The Prince and the Nanny (1)
"Childcare is definitely hard labor," I muttered, closing the bedroom door behind me with a long sigh.
"Or maybe that brat is just especially vile."
Just picturing the prince’s obnoxious face made my blood pressure spike. Earlier, when Edwin had run off with the bracelet, I had chosen to leave him be rather than give chase. Naturally, luck was not on my side—the head maid caught me leaving Emilia alone. The trouble started because the head maid had discovered the little princess first, rummaging through the kitchen and stealing scraps of food because she couldn't bear the hunger.
"If I catch you neglecting your duties one more time, your wages will be docked. Do you understand?"
Damn it all. To think I was being threatened over money by a mere commoner. My pride took a stinging blow, but there was nothing I could do. Escaping this place required funds, and in my current position, every single copper counted. Consequently, I had spent the entire day chasing after the royal siblings. And of course, every time Edwin caught sight of me, his expression curdled like spoiled milk as he scurried away in the opposite direction.
I let out a weary breath.
"Of all the things... I never imagined I'd be scraping by as a nanny."
The word 'nanny' stirred up an old, forgotten memory.
I—or rather, Kyla Angel—had been an orphan. My only sin was being born into an era soaked in blood from relentless raids by demonic beasts and barbarians. Abandoned the moment I was born, I lived for seven years in an orphanage attached to a temple.
There, I met a woman.
She was a woman who took it upon herself to be a mother to children who had lost their parents, just like me. We called each other 'family.' Yet the quiet peace of that sanctuary did not last. Not even a temple could escape the barbarians' onslaught. The holy grounds went up in flames, and the children were scattered to the winds, their fates unknown.
After barely escaping with my life, I fell into the clutches of a bizarre slave trader. The slaver sold me off for a handsome sum to the assassin guild, Breath of the Angel. He had persuaded the former guild master by pointing out that, despite being half-starved, I had a sturdy frame compared to other children my age.
My very first memory of that place was the instructor's face as he ordered me to slaughter a puppy that hadn't even opened its eyes.
Only after enduring five years within the guild was I finally permitted to step into the outside world again. And there, by pure chance, I reunited with the woman who had raised me. She was still serving faithfully as a mother to homeless, parentless children. Unlike me, stunned into silence by the sudden encounter, she pulled me into her arms the moment she saw me and wept bitterly.
"I'm so glad you're alive. Thank heavens... thank heavens, Kyla."
Standing before her, I could never bring myself to confess the kind of work I did. Having crossed paths with my past, I sought her out whenever time allowed. Being around her felt like returning home—even if an orphan with no roots had no real home to speak of.
However, the former guild master, who had already singled me out as his successor, refused to tolerate my visits.
"What good is brilliant talent when the heart inside is defective?"
The former guild master clicked his tongue, pressing the tip of a blade against my chest upon my return to the guild.
"To think you slaughtered every single operative I sent to kill that woman. Is she your flesh and blood?"
Instead of answering his sneer, I kept my eyes lowered and gave my oath.
"I will never see her again. So do not lay a finger on her."
"And do you truly believe she would understand you if you did? A murderer like you?"
He stared at me, drenched in the blood of my fellow guild members, with genuine pity in his eyes.
"This is why a girl will never do. Far too sentimental."
His lamenting gaze lingered on me.
"Kyla, that softness of yours will kill you one day."
What had I answered back then? I couldn't recall.
Even so, I crossed paths with that woman a few more times after that—inevitable encounters disguised as mere coincidences. In the hazy recesses of memory, an image flickered of her laughing brightly alongside the children.
Emma.
I whispered her name softly in my mind. By now, she was likely spending the remainder of her days in peace back in her hometown, surrounded by her real flesh and blood. She, of all people, deserved that kind of happiness.
Sometimes, even the faint outline of an old memory offered a measure of comfort. Closing my eyes, I drifted off to sleep. For the first time in a very long while, it was a deep, undisturbed slumber.
"...Damn it."
As dawn broke past the window, I stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling that still felt completely surreal.
"So it wasn't a dream after all."
I hauled myself out of bed and threw open the window, welcoming the brisk morning air. Outside, despite the early hour, servants were already bustling about their duties. Watching such an ordinary, mundane scene stirred an inexplicable restlessness in my chest.
