The Knight’s Pledge and a Queen’s Dilemma

Ophelia turned back at the opportune moment.

She had expected to see the ice mountain break under the moonlight, the ice-cold beauty blushing.

The result, however, left her disappointed.

Marta stood there, seemingly unmoved.

Her deep blue eyes, like an iceberg, showed not the slightest ripple of emotion.

She simply stood, poised like a knight.

‘Didn’t she blush in the book?’

‘No… in those eyes, besides the usual glacial coldness, there seemed to be an even greater indifference?’

‘Could it be… I messed up?’

Ophelia felt a whine escape her, a strong urge to crouch down and bury her face, weeping.

Communicating through words was indeed too difficult for someone with social anxiety.

‘System, can’t you just give me a task panel to follow?’

[That is, of course, not possible.]

[If there are any official duties the host cannot handle, this system can assist in solving them, intelligently calculating everything.]

[However, it cannot calculate human emotions, so the host must rely on themselves for the cultivation value bonus.]

The cold, detached voice of the system resounded.

Ophelia’s vision swam.

Simultaneously, another voice, equally cold and devoid of emotion, drifted over.

“Your Majesty… you know these flowers were planted by your subordinate?”

“Your subordinate understands.”

“Tomorrow, your subordinate will prune all these flowers.”

Marta bowed her head, her eyes closed.

Ophelia was stunned by these words.

‘Had my actions and words created a misunderstanding?’

‘Why would Marta think that?’

‘Oh… right…’

‘In the early parts of the book, there were two antagonists in the palace: Prince Eli and Princess Hizeta.’

‘Princess Hizeta was a jealous woman, and seeing Marta’s beauty, she constantly targeted her, often bringing a large group of malicious female supporting characters along to do so.’

‘The rapid development of the male lead’s relationship with Marta later on owed much to these malicious supporting characters.’

‘Therefore, Marta, having been targeted so often, might have subconsciously assumed the Queen was also targeting her upon hearing those words.’

A pang of sorrow struck Ophelia’s heart.

This vast palace, yet it was filled with nothing but murder and malice.

Marta was targeted by others, while Ophelia herself was murdered.

In a sense, they shared a similar fate, and this realization brought a warmth to her heart.

“I’m sorry, Marta.”

Marta lifted her head, her gaze utterly frigid.

“It doesn’t matter, Your Majesty.”

“If only by targeting me you can live better, then it is fine for you to target me.”

“I have long grown accustomed to the pain of being targeted by others, as long as this body can be of use to you…”

Cold, mechanical, devoid of emotion.

Such words were abruptly cut short by Ophelia.

Her blood boiled.

Marta had been heartbreaking enough to read about in the book.

She absolutely had to…!

“You misunderstood.”

“I merely wished to praise you, Marta.”

The night was beautiful.

The wind, too, was gentle.

Marta’s eyes widened, her pupils contracting sharply.

“You said… what?”

Beneath the moonlight, her Queen’s black gown swept past the flowerbed.

Those melancholic red eyes, Marta knew, would likely be etched into her memory for a lifetime.

Ophelia turned and smiled, a gaze both forlorn and tender.

“I merely thought that if even I cannot praise Marta, then no one in this palace ever will.”

“In forgotten corners, these myriad flowers bloom so beautifully, adorning my dreams.”

“Just like you, unnoticed by others, yet possessing a soul as beautiful as these blossoms.”

Then she extended her hand towards Marta.

“Marta, the flowers you planted are truly lovely.”

Ophelia, having spoken these words involuntarily, watched Marta freeze in place.

She herself was stunned for a couple of seconds, then her composure inexplicably shattered.

‘Ugh, I messed up again…!’

What she had just said was so utterly embarrassing that Ophelia wanted to cover her face and roll around on the ground.

She felt the same mortification as stumbling upon her middle school’s personalized signature.

She truly couldn’t fathom how she had managed to utter those words.

“Your Majesty.”

The voice from that direction pulled her back to reality.

She looked up.

Marta’s serene, lake-blue eyes suddenly became profound and tumultuous.

A blush crept onto her face, though it was indistinct under the moonlight.

She stood there, the wind stirring her golden hair.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Then she knelt on one knee.

“From this day forward, you shall be my sole liege.”

Marta’s status panel had also changed, her ‘Cultivation Value’ (TL Note: A common term in web novels, referring to a character’s affection or development progress) shifting from 0 to 10.

Ophelia was assailed by this immense surprise, momentarily losing her bearings.

There were only a few heroines, and one of them was already one-tenth complete!

