On the Absurd Incident Where a Beautiful Princess Declares She'll Become My Knight (1)
"A man? What kind of nonsense is that...?"
The girl blinked rapidly at me a couple of times. "Did getting punched scramble your brains or something?"
"Looks like it."
Her gaze shifted to my cheek—the one that had taken the gauntlet hit. The bruise had probably spread even more since yesterday. I hadn't bothered staring into a mirror, so who knows. My wrists turned black and blue from the slightest grip; my face was likely a disaster.
She peered into my eyes for a moment. Something complicated flickered in her gaze, like she was trying to read me. When nothing came of it, she gave up and looked away.
"...Sit."
We both approached the table and pulled out chairs, settling in naturally. Made sense—we'd probably had the same etiquette tutors.
"The leaves are jasmine. That okay?"
"Anything's fine."
Without waiting for a real answer, she was already lifting the teapot. Not calling over one of the servants standing by, either—she did it herself. A couple of attendants lingered in the corner of the greenhouse, but she didn't seem interested in summoning them.
Hot water poured from the spout with a soft hiss, releasing a wave of fragrance. Floral. It mingled with the scents from the greenhouse blooms, filling the whole space with flowers.
Through the gap in the spout, I could see the dried petals inside unfurling in the steam. She set the pot down and waited, eyes fixed on it—timing the steep, probably. Vapor brushed the underside of her face.
Soon enough, she poured. Pale golden liquid filled the cups, transparent with a hint of yellow—like sunlight melted into water. Saying it looked like piss might get me decked by the knight behind her, so I kept that thought locked away.
She placed one cup in front of herself, one in front of me. Then she lifted hers slowly, just brushed her lips against it, set it down, and spoke casually.
"You said the same thing, didn't you?"
Maybe it was the tea, but her voice softened a touch. "Not quite the same."
As she spoke, I swear I caught a whiff of flowers ghosting past her face.
"All the family who ever cared about me are dead. You've still got people who treasure you."
"Fly-on-the-wall types who could drop dead at your whim, sure."
Her fingertip traced the rim of her cup as she replied. "But you've still got family alive."
"Not that many royals died, though?"
Did I misspeak? She shot me a sharp glare.
"Can't exactly call a bunch of trash who only think about killing each other 'family.'"
Her blue eyes felt like drawn blades.
"Rebecca Vintervalt. Your brother is still al—"
"Hyungnim."
"What?"
"Not 'oppa.' Hyungnim."
Her brows furrowed ever so slightly. At least she didn't hit me with some "oh, is that a setting?" crap. Small mercies.
"...Anyway, he's alive. But how long do you think I can keep him that way?"
She looked oddly confident, eyes still locked on mine as she pressed on. "I'm the only one with the authority to kill him. And the only one who could keep him alive indefinitely."
I didn't answer—just grabbed my cup and downed it in one go. Gulp. Hot as hell. Scorched my tongue, but the floral aftertaste lingering in my mouth wasn't half bad.
I set the empty cup down with a clink and nodded for her to go on. She clicked her tongue but continued.
"What are you trying to say?"
"Become my handmaiden."
Caught me off guard, but no need to ask why. Must've fallen for my charms already. Not even a full day since we met—what else could it be? I'm no ordinary girl, after all.
I'm no ordinary girl. Which means I'm... the most beautiful in the world, the only one who knows what this world really is. Special. Yeah, the most special, chosen, one-of-a-kind special—not ordinary at all.
Couldn't be some ordinary girl for this. Couldn't be some ordinary girl who hates the world for burning her duke father alive in the streets—not honorably beheaded, but torched—and can't even rise from her grief.
"Then I'll spare your kin. He's in the underground dungeon now, but if you serve well, I could consider moving him somewhere nicer..."
"No thanks."
"...Just flat-out no, without even thinking?"
Her hand froze over her cup. Clearly hadn't expected rejection. Her blue eyes widened briefly, then narrowed.
