Amelia had no choice but to step outside.

It wasn’t because she locked eyes with Josef, but rather because she spotted one of the workers he had brought along swinging an axe at a tree in the courtyard.

Amelia remembered that tree. It was the first tree she had seen covered in snow upon arriving in Olstein, and she had been enchanted by how the snow piled on its branches like blossoms. Though it was a simple, nameless tree in an unremarkable courtyard, it held special meaning for her.

Hurriedly, Amelia descended the stairs, opened the mansion’s door, and made her way to the courtyard. Josef watched her approach with an expression that almost seemed like he was waiting for her.

“Your Highness, the Crown Prince,” she greeted.

He appeared as composed as ever, standing at a comfortably close distance and gazing down at her face without a hint of awkwardness.

“I thought you’d be holed up in your bedroom at this hour.”

“…”

“What were you doing?”

His tone, with hands casually tucked in his pockets, teetered between mocking and genuinely curious.

Among the many things that troubled Amelia about Josef, his inscrutable intentions topped the list. She studied his face; he seemed utterly indifferent to the incident from a few days ago.

“Do I need to report my every activity to you?”

“Not at all,” Josef replied breezily. “If I were truly curious, I could just step into your bedroom and check for myself.”

Amelia frowned instinctively but quickly corrected her expression. However, Josef’s hawk-like eyes didn’t miss the fleeting change.

“What? It’s not the first time,” he said with a chuckle, clearly amused. He was referring to the first day in Olstein when he had casually entered her room to inspect her luggage. It was far from a pleasant memory for Amelia, though he likely cared little about that.

“May I ask why you’ve come?” she inquired, falling in step beside him as he began to walk ahead.

“I’m thinking of expanding the garden,” he said.

The area around the Crown Princess’s residence was rather barren. Josef spoke of surrounding the path to the mansion and its vicinity with trees and rose vines and installing a fountain in the courtyard.

Did the daffodils by the lake inspire him? Or perhaps the wooded path leading to the royal villa? Either way, it didn’t concern Amelia, though she did find herself curious about the result. When this place, currently covered in neatly trimmed grass, began to emit the fragrance of flowers, her strolls might become more enjoyable.

“Preparing for Lady Marika’s arrival, are you?” Amelia remarked, hiding any hint of approval for his plans. She thought it a convenient pretext, watching Josef for a reaction, but to her surprise, his expression shifted subtly.

“…”

“Am I wrong?” Amelia asked again, puzzled by his unexpected silence. He had already masked his earlier reaction.

“I’m doing this because I want to,” he stated firmly. So, it wasn’t for Marika? Even if not directly, wasn’t it all related? Amelia kept walking beside him in silence, her question left unresolved.

By now, they had reached the spot where the workers were felling the tree. The tree had been neatly cut, and now the stump and roots were being removed. It felt cruel, given how the tree had endured winter with such resilience.

Amelia watched the workers move busily, a look of regret on her face. This was where she had seen her first snowfall and buried Philip’s daffodils nearby. Now, not a trace of them remained. Goodbyes seemed to happen daily in this manner.

“…”

Unlike her complicated emotions, Josef remained indifferent, lighting a cigarette. The fresh scent of upturned earth filled the air as the grass was stripped away and the soil churned, but he showed no interest. Amelia wondered how much longer he planned to linger and wished he would return to his office soon.

Hoping to nudge him along, Amelia spoke, “Your Highness, it’ll be time for tea soon.”

Josef, exhaling smoke leisurely, turned to look at her, his eyes filled with a knowing glint.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, I…”

“Are you inviting me?”

“…Pardon?”

Inviting him? Amelia stared, caught off guard by Josef’s misinterpretation of her intention.

“You just said so,” he pressed.

“…”

“Surely you weren’t suggesting that I should leave because you’re about to have tea?”

Indeed, that had been Amelia’s intent, but she couldn’t possibly admit to effectively dismissing the Crown Prince.

Amelia was at a loss. She had expected Josef, known for not taking people’s words at face value, to pick up on her subtle suggestion to part ways.

Especially given how their last encounter had ended.

“Even if I were inviting you, you wouldn’t accept, would you?” she ventured hesitantly.

“And why would you think that?” Josef asked, entirely unfazed.

“The tea room in this mansion is too sunny, and the tables are quite cramped. We also don’t have a wide selection of teas,” she replied hastily, listing excuses.

“Then I must visit,” he declared, ignoring her excuses. “This mansion is under my jurisdiction. If there are such issues, I should inspect them.”

‘Don’t you agree?’ Josef’s grin deepened as he asked. Feeling cornered, Amelia had no choice but to nod.

* * *

That’s when things became truly troublesome.

Josef strode into the mansion and headed straight for the second floor. Betty, who had just returned from delivering Amelia’s response to the Chiaveri family, froze in shock and shrank away.

