Your Majesty, Please Don't Kill Me Again! - Chapter 2.4

“The palace? Absolutely not! Do you have any idea what happens to girls there?” she shouted, her voice as sharp as shattering glass. My once-serene mother, who had lost the use of her legs in a carriage accident, now sat in her wheelchair, scolding me with relentless force. “The palace isn’t the fairytale you think it is, Lariat! It’s dangerous, dirty, and full of treachery.”

I tried to reason with her, explaining that Princess Lafert was distant from power struggles and serving her would teach me discipline. I even suggested it would be a good opportunity to meet potential suitors. But no matter what argument I made, Mother was immovable. “My answer won’t change. The palace is no place for you.”

Defeated, I feigned compliance, knowing I couldn’t convince her. The next morning, I packed my bags and ran away.

At dawn, I slipped through a hole in the garden wall—a secret escape route Lehan had made—and fled the estate. By midday, I was in a carriage heading for the capital. As the snowy fields of Belua faded into the distance, I whispered a silent promise: I’ll protect you, no matter what.

After arriving at Fifth Avenue, I sought refuge at Aunt Amelia’s mansion, only to find it deserted. Exhausted and starving, I wandered into the marketplace, where a street vendor was selling dumplings.

“Last dumpling! Half price!” he called out.

I hurried forward, only for another hand to snatch the dumpling before I could. The hand’s owner was a small girl in a wide-brimmed hat that obscured her face. Her blank, doll-like green eyes stared up at me as I grabbed her wrist, demanding she return my food.

“You have to pay for that!” I scolded, exasperated.

The girl’s response was sharp. “Are you crazy?”

“Crazy? Me? You’re the one stealing dumplings!”

As our argument escalated, the vendor intervened, offering to steam fresh dumplings for both of us. Relieved, I released the girl, only for her to grab my wrist again.

“What’s your name?” she demanded.

I sighed, unwilling to waste any more time. “Not that it’s any of your business,” I replied, grabbing my dumpling and walking away. The sun was setting, and I still needed to find Riche.

“I’m not telling you.”

Leaving the girl behind felt slightly uncomfortable, but I had no time to waste.

Ignoring the intense glare she directed at my back, I quickened my pace, leaving her in the middle of the market. It felt as though her gaze could pierce a hole through my head. I silently prayed that I’d never encounter her again. Ill-mannered brats like her? Absolutely not. Muttering under my breath, I momentarily forgot I, too, was still a child.

Thankfully, Riche still lived in the same red-brick house I remembered. With no money for a proper carriage, I hired a rickshaw and spotted her rummaging through her bag near the gate. Relief surged through me, and I jumped out of the rickshaw, calling her name.

“Riche!”

Startled, she let out a small scream, nearly dropping her things. Not surprising, considering how suddenly I had appeared. As she stumbled, her cloche hat slid off, and I reached out to catch it, smiling sheepishly.

“It’s been a while.”

It hadn’t been that long since her birthday party, but for me, returning to the past made it feel like years since I’d seen her.

Riche blinked in shock, lips parting as if to say something. Instead, she grabbed my arm and, too stunned to speak, dragged me up the steps to her front door.

“‘It’s been a while’? What on earth!”

“Were you surprised?”

“Surprised? How did you even get here?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Well, you’d better explain! And why are you dressed so lightly?”

Riche scolded as she buttoned my coat, her tone rising with frustration. Her concern, however, brought a smile to my face.

“Belua is warm, so I didn’t bring heavy clothes. To cut a long story short, I came to apply as a palace handmaiden.”

“Did the Count approve this? No, of course not. If he had, you wouldn’t show up looking like… like this!”

“What’s wrong with how I look?”

I glanced down at myself, feigning indignation. Sure, the hem of my dress was frayed, and my shoes were worn, but I thought I looked fine. Compared to my tattered state on the guillotine, this was positively polished.

Riche, however, seemed unimpressed. She clicked her tongue in disapproval.

“You look like a beggar! Honestly, I didn’t even recognize you at first—I thought some vagabond was shouting my name to beg for scraps!”

