The Abandoned Princess’ Secret Bedroom - Chapter 14: The Man Who Became a Blanket

“Princess, are you alright…?”

“A man. He was tall, and I think his hair was a light color—I didn’t get a close look. He smelled clean, and he seemed to know who I was…”

“Princess, at this moment…”

“When he fled, he went to the right.”

Llewellyn spoke to Tristan, forcing herself to stay calm. She tried to straighten her torn clothes, but they kept slipping down. Biting her lip, she looked at Tristan.

“Hurry and go after him.”

Tristan glanced between the door and Llewellyn before bolting out into the corridor. Left alone, Llewellyn assessed her surroundings. She was in the storage room where she had brewed tea earlier. Had he been following her? Hugging her knees to her chest, Llewellyn sank into thought.

Her body trembled uncontrollably. Suddenly, a dark shadow loomed over her, and Llewellyn gasped, looking up in alarm. Could it be him again? But relief washed over her when she realized it was Tristan.

“Did you catch him?”

“I’ve ordered the knights to pursue him.”

“Shouldn’t you personally lead the chase?”

“You’re here, Princess, alone.”

“Does that matter…?”

“It matters. More than anything.”

Tristan, unusually, interrupted her. Llewellyn sighed as Tristan removed his wine-colored cloak and draped it over her shoulders. She quietly allowed herself to lean into his care.

As Tristan tied the ends of the cloak together, his arm brushed lightly against her back. The trembling of her body was transmitted to him without filter, sharp and raw.

“We have to… catch him,” Llewellyn stammered, her body trembling visibly. He had to be caught. If not, how could she ever walk freely through the palace again?

Her hands shook violently, and Tristan reached out to hold them.

“We will catch him. Don’t worry.”

“…”

Llewellyn nodded silently. Her hands were cold—like the ice of a midwinter frost.

“How did Sir Tristan end up here?”

This place was the detached palace. While it wasn’t inherently a bad palace, it had become the most desolate and shabby because it housed the abandoned princess.

At Llewellyn’s probing question, Tristan seemed to snap to attention, as if jolted awake.

“Princess, I… I am not someone suspicious. I simply came because there was something I wanted to give you.”

“Suspicious?”

“I mean, I’m not that person. I… I’m not…”

Llewellyn stared at Tristan, confused by his fumbling explanation, before finally realizing what he meant. He thought she was accusing him of being the culprit.

“I never suspected you to begin with.”

“You… didn’t?”

“I was just asking why you were here, that’s all.”

Tristan let out a sigh of relief and carefully studied Llewellyn’s face. She looked as composed as always, but her body was trembling uncontrollably.

“Princess, let me escort you to your chambers.”

Llewellyn nodded. Tristan took her hand to help her up, but the long cloak got caught underfoot and slipped off her again. She flinched. Tristan picked it up without any reaction, but when he handed it back to her, she snatched it quickly and tied it around herself again.

She felt his silent gaze on her, but she lowered her head, avoiding eye contact.

What must he be thinking right now? she wondered bitterly. He probably thinks I’m pathetic, a disgrace who can’t even protect herself.

Following behind him, Llewellyn bit her lip in shame. She had failed to protect herself in the heart of the palace, nearly becoming the prey of a beast in human form. Her cries had been stifled, her dignity almost sacrificed to base desires.

When they reached her chambers, Tristan finally spoke.

“Please, rest.”

“……”

“I will stand guard outside.”

When the door to her chambers closed behind her, she let out a long breath. Only then did it feel like she was in a place that was truly hers.

Though she had tried her best to appear composed in front of Tristan, as soon as the door shut, she collapsed to the floor, her strength leaving her completely.

The soft carpet beneath her was a stark contrast to the cold, hard floor of the storage room she had endured earlier. The moment her body registered the comfort, her eyes began to sting, and tears spilled over.

Like someone freezing in the depths of winter, her body started trembling violently.

“Ah… Ahhh…!”

She clawed at the nape of her neck where the man had licked her like a beast. The sensation was unbearable, utterly revolting. A princess—once the exalted symbol of a nation—had nearly been violated within her own palace! It was a cruel reminder of her abandoned and pitiful state.

Though she tried to stifle her sobs, the sounds still escaped. She was terrified—so terrified she could barely endure it. Even when cursed by a dark sorcerer, she had forced herself to remain composed. But if even the palace wasn’t safe, then how… how could she possibly survive?

“Mother…”

Unconsciously, Llewellyn called out for her mother. Her mother, who had been kind and warm, who had always doted on her and little Alphius. She missed her terribly. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she wept openly. Even her late father came to mind.

No matter how much her father had hated and resented her, if he were alive, he would never have let such a thing happen to a princess of his kingdom. She might not have been his beloved daughter, but she was still a child he was obligated to protect.

Llewellyn’s heart ached with loneliness and fear as tears streamed down her face.

Someone, please… someone hold me. Someone, please comfort me, protect me, stay with me! Tell me it’s okay… that everything will be okay.

For a fleeting moment, the image of a man with red hair flashed through her mind, but she shook her head violently, banishing the thought.

Bearing the burden of this exhausting life alone was unbearable. The thought of enduring such hardship over and over again filled her with despair. Someone, anyone…

At that moment, the door suddenly burst open.

