Chapter 37

Miu’s POV

The way Jayden looked at me earlier… It lingers.

Not hostility. Not quite suspicion either. It was something sharper. As if he were searching my face for proof of something he already half-believed.

It makes me uneasy.

Have I met him before… when I was still Prince Matthew?

Mother was very careful—extremely strict—about who I was allowed to see. Most audiences were filtered, shortened, controlled. I rarely spoke freely to anyone beyond those who served her directly.

If Jayden had been one of them, I would remember. I trained myself to remember.

Faces. Names. Titles. Allegiances.

I memorized every noble presented before me during ceremonies. Every visiting dignitary.

So then… where?

Did we meet somewhere beyond court affairs? Somewhere informal? Or is he one of the palace’s original knights?

And if that’s the case… Why is he serving the Silverveins now?

The more I think about it, the less certain I become.

I press my fingers lightly against my temple, exhaling. This is pointless. I can’t chase shadows that may not even exist.

Besides… I am no longer Prince Matthew.

I am Miu.

A woman. A former escort. A royal commissioner assigned to Tungsten.

There is no reason for anyone to connect me to the past. Not when I have buried it so carefully. Not when I reshaped myself so completely.

I worked too hard for this. I endured too much to let it unravel now.

There’s no way they can be sure.

No way… Right?

–

Earn’s POV

The ride to Tungsten passed quicker than I anticipated.

Perhaps it only felt that way because Lady Miu barely spoke a word the entire journey. She sat across from me, hands folded neatly on her lap, gaze fixed somewhere beyond the window.

Every so often, a flicker of various expressions crossed her face. Then it would vanish, replaced by that composed soft neutral expression she wore so effortlessly.

“We’ve arrived, my lady,” I announced once the car came to a halt.

She blinked, as if pulled back from a distant place. “Ah—already?”

I stepped out first and moved to her side, opening the door. She hopped out with measured grace.

“Thank you, Earn,” she said quietly.

I gave a short nod.

Listen carefully, Earn.

Sir Jayden’s voice echoed in my mind as clearly as if he stood beside me now.

Protect her as Her Majesty ordered. And at the same time, watch her every move.

Two commands. Equal in weight. Opposing in spirit.

I straightened as Lady Miu began walking toward the gathered people. Word of her arrival must have spread—faces were already turned toward us, then she offered them a gentle greeting.

She smiled at them as though she belonged here, as though she understood them. There was no hesitation in her steps as she moved closer to the farmers, asking questions about soil quality, about storm damage, about food shortages.

Starting now, I must observe carefully.

“Hello~. How is everyone doing?”

Lady Miu’s voice rang bright and clear across the square, light as though we were attending a garden gathering rather than standing in the middle of a struggling district.

She walked toward the nearest tent and placed the sacks of seeds neatly on the wooden table set beneath it. The farmers—men and women worn thin by labor and weather—shifted closer, their eyes fixed not on her, but on what she carried.

“Now, everyone,” she continued, turning to face them fully, “as I instructed Father Gaston to inform you—has a representative from every farming household gathered here?”

A chorus of voices answered at once, eager, almost vibrating with anticipation.

“Yes, my lady!”

I scanned their faces. Hope makes people bold. Hunger makes them reckless.

“Very well,” she said, drawing a steady breath. “The reason I called you here today is because… I will now distribute these seeds to all of you.”

The reaction was immediate. Cheers. Shouts. Relief so raw it bordered on hysteria.

And then the crowd surged forward.

In a blink, order dissolved. They rushed toward the table, hands outstretched, bodies pressing in from every side like a wave about to crash.

At this rate, they would trample her.

“Stand back!”

My voice cracked through the chaos as I stepped forward, snapping my whip outward in a sharp arc. The leather cut cleanly through the air with a warning crack, striking the ground between them and the table.

I moved in front of Lady Miu without hesitation, one arm slightly extended behind me to block her path.

The crowd recoiled instantly. The front line stumbled backward, faces paling. Fear replaced excitement in their eyes as they shrank away from the table, trembling at the mere possibility of being struck.

Silence fell heavy over the square.

The whip hung loosely at my side, but I did not lower my guard.

Hope may bring them together.

But fear is what keeps them in line.