“We should also bring some refreshments for the workers,” Helen suggested calmly, snapping Betty out of her stupor. Betty quickly grabbed a basket of bread and hurried outside, leaving Helen to prepare the tea.

When Josef gestured toward a chair, Amelia reluctantly took her seat, feeling as though she were tethered to it.

‘This can’t be real,’ she thought.

A wreath made of dried flowers hung on the wall, Helen’s needlework placed by the window, a floral shawl draped over a chair, and a small round table covered with green linen, adorned with a vase.

No matter where she looked in this tearoom, not even the elegant curves of the chair backs matched Josef in the slightest.

Amelia found it all awkward, unfamiliar, and uncomfortable, yet Josef sipped his tea with an indifferent expression.

‘Was he really just thirsty?’

“How is the tea, Your Highness?”

Helen, who had been standing a little apart from the table, spoke to Josef, snapping Amelia out of her thoughts. Despite the cozy setting, Helen maintained the flawless demeanor of a head maid from a grand dining room.

“It’s good,” Josef said, placing his teacup on the table without a sound. The motion was noble, though his posture was slightly slouched, likely due to his long legs being ill-fitted to the chair. Amelia shifted her position upon realizing his knee was nearly touching hers.

“Is anything uncomfortable?”

“Not at all,” Amelia replied.

“But Amelia seemed to have plenty of complaints.”

Josef spoke with a smile.

“She said the room is too small, the sunlight too strong, and there’s not even decent tea to drink.”

“Lady Amelia, is that true?” Helen’s face turned worried, prompting Amelia to quickly shake her head.

“No, Helen, that’s not true. I was only concerned about whether His Highness would find it uncomfortable.”

“Please, feel free to speak up if anything bothers you, my lady,” Helen said.

“Thank you, but really, there’s nothing at all.”

Amelia reassured Helen repeatedly, insisting she had no issues. Though Helen nodded, it was clear she had taken note; by next week, the variety of tea leaves for Amelia to choose from would likely double.

“What about the other rooms?” Josef asked, sitting relaxed despite having just put Amelia on the spot. Annoyed, she deliberately spoke stiffly.

“I wouldn’t know, Your Highness. I only use the bedroom and the drawing room.”

“That won’t do.”

He feigned a disapproving look.

“When I said you could use the other parts of the house, it was to imply you should manage them.”

“It would’ve been nice if you’d clarified that from the beginning.”

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?”

Amelia, who had deliberately kept her gaze down to avoid meeting Josef’s, suddenly looked up in frustration. This man had a knack for pressing her buttons and bringing out her sharp temper, all while maintaining an infuriatingly calm demeanor.

“Understood. I’ll ensure everything is well managed from now on,” she replied, striving to keep her tone composed, though it took effort.

“If I need anything, should I ask the steward?”

“Come to me. I told you, this estate is under my jurisdiction.”

“…To Your Highness.”

Suddenly, Amelia found herself obliged to seek out Josef. It felt absurd and unreasonable, and she had half a mind to protest, but instead, she nodded. Although her resolve to maintain her composure as the dignified Lady of Brienne had faltered, she wouldn’t give up entirely.

Sitting up straight, she sipped her tea in a deliberately poised manner. Josef, observing her, smirked.

—

“I found out her name, brother,” Rose said.

“Her name?”

Bartholomew, sitting on his bed with a bandage over his nose, repeated Rose’s words. Somehow, she had uncovered the name of the woman he hadn’t been able to track down, even at the cost of his broken nose.

Wearing an elaborate dress as usual, Rose leaned in and whispered as though someone might overhear.

“Amelia Przhemysl of Brienne.”

“Brienne…”

Bartholomew frowned, searching his memory. His nose, which had bled profusely, still throbbed occasionally.

Brienne, where Crown Prince Josef served as governor. He had heard about a hostage taken from there, but he hadn’t expected her to be a noblewoman.

“To take such a beauty as a hostage…” Bartholomew clicked his tongue enviously. Though he hadn’t heard rumors of Josef taking a mistress, surely a prince could indulge in his hostage at will. Bartholomew’s imagination, limited to what a baron’s son might envision as noble privilege, didn’t extend beyond that.

“Oh, brother, that’s not the issue here,” Rose said, pouting. Her expression, though charming, didn’t exactly exude aristocratic refinement.

“Aren’t you angry? It’s because of Miss Amelia that His Highness treated you that way. And she hasn’t even apologized.”

“…”

“If even a hostage gets to treat you like this, how are we supposed to maintain our standing as the House of Chiaveri in society?”

Bartholomew fell silent, considering Rose’s words. She wasn’t wrong. Although the Chiaveri family was wealthy, Bartholomew’s father held a relatively minor position in the imperial court, leaving them ranked lower than other baronial houses.

This weakened Bartholomew’s position in the knighthood and made it harder for Rose to find a suitable husband in high society.

“I’m going to demand an apology,” Rose declared, her face brimming with ambition.