When The Mad Emperor Suddenly Becomes Sweet

Freya was coming down from her horse after horseback riding, and Hero was waving in the distance. She responded to her long-awaited welcome face, stretching her back to a fragile back we were about to break.

“Freya, why are you riding a horse?”

Hero made fun of Freya who was unable to straighten her back, clinging to her horse. She was ashamed, but it was no wonder that he laughed at her.

“I don’t know why I have to go horseback riding.”

She shook her head, putting strength on her shaky legs.

“I take back everything you said about living comfortably with your noble family.”

Freya thought the aristocrat would only drink tea gracefully and take a walk, but she had no idea it was this more complex.

Freya, gasping for breath, wiped her sweat with her sleeve. Hero, who was watching the scene, held back his laughter and spoke.

“If Francesca sees you wiping your sweat with your sleeves, she’ll be angry.”

“Oh, my!” Fraya who was surprised at the remark, looked about.

She could vividly feel a hawk made of soft reeds hitting the back of her hand.

Francesca was a woman in charge of etiquette, and she had a cold impression that even a stab of blood would not work. Her reaction made Hero ask.

“Freya, are you scared of Francesca?”

“Isn’t she scary?”

“There are so many scary people in the palace.”

“Oh…”

Freya nodded at his remark.

“This place is more frightening than the battlefield.”

“You’re a quick adjustment, after all.”

Hero smiled at Freya’s remark, which immediately grasped the atmosphere of the palace. Freya sauntered and sat down for a moment.

“I can’t walk at all because my legs are loosened.”

“Would you like an apple?”

Freya, who accepted the apology that Herod had taken out of her arms, opened her eyes wide.

“Is this magic, too?”

“I don’t have the talent to make food.”

“But you’re excellent, though.

“…is that great?”

Freya nodded as he handed her an apple cut in half with a dagger. Standing side by side with Hero, she bit at the apple, and a cool breeze brushed her forehead. It was nice to have a break.

“This is the happiest moment of the day.”

“It’s an honor,” Hero, who was chewing the apple finely, whispered very quietly. The woman standing next to him had an extraordinary aspect. She had nothing to learn and possess a shallow position. However, she was adapting so firmly and well to unfamiliar situations.

“It’s not going to be so easy in the palace,”

Hero doesn’t know for some reason, but he was interested in this woman.

“I think I know why.”

Hero turned his head slightly away, and he saw Freya’s red lips eating apples with a delighted face. Hero just looked at her with his heartbeat fast, and his ears were hot.

“Hero! Don’t you have a fever?”

“…what?”

Having finished eating the apple, she wiped her hands at the hem of her dress and stared at Hero.

“No, I think it’s because I’m tired after a little walk.”

“Hero you must be tired.”

Freya was worried about him, who was always friendly to her. They soon parted and went their separate ways, but Hero’s ears were particularly red.

***

The painter Morden made a long impression in front of Freya’s painting. The white canvas was covered with black lines of unknown origin.

“Have you never painted a picture, Miss de Bua?”

“It’s hard to get a crater in Del Mundo.”

Freya closed her eyes tightly and lay as close to the truth. All she did was draw a picture with a branch on the soil. It was her first time seeing such paint and coal. Morden asked again, sweeping his serpentine mustache on both sides.

“So, who is this?”

It was the person she liked that Morden asked her to draw. Freya thought of the blond boy without hesitation. His hair was as fine as gold dust, with slightly darker green eyes, a sharp nose, and thin lips.

“This is Ruth.” She responded in a low voice.

Ruth’s memory faded away, leaving only a feeling.

“He looks more like your Highness than you said,” she muttered.

The painting resembled that of His Highness Lucius. Morden called her, who had been lost in thought alone.

“Miss de Bua?”

“Oh, this is my childhood friend.”

“Oh, is this human?”

Freya scratched her head at the artist’s words. It was like a portrait of His Highness Lucius in her eyes, but in Morden’s eyes, it seemed to be meaningless graffiti. Morden let out a sigh and frowned heavily.

“It seems that Miss de Bua must practice again from drawing the line.”

“Yes,” Freya responded dryly.