Frederick’s eyes widened slightly as his fixed gaze finally shifted, though his body remained still. His serious expression faltered, just for a mont, revealing a flicker of shock—like all the hope he once held had been shattered into pieces.
He had heard the rumors back in the village, but he chose not to believe them. Many had told him about it—about her. That Roselina was getting married to the king. But he refused to accept it. He knew her too well.
So when he was assigned to her, and her na was ntioned, he thought it had to be a coincidence. A cruel trick of fate. Surely the world was playing a prank on him. And even when he entered the dining hall, he didn’t look at her directly. But he could feel it—her warm, familiar aura. Still, he held on to denial.
Until she said his na.
And in that mont, all the hope he’d been clinging to shattered completely. His heart broke, but sohow, he kept his expression intact—masking the pain within.
At last, Frederick Rowls spoke, his voice laced with respectful restraint.
"I apologize for the delay in my response... Queen Roselina."
His words were careful, professional—almost too formal. It was the first ti he had spoken to her like that, with such distance.
She wasn’t surprised, not really. You couldn’t bla him. This—this cold courtesy—was exactly what she had half-expected. Yet she did not know that he would be this... this way.
She fell silent for a while, lost in thought as she tried to process everything. Who would have thought the day would co when Frederick would speak to her with such distance?
There was a ti—when she truly believed they would end up together. After all, he was the only one she had ever spoken to so freely, so comfortably.
But life had a way of surprising her. If only she had known... that there would be soone else.
Soone with whom she’d feel even more free.
Frederick’s eyes flickered to her once more before shifting straight ahead. His expression settled into sothing unreadable—neutral.
*
*
*
Rose walked beside Frederick in the long open hallway. The outside could be seen as you walked. They moved in silence, his steps steady, though the weight in the air was anything but light.
The silence between them lingered—quiet, tense, and close—until Frederick finally spoke, his voice low but clear.
"Should I call you Frederick... or should I regard you as I’m supposed to?"
Frederick didn’t stop walking. "I would be grateful if you called by my na, my queen."
Rose glanced at him, a small frown forming. "If you want to call you by your na, then you’ll have to do the sa. Call by mine. There’s nothing wrong with that."
Frederick shook his head. "It would be a great disrespect to the kingdom, my queen. You’re a queen now. Calling you by your na would not only disrespect you but also the king... and your husband."
Rose’s heart tightened slightly at his blank words. His voice lowered again, more fragile. "Frederick... tell the truth. You definitely have questions, don’t you?"
Frederick was quiet, but then he answered—firm, yet calm.
"My queen."
Rose’s lips pressed together at the formal address, his brown eyes remaining professional as Frederick continued.
"I won’t question your decision. I can’t. You made your choice... and who am I to question it?"
Was he shutting her out?
He drew in a breath, then exhaled slowly before speaking again.
"This is the garden," he said, gesturing to a wide, beautifully maintained area just ahead. "During royal balls held at night, so of the guests often co here for fresh air. It’s quiet... peaceful."
The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full of everything left unsaid.
Rose nodded quietly as she spoke, "I see."
Frederick then gestured ahead. "Would you like to go in and explore further... or would you prefer I continue the tour?"
"Continue the tour," Rose said softly.
Frederick gave a small nod. "As you wish... Queen Roselina."
Rose let out a soft laugh. "You know... this actually feels so strange. I never thought there would co a day you’d call that. You always just called Rose."
She smiled faintly, but her voice held a trace of sadness. She had been so used to hearing him speak her na naturally, warmly. This stiff, formal tone—it still felt foreign, even now.
Frederick’s face remained serious as he replied, "Very true, my queen. But things change... and all we can do is accept them as they are."
For a mont, sothing flickered in his eyes—sothing quick and unreadable. Rose caught it, whatever it was, but couldn’t quite place it. Was it... hurt?
Then Frederick straightened and spoke again. "May I?"
Rose nodded wordlessly.
He continued leading the way, his steps steady, guiding her quietly through the halls. Eventually, they stopped in front of a large wooden door. Frederick turned to her and spoke.
"This... is the maid’s quarters."
Frederick continued, gesturing toward the building.
"The only difference here is that this is the maid quarters reserved for Royals—ant specifically for you and His Majesty. The other quarters, used by the maids for cleaning and serving als, are entirely separate. Everything here is structured and organized differently."
He paused, then added more softly, "Just in case you’re not aware—or perhaps you’ve forgotten—I ntioned it earlier, but I’ll repeat it for clarity. We operate on shifts. The royal guards and maids follow a schedule of two-week rotations. After every two weeks, a new set of staff mbers replaces the current ones. It keeps the system consistent and efficient."
Rose’s thoughts drifted for a mont. He had told her all this before—back in the village. Yet here he was, repeating it. Almost nervously. Almost like he didn’t know what else to say but just needed to say sothing.
He was trying. That much was clear. But his words were becoming more chanical, like he was hiding behind duty and protocol.
Then, Frederick cleared his throat gently before continuing.
"Queen Roselina, would you like to take a look inside the maid quarters? I could stay here... though this section is for the female staff, so it would be more appropriate if one of your maids guided you instead."
But that wasn’t the reason Rose had stopped walking.
She turned to face him, her eyes searching his guarded expression. She needed answers—sothing real, sothing true.
In a quiet, almost trembling voice, she asked,
"Frederick... why are you acting so distant?"
Her words hung in the air, heavy.
"This isn’t how you were back in the village."
Frederick bowed his head slightly, his hands clasped behind him as he responded with restraint.
"My queen... I advise we let the past remain in the past. You are now a queen. And... now married."
He hesitated. "So I suggest we keep things as they are... p-please."
But Rose shook her head, firm and emotional all at once.
"No, Frederick. I know you want to tell sothing. I can feel it."
Her voice was soft but steady.
"Just say it—for the last ti. I won’t bother you again. But don’t keep pretending. Don’t keep acting so formal like this... I don’t like it. I can’t stand it."
Her voice cracked slightly as she continued.
"It feels like you’re soone else. Like you don’t even know anymore. You didn’t even say hello. Not even a simple ’hi.’ You’re acting like we’ve never t."
There was a long pause before Frederick finally looked up and t her gaze.
"My queen," he said quietly, "promise ... that after this, you won’t ask anything else."
Rose nodded without hesitation. "Yes. I promise. Just tell what you want to say. Say it all. This will be the last ti I ask."
And just as those words left her lips... it was as if sothing inside Frederick cracked.
His posture stiffened, but his expression—the carefully crafted mask he had worn all this ti—crumbled slightly. His eyes, once so guarded, now shimred with emotions too complex to na.
He looked at her—really looked at her—and then spoke, quietly. Almost like the words were too heavy to carry.
"I just wanted to ask you one thing," he said. "Just one."
His voice trailed off for a mont, swallowed by hesitation.
"What is it, Frederick?" Rose asked gently, already feeling her heart ache with the weight of what might co next. "You can tell ."
He nodded, his gaze never leaving hers.
"I want you to answer truthfully. No matter what. Please... just be honest."
Rose swallowed, her breath catching slightly. She nodded slowly, silently bracing herself.
And in that pause, she already knew. She could feel it coming. And still, it didn’t prepare her.
Then Frederick finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"The things between us... the mories, the monts we shared—Roselina... were they real? Did they an anything to you at all?"
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