I set a disaster; I deserved nothing but a severe penalty for this ignorance of mine. Granted, I was a rascal with a lucky status.
I reaped the most desired rank among the functions in the servants' realm through blood, sweat, and tears. Due to my three-year persistence, I turned out to be the sole Princess Royal's waiting-maid.
'What?! Did she pronounced that I am hired for the job?!' I said when the former lady-in-waiting, Liza Avet, declared her successor, who was me, out of the aspiring applicants in the royal household.
I thought if I worked hard and sold my spirit to the king, my life would be easy and at liberty.
Because in the face of my disability, I deemed this heavy responsibility an impossible escape of getting rid of the bygone era I chose to forgive and forget. But of course, I miscalculated the details of my purpose again and again like the usual.
I swore that I should not be affected by matters that were trivial in the judgment of my bosses— whether the higher-ranking nobles and personalities who descended from their respective wealthy families would undermine my capabilities, insult my class, or taint mine reputation— and not be fazed by the atrocious reception they would impose to me.
I knew I acted like a saint, but I believed it was the most immeasurable I could gain for me to survive the hellish living out of Malfait. Verily, the Mila Febo I masked on myself lived a fallacy which I devised since that incident happened in my early years which scarred and compelled me to be mighty and isolated.
And hereon, I was on top of the petrified princess whom I had not known her real name, by the way. It was awkward for my part as a male, of course. How come a beautiful lass like her panned out below me? A sheer peasant, eh?
I could not deny it; Her Royal Highness maintained a good frame at such a young age— although her bosom area was not exposed for it was slightly wrapped in a peach undergarment. Her almond-shaped eyes locked with mine and her forehead wrinkled in shock or maybe in fury...
'Sneaky cloth!' I cussed, kicking that off. If only I listened to Her Royal Highness, I did not lead up to this "chaos" I developed with her.
Not comprehending what my next step was, I swaddled the damsel's revealing shape with the aid of an orange towel— it would probably be my major heroic achievement towards Madam— and I officially dared to declare myself that I, Mila Febo, must receive a reward from a noble for my remarkable concern that she was cold and unwell.
Woe, a knuckle struck through my refined chin— to my absolute surprise: "AUGH!" I cried out, compressing my sored chin by the abrupt blow. 'Dang it, the Princess Royal's tough. It doesn't seem like she can be this violent... Does she belong to a group of gangsters, perhaps?'
I backed away from her, the raging tigress— I did not wish for another taste of pain on my face. The pain stung me; I better got my stuff together. She went towards me and pulled my leg up to the door.
"GET OUT OF MY SIGHT! DEBAUCHED WENCH! ERGH!" she shouted through my almost-shattering ears, gnashing her teeth and furrowing her brows. So this was a girl whom I would be dealing with for six months?
She shut the opening hard; I heard the latching of the path and stomping of her feet— I think she seemed embarrassed. But I did that to suppress myself and respect her as a human being who only did was to strip her nightgown in front of a guy. Great. Just great.
I was screwed; I laid my back against the door in hopes she would unlock it up. As Miss Liza instructed me yesternight, she said to me: "Attend to the princess no matter what happens whether it will be good or bad."
I wondered why she was such a fine girl when Miss Liza's presence existed around the corner. But while I was there to tend to her needs on my own, she became a villainess who guised as a bright angel, whenever there were other folks in the proximity.
Suspecting her persona, I guessed she was an utter hypocrite like most nobles—her facade was exceptional, no doubt. And later, an audible tread of a mysterious being echoed across the alleyway.
Needless to say, I could detect that footstep accurately for my skills in listening to strange noises were keen enough to the degree I took heed of the baker's annoying snores two quarters ahead from mine. I observed that direction where it reverberated, but never saw anyone. That was odd. Who would it be?
Suddenly, the entrance opened wide and I carelessly knocked down on the footing once more. Stupid Tadeo! My head and back began to throb. Goodness, balancing off meant to be my latest sport, eh?
"Rise!" she barked at me with a grim expression.
As l stared at her, the princess whom I would describe looked regal in her lavender green dress. Her locks of brunette tied up into a twisted bun complemented well with her tiara. The crown of hers embellished a dozen of rose quartz which emphasized her striking charm, but she features gloom like a dreadful storm.