“HOW DARE YOU, EARN?!”

The voice struck harder than any blade.

It froze me where I stood, the crack of authority in it echoing across the square. For a split second, I thought Her Majesty herself had descended upon us.

I turned.

Lady Miu stood behind me, fury blazing across her face. The warmth she had worn moments ago was gone—replaced by something sharp, commanding… absolute.

Her glare pierced straight through me, as if she were passing judgment and finding me unworthy.

“Did I order you to wield that whip?!” she demanded, her hand clenched tightly into a fist.

I opened my mouth, but no words came.

“Open your eyes and see!” she continued, stepping forward. “This is not a battlefield! These people are not your enemies! They are the ones you are meant to protect!”

Her voice carried—not shrill, not hysterical—but resonant. Each word struck with deliberate force, rolling over the crowd like a decree from above.

My fingers loosened without conscious thought. The whip slipped lower at my side.

I have faced hardened criminals. I have stood before men twice my size and never flinched.

Yet at that moment, I could not move.

She stepped closer, and I found myself unable to meet her gaze.

“Put it away,” she said, her voice dropping—but no less powerful. “If you dare swing it again without my permission… I will not forgive you.”

The words were quiet. Final.

She walked past me, leaving me rooted in place.

Only then did I realize my palm was damp. A bead of sweat slid from my temple down to my jaw.

What is this…?

How can a woman with no weapon drawn, no rank over me in combat… command me so completely?

It was not fear of punishment. It was something else.

Authority.

The kind that does not need to be announced.

The kind that feels… innate.

Who are you, Lady Miu…?

—

“There…” Lady Miu’s voice was soft now—gentle in a way that felt almost at odds with the authority she had displayed moments ago.

She knelt before one of the farmers, carefully spreading ointment over the woman’s forearm. A thin red scrape ran across the skin.

My whip. I had not even realized it had grazed her.

“All done,” Lady Miu said, offering the farmer a warm smile as she rose to her feet.

“Thank you, my lady…” the woman replied hesitantly. I could see the relief in her expression as she’s now close to the lady’s presence.

I straightened where I stood and let my gaze sweep across the gathered people. Their earlier terror had faded into hushed murmurs.

“I’ve never seen a noble as kind as her.”

“Compared to her, that woman called Earn…”

“She lashed that whip like some barbarian.”

“Does she think we’re still at war? Foolish.”

Each word carried clearly to my ears. They did not bother lowering their voices much. Perhaps they assumed I would not retaliate now.

My jaw tightened.

A barbarian.

A fool.

They see only the moment I raised my whip. They do not see the stampede that nearly crushed the lady. They do not see how quickly their recklessness almost turned into violence.

“Just now—”

Lady Miu’s voice rose once more, clear enough to carry across the restless crowd. I had assumed the matter was finished. I was wrong.

“Earn did wield her whip in haste,” she said evenly, “but it was because all of you failed to follow instructions.”

My head turned toward her before I could stop myself.

She stood near the table of seeds, posture straight, gaze steady—not angry now, not gentle either. Simply firm.

“If everyone had stepped back and waited for their turn,” she continued, “she would not have needed to draw her whip.”

The crowd shifted uneasily.

“Let this serve as a warning,” she added. “If you are truly grateful, then do not rush forward like that again. Do you understand?”

Silence fell. Not fearful silence. Reflective silence.

After a moment, voices rose in subdued agreement. One by one, they reorganized themselves into a proper line before the table, heads lowered in acknowledgment. No more pushing. No more chaos.

I remained still.

My rigid composure—honed over years of discipline—wavered for the first time that day.

She defended them first. She corrected me without hesitation.

And yet… she defended me as well.

She did not allow the crowd to criticize me. She did not allow my action to stand as cruelty. She assigned responsibility where it belonged—on all of us.

She did not choose a side. She chose order.

The atmosphere shifted in the square. The people were no longer afraid of me, nor blindly indulgent of her. They simply… understood.

What a chilling judgment. Calm. Balanced. Unyielding.

If a noble like her had stood before my father that day—if someone had been willing to correct both sides instead of crushing one—

Perhaps he would not have died branded as a dissenter.

Perhaps my family would have survived.

I lowered my gaze slightly, as something heavy began pressing against my chest.