"Don't you know your brother's life is in my hands?"
"Hyungnim."
"Whatever!"
Her voice rose. The cup rattled in its saucer. One servant in the corner glanced up, then down again. The knight behind her didn't twitch.
Thinks I've got no brains, huh? Wonder why she doesn't just end it already.
"Whether brother or whatever, keeping him alive is pure mercy on my part. I don't know what you northerners think of handmaidens, but it's not even commoner work... For a hostage, becoming my personal attendant is a bargain, no?"
I spun my empty cup on its edge with a fingertip.
"Why would I care about the bastard who burned my house down without a word? Gotta crawl under you just to save that shithead?"
Even without me playing maid, those two would probably fall for each other eventually. Not as stunning as me, but with the bloodline, he'd pass for handsome to most. Original Rebecca—the one without my genius crammed in her skull—must've taken the deal. Wasn't a bad offer.
But did I have to follow the script? Felt like the story was demanding I hop on board willingly.
You see idiots in novels who stick to the "original flow" and pull stupid stunts, snatching the protagonist's destined encounters and blessings—then whine about why it's all theirs now. Didn't want to be that wrong-answer lump denying my very existence bugged the canon.
Anyway, her face hardened. Not frozen—more like anxious. Uneasy. A different kind of shake from when she'd charged down with a sword at the banquet.
No one to cling to, huh.
That's why she couldn't picture anyone by her side except those whose lives she held over a scale. Yesterday, when I'd handed her the sword, her nearby knights hadn't lifted a finger. Even now, the servants just stood in the corner—no pouring tea for her.
From what I knew, the imperial bloodline boiled down to her and the crown prince—probably killed by hyungnim. The rest were half-baked rejects. And even if she was true blood, she was just a girl.
Which is why she was offering a decent trade to a traitor's daughter. Yesterday she'd wanted to skewer me; now her head had cooled, and I looked useful?
Like fragile Rebecca would bend for some blood tie. Like I would let myself get jerked around over a brother. No way.
"A Vintervalt doesn't bend for a single blood relative."
That's why Father had gone all-in, betting my life too.
Handmaiden, though. Handmaiden. Was she right in the head? Sure, the body's a bit frail, but anyone who can draw sword aura could lop off a girl's head anytime. And maid or not, stick by this emotionally volatile, worldly-naive chick, and I'd have her flat on her back whenever. Regrettably left the essentials downstairs, but grinding would work something out.
No one to cling to means the only ones worth grabbing are the weak points. Nothing else to hold onto—no perfect people, just the flawed.
That's why she'd fall for the brother. But I'm no bundle of flaws. Perfect, beautiful, special.
Hyungnim wasn't reliable. Irresponsible fucker who dragged me into this mess. Her linking up with him? Overcoming hatred and conflict? Romance, sure—but one hell of a fantastical tale. Illusory, even. Made me wanna lose my mind.
Vintervalt heir whispering love to the woman who torched his father... A dishonorable remnant that just wouldn't fade.
A soft whisper snapped me out of it. She murmured to the knight behind her, loud enough for me to hear.
"After the audience ends, send Rebecca Vintervalt back to her room and fetch the seal. Time to issue that delayed execution permit."
"......."
Her blue eyes reflected me staring blankly back, tinged blue.
"You said no. Thought a Vintervalt wouldn't kneel for one blood tie?"
Come to think of it, I'd lived in a free democracy where individuals mattered—even groups took a backseat. Honor schmonor; save family first. Guess some medieval barbarian flashed in my head for a sec.
"Told you, I'm a guy. And hell, how's a non-woman supposed to maid?"
"So?"
"I'll be your knight."
Not some romance-fantasy princess type—but knight? Not bad. This wasn't some idiot land rolling 20,000 knights like cheap candy, thank god.
Her cup clattered against the saucer. She gawked at me, blank-faced—a mix of fury, laughter, and sheer exasperation all at once. Not sure whether to rage, chuckle, or just gape.