The Runaway Maid is Loved by the Archmage - Chapter 61
Veronica was living in a dream.
A storybook-like transmigration she had only ever dreamed of! The life of a noble young lady!
Though her body wasn’t in the best condition, she brushed it off, thinking it was simply part of the “delicate and frail” character setting. After all, a proper heroine should have at least a bit of vulnerability to make others want to protect her.
‘I don’t know which novel I’ve transmigrated into, but I’ll figure it out eventually!’
‘Does it even matter? I’ve become a noble young lady!’
Just escaping from the high-intensity labor society of Korea was a dream come true. To go from being a mere worker to a member of the ruling class who indulged in luxury and excess at the expense of those very workers—what a godsend of an opportunity!
For now, she decided to fully enjoy this life.
Eating only a bite of lavish feasts every day, indulging in all kinds of desserts, wearing a brand-new dress every single day, summoning an orchestra just for herself to enjoy private concerts, bathing in rose water…
Each day was pure bliss!
…That is, until she felt a stabbing pain in her gut.
A sensation like needles piercing deep into her lungs and her stomach twisting in agony overtook her entire body. The unbearable pain surged, and with a retch, she vomited up dark crimson blood.
Something was wrong. She tried to call for the court physician but hesitated—her hand refused to obey her.
—‘It’s no use calling for them.’
Cold sweat trickled down her entire body. It was a voice—serpentine, as if it had been branded into her very instincts.
—‘You must go see the Imperial Crown Prince.’
‘You must go see the Imperial Crown Prince.’
Before she even realized it, Veronica found herself thinking the exact same words. There was no room for rejection.
She instinctively understood—he was the only one who could free her from this pain.
The attendants stationed nearby remained silent, as if they had seen this happen before. It seemed they had been given prior instructions regarding this situation.
“Bring me writing paper.”
For the first time since transmigrating, Veronica spoke in a commanding tone. Rather than being surprised, the servants moved swiftly, as if this was what they were more accustomed to.
Veronica felt as though her body belonged to someone else entirely.
Amidst the rising anxiety and fear, only one thought occupied her mind.
‘I need to see the Imperial Crown Prince. Quickly.’
A servant hurriedly presented the stationery, and she picked up a quill, elegantly penning a concise letter requesting an audience with the Imperial Crown Prince.
The sensation was unfamiliar.
‘Ah, seriously, what is this? I thought my hardships were over and my happiness was just beginning.’
Apparently not.
As the pain subsided slightly, Veronica idly mused to herself with a surprising sense of calm.
***
The Imperial Crown Prince had spent his entire life believing that the throne was rightfully his.
It wasn’t that there were no other contenders for succession, but his mother, a woman of exceptional devotion to her child, had meticulously cleared his path so he wouldn’t have to worry about any rivals. Had she lived just a little longer, things might have been even better.
Yet, despite his mother’s unwavering efforts, the Emperor never considered him his heir.
“Father, your son has arrived.”
The Crown Prince’s voice echoed through the Emperor’s bedchamber, but no response came. The room was filled with a peculiar mixture of the musty scent characteristic of the elderly and the lingering aroma of incense. The Emperor sat idly in a rocking chair set in the corner of the room, staring blankly into space.
“A son has come to visit, yet you don’t even greet him? I even brought your favorite Aran tea, thinking of you.”
At the mention of “Aran tea,” the Emperor finally turned his head. The emptiness in his soulless eyes flickered ever so slightly with recognition.
“Aran tea… I would like some.”
“My, how impatient you are.”
The Emperor weakly lifted his withered arm and waved it toward the Crown Prince. But Roberto easily dodged the feeble gesture, laughing as if he were genuinely amused.
“You are not my son.”
Strangely, even in his drugged stupor, the Emperor occasionally spoke with unsettling clarity.
Thud. The faint smile that had been resting on the Crown Prince’s lips vanished.
“What nonsense are you saying? If I am not your son, then what am I? If you keep behaving like this, I won’t give you the Aran tea.”
“You wretched boy, give me the Aran tea!”
“Well, since you want it so desperately…”
The Emperor’s gaze grew clouded once more as he flailed his arm weakly.
“As a dutiful son, I suppose I must oblige.”
Keeping his expression rigid, the Crown Prince deliberately tipped the cup, spilling its contents onto the floor. The fragrant scent of Aran tea spread thickly throughout the chamber.
“Live a long life, Father.”
With a loud crash, the Emperor collapsed, but the Crown Prince did not so much as glance back as he turned and left. He carelessly discarded the now-empty teacup somewhere along the way.
Wiping his hands with a handkerchief handed to him by his aide, he strode toward the his palace.
Senile old men on the brink of death always had a way of souring the moment with such remarks.
Until just before he had thoroughly accustomed him to the hallucinogens, the Emperor had never acknowledged him as his son. His appointment as Crown Prince had been purely for political reasons—he, as an individual, had never been able to satisfy his father.
Yet how could he refuse to acknowledge him as his blood when he bore the unmistakable features of the imperial lineage? It was incomprehensible.
“My Lady Veronica has arrived.”
Roberto gave a disinterested nod and headed to the drawing room. By now, Veronica had likely been waiting there for over three hours. It was a means to remind her of her place.
However, when he opened the door to the drawing room, he was met with an utterly baffling sight.
“Haaahm.”
Hearing his presence, Veronica stretched as if just waking up. She had truly been fast asleep—there was even a faint mark pressed onto one cheek.
“I greet the little sun of the Empire. Pardon my unsightly appearance. I’ve been sitting in one place for three hours.”
She yawned once more as she spoke. The Crown Prince was stunned by her sheer shamelessness.
But before he could say anything, Veronica, as if interpreting his silence in her own way, casually pulled him down by the arm to sit, then took the seat across from him.
Her actions were so egregiously improper—so utterly detached from common sense—that he was rendered speechless. For the first time in his life, the Crown Prince felt such a sensation.