“What kind of beggar wears a velvet dress?”

“One that’s worn out and falling apart! Throw it away!”

“Why would I throw away perfectly good clothes?”

Her insistence reminded me of Father’s practicality. “Why waste something still useful?” I found myself echoing his words, shaking my head.

“You sound just like the Count!”

“Well, I am his daughter.”

“You shouldn’t have come here alone. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is?”

“You live alone, don’t you?”

“Alone? Do you know how many attendants I have? Four knights, Lariat. Four! Even my father doesn’t have that many guards in Gorten. That’s how dangerous Champagne is!”

Riche scolded me like a child, but I chuckled softly. To me, she was the child.

Riche had always been more mature for her age, while I had lagged behind our peers. She had often acted like an older sister to me. But now, with the weight of my past experiences, her furrowed brows and exasperated tone felt endearing.
“Well, isn’t it lucky we met again, safe and sound?” I shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

Riche sighed heavily, clearly unimpressed. “You’re unbelievable.”

Finally finding the key she’d been searching for, she unlocked the door and gestured for me to follow. The house’s interior was elegant yet unassuming. Several servants hurried to greet her, but with a single wave of her hand, she dismissed them.

“You’ve changed,” she remarked, her tone sharp with suspicion.
Feigning innocence, I widened my eyes and gave her a blank stare.

“Hmm?”

“At your birthday party, you defended some random commoner and kicked out Vincent. Sure, I hated him too, so it was satisfying, but that wasn’t something the passive Lariat I knew would have done.”

“Oh, that?” I tried to wave it off as nothing but couldn’t find the words to respond. My lips twitched, and I closed my mouth.

“And now, you’ve come all the way here on your own? So suddenly?”

“It wasn’t sudden. I planned it,” I protested weakly. “I’ve been thinking about it since you mentioned working at the palace.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Belua is known for keeping its distance from the royal family. The Count would never approve of this. You’ve never been the type to defy him. What’s really going on?”

Her skeptical gaze bore into me. I needed an excuse—and fast. Riche was sharp and naturally suspicious, but she was still a child. A bit of theatrics would sway her. Hugging my arms to my chest, I lowered my head dramatically.

“I’m going through puberty.”

“…What?”

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

As her longtime friend, I knew better than anyone how intense her own adolescence had been. Borrowing her words, I spun my tale.

“Spring makes me sentimental. Even the sight of swaying flowers makes my heart ache. I’ve been so inexplicably sad lately.”
Riche frowned, her expression puzzled.

“Sometimes it feels like my chest hurts just from thinking. And most of all, Riche, Belua feels so suffocating.”

“…What?”

“Is our future predetermined? Are we just meant to marry men from good families and bear children to continue the line? Is that really all there is to life? People call it a privileged complaint, but I envy merchants and laborers who have freedom.”

I recited her youthful lamentations with dramatic flair, letting my voice waver as if on the verge of tears. To heighten the effect, I sank to the floor, trembling slightly. Riche’s eyes softened as she knelt beside me, her expression filled with concern.

“You… you feel that way too?”

“About what?”

“That our titles are nothing but shackles?”

Her words were theatrical, as always, but I nodded faintly.

Truthfully, I had never felt this way. My life in Belua had been one of quiet acceptance, obediently following my parents’ wishes. But Riche had always been different, restless in her role as Gorten’s eldest daughter.

“Is that why you left Belua? Without even telling the Count?”

“I did leave a letter.”

“By now, he’s probably seen it,” I added quietly.

At that, Riche burst into laughter, startling the nearby servants. Her boisterous reaction left me flustered, and I patted her back nervously.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re amazing! I never thought you had this side to you!”

Her eyes sparkled as she gave me a thumbs-up, her laughter contagious.

“Well, I’ll keep this a secret from the Count for now.”

Riche pulled me to my feet, her teasing tone replaced by a hint of concern. “But you can’t go to the palace looking like that. No one will believe you’re Lariat of Belua.”