4 - Witnessed
A week passed in the Grand Dukedom of Forebros. And the entire estate felt... unsettled. Not because of political unrest. Not because of external threats. But because of Mariana Cherustine Kylin la Vernon. The servants whispered. Not maliciously. Confusedly.
"Her Highness did not scold Lady Brielle for spilling tea."
"She thanked the kitchen staff."
"She even apologized to Sir Roland for interrupting his report..."
In the past, the mere sound of her heels clicking down the corridor was enough to send maids scrambling out of sight.
One wrong fold in her gown, one over-steeped cup of tea, one poorly arranged bouquet-and someone would be in tears.
She had never been cruel without reason.
But she had been merciless. Prideful. Sharp-tongued. Untouchable.
Now? Now she smiled. She helped an elderly maid carry linens. She told the stable boy to rest his injured wrist. She personally dismissed punishment for a servant who had broken a porcelain vase. The estate did not know what to do with this version of her.
In the east wing corridor, three young men stood watching from a distance as Mariana knelt in the garden, carefully trimming wilted tulip stems.
The Grand Princes of Forebros.
The eldest, Eirwen Himesh Kylin la Vernon, stood at the center-tall, composed, bearing the same golden-blond hair and sharp crimson eyes like their father. His presence was quiet but commanding, like still water hiding unseen depth.
To his right stood the second brother and the elder twin Aguerico Chanda Kylin la Vernon-broad-shouldered, sun-kissed from training fields, ever the knight.
To his left, the younger twin, Alistair Elidi Kylin la Vernon-sharp-eyed and foxlike, fingers stained faintly with ink from endless books and assassination pursuits.
"That's not an act?" Aguerico muttered under his breath.
Alistair adjusted his spectacles slightly. "If it is, it is an unnecessarily elaborate one."
Eirwen said nothing. His gaze remained fixed on his sister.
Mariana laughed softly at something a maid had said. Laughed. Not the airy, mocking laugh she used in noble gatherings. But something small. Genuine. Eirwen's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"She nearly drowned," Aguerico added. "Maybe it frightened her."
"Or," Alistair murmured thoughtfully, "she's planning something."
Aguerico frowned. "Like what?"
Alistair shrugged faintly. "A strategic shift. Our sister is not foolish."
Eirwen finally spoke. "Enough speculation." Both brothers fell silent instantly. "I will see for myself."
-
The next morning-
Before dawn had fully broken-
Mariana was asleep peacefully. Sprawled in a most un-grand-princess-like manner, hair a golden halo across her pillows, blanket half-kicked aside.
She had stayed up late the previous night organizing a mental survival plan that involved breaking her engagement without dying. Very important business. The door to her chamber opened without warning. Footsteps. Measured. Confident. The maids outside froze but did not dare protest.
"B-Big Brother..." Mariana whispered in her sleep, as if sensing his presence. Eirwen did not respond. He approached the bed silently. For a moment, he simply stood there. Watching.
Mariana stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent about "no more death flags" before rolling onto her side. Eirwen's brow furrowed.
Death... what?
He reached forward and pulled the blanket back over her shoulder. Her eyes fluttered open. She blinked once. Twice. Then she froze.
A tall, imposing man stood at her bedside like an omen of doom. Golden hair tied neatly at the nape. Immaculate dark coat. Sharp red eyes assessing her as though she were a political document.
"...Brother?" she croaked.
Ah, right.
Eirwen. The eldest. The heir apparent. The one who, in the novel, eventually cut ties with her after she publicly humiliated the Saintess. The one who did not attend her execution. Mariana bolted upright instinctively.
"Good morning...!"
Too loud. Too bright. Abort.
Eirwen's gaze sharpened.
"You are awake."
"Yes...?"
Silence.
He did not move. Did not blink. Just watched. Mariana felt like a lab rat under inspection.
"...Did I do something?" she asked cautiously.
"In the past week," Eirwen began evenly, "you have not punished a single servant."
Oh. That.
She hesitated.
"I... didn't feel it necessary."
"You forgave Lady Brielle for staining your gown."
"It was an accident..."
"You allowed the dismissal of disciplinary action against a guard who spoke over you."
"He was clarifying a misunderstanding."
Each answer came steady. No defensiveness. No flare of temper. Eirwen's eyes narrowed slightly. "Who are you?" he asked quietly.
Mariana blinked. "...Your sister?"
A dangerous silence settled.
In the corridor, two maids prayed silently.
Eirwen stepped closer. Mariana resisted the urge to shrink back. His presence was overwhelming-not violent like the Crown Prince's rumored aura, but heavy with expectation.
"You have changed," he stated.
She held his gaze. "Yes."
"Why?"
Because I got isekai'd and I don't want to be executed. "I realized I was unpleasant," she said instead. "And I do not wish to remain so."
Eirwen studied her face carefully. Looking for cracks. Mockery. Hidden motives. He found none. Only a strange, steady calm. "...You were not always unpleasant," he said after a moment.
Mariana's breath caught. What?
He looked away briefly, toward the window where early sunlight began to spill into the room. "When you were younger," he continued, voice quieter, "you cried for an entire night because a stable hand was dismissed for dropping you."
Mariana's mind blanked.
That... wasn't in the novel.
"You refused to eat until Father rehired him," Eirwen added. She stared. That sounded like something she would do. In her previous life.
"You were kind," he finished.
The words hung in the air between them.
Something tight in Eirwen's chest loosened slightly. For years, he had watched his sister harden. Court politics. Engagement pressures. Expectations. She grew sharper. Colder. Unforgiving. He had assumed it inevitable. Necessary, even. But this-this version of her, felt familiar.
Mariana swallowed. "I'm sorry," she said softly.
"For what?"
"For worrying you."
Eirwen stiffened faintly. "I was not worried."
Sure. And tulips grow in winter. But she didn't tease him. Instead, she smiled gently. "I will try not to be a burden to our family."
His expression darkened slightly at that.
"You are a Vernon," he said firmly. "You are not a burden." The same words their mother had spoken. Mariana felt oddly emotional for the second time that week. Eirwen straightened.
"I will observe you," he declared.
There it is.
"I assumed as much," she replied calmly.
A faint flicker of something-almost amusement-passed through his eyes. "If this is an act," he warned, "it will fail."
"It isn't."
Another stretch of silence.
Then-
"...Very well." He turned toward the door. But paused before exiting. "...If you truly intend to change," he said without looking back, "do not do so alone."
Mariana blinked. The door closed behind him. She sat there in stunned silence.
In the corridor, Aguerico and Alistair straightened expectantly as Eirwen approached.
"Well?" Aguerico asked.
Eirwen's expression was unreadable. "She is different."
Alistair adjusted his glasses. "Strategic?"
Eirwen looked back once at Mariana's closed chamber doors. A faint, nearly invisible softness touched his gaze. "No," he said quietly. "She is simply... herself."
And though he would continue to watch her carefully-
Inwardly, he was grateful. Because for the first time in years-his little sister looked like the girl who once cried for a stable hand. And not the villainess the court feared.