. He fumbled with his lips. Well, yes—applications were so scarce they'd hired a clumsy commoner girl like Tori. My request must have seemed bizarre.

"You wish to serve Princess Lapherte?"

His voice rose.

Even with few applicants, she was—he was—still an imperial princess. The vetting process might be unexpectedly strict. My heart pounded. I swallowed.

"Yes."

"Well, then. No verification needed. I'll take you immediately."

The chamberlain made the decision so easily my nervousness felt wasted. He stood. His attitude shifted to casual indifference the moment I answered, revealing Rupert's current position within the palace.

An actual imperial princess, yet the hiring process this sloppy. No personality assessment, nothing—even though I could be plotting assassination or spying for the Imperial Consort. Outrageous, but fortunate for me. I smiled brightly and entered Rupert's palace—a detached wing separated from the main Red Palace.

We walked quite far. Still not there. I panted, resolving to build my stamina. Unlike my dying self, the chamberlain hadn't broken a sweat despite the rapid pace. He stopped before the palace, spun around, and inspected my appearance. After wiping away my sweat and dust, he smiled and tapped my bonnet.

"The bonnet suits you very well. Like a baby."

He said it gently, like a compliment, but it didn't sound like one at all. I didn't smile. The chamberlain chuckled at my pout and entered the palace.

Larger than the count's manor but not lavish. Hard to believe this belonged to the emperor's legitimate daughter—modest to the point of austerity, with an oppressive gloom pervading everything.

Was it the shade from nearby trees? The palace should teem with people, yet servants were few. I followed the chamberlain through the dim interior, gawking as though ghosts might appear.

"Is it always this empty?"

"Yes. This is quite crowded for morning."

Shouldn't mornings have fewer people?

I knit my brow in confusion. The chamberlain smiled awkwardly and added:

"Her Highness is somewhat difficult to serve. We prepare everything in the morning, then when she wakes, everyone withdraws except a few attendants."

How foul must her temper be?

Not unexpected. I simply smiled along with the chamberlain. Morning meant Rupert was still in bed. I stared at the door presumably leading to his bedroom. As it drew closer, sweat beaded on my skin. I was afraid.

Honestly, truly afraid. I feared Rupert so deeply. He'd killed my entire family. Father down to my youngest brother—all dragged away and murdered. Even if he hadn't wielded the weapon himself, they died by his will. How could I not be terrified?

I was ordinary and timid. Fear preceded hatred. But I took a short breath before the door and mastered my terror. He hadn't killed them yet. There were still things I could do.

"Your Highness, Monet here. I've brought a new maid to introduce."

No answer came, but silence meant consent—some unspoken agreement. The chamberlain placed his hand on the doorknob.

Click.

The handle turned smoothly. The door opened slowly. And I forgot my encroaching fear for one instant. Something arrested my vision so completely, fear had no room.

The first thing I saw was hair like woven sunlight—brilliant gold. The color shone like honey poured thick, complementing skin pale as porcelain. The girl turned toward us slowly, beautiful as a painting.

Her features were more than refined—they were ornate, crafted like a master artisan's masterwork, harmonizing naturally with her graceful bearing. She looked like a living portrait. The girl was unsettlingly perfect. Though clearly alive, she seemed as flawless as a well-made doll, every line delicate and precise. Beauty that devoured the background.

The moment she entered my vision, I forgot where I stood. I stared at her, entranced. Her sharp, fierce eyes could be called her only flaw in that perfect face, but the vivid green within them—bright as midsummer foliage—canceled even that imperfection entirely.

The girl was dissonantly, alienatingly beautiful. As if the world had been severed and only she existed.

Beautiful, but not a beauty I wanted to keep seeing. I clutched my stomach against rising nausea. Something was wrong with me for feeling ill before such loveliness. I'd realized without meaning to.

Not a girl. That beautiful boy would become the empire's cruelest emperor.

People are fickle creatures. Before recognizing this lovely girl as the emperor, I'd gasped at perfect beauty. Now I just felt chills. I couldn't even think 'beautiful' anymore. Only the feeling 'not human' remained vivid, terrifying. Not that his beauty was inhuman—the girl, no, he truly wasn't human at all.

"A new maid. She wishes to serve Your Highness, so I brought her."

"It's an honor to meet you, Your Highness."

Rupert no longer looked at me, but I bowed politely. He asked the chamberlain bluntly:

"What's this?"

A low, clear voice. It didn't match his delicate girl's face, but it wasn't deep either—still sounded like a young girl's voice. I answered quickly before the chamberlain could speak.

"My name is Lariette Isabel de Bellua, Your Highness. I am the legitimate eldest daughter of Count Bellua."

