Chapter 20

Lena’s POV

CLANG!

“Damn it, woman!” I yelled, throwing the sword to the ground so hard I half-expected it to bounce. “There should be a limit to how feisty you can be!”

My heart was pounding—not from anger, but from panic. I dropped to my knees in front of her, grabbing at her neck to check the wound that was bleeding far too much.

“Let me see.” I took her chin in my hand, lifting it gently but firmly, trying to get a better look.

Her fingers twitched toward the cut, and I immediately grabbed her hand.

“Don’t touch it,” I hissed. “Your hands might not be clean. It could get infected.”

“I’m fine,” she said, voice shaky but defiant. “It’s not that bad.”

I pressed my lips together, trying not to lose my patience. “No, it’s not. Those swords are polished regularly,” I muttered through gritted teeth.

“Tsk.” I ripped the hem of my blouse, fumbling briefly before placing the makeshift bandage against her wound. I pressed firmly, careful to stop the bleeding.

“I’ll bring Daliah here,” I said, standing up, “keep pressure on the wound until she arrives.”

“Uh… could you also… bring me a new set of clothes?” She spoke, hesitantly.

My eyes caught the dark stains spreading across her dress.

—

So here I was, walking down the palace hall with a fresh set of clothes draped over my arm.

With every step, those eyes followed me. Not really, of course, but I could see them anyway, staring straight back at me from my thoughts.

“…that is why I want to help those people. The pain. The struggle. The endless despair.”

I clenched my jaw.

I must be out of my mind.

“I know all of it. Firsthand.”

The words echoed again, refusing to fade no matter how hard I tried to shove them aside.

I must’ve gone mad.

“Ugh!” I groaned, dragging a hand through my hair and gripping it in frustration. Since when did I let someone get under my skin so easily? Since when did I hesitate—me, of all people?

I had raised a sword at her throat. I had watched her lean into it without flinching.

And she hadn’t looked afraid. At least not of death.

That was the part that unsettled me the most.

Not her story.
Not her blood on my hands.

But the fact that… I believe her.

I pushed open the doors to the palace kitchen. “Daliah? Are you in here?”

“Your Highness!” Her voice came from the far end of the room as she hurried toward me, wiping her hands on her apron. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh…” The words tangled on my tongue. For once, command didn’t come easily.

“Is there something you need?” she asked again, concern already creeping into her voice.

“Miu has been injured,” I finally said.

Her eyes widened. “What? Dear heavens—what happened to the lady?!”

Guilt struck sharp and sudden. I looked away, unable to meet her worried expression. Even Daliah had grown fond of that woman. Of course she had.

“That’s enough questions,” I said quickly, my tone snapping back into place. “It’s nothing severe, but she needs treatment. Bring medicine and bandages. Come to her room.”

“Y-yes! Right away,” Daliah replied, already moving.

I didn’t wait. I left the kitchen and closed the door behind me, releasing a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Pathetic.

When I became Queen, I had sworn that cruelty would never exist within these walls. That the palace would be a place of safety, not fear.

And I had told her—with absolute certainty—that no hand would ever be laid on her so long as she remained under my care.

My fingers curled into a fist.

At this rate… I was no different from the people who had hurt her.

The thought settled heavy in my chest, suffocating.

And I wasn’t sure how to forgive myself for it.

—

I decided to wait a little longer before checking on Miu. Honestly, I was also trying to avoid Daliah. The weight of my own actions sat heavy on my chest, and shame clung to me no matter which corridor I chose.

But no matter how long I detoured through the palace, fate had other plans.

I nearly collided with Daliah the moment she stepped out of Miu’s room.

“D-Daliah, how is—” I started, but the words died in my throat.

Her head snapped toward me, and the glare she gave could have frozen steel.

“How dare you…” she hissed, her voice low and sharp, “…hurt the lady?”

I flinched. Genuinely flinched.

Daliah could be terrifying when she wanted to be. I couldn’t even find it in me to respond. She brushed past me without another word, yet I could feel her eyes burning into my back until I was completely out of her sight.

Only then did I exhale.

I hurried into the room before she could turn around—before she could decide to scold me further.

“Your Highness.”

Miu addressed me almost the moment I stepped inside. She looked startled by my sudden entrance, sitting a little straighter on the bed.

“Ehem.” I cleared my throat and fixed my posture, slipping back into formality. “How’s your wound?” I asked, quickly diverting my attention elsewhere.

“Daliah treated it well,” she replied. “She just left. Didn’t you see her on the way out?”

“I did.” My shoulders slumped despite myself. “She could probably kill me with that glare alone.” I let out a tired sigh.

“Ohhh…” Miu murmured under her breath, as if she understood far too well.

I held out the bundle in my arms. “Here. Your clothes.”

“T-thank you…” she said carefully, taking them from me.

“You should stay in those for now,” I added, scratching the back of my head. “I’ve already sent your… hundred-year-old clothes for donation.”

The words sounded ridiculous the moment they left my mouth. The air between us grew awkward, heavy with things neither of us knew how to say.

Then Miu did something unexpected.

She smiled.

Not politely. Not guarded. Genuinely.

“Thank you,” she said again, softer this time.

My breath caught.

To be honest…

With the investigation I was running into the Ducaines—and into Miu’s origin—I knew the truth would surface sooner or later.

Especially after the lead she had let slip.

A name.

Marcus.

It wasn’t much, but it was a beginning. And beginnings were dangerous things.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t curious anymore. Anyone in my position would be. A woman like her didn’t simply appear by chance.

But as I watched her clutch the clothes I had brought, her wound freshly bandaged, and reminded by her unguarded expression earlier that I hadn’t seen before…

I realized something that unsettled me far more than any secret she might be hiding.

Whoever she truly was—

I don’t think… I cared anymore.