Charlotte - Chapter 11

Just when she thought it was over, Leo held Charlotte again and again, like a man who had finally unleashed something he had long suppressed. By the time it truly came to an end, Charlotte had grown accustomed to the sensation of Leo’s embrace dampening her skin.

He was a sincere man. The kind who would never meet another woman while marriage talks with Mia were ongoing. That must have been why he had pursued Charlotte so persistently.

Coming to a conclusion that seemed reasonable enough, Charlotte absentmindedly looked out the window. She had no idea how much time had passed, but outside, everything was pitch dark. Judging by the depth of the darkness, it had been quite a while since sunset.

“It’s night,” she murmured softly, turning her gaze to Leo, who was haphazardly fastening his trousers beside her.

It was already late—he could stay a little longer. Until dawn, perhaps. It was too dark now, after all. She feigned indifference, but her words carried a subtle meaning.

She realized too late that it was the wrong thing to say to Leo, a man for whom every hour was night. Charlotte bit down on her raw, swollen tongue in regret.

But Leo, whether he heard her or not, simply stood up without hesitation, without a second thought, without even a farewell.

And yet, just as he was about to take a step, he hesitated. He stood still, making Charlotte look at him in confusion.

Ah…

Blinking, she suddenly realized why he wasn’t moving. Stumbling, she tugged down her dress, which had ridden up, and got up from the sofa.

Her aching waist protested as she bent down to pick up the cane that had fallen to the floor. Then, carefully, she extended it toward Leo’s hand.

“You should take care of it,” she said.

It was a simple gesture of concern, a genuine wish that he wouldn’t hurt himself—not a word laced with unnecessary implications.

But to the man before her, it must have seemed like something else entirely.

For a brief moment, a chill settled over Leo’s face. Even though his eyes were covered, the hatred directed at her was unmistakable.

There was no time for explanations. Leo snatched the cane from her hand and, without a second of hesitation, strode out of the room.

Bang!

The door slammed shut with the same force as when it had been flung open.

Left alone, Charlotte instinctively wrapped her arms around her stomach and clenched tightly.

“Ugh…”

A dull ache still seemed to drum inside her stomach. What Leo had poured into her spilled out without resistance, an expulsion beyond words.

Her limbs went weak. Even just standing felt like too much, and she wanted to collapse onto the nearest surface. Her thin, frail legs trembled uncontrollably.

And yet, instead of letting herself sink down, Charlotte scanned her surroundings. Fortunately, she didn’t have to look far—on the table set alongside the sofa, she spotted what she needed: a bottle of fine wine, prepared for guests.

The wine had long passed its ideal temperature, turning lukewarm, but she opened it in a rough, unceremonious manner. She slammed the bottle’s slender neck against the edge of the table.

Glass shards scattered across the floor. The forceful impact sent wine splattering over the fragments, leaving behind vivid red stains. At a glance, it was a gruesome sight.

“…Does this look more natural?”

Muttering words that no outsider could possibly understand, Charlotte flipped the bottle upside down and poured its contents onto the floor, over the broken glass. Then, she dumped the remaining half onto the sofa, drenching it completely.

After all, Charlotte de Ignato was the royal family’s troublesome princess—the unpredictable one, the one who always acted on her own whims. No one would question why she had done something like this.

“……”

And with that, the secret would remain a secret forever. No one needed to know about Charlotte’s first time.

Only she would know. Only she would remember. Only she would occasionally take it out and hold it dear.

Leo… didn’t need to know.

***

“What? Are you serious?”

Marie, a maid scrubbing the dusty window frame with a damp rag, spun around with an incredulous expression.

“You mean she really made that much of a mess in the bedroom?”

Sophie, the other maid standing nearby, shook her head vehemently and shuddered.

“Ugh, don’t even get me started.”

She was in the middle of recounting what she had witnessed a few days ago when she had gone to clean Princess Charlotte’s bedroom—almost like telling a grand tale.

For some reason, the floor, the sofa, and just about everything in the room had been drenched in a crimson liquid.

If not for the overwhelming smell of alcohol, they might have mistaken it for the scene of a gruesome crime.

It wasn’t just Sophie—every maid who had been there with her had frozen in shock, speechless at the sight.

“I swear, I thought my back was going to break cleaning that floor.”

“My goodness.”

“At least we managed to clean the floor, but the sofa—no matter what we did, the wine stains just wouldn’t come out. We had to throw it away.”

“That expensive thing?”

“That expensive thing.”

Buoyed by Marie’s reaction, Sophie grew even more animated in her gossiping.

“She must’ve had a fight with the lord and, having nowhere else to take out her anger, decided to make us suffer instead.”

“They fought?”

Sophie nodded enthusiastically, while Marie frowned slightly, though her expression was filled with curiosity.

“You heard about how the princess collapsed, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Well, she is a princess, and more importantly, she’s going to be his wife. So of course, the lord must have been beside himself with worry. The first thing he did was order food to be brought to her immediately. But guess what? When we got there, she just yelled at us to take it away!”

“Oh my, oh my!”

If Charlotte had thrown a tantrum and smashed a wine bottle in anger, that would certainly explain the mess they had found.

“See? That must be it!”

While the room was being cleaned and returned to its original state, Charlotte had simply stood by the balcony railing, gazing outside.

Her face was unreadable—completely void of emotion. Not even a trace of anger could be found on that small, delicate face.

But Sophie chose to leave out that less entertaining part of the story. Instead, she grinned, riding the wave of Marie’s agreement.

“Right? You think so too, don’t you?”

“What else could it be? She sees the maids as easy targets, so she took it out on you. That must be exhausting for you, Sophie.”

To be honest, it wasn’t particularly difficult.

Despite the rampant rumors, Charlotte had been surprisingly quiet, most likely due to her poor health from the moment she arrived at Rosa Castle.

She almost never—no, never—called for a maid. Whether she found the touch of Rosa Castle’s maids repulsive or simply preferred to be left alone, she refused any form of service. She even bathed and changed clothes by herself.

When Sophie had first been assigned to tend to Princess Charlotte’s bedroom, she had felt like the world was collapsing around her. But now, looking back, nothing about her daily routine had changed.

If anything, Charlotte’s complete indifference made things easier. While other maids were busy running around, Sophie had enough free time to leave her assigned area and seek out Marie for a chat—proof that she had it much easier than the rest.

But, since that wasn’t exactly an exciting story, Sophie pouted and put on a show of complaint.

“I swear, I’m going to die at this rate. Just knowing that the princess is in that room makes my heart race—I can’t even breathe properly.”

Marie consoled her with a few pats before continuing.

“Well, at least you only have to deal with her temporary quarters. The ones assigned to the couple’s bedroom are already crying their eyes out—oh!”

Marie suddenly sucked in a sharp breath, as if the air had been knocked out of her. Her hands clenched tightly around the damp rag she had been holding.

Sophie didn’t need to turn around to know what had caught Marie’s attention. Instead, she hunched her shoulders, lowering her head as much as possible, as if trying to shrink into herself—to make herself invisible.

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

Now that they were no longer lost in their conversation, the sound of approaching heels finally reached their ears. It was as sharp as the crack of a whip. With every step drawing closer, it felt as if something dreadful was about to befall them.

Sophie and Marie stopped breathing. If disaster was coming, it was bound to be severe. They even considered sewing their own mouths shut and begging for mercy.

But then, just as the ominous footsteps neared, they continued past them. The sound grew distant, and eventually, silence returned.

“…Wh-what? A-are we… are we still alive?”

Marie was the first to speak.

“I-I th-think so…?”

Sophie stammered, trembling from head to toe.