"I wasn't asking you—"

He frowned, displeased, then stopped mid-sentence and stared at my face as if to bore holes through it. I flinched at his sudden scrutiny and lowered my head.

"You."

His voice dropped. It sounded like a growling beast. I shivered. The chamberlain noticed my fear, stepped between us, and smiled gently.

"Your Highness, your palace sorely lacks maids. Even if she's not to your liking, please accept her."

"Move."

"Your Highness, Bellua is not only the south's representative house but also the center of the Central Noble Council—"

"Did you not hear me say move?"

At Rupert's sharp tone, the chamberlain flinched and stepped aside. Rupert crossed to me in quick strides. He was shorter than me, so even with my head bowed, his face entered my field of vision. Small. He was very small. Yet I feared him. The current Rupert was a child, but soon he'd become a monster.

I tried to suppress the fear creeping through me and adopted a confident posture.

"I'd heard rumors of Your Highness's beauty. I thought rumors always exaggerate, but today I learned they fail to capture Your Highness's beauty properly."

Men and women alike enjoy being called beautiful.

I smiled gently, but Rupert's expression froze over. He roughly grabbed my chin. The force snapped the bonnet strings; it fell to the floor. Before the pain could register, he shoved my face away.

"Not this one."

He spoke to the chamberlain while his gaze stayed fixed on me. I thought those green eyes looked familiar. Of course—I'd seen him as crown prince, as emperor. But this felt more recent. I puzzled over the nagging discomfort. Rupert's next words resolved my confusion instantly.

"She ate too many dumplings. Food costs would be too high."

Dumplings?

I sweated profusely under Rupert's murderous glare. I'd never dreamed that miserable brown-haired dumpling thief had been Rupert. That child had hidden half his face with scarf and cap, and his hair color was different.

I'd never encountered Rupert this young. Unlike the emperor I remembered, he looked only like a beautiful girl. The Rupert I knew wasn't a small, delicate maiden but a tall figure with the sharp demeanor characteristic of rulers. A predator whose face displayed all his unworn cruelty.

"Pardon? What do you mean?"

The chamberlain asked, bewildered.

I stared dumbly at Rupert's long hair, fine as spun gold thread, shimmering in waves. Then I schooled my expression. Damn it. Things had gone wrong. My mouth went dry.

"A dumpling thief."

He spoke dismissively and frowned that elegant brow. The chamberlain was confused—Rupert, clearly meeting me for the first time, showed such hostility.

"A dumpling thief? Who would steal dumplings?"

"Her."

I stared quietly at Rupert's finger pointing at me.

"Dumplings, Your Highness? I'm allergic to dumplings."

"...What?"

"I had a bad reaction as a child. I can't even smell dumplings since then. Perhaps you've mistaken me for someone else?"

I widened my eyes into an expression of complete innocence.

Rupert's twisted face slowly smoothed. He returned to that wax-doll blankness that crawled over my skin.

"Dumpling allergy?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"I'm mistaken?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

I answered calmly, then hurried to add:

"My face is rather common. People often mistake me for others. It's certainly not that Your Highness lacks discernment."

Pleased by my concern for his feelings, the chamberlain smiled and patted my shoulder.

"She's quite acceptable, isn't she? Judging by her recommendation, we won't need much additional training."

Training was still required, then. I wasn't fond of studying; my face clouded briefly. Rupert watched me with an indifferent gaze, then waved his hand dismissively, ordering the chamberlain out.

"You're a Bellua."

I hesitated, unsure if I should leave too. Meanwhile, he crawled slowly into bed and asked dryly. His face looked a bit dazed, like when I'd first seen him.

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Bellua of the south. Daughter of Count Bellua, honorary chairman of the Noble Council?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

I answered politely and bowed. To appear as submissive as possible, I hadn't straightened my back since entering this room. But Rupert rendered my efforts useless simply by not looking at me.

"I know Count Bellua has one daughter. But how do I know you're that daughter?"

"I showed the chamberlain my health certificate and Bellua's crest. Father is in the south, but Baron Hamel and Count Vincent reside in their capital estates, I believe. They know my face. If you doubt forgery, they can confirm."

"You think I can summon them to verify some maid's identity?"

Irritation laced Rupert's voice. Princess Naichelle could verify me immediately, but I didn't mention that. If I admitted even casual acquaintance with the Imperial Consort's daughter, he'd view me with suspicion.

Instead I'd mentioned Marianne Vincent and Sasha Hamel. I listed several more nobles' names. Rupert stopped pressing. No fool would forge identity documents to enter the palace. Even young nobility, if legitimate children of a count, would have detailed portraits filed with the imperial household.

"Why would someone like that steal dumplings?"