Princess – Part 10
“Th-This is unacceptable! I object!”
“Lady Charlotte?!”
Ignoring Margot and Penelope’s frantic attempts to calm her down, Charlotte shouted, “All right, fine! We’ll pay for food and lodging with hard work. But you should work too!” She pointed straight at Cecily. “Seeing you do nothing is infuriating!”
Cecily snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m the current head of this house, Cecily Campbell. My ancestor renounced his noble status long ago and worked tirelessly as the First Housman’s right-hand man. Why should I work as a servant in my own home? Right, Fio?”
“That sounds fun,” Fio said with a knowing nod.
“What?!”
Fio firmly grabbed her by the arm and dragged her off toward the back room, just as she had done with Charlotte.
“Hey, wait a minute! Fio? I think you’re forgetting that I’m the master of this house. I’m injured and maybe… thought I could use some rest?”
“It sounds fun. Let’s do it.”
Cecily had known Fio Atkins since she was born, and their relationship was more like sisters than that of a master and servant. Cecily had always been aware of Fio’s unconventional behavior, which was far from typical for a servant. Tears streamed down Cecily’s face as she was tossed into the room. Less than a minute later, she emerged transformed.
Naturally, she was now wearing an apron dress.
“Hahaha! It looks great on you, Cecily Campbell! It suits you perfectly.”
“I’ll cut you down!” Cecily hissed, turning red as she unsheathed her short sword.
Before she could strike, Fio, rolling her eyes, held her down. Just then, the front door swung open.
“Excuse me!”
Everyone turned to see a small girl, Lisa, smiling brightly as she held out a package.
“I’m from Atelier Liza. I’ve come to deliver the item that Fio Atkins ordered.”
They exchanged glances and nodded. Fio placed a hand on Lisa’s shoulder.
“Huh?” Lisa blinked in confusion.
“No reason.”
Luke walked through the food market in the Third District with a knapsack on his back. Its jugged surface revealed the weight and shape of its contents.
He felt like the day had been rolling non-stop since dawn. He had spent the early hours working on a katana, then faced Charlotte and her Infernal Blade, and rushed to Cecily’s aid. After a fruitless questioning at the government office, he headed back home once then returned to the city to collect scrap metal.
At Atelier Liza, they used jewel steel for sword forging, but for other tools and utensils, they repurposed old farming implements and kitchenware. Collecting scrap iron—unwanted pieces of metal—was a vital task to support the household finances. Today’s scrap collection had long been planned.
As evening approached, the number of people in the market began to dwindle. After this, he would return home and wait for Lisa to finish her delivery. Luke cracked his shoulders, thinking he could finally relax.
He paused at the entrance of a sealed-off alley—the site of Cecily and Doris’s fight. The buildings on either side bore cracks, their walls destroyed, with large holes in the ground. Members of the Knight Guard were clearing the wreckage and removing debris. Luke had narrowly saved Cecily and Aria, only to be scolded by Hannibal for the excessive damage. That old man could be so tedious.
Damn it. Luke crushed a piece of debris beneath his foot. Why did I help her?
He knew he was impulsive, but this time, he’d acted without thinking. There were other things—important things—he should be focused on. He had no time to concern himself with others. Yet, he had acted almost instinctively. For someone else.
He had priorities to take care of, even at the risk of his own life. But the circumstances and people around him didn’t allow for that. There were too many irritating distractions, dragging him into things against his will, like today. If only he could focus on just one thing.
How simple life would be if he could live like that. He understood it was impossible, yet he couldn’t help but entertain the thought. He let out a sigh, abandoning the notion. He knew that getting trapped in his thoughts would leave him dead in the water. She wouldn’t want that either.
As Luke resumed walking, he spotted a familiar figure in front of a shop. A red-haired woman was holding a basket, staring at a display of vegetables.
“Cecily Campbell?”
The red-haired woman flinched as if struck by lightning. She turned awkwardly, her face tense.
“L-L-Luke?”
