Chapter 6: And Thus, Her Ability to Let Things Slide Improves

Perhaps because Neige had come up in conversation yesterday, Faustina woke up in the morning and stared silently at the ceiling.

She felt nothing but guilt toward him after seeing him in her dreams.

In her previous life, she had truly caused trouble for so many people.
For Bernhard.
For Neige.
For her family.
For her friends.
For the servants.

That was why—precisely because of that—

“Absolutely, I will dissolve my engagement to His Highness…!”

Even if she still harbored romantic feelings toward Bernhard despite having memories of her previous life.
Just recalling the hatred-filled lapis eyes once turned on her made her spine freeze and her whole body feel as though heavy weights had been placed upon it, unable to move.
Yesterday, merely being looked at with suspicion had been enough to bring it all back.

“…Don’t get weak, Faustina.
It’s fine, it’s fine.
This time, I… like His Highness, but I don’t like him.”

Even if she herself could not fully understand what she meant by that, Faustina briskly sat up, determined to get through another day.

Bernhard was coming again today.

He had said so when she saw him off yesterday.
Consecutive visits were rare.
Normally, he left intervals between his visits to Faustina.

After breakfast, while Faustina was in her private room having a brief meeting with Rinsue about the day
(which consisted solely of being firmly reminded to absolutely stay in her room thirty minutes before Bernhard’s arrival),
there was a timid knock on the door.

At the voice coming from the other side, Faustina and Rinsue looked at each other.
When Rinsue opened the door, Ludmila stood there.

Because of what had happened recently, Faustina had been avoiding seeing Ludmila except when necessary.
Ludmila also seemed awkward, so there was no need to force conversation.
Come to think of it, Faustina realized she had very few memories of actually talking with her mother as mother and daughter.

—As long as I’m the Duke of Wittgenstein’s daughter, and Mother is the Duchess of Wittgenstein, it’s not wrong…
But it really is completely different from Father…

In her mother’s eyes, there had always been only Father, her sister, and her brother.
Faustina herself might as well not have existed.

That was probably why—
When Faustina had failed to harm her own sister in her previous life, disgracing not only the ducal house but the royal family as well—

‘You should never have been born!!!’

Her mother had condemned her without hesitation or doubt.

The memory overlapped with the mother standing before her now, and Faustina instinctively shook her head hard.
“Miss?”
At Rinsue’s puzzled voice, Faustina snapped back to herself and, despite the awkwardness, spoke to Ludmila, who had yet to state her reason for coming.

“What is it, Mother?”

“Ah… yes.”

Ludmila hesitated, closing her mouth as if struggling to speak.
Both Faustina and Rinsue tilted their heads in confusion.

“I-I’m having a designer employed by the ducal house come today to make new dresses.
Elvira and you will both need new ones soon, won’t you?”

Ah, that was all.

Faustina looked down.
What she was wearing now was a navy-blue dress—subdued, but refined and elegant.
She preferred quiet, calm colors, even if they were dark, over bright ones.

Elvira, on the other hand, loved bright and flashy colors, the complete opposite of Faustina.
Their tastes reflected their personalities.
In her previous life, when she was desperately in love with Bernhard and wanted to be worthy of him as his fiancĂŠe, she had forced herself to wear colors she did not actually like.

But this time, she did not need to wear colors that did not suit her.

Looking up again, Faustina realized that if the designer’s visit overlapped with Bernhard’s arrival, Bernhard would inevitably take priority.

“His Highness is scheduled to arrive shortly before the afternoon.
What time will the designer be coming?”

“I arranged it so the times wouldn’t overlap as much as possible.
In about an hour.”

For some reason, Ludmila looked relieved.
Once again, Faustina and Rinsue exchanged glances.
Something about Ludmila’s behavior today felt strange.
Faustina suspected it was because of what had happened the other day.

After saying she would send someone to call them once the designer arrived, Ludmila returned to her own room.

After the door closed, Faustina sat on the sofa and accepted a glass of orange juice from Rinsue.

“I wonder what’s going on with Madam today.
She seemed different somehow.”

“She did.
But when it comes to getting new dresses, she’ll go back to normal.
She loves new dresses.”

“And you don’t, Miss.”

“I don’t attend many tea parties.
I’d rather just look at the flowers in the garden.”

She liked simply gazing at the flowers the gardeners nurtured with care.
She did not feel the need to cut them and place them in vases.
Flowers arranged beautifully in vases were lovely too, but to Faustina, flowers blooming naturally were far more beautiful.

“What kind of design will you choose for your new dress?”

“Let’s see… I don’t want anything too flashy, but something too plain won’t do either.”

“That’s true.
After all, you are a duke’s daughter and a future Crown Princess.”

Looking troubled, Faustina drained her orange juice in one go.
When she asked for a refill, Rinsue told her she had already had too much and handed her water instead.

An hour later, as scheduled, the designer employed by the ducal house arrived at the Wittgenstein residence with many fabrics and sketches.

Since Bernhard would be arriving afterward, Faustina had her designs discussed first.

She collapsed weakly onto the sofa in her private room afterward, clearly exhausted.
Rinsue handed her the orange juice she had refused earlier, saying she had had too much.
After taking it, Faustina stared into the distance with pale yellow eyes.

“You seem quite tired.
Did something happen?”

“What do you think…”

Once the king and queen returned from the neighboring country’s ceremony, Faustina would resume going back and forth between the castle and the residence.
Even though she traveled by carriage, movement within the castle was on foot.
She had asked for simple designs that were easy to move in and not too flashy, but the designer kept drawing designs that strayed further and further from her wishes.
Even when she tried to object several times, the designer insisted that such dresses suited a duke’s daughter and future Crown Princess.
In the end, Faustina was the one who gave up.

When she thought about it, she still had many dresses she had never even worn.
She decided she did not need any and returned to her room without even seeking Ludmila’s approval.

“I’ll probably get scolded by Mother later…”

“The designer is at fault for not listening to the wishes of a duke’s daughter!”

“They seem perfect for Mother and Elvira, but I don’t think they suit me at all.”

Leaning back against the sofa, Faustina suddenly remembered that all the dresses she had worn in her previous life had been made by that same designer.

They were appropriate for a future Crown Princess, but too flashy and ill-suited to her.
She grimaced slightly.
Perhaps it was because the man she was supposed to impress had been more interested in her sister than his own fiancĂŠe.

Still—

‘You look beautiful, Lady Faustina.’

Aside from her father, brother, and the queen, there had been only one person who had ever truly said she was beautiful from the heart.

Perhaps because his name had come up yesterday, she found herself remembering him often.

Knock, knock.

There was a soft knock on the door.
When it was opened, the head butler stood there to inform her of Bernhard’s arrival.
That was why she and Rinsue had been waiting quietly—partly because she was exhausted.

Following the head butler toward the guest room, Faustina passed through the entrance hall on the first floor.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ludmila and Elvira seeing the designer off.
She felt nothing in particular and kept walking.

The designer was only doing their job, but Faustina thought they should listen to their client’s opinions better next time.

(…Wait.
But they listened to Mother’s and Elvira’s opinions.
…Was it just me?)

Not knowing that the designer was convinced flashy dresses suited Faustina better than subdued ones, she simply decided to request a different designer next time and let it slide.

(My ability to let things slide is really improving thanks to His Highness.
At this rate, even scenes that would’ve made me jealous and furious before, I’ll be able to glide past gracefully.
I might even have the leeway to enjoy them as something to observe.)

That sounded fun in its own way.

Watching real romance up close felt more vivid and emotionally engaging than reading about it in books.

With only her strange confidence steadily increasing, Faustina followed the head butler into the guest room.

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