It seemed completing the mission was just around the corner!

“May I be permitted to kiss your instep?”

Ophelia was once again frozen in place by these words.

“Huh?”

Marta remained on one knee, her eyes gleaming like moonlight reflected within them.

She placed a hand over her chest, her face faintly flushed.

“I wish to kiss your instep to swear my fealty to you.”

“Please allow me…”

‘Kissing my instep!?’

‘That feels a bit… what’s that called?’

‘Marta is that kind of heroine, a so-called “dog-type” heroine, isn’t she?’

‘An ice-cold beauty on the outside, but on the inside, she’s practically leashed by me, wanting to kiss my instep, even lick it… This is a bit much…’

The more Ophelia thought about it, the hotter her face became.

She quickly shook her head, “No, no, no! Absolutely not! Your intentions are enough, Marta!”

Marta looked quite regretful.

However, as she rose, she had already reverted to her standard knightly demeanor, gesturing towards the bedroom with an inviting motion.

“Your Majesty, please return inside.”

“The weather is cold, and your wounds have only just healed; it is not advisable to move about too much.”

Ophelia nodded, then walked back with a slight skip in her step.

Yet, upon returning to her bedroom, her enthusiasm was doused as if by a bucket of cold water.

Several noblewomen stood there, and as soon as they saw Ophelia return, they swarmed her.

Ophelia, with her social anxiety, was at a loss, as they chattered incessantly.

“Your Majesty, it’s truly wonderful to see you safe and sound!”

“We heard you were attacked, so we came to visit!”

“Did you see the assassin? What, you didn’t? No, think carefully, it must have been someone from the conservative nobles, right? Think carefully, it must have been!”

They prattled on, one word after another, drawing closer to Ophelia with every sentence.

Ophelia had no idea how to handle them.

She felt a headache brewing.

She could barely cope with one person at a time, let alone a whole group swarming her simultaneously.

Ophelia’s head began to throb.

Fortunately, Marta promptly stepped forward, shielding her.

“Her Majesty has only just recovered from her injuries and requires rest.”

“Ladies, please depart; Her Majesty had no intention of receiving guests today.”

The noblewomen immediately frowned, placing their hands on their hips like elegant shrewish figures.

“What place does a mere knight like you have to speak here?”

“Your duty is to protect the Queen, yet she was attacked! We’ll make sure you pay for this!”

“By what right do you now presume to dictate to us?”

Then they plastered smiles back onto their faces and turned to Ophelia.

“Your Majesty, please listen to us…”

“Enough.”

Marta spoke coldly, her voice not loud, yet resonating with authority.

“It’s always the same with you.”

“You consistently treat the Queen as nothing more than a pawn in your hands, never once considering that Her Majesty is an independent soul.”

“The Queen is her own person!”

“She is a girl who can pluck a flower and smile, not a puppet in your hands!”

“You, you probably don’t even know the Queen’s name is Ophelia.”

“You, you keep insisting the assassin was from the conservatives, isn’t that just because your husband is from the reformists?”

“And you, you say I have no right to dictate to you, but what right do a group of noblewomen like yourselves have to dictate to the Queen?”

“Her Majesty’s wounds have only just healed; she requires rest.”

“Ladies, please take your leave!”

‘Marta…’

( ૢ⁼̴̤̆ ㉨ ⁼̴̤̆ ૢ)♡

‘So cool!’

٩(♡㉨♡ )۶

The noblewomen were clearly intimidated.

They scurried away, muttering threats like, “We’ll make you pay tomorrow!”

‘Tomorrow?’

Ophelia frowned.

She suddenly recalled a passage in the book: a large group, incited by Hizeta, impeached Marta for dereliction of duty, intending to sell her to a brothel as punishment.

This was the point where the male lead broke through Marta’s emotional barriers, as he faced the entire upper echelon of society for her sake alone.

Her own survival didn’t mean Marta wouldn’t be impeached for dereliction of duty.

Tomorrow’s court gathering would certainly proceed as scheduled, meaning Marta would still be impeached just as in the book.

Ophelia anxiously lifted her head, only to see Marta gazing back with a forlorn expression.

Marta noticed Ophelia’s gaze upon her and, uncharacteristically, offered a faint smile.

“Your Majesty, have you permitted your subordinate to kiss your instep?”

Ophelia’s heart skipped a beat, but then she saw Marta kneel on one knee.

As if she knew her fate, Marta no longer maintained the mask of the ice-cold beauty.

It was a smile filled with desolation.

“My Queen, I will protect you until my very last moment.”