Chapter 21: The Price of Recklessness
Stopping the carriage of a noble lady—
And not just any noble, but a high-ranking one—
Then boarding it without permission from the lady herself, the coachman, or even the attendants…
Is that not an outrageous breach of etiquette?
One misstep away from abduction or robbery, is it not?
The carriage door, though locked, now hung loosely, clearly forced open.
The young man who stood before me, snorting arrogantly at my stunned, frightened gaze, was apparently this nation’s First Prince.
As a shut-in noble lady, I only know the princes from the occasional portrait glimpsed in a maid’s hands.
In my previous life’s game, they were stylized two-dimensional figures.
Blond hair, green eyes—
That much matches what little knowledge I possess.
But this violently rude young man—
Is he truly this kingdom’s prince?
Bursting into the carriage of a statesman’s cherished daughter without warning, pointing and glaring?
Should not royalty embody composure and propriety in all circumstances?
In the game, he was a refined, gallant prince.
…Was that merely from the heroine’s perspective?
My throat tightened.
I tried to speak, but only meaningless breaths escaped.
Why?
Because my mind was seized by a single thought.
Fear.
Fear, fear, fear!
Even if handsome, even if noble, when someone approaches with hostility and brutality—
One feels nothing but terror.
“Please stop, Your Highness!
Milady is delicate and in frail health!” Anna cried.
“Does a mere servant dare command me?”
“But this lady is—”
“I hear she grew quite bold, hiding behind Count Domitrius and Duke Lattiche’s son.”
Bold?
When did that rumor arise?
Today I spoke only to Kishtarial, Michaelis, Julius, Jibril, our servants, and Father.
Before I knew it, my hands—clasped before my chest—were seized.
I was dragged from the carriage.
Anna screamed.
It hurt.
This was no escort.
My fear deepened.
“…Father…”
“Hah.
Running to your father?
Whatever provincial noble you belong to, do not assume you will continue calling yourself one.”
Mockery answered my plea.
If I err further, will Father suffer?
I knew I teetered on panic, yet could not stop trembling.
“Your Highness! Please desist!”
Anna rushed toward me—
A knight swatted her aside.
A single sweep of a trained arm.
Her small frame struck the stone road.
She lay still.
“Anna!”
“Trying to flee?
Or pretending to care for a servant?”
Another knight blocked me.
My glasses fell and were crushed beneath a boot.
Our escort knights were bound like criminals, gagged.
Some lay unconscious.
In the game, he was gentle.
Here, he wielded power mercilessly.
Almost like the male version of the original Albertina—though she was crueler still.
Tears fell.
From fear?
From humiliation?
I am powerless.
My white dress—carefully chosen for Father—was soiled with dirt.
Elegant lace, tasteful and refined.
Now ruined.
My knees throbbed.
My palms stung.
Tears chilled my cheeks.
Pathetic.
“Your Highness… this is excessive,” someone dared say.
“Excessive?
Renaria wept because of this woman!
Kishtarial and Michaelis spurn her, but this one—clinging to them above her station—is the root of all evil!”
Lucas Orl Sandis condemned me utterly.
He competes with the Second Prince for succession.
And the devotion in his voice—
He is completely ensnared by Renaria.
Love is blind.
This borders on madness.
“Lock her away.
She shall receive judgment in due place.”
He turned his back.
A knight with sun-faded green hair knelt before me.
Mid-twenties, composed, dignified.
“Milady… forgive us.
You have had ill fortune.
We do not wish you harm.
Your father must be a great man.
The prince is… deeply infatuated.
May I ask your father’s identity?
We will attempt to expedite your release.”
“My… my father is a high-ranking noble.
He is likely at court.”
Even now, I can only cling to Father’s authority.
“Your name, milady?”
“…Albertina.
Albertina von Lattiche.”
Half the knights collapsed.
Some fainted outright.
“…The Duke of Lattiche’s daughter…?”
“Yes.”
Groans filled the air.
The green-haired knight stared at me strangely—
Not pity.
Something closer to reverence.
Then—
“Begin?”
Raven stood behind him.
I had not noticed his arrival.
“Milady, forgive my delay.
What happened?”
“Raven? Where were—”
“You admired the roses.
I procured saplings.”
A small bag dangled from his wrist.
Even now, he thought of me.
“Shall I dispose of them?”
“Absolutely not.
They obeyed orders.
They even showed concern.”
“Then who soiled your dress?”
“He returned to the academy.
Attend to Anna first.”
“…As you wish.”
A slim knife gleamed briefly in his gloved hand before vanishing.
“Call a physician.”
He radiated killing intent.
Then he lifted me gently.
“Wait!
A servant dares—”
“Lady Albertina fears unfamiliar men.
Especially tall adult ones.
Would you further terrify her?”
Raven’s tone was ice.
Darkness.
When I next awoke, I saw a canopy above me.
Soft layered fabric filtered the light.
A plush bed.
Dim comfort.
A pink dress lay nearby.
Anna appeared—bandaged, red-eyed.
“Forgive me…”
“No.
You did everything.”
She confessed Father returned swiftly to the academy.
A dreadful premonition tightened my chest.
I ran through the halls.
“Father!”
“Ah, Albertina.
Are you well?”
The ballroom was vast.
White marble.
Red carpet.
Too red.
Father stood at its center.
Radiant.
Bathed in light.
The carpet—
Darker in places.
Figures lay scattered.
“I wished to finish before you awoke,” Father said lightly.
“But some made absurd excuses.”
Beside him sat Lucas—
Pale.
Shaking.
A silver tray nearby held… round objects.
Julius subtly shifted to block my view.
“Do not step closer.
You would stain Jibril’s borrowed dress.”
Father dropped a bloodstained paper.
“Truthfully, they all deserve death.
A duke’s daughter injured under false accusation—
Do they comprehend the consequences?”
The carpet squelched faintly under his steps.
“I had the prince draw lots.
He chose the order.”
The hall was silent.
“Yet halfway through, he protested.
So I punished those already chosen.”
He extended cards toward me—
Names.
Even Renaria Datches’.
“Which shall it be, Albertina?
All is as you wish.”
Life and death placed gently in my hands.
“Father… enough.
I am unharmed.”
“…Raven wandered off.”
“He brought me roses.”
“…He still lives?”
“Yes.
I need him.”
“…Very well.
Julius.
Re-educate him.”
“Understood.”
Something was dragged away.
“This is my concession.”
“Thank you, Father.”
He snapped his fingers.
Blood vanished from his shoes.
“Kishtarial, Julius, Michaelis—
Handle the rest.”
Ah.
Still in Demon King mode.
Poor Sandis royal house.
I shall not assist you.
I never wish to feel such terror again.
And yet—
When Father offered those cards,
A part of me thought—
If they die, so be it.
Perhaps I am colder than I believed.
As long as my precious few remain safe—
The rest matter little.
Still…
Father.
Please, do not go too far.