She suppressed these emotions and walked into the main building.
She had gathered enough information for today.
Silently bypassing the guards, she returned to the main building via a side path. When the massive West Wing side door closed behind her, she finally allowed herself to relax slightly.
The entire castle was too large, and the guard patrols were complex. However, she had made a few preliminary decisions.
The gardens were dangerous but had fewer people, so she could pass through there first when leaving. It was impossible to walk directly out of the main gates; she would certainly be discovered. The south side was too open and unsuitable for hiding.
This was the first time she had obtained what could truly be called an “escape sketch.”
She let out a soft breath.
The road ahead was still long, and she didn’t have enough information yet, but at least she was a little closer than she had been yesterday.
***
Time passed slowly, and nothing particularly special happened after that. Flora spent some time in the library, looking for a few books to read. Of course, the prospect of eating with Ilya still made her a bit nervous.
Shortly after dinner, Flora was sitting quietly on the edge of her bed in her private chamber when a soft knock sounded in the hallway.
“Your Highness, His Majesty has ordered… that a bath be prepared for you tonight.”
In that instant, Flora’s body instinctively tensed.
A bath.
She didn’t even realize her breath had hitched; she only felt her heart drop with a hollow thud. But she didn’t dare show too much of a reaction.
She had been playing the role of a sweet, adapting princess all day, and she couldn’t break character now.
She took a deep breath, letting her expression return to that same faint, not-quite-adjusted look before standing up to open the door.
Outside stood two maids wearing evening attire that was simpler than their daytime uniforms. They held towels, balms, and a neatly folded, light-colored bathrobe. When they saw Flora, they bowed first and then spoke in cautious, respectful voices.
“Your Highness, the bathroom is ready. Please allow us to help you undress.”
Flora’s fingertips trembled imperceptibly.
“..Undress?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice steady.
“Yes. According to palace rules, the maids must assist in removing your clothing before you bathe to prevent Your Highness from accidentally wetting your skirts.”
The maid spoke quite naturally, as if this were the most normal procedure in the world.
But to Flora, those words felt like a cold hand squeezing her heart. Her throat was incredibly dry, yet she still managed to say with restraint, “…I’ll do it myself.”
The two maids froze at the same time, clearly having never encountered a refusal before. “Your Highness, this is a palace custom… If you do it yourself — “
“It’s not necessary,” Flora said. Her voice was soft, yet it carried a rejection that brooked no further argument. “I’ll do it myself.”
The maids hesitated for a moment, but the princess’s tone was so gentle yet firm that they didn’t dare continue their persuasion.
“……Yes, Your Highness. We will wait outside then. If you need anything, please call for us at any time.”
The door closed softly, and the sound of the maids’ retreating footsteps gradually faded.
Flora leaned her back against the door. Only when she could no longer hear the footsteps did her throat slowly relax.
‘……I really can’t stand this,’ she whispered to herself, as if afraid of disturbing the air.
She didn’t want anyone to see the specific details of the body she now inhabited. Not even a little bit.
She pushed open the bathroom door. The air immediately rushed toward her — warm, moist, and carrying the light scent of cold fragrance flowers.
The water in the center of the pool was magically heated, with mist rising gently from the surface. The temperature was perfectly comfortable.
She stood at the threshold and dazed for a while.
That feeling of having to face her current self rose up from the depths of her stomach once again, bringing with it a faint sense of nausea.
Gritting her teeth, she removed the complicated layers of her main dress one by one until only a thin layer of undergarments remained.
Every piece of clothing she took off felt as difficult as pressing on an open wound. By the time the entire outfit was folded on the chair, her gaze had become sharp and numb, as if it had been scraped by a cold wind.
She stepped into the bathroom.
The floor was slightly heated, warming the soles of her feet until they felt soft. She walked to the edge of the pool and looked at her reflection in the water.
It was a girl with a slender figure, glossy hair, and lines so soft they seemed enveloped in a halo of light.
Her throat tightened.
The face in the water was almost impossibly perfect. Her eyes shone like gemstones, and her skin was as smooth as snow.
How was she now forced to wear this skin?
She was Owen — the person who ran across the grasslands, who could carry his brothers in a charge, and who could shoulder every danger for his younger sister.
She was not this… fragile thing that looked like it would break with a single squeeze.
She closed her eyes, forcing herself not to look.
Just then, a soft knock came from outside the door.
“Your Highness, do you need us to apply the incense balms for you?”
Flora’s brow suddenly furrowed.
“No!” Her voice was a bit louder than she had intended.
Silence fell outside for half a second.
The maid spoke cautiously, “Your Highness, these balms can alleviate the weakness of a new body… If you don’t use them, you might be very uncomfortable tonight.”
Flora froze.
‘Weakness? Mana? Does this body still have such problems?’
She instantly remembered that feeling of weakness from yesterday. But she still clung to her fragile persistence. “I can do it my — “
“Your Highness… This is for the sake of your body.”
The maid’s tone was no longer so formulaic; it carried a hint of genuine concern.
Flora’s throat moved.
She feared the humiliation of having someone else see and touch this body. That kind of shame would seep into her very bones, feeling worse than any physical pain.
She took a breath, using all her strength to make her voice sound calm and indisputable. “I’ll do it myself.”
The maid outside was silent for a moment before finally withdrawing. “……Yes, Your Highness.”
The footsteps grew distant.
Flora’s shoulders slowly slumped. She finally took off her last layer of clothing and stepped into the water.
The warm water enveloped her body, feeling so gentle it seemed unreal, immersing her entire being in a drowsy warmth. Yet, in the midst of this gentleness, she truly broke down for the first time.
She looked down and saw the body in the water. It was the chest of a young girl, slightly rounded, carrying a sense of youthful immaturity, pale and tender.
“It’s wrong… It’s not me…” she whispered, her voice nearly breaking.
She even reached out with her right hand to pinch her left arm, praying that all of this was just a dream.
“Ah!”
Perhaps because her body had been soaking in the warm water for a while, her skin had become slightly more sensitive. Combined with the slickness of her wet skin, the sensation was strange.
‘No, no, no, I can’t do this.’
This was too weird.
While she was pinching herself, she unintentionally caught sight of her waist. It was slender, without a hint of excess fat.
The entire curve was delicate and soft. She even caught a faint glimpse of the place she never wanted to see.
Flora’s chest suddenly ached intensely.
It wasn’t a physical pain, but a heartache — a collision of “denial” and “resistance” that kept crashing against the depths of her consciousness.