I had lived and died an assassin. Any guilt over killing had faded long ago, and pride in my existence was something I had never once felt. Perhaps that was why I had occasionally indulged in the fantasy of what life might have been like had I lived an ordinary life.
"You're far more romantic than you look, Kyla."
The words Ian used to say surfaced unbidden. That bastard who murdered me had often called me 'romantic.' He had frequently told me that being an assassin didn't suit me at all, even when I was the guild master.
That was why I cared for him, wasn't it?
When everyone else told me I had been born to kill, he alone had insisted that living as an assassin didn't suit me. I had loved that about Ian. Probably.
Not that any of it matters now.
Brushing away the pointless memory, I turned around. A modest dress hung quietly against the wall, as if waiting for me. From eavesdropping on the staff's conversations yesterday, I had gathered a few key facts.
First: I was resurrected a full year after my death.
Why an entire year had elapsed remained a mystery. In fact, I didn't have the faintest clue how I had come back to life in the first place. There had to be a reason, but right now, I had no way of uncovering it.
Second: The real Rachel Brown was hired on the recommendation of the previous nanny.
No one would answer what had become of that predecessor. The moment the syllable 'Kon' from 'Lady Konrad' even brushed the air, everyone hastily steered the conversation away. Still, it was clear that the real Rachel Brown had shared a special bond with her.
Third: Security is twice as tight as usual due to the visit of a foreign king and his delegation.
I had hoped to slip in and out undetected to gather intel on the guild and Ian, but that would have to wait. Word had it that the king of some fledgling kingdom had arrived with an escort of knights—why on earth did it have to be right now?
The timing couldn't be worse.
If I were caught scaling the palace walls while a foreign monarch was visiting, I could be slapped with every treasonous charge imaginable and put to a gruesome death. While this body's reflexes weren't terrible, they were pathetic compared to my former self. The last thing I wanted was to bungle an escape and end up on the executioner's block.
I'll have to keep my head down for the time being.
I glared silently at the dress hanging on the wall.
Fine. Think of this not as childcare, but as an assassination mission.
My assigned role: nanny. Clients: not one, but two. A hot-tempered prince and a troublemaking princess.
Toughen up. This is just a means to gather coin.
Once I accumulated enough money and built up my physical strength, I would break out immediately. Yearning for the day I could make my escape, I smoothed down the fabric of my dress.
"Let's get this over with."
Dressed and ready, I pushed the door open with determination. Day two as the prince's nanny had officially begun.
Perhaps thanks to chasing the royal siblings ragged yesterday, I managed to find the prince’s chambers without incident.
Carrying Emilia, who was still rubbing sleep from her eyes, I entered the room. Edwin looked up at me with wide, startled eyes.
"What are you doing here at this hour?"
His expression screamed that he hadn't expected me to show up and torment him so early in the morning. While I hadn't anticipated a warm welcome, his blatant aversion still irked me.
"Is it not the duty of a nanny to attend to Your Highness's morning awakening?"
"How strange. You haven't shown your face at this hour even once over the past fortnight."
A maid who had just carried in a basin of wash water glanced at me with curious amusement.
Judging by their reactions, the real Rachel Brown wasn't exactly nanny material either.
I bowed my head to mask my embarrassment.
"My apologies. Adapting to unfamiliar surroundings led to lapses in my service to Your Highness. Henceforth, I shall correct—"
"Whatever."
He let out a long yawn and climbed out of bed without protest, having apparently given up on sprinting away like he had yesterday.
"I'm just going to wash my face."
With a drowsy countenance, Edwin stood before the basin. But then, he proceeded to do something entirely baffling.
What on earth is he doing?
Edwin merely dipped the very tips of his fingers into the water and rubbed his eyelids. After repeating the gesture a couple of times, he turned to stare directly at me.
"I'm done washing."
Done? What had he washed? His eyeballs?
I released a quiet, inward sigh. In my wildest dreams, I never imagined I would have to teach an imperial prince how to wash his face.
"You must wash behind your ears as well, Your Highness."
Despite my helpful suggestion, Edwin jerked his head back in irritation.
"Ugh, I did it properly!"
Properly? What part of that was proper?
I forced a polite smile.
"Your Highness, the places hidden from plain view are often the dirtiest. Behind the ears, the neck..."
"I'm not dirty!"
"On what grounds?"
To my deadpan inquiry, Edwin shouted in a voice ringing with supreme conviction:
"Because I'm a prince!"