Charlotte - Chapter 12

“Forgive me, Your Highness. I will have the head maid see to it that those maids are properly punished.”

Ferndel apologized for the insult Charlotte had just endured. They had been on their way to show her around the outer grounds of Rosa Castle.

Charlotte suddenly stopped in her tracks and turned to look at Ferndel. Caught off guard, he also came to a halt and bowed his head.

He had expected her to lash out immediately, but no matter how long he waited, she showed no sign of saying anything.

As the awkward silence stretched on, Ferndel cautiously lifted his gaze. Their eyes met. Only then did Charlotte finally speak.

“You mean to punish every maid who speaks ill of me?”

Her tone was unreadable. A maid’s most fundamental virtue, above all else, was discretion.

For them to have been caught slandering the princess—who would soon become the lady of the household—was an egregious mistake. If all of them had been involved, then punishing them without exception was only right.

Wasn’t that obvious?

“That is what must be done.”

“At that rate, there won’t be any maids left willing to work at Rosa Castle.”

“That is…”

Ferndel, who had been stating the principal matter-of-factly, suddenly found himself at a loss for words.

“That’s enough.”

Charlotte, having dismissed the matter so indifferently, resumed walking. Ferndel instinctively followed, but his mind was tangled in thought.

The princess was always surrounded by rumors. She was notorious for mistreating her servants. Tales of the maids in her secluded palace crying themselves to sleep each night had even reached Rosa Castle from time to time.

Yet, despite all the gossip, Ferndel—who had been guiding her around the castle for the past few days—had never once witnessed such behavior. Not even now.

Charlotte seemed far more rational than he had expected. Perhaps it was too hasty to make a judgment after only a few days, but still…

“…Beyond this path, if you continue straight, you’ll find a lake. Soon, hundreds of swans will migrate there. It’s quite a sight to behold.”

Despite his lingering doubts, Ferndel diligently continued describing the scenery surrounding Rosa Castle.

Charlotte gave only small nods or brief glances, subtle gestures that signaled she was listening.

“A lake?”

It was the first time she had directly responded.

“Yes, it’s vast enough to be clearly visible from the lord’s office,” Ferndel said, suddenly becoming rather talkative.

“You wouldn’t believe how blue and clear the water is. It might be nice for you to take a stroll there someday.”

He rambled on without knowing why.

“When the lord is troubled, he often gazes out at the lake from his window—”

Abruptly, he fell silent.

…Who was he to lecture anyone about discretion?

Ferndel let out a silent sigh, slowly pressing his lips together. Swallowing down all the words he had been about to say, he finally spoke again.

“This time, I’ll guide you to the pergola in the garden. This way, please.”

Ferndel gestured politely. Charlotte remained motionless. Just as Ferndel awkwardly cleared his throat, preparing to urge her forward once more—

“So my presence is truly suffocating to you, isn’t it?”

Charlotte murmured something incomprehensible to herself before abruptly heading in a different direction. It was the exact opposite of where Ferndel had intended to guide her.

“Where are you going?” he asked, but she gave no reply.

The place where she finally came to a halt was in front of Leo’s office.

“Your Highness, please wait…!”

Ferndel instinctively moved to stop her, even though he knew he had no legitimate reason to do so.

But his anxious plea and his hurried attempt to intervene both ended in vain—fizzling out into an awkward failure.

Charlotte had reached for the door handle, only to pause midair. Then, without touching it, her hand simply fell back to her side.

“……”

Ferndel, witnessing that small yet telling moment of hesitation, did something he never should have.

He opened the office door himself—without knocking.

Charlotte looked up at him, her eyes widening slightly.

Avoiding her gaze, Ferndel silently prayed that she wouldn’t ask him why. He didn’t understand his own actions either.

“…Thank you.”

Her voice was quiet, but the gratitude in it was clear.

Charlotte stepped slowly into the office.

Left standing there in stunned silence, Ferndel only came to his senses after closing the door behind her.

Realizing what he had just done, he let out a deep sigh and pressed a hand to his forehead.

