The time was 6:50 PM, with roughly forty minutes left until Elvira returned.
At this moment, the maid responsible for “attending to” Morris at the door had already changed shifts; it was not the same one as before.
If the shift hadn’t changed, she would surely be wondering why there were so many people coming to the Queen’s chambers today.
Because just before Elvira was due to return, the last of the three most trusted subordinates—alongside Siweilin and Duolinniya—also appeared in the corridor outside the Queen’s room.
She was a young woman with flaxen-golden hair, her age seemingly not much different from Siweilin and Duolinniya, all appearing to be in their early twenties.
However, unlike the unapproachable first impression those two gave, she possessed a gentle and mature air. Her bangs covered her right eye, leaving only her left eye visible—full of softness.
She was neither as mysterious as Siweilin nor as stern as Duolinniya; in every way, she exuded a reassuring gentleness.
But that didn’t mean she was ordinary; her beauty was equally outstanding, for Elvira, as the supreme ruler, placed great emphasis on appearances.
Thus, all her confidantes had exceptionally striking looks, and this woman was no exception.
One could even say that if their looks didn’t meet the standard, no matter how capable they were, Elvira would never keep them as confidantes.
In theory, the Queen’s chambers were not a place just anyone could approach at will.
Even Siweilin and Duolinniya only entered easily by having the maid take a break and by virtue of their positions as the Queen’s trusted aides.
Would this last person’s method be any different?
The answer was: not really. She, too, planned to let the maid take a break before entering to see Morris herself.
Yet to say it was exactly the same would be incorrect, for in her case, things were even simpler.
She merely approached, and the maid on duty immediately and sensibly walked from her spot by the wall to the door, then respectfully bowed her head in greeting:
“Lady Roselia, what brings you here personally? Has Her Majesty the Queen given any special orders?”
“That’s an excellent question, Ella. The plan for Her Majesty to return to her chambers for rest around 7:30 PM hasn’t changed. It’s just that Her Majesty has added a few things to the schedule, so tonight I’ll be taking over your duties to attend to Her Majesty. You can go and get some rest. If I remember correctly, you’ve had a bit of a cold, right? Don’t let it relapse—remember to sleep early.”
“Yes, Lady Roselia.”
After another bow, the maid called Ella obediently abandoned her original post and left without hesitation.
It was as if Roselia had cast some kind of mind-controlling spell.
But it was hardly surprising, for Roselia was the highest authority in charge of the palace’s internal affairs, both the Queen Elvira’s personal secretary and the chief of all the palace maids.
If one were to ask who Elvira trusted most, there was no doubt it was Roselia—the woman who helped her triumph in the Battle for the Throne.
The universally skilled, amiable head maid Roselia was instantly recognizable for her gentle smile, even if she rarely wore a maid uniform.
As for why she didn’t wear the maid uniform, it was because Elvira, more than relying on her identity as head maid, depended even more on her as a secretary.
Thus, although Roselia was the head maid, she could dress however she liked.
Today, for instance, she wore a tight skirt that showed off her long, fair legs, paired with a white blouse exposing her shoulders and underarms.
Combined with a jacket that could be slipped off at any time and red-soled high heels, she radiated mature sensuality.
And with that kind and polite smile, she truly fit the image of an excellent female secretary—shrewd and capable.
Given Roselia’s status, it was only natural the maid left without hesitation.
She was even happy to have been cared for by Roselia and allowed to rest early.
Yet, this Roselia—whom everyone saw as endlessly gentle—revealed a side no one had ever seen the moment she entered the room and saw the familiar figure lying on the bed.
—It was an expression of pure disdain, from the bottom of her heart.
“…Really, how disgraceful. Not only did you lose to a woman, you’re lying here like a doll tossed onto the bed by her. Don’t you have even a shred of self-respect? Or do you actually enjoy this?”
It was as if she had become a different person. In an instant, Roselia’s gentle and perfect aura morphed into that of a sharp-tongued, aggressive woman brimming with dominance.
What? How am I enjoying this? How do I lack self-confidence? Who even are you? Did I reject your confession before, is that why you came all this way just to humiliate me?
Of course, Morris felt both bewildered and speechless.
He had no recollection of ever knowing such a woman, whose personality seemed rather nasty.
“A Holy Knight recognized by the Holy Church, a man who slew the Demon Dragon and demons alone—now reduced to a captive of women, lying helplessly in bed waiting for the Queen’s favor. How shameful and pathetic. Do you still call yourself a knight?”
Roselia looked at the unresponsive Morris with eyes full of disappointment, striding to the bedside in her heels.
Unlike the other two, she deliberately put extra force into her steps, making the sound of her heels striking the floor echo all the more, an unpleasant and heavy rhythm.
The sound drew closer and closer, accompanied by her continued words of contempt.
Even the most good-tempered person would find it grating.
Morris didn’t care about a knight’s pride, but being attacked for no reason was still irritating.
Come on, he had lost on purpose, alright?
Besides, Elvira had personally brought three close-combat experts to capture him; any other knight might not have held out as long as he did.
“Look at your foolish state. Do you think you’re some princess from a fairy tale? Lying on a woman’s bed so defenselessly, do you just want to be fed by a woman that badly?”
Standing at Her Majesty’s bedside, Roselia made no effort to hide her disdain and disappointment towards Morris.
Her tone remained sharp, though she still used honorifics.
So annoying. You think I wanted this? If I’d known lying here meant not only dealing with Elvira but also being ‘served’ by her two unrestrained subordinates, I wouldn’t have let myself be captured at all!
Hearing her words, Morris inwardly rolled his eyes, more than a little scornful.
If he was foolish, then what did that make this woman who kept spewing insults at him knowing he couldn’t respond?
Taking advantage of his inability to retort, she just kept going on and on. So what next? Would she insult him and ‘feed’ him at the same time?
“Fine then, as you wish. I’ll ‘feed’ you now, useless knight.”
As expected, Roselia—having scolded Morris—sat down on the edge of the bed and began removing her shoes and jacket, then climbed onto the Queen’s bed with an expression of utter distaste, preparing to secretly ‘feast’ behind the Queen’s back.
See! After all that talk, it’s still the same in the end. Just what kind of subordinates does Elvira choose? Do they not take their Queen seriously at all?
Having guessed her intentions, Morris, besides feeling indignant, was powerless to do anything else.
He even started to feel a bit sorry for Elvira. Why were all her subordinates blondes?
Of course, he felt even sorrier for himself, because he knew this one was even more formidable—sure to be even more outrageous than the previous two.