“Princess.”

Tristan’s startled voice broke the silence, accompanied by the sound of glass rattling against the doorframe. Llewellyn lifted her tear-streaked face to meet his gaze. Her red, swollen eyes locked with his crimson ones.

“You’re… supposed to pretend you didn’t see things like this,” she said weakly. If only he would leave. If only he would let her cry in peace, she could gather herself again. But paradoxically, having someone there made her hold back.

“Forgive me,” Tristan said, his tone earnest.

Then, without warning, he moved closer and wrapped his arms around her.

Llewellyn’s eyes widened in shock as her body stiffened. She immediately pushed him away.

“What are you doing?! Sir Jayard—!”

“Forgive me for overstepping, but I thought you might need this.”

“Sir Jayard!”

“Just think of me as a blanket and cry as much as you need.”

A blanket. He used to call himself her sword, and now he was a blanket. When would this man ever think of himself as human?

His embrace wasn’t tight or invasive. He simply rested his arms lightly on her back, gently patting it in an attempt to comfort her. Llewellyn wanted to scold him for his audacity. How could he hug a woman who had nearly been assaulted mere moments ago? What kind of madness was this?

But she couldn’t push him away.

He knew, just as she did, what she needed right now—comfort, a sense of safety.

Had anyone in her life ever offered her such solace?

Tears rolled down her chin as she realized the absurdity of it all. This knight, who had been disregarded by the master he served, was now comforting her without any concern for his pride or dignity. How foolish this man was.

“It’s alright,” Tristan murmured, his voice unsteady, as if trying to soothe a trembling kitten.

It was the very comfort Llewellyn needed most. His broad embrace gave her a sense of stability, and finally, the emotions she had been suppressing spilled out.

The feelings she had been too ashamed to reveal came pouring forth.

“I-I’m scared…” she whispered through her tears.

“……”

“Why does this keep happening to me? My mother, my brother, this cursed mark… I didn’t do anything wrong…”

“……”

“I promised myself I would live as if I were already dead. So why… why…?”

Llewellyn’s tears soaked Tristan’s shoulder as she finally succumbed to the kindness extended to her in her weakest moment. She didn’t know how Tristan was looking at her—didn’t even care. She was simply too worn down.

“I will stay by your side.”

“……”

“I will protect you.”

His words were simple and steadfast, yet Llewellyn didn’t believe them. Even so, she felt grateful for the comfort they offered.

Before long, her trembling subsided. She pulled away from Tristan, regaining her composure now that she had calmed down.

“Sir Tristan, thank you.”

Calling him by name, Llewellyn expressed her deepest gratitude, her voice quiet but sincere.

*

“Doesn’t the princess want this to remain a secret? It must be kept confidential!”

“A secret? What secret are you referring to? This is a grave matter. Someone used a lapse in security to harm the princess!”

As Sir Jayard’s stride quickened, the face of Earl Dayrell, the commander of the White Knights, turned pale.

“That wouldn’t be in the princess’s best interest. Her honor…”

“So, you think we should overlook the White Knights’ negligence in guarding the princess?”

“Sir Jayard! Surely you don’t intend to antagonize the White Knights?”

“How is stating the facts antagonizing anyone?”

Tristan glared at the White Knights’ commander, who resorted to petty threats. Tristan was well aware that the White Knights, composed mainly of nobles, were politically sensitive. However, their recent negligence had been excessive. They were practically Pamela’s private militia, moving only for her or the king. This laxity had directly led to the current disaster.

“Sir Jayard! Follow the princess’s wishes, and I’ll…”

“I’ll report this to His Majesty.”

Tristan Jayard’s resolve was unwavering. He couldn’t forget the image of Llewellyn sobbing in despair.

At that moment, Bastian appeared, issuing commands as he approached. His face was even paler than usual.

“Sir Jayard, Sir Dayrell. What brings you here?”

“I have an urgent request to make to His Majesty.”

“Speak.”

“Sir Jayard!”

At the outburst, Bastian’s face subtly twisted in displeasure. Unlike the visibly anxious Earl Dayrell, Tristan remained calm, casting a composed gaze at the princess’s brother.

“From now on, please allow the Red Knights to handle the princess’s security.”

“What…?”

“You don’t need to assign the entire Red Knights order. Simply reinstate me as the princess’s personal knight, as I was originally appointed.”

“What are you saying all of a sudden?”

Bastian looked bewildered, and Tristan deliberated for a moment.

“Earl Dayrell has requested my assistance.”

Bastian turned his gaze to Dayrell, who hurriedly bowed his head.

“Y-Yes, that’s correct. With all that’s happening, we’re focusing on guarding His Majesty and the Dowager Queen more thoroughly…”

Bastian stared at the two men for a moment. Dayrell cast a grateful glance at Tristan, as if relieved and impressed by his cooperation.

After a long pause, Bastian finally spoke.

“Sir Jayard.”

“…….”

“The intruder at the princess’s palace yesterday was captured by the Black Knights.”

Tristan flinched. Could it be? Did Bastian already know?

Bastian strode closer, his imposing presence impossible to ignore, and looked up at Tristan with a calm but firm expression.

“Just so you know,” he said, his voice steady, “it’s not as though I don’t worry about my sister’s safety.”