***

Since losing his sight, his other senses had sharpened as if in compensation. Touch, hearing—both had become remarkably keen.

Leo was tracing Braille with his fingertips, practicing reading without relying on vision, when he sensed a presence outside his office even before the door opened.

It wasn’t difficult to identify who had just stepped inside.

No knock—a blatant disregard for propriety. Light, almost weightless footsteps. A distinct fragrance that carried a crisp, cool edge.

All evidence pointed to a single person.

Charlotte de Ignator.

“…Who is it?”

Still, he asked.

There was no need to reveal that he could recognize her by instinct alone.

Her approaching steps gradually slowed before stopping at what seemed a deliberate distance—much like the day she had first arrived at Rosa.

“…It’s me.”

Was she wounded by his feigned ignorance?

He knew she wasn’t the kind of woman to be easily hurt, yet her voice was so small, so hesitant, that the thought briefly crossed his mind.

Frowning beneath his blindfold at his own pointless speculation, Leo waited for her next words.

After a pause, she spoke again—her voice even softer this time.

“It’s Charlotte.”

She must have assumed he hadn’t recognized her voice.

It was a misunderstanding Leo had no reason to correct.

“What brings you here?” he asked, ignoring the mistake.

“…No reason.”

After such a long silence, her answer felt like a complete waste of time.

Letting out a quiet sigh, Leo leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. He took a moment to gather his thoughts.

It seemed there was something he needed to make clear to this woman.

“Come here.”

He extended his hand in the direction she stood.

A moment later, slender fingers gently touched his own.

Did she think he was inviting her to dance?

“…Ah.”

Leo swiftly grabbed Charlotte and bent her over the desk.

The sudden shift in her position and perspective made her tense up.

With one hand pressing firmly against her back, Leo lifted the hem of her dress.

“W-What are you doing?”

“It seems like you’re misunderstanding something, Your Highness.”

Charlotte flinched sharply as Leo tugged at the fabric beneath her dress, pulling it down without hesitation.

“‘Just because’ isn’t a good enough reason for us to be this close, Princess.”

Leo’s hand slipped between Charlotte’s bare skin, making her panic rise instinctively.

“This is the office, Leo! The office!”

“I’m well aware. The very same office that Your Highness entered without permission just moments ago.”

“……!”

Leo easily took control of the situation, his voice carrying a quiet but firm warning.

“If the noise escapes, who knows who might take a peek? If you want a stranger to witness what even your future husband hasn’t seen, then by all means, keep screaming. It doesn’t matter to me either way.”

With that, he pressed on, his hands boldly exploring Charlotte, searching for any crack he could slip through.

“There’s one thing you must remember from now on,” he continued, his tone unnervingly calm.

“Unless it’s an official engagement, the only time we meet is when we’re doing this. No matter where that may be.”

A sharp gasp escaped her lips. “Hngh, ah!”

Charlotte bit her lip before suddenly letting out a moan. It was impossible to tell whether she was flustered by Leo’s words or aroused by the stimulation.

Of course, Leo didn’t care either way. As long as the message was seared into her mind—what this relationship was meant to be.

Charlotte de Ignator was nothing more than a well-bred broodmare, compensated to bear Leo Kartenon’s child.

That was the extent of a traitor’s role. The day he received the king’s royal decree ordering him to take her as his wife, he had drawn a firm line.

The night he first held a woman, the night he became a man with this worn-out woman—Leo had redrawn that line once more.

And so, it would remain steadfast, unbroken for all time.

Neither Leo nor Charlotte could ever cross it.

“Hngh!”

Leo finally found an opening and slid his fingers inside. After merely teasing for so long, the moment he finally devoured his prey, her depths began to drip eagerly. His hand was soon soaked.

Her trembling movements settled at just the right moment. She was laughably easy. Every second he had once treasured now felt ridiculous.

He had cherished her, not realizing she was nothing more than a common grain of sand. He had held onto her, never expecting she would slip so effortlessly through his fingers… And yet, he had cherished her.