“Fancy meeting you here. Did you see Lisa? I sent her to deliver a knife I made for you a little while ago. I finished it earlier but forgot to hand it over. Huh? What’s with that outfit?”
Instead of her usual uniform, Cecily was inexplicably wearing an apron dress. She still had a short sword strapped to her waist. Because of course she did.
Cecily’s face turned as red as her hair. “No! F-Fio forced me into this. I-It’s not what you think!”
“I don’t get it.”
“A-A knight’s true worth lies not in appearance but in essence. E-Even in a servant’s attire, I’m still a knight, and my d-dignity remains intact.”
“Calm down.”
“Don’t look at me!”
Cecily covered her face with the basket, but since it was filled with items, a few pieces of fruit tumbled out, rolling on the ground.
What on earth is she doing?
Cecily cautiously peeked out from the basket, watching as Luke picked up the red fruits. Her eyes were slightly teary.
“I was definitely taken aback, but is it really that embarrassing?”
“Well… I’m a knight, and…”
Her usual bravado seemed a façade. Sighing, Luke looked Cecily up and down, studying her.
Cecily’s outfit was simple—just a plain apron over a dark blue dress—yet seeing her in it felt oddly refreshing. The ensemble clashed with Cecily Campbell’s fiery personality, which only made it stand out more. She still had the basket on her head.
Luke shrugged. “I thought you said your essence isn’t defined by your appearance. Besides, it actually looks good on you.”
“What?”
Cecily froze, mouth hanging open, the basket still covering her head.
“Huh? What’s wrong, Cecily Campbell?”
“Uh… well…”
Her face turned a deep shade of red. It looked as if steam might escape her ears.
“D-Don’t—”
“Don’t?”
“Don’t look at meee!” she erupted.
The hem of her apron dress flared as she hurled a straight punch, sharp as a rapier thrust, landing squarely in Luke’s stomach. He doubled over. Before he could even groan, a second blow caught him from under the chin, sending him flying. The combination was flawless.
Luke hit the ground hard, face-first, unable to brace himself.
Cecily, breathing heavily, raised her fist in triumph, only to realize what she had done. Panic set in. She flailed her hands.
“L-Luke! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”
A small crowd had gathered, whispering things like, “That looked rough,” “Poor guy,” and “Are they a couple?”
“You fucking bitch,” Luke cursed under his breath, struggling to get up. “Weren’t you supposed to be injured?”
Blood trickled from his nose, pooling on the ground.
Meanwhile, back at the Campbell residence…
“Why am I doing this?”
Fio had ordered a thorough cleaning of the estate’s storage, which was crammed with weapons, armor, and antiques House Campbell had collected and used over generations. With no room to move, they started by hauling everything outside, and by the time they nearly finished, everyone was exhausted from the day’s work. Yet, much remained to be done.
The storage room lacked proper windows, and light was provided by the jewel steel hanging from the ceiling.
With most of the items outside, the floor was in dire need of cleaning. Penelope took charge of that. Margot was busy polishing smaller items like old swords, arrows, and spears. Doris was resting in another room, still passed out.
Lisa, also stuck in an apron dress, was helping Charlotte polish the large suit of armor sitting at the back of the room. The ancient armor, resting on a weathered chair, emanated an old, musty scent. Dirt and rust clung stubbornly, making their task especially tedious.
“Why am I stuck with this servant work?” Charlotte muttered under her breath, though her hands moved with practiced skill. She wrung out the rag effortlessly and polished the armor’s surface with force and precision. Her hands, noticeably chapped, were far from what one would expect of a princess. Lisa watched her with confusion.
“You’re really good at this, Charlotte.”
“Well, I’m not exactly new to cleaning. I act refined to keep up appearances, but I’m used to doing this kind of work. I can cook, too.”
“Wait, really? But you’re…”
“I’m the child of a mistress.”
Lisa’s breath caught. She glanced at Penelope and Margot. They paused briefly before resuming their tasks.
Comment (0)