I then lifted myself to get up. As much as I preferred to perform best, I failed to do so for my strength and bones shirked to cooperate. 'Gracious!' I grunted.
Then an arm held onto my waist to help me support, my body flinched like thunder. The villainess— I meant Princess Royal— placed her arm around my shoulder and assisted me in striding through the entryway.
Creasing my forehead, I was baffled. The inconsistency of this unpredictable lady by my left exhibited itself (she blatantly punched me and carried my massive weight at this juncture. She was incredible, isn't she?). The princess guided me to the vacant stool, however, I refused.
"Sit down," she spoke, looming me. "Wait for me hither, missy." Because of these frequent conflicts I met with her and was wearied of them, I swallowed my pride for a second. Finally, the princess came back with a bucket of ice and a napkin, and positioned herself, face to face, to me.
"Let me see the bruise," the noblewoman said, and I weakly complied. She harshly seized my chin and due to that, I moaned out of torment. "Uhh..." Didn't she know how to treat a patient with tender care? Bloody hell, it hurt a bunch.
"Oops sorry!" she panicked, putting her hands up and clenching them. She hastily immersed and compressed the napkin into the ice bucket— she made it in an amateurish nurse. The princess then wrapped it lightly onto my swelling chin.
A couple of minutes of silence between us two in this opulent room deafened me. She stayed where she was and her arm went rigid that was solely disturbing. Man, it was killing me; my conscience advised me to cease the fair princess for a sovereign's child as she served me instead of the other way around.
How shameful I must be.
Thus, I initiated to hold the napkin so she could rest her forelimb. Contending not to see her face, I lowered my head and inscribe my thoughts through a sheet of paper—that was atop the wooden cabinet.
I then extended my hand to her and formally suggested, "Madam, the servant of yours do not need tending from Her Royal Highness. I propose you shall be heading on to the palace; I'll follow you through the celebration, following the swelling of this bruise alleviates itself. "
"I decline." she said in a cool voice, "It is my fault for putting you in that appalling state. I will take the liability of it, and..." The princess watched at me, having a regretful image that would not buy me. "I-I just remembered what Grandpapa taught me before, 'If somebody pins you down, Bernie, hit their jaws and rip them out.' And so, the moment y-you were atop, I unconsciously beat you up."
She hid her face to her palms, feeling guilty for her insolence. "Mila, I'm such a bad girl."
"(I see, I understand.)" I bluntly replied, feigning to be upright as always. I reached out my hand to the princess for assurance and proved to be hesitant of my endeavor in patting her shoulder. Rather, I nodded and curved the corners of my mouth into a small smile.
The name of this girl was Bernie, eh? Very well then, her boring monologue somehow resolved my slight problem.
She neared herself onto my ear; her breath which tickled me crept down on my neck as if personal space was not included in her vocabulary. Bernie whispered, "But Mila, let's meet at the spot where we were tomorrow afternoon. The Olivia Tree, keep that in mind." She continued, scratching her elbow and tapping her high-heel, "And regarding my last rule, ignore it for now."
'Why, Madam?' I marveled. Little Princess Bernie should not leave me hanging like that; I would say I abhorred cliffhangers and mystery. As she turned behind me, I sneered. Psh. What was her deal?
Her Royal Highness then gracefully whirled round and round as a kid who loved to ballet and dance in the park. She genuinely smiled at me and queried. "How do I look?" To satisfy her thirst for a juicy compliment, I gave her a chef's kiss as my response.
"Really?!" she squealed, strolled throughout the room, and brought out a portrait that hid in the furnished chest. She swayed her body in excitement, lovingly gazing at the masterwork. "I can't wait to see Prince Claus, my prince..." she mumbled, fondling her craft.
Behold, I heard another noise coming from the princess's lips that affected my spirit. What was this ugly feeling? I felt horrible about myself for no valid reason. I clutched my chest and took a glimpse of Bernie who gleamed as an ember.
"The time has come, Mila, follow me!" she stormed out of the room, holding the art she painted for her "true love."