PCP – 174

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—Is it because she has red hair?

There was a strong contempt in Teresa’s tone of premarital innocence. Damia clenched her jaw involuntarily at her manner, which seemed to treat her as a vulgar courtesan.

‘Sir Akkard would have said such a thing.’

Of course, it must have been a thing of the past. She was unaware of Akkard Valerian’s prodigal history.

But instinctive shame burned her cheeks, and her boiling blood soared to the tip of her head. It caused her head to spin, her thoughts tangled in a jumble of confusion so she couldn’t come up with a proper retort.

“Goodbye-bye, loose red-haired lady.”

Convinced that Damia was shocked, Teresa let out a laugh. When she saw her triumphant smile, she felt somehow emotional.

Fortunately, Teresa was reminiscent of the old Louise in many ways. Thanks to that, Damia seemed to know how to treat her.

“Oh my goodness.”

As if surprised by Teresa’s dirty words and demeanor, Damia’s eyes widened. And with a naive look on her face, she asked blatantly,

“Were you that jealous? That I slept with Sir Akkard.”

“What nonsense are you uttering? Why would I have the chance to envy such a vulgar thing?”

Teresa frowned, covering her mouth with her fan, and making a cold reply. But Damia did not back down and stabbed her sore corner.

“But I heard.”


“Miss Teresa, I heard you were thrown away by Sir Akkard.”

Teresa’s chin, hidden behind the fan, tightened.

She didn’t know how that northern hillbilly knew. A long time ago, they had only courted briefly, so even many capital nobles didn’t know.

But Damia didn’t finish with just this; she smiled as she tucked her gorgeous hair behind her ear and proudly raised her pretty face.

“Well, I don’t know about the tales about red hair. Indeed, I might be a loose woman. Regardless, it is true that I slept with Akkard.”

“… … .”

“But, isn’t that better then being dumped by the man you like, staying quiet and pretending to be calm? At least I was being honest with my needs.”

At least after being dumped, you won’t have regrets or lingering feelings; it’s better than being jealous of other women.

At the end of Damia’s murmuring, Teresa’s face turned red. Her initial angelic beauty was nowhere to be found, and she cried out, her face contorting like a demon.

“You’re so vulgar to listen to! I can’t talk to you anymore because it will taint and lower me–and demean my status!!”

Damia smiled brightly as if waiting for those words. And she turned around, mimicking as Teresa did earlier, and biding her farewell softly behind her back.

“Goodbye, old-fashioned blonde girl.”

Teresa, unable to hold back her anger, ran out with the force that broke her heel. The girls, who held their breath and watched the bloody quarrel, hurriedly followed her.


“Wait for me, Miss Teresa!”

Smiling bitterly, Damia was finally left alone. The feeling of winning the glory of a hurtful victory was at least better than a sense of defeat. But that was it.

‘I guess I don’t fit in with the royal palace.’

Otherwise, why was it that every time she came, she was bothered?

Damia stood there momentarily, then turned back with a wary expression. And as she turned the corner, she found a familiar man beyond.

“… … Damia.”

Akkard Valerian, with a bouquet of white hydrangeas* stood there. As if he had heard Damie’s conversation to some extent, with a face whiter than a flower.

*t1v: According to a Japanese legend, the hydrangea became associated with heartfelt emotion, gratitude for understanding, and apology after a Japanese emperor gave them to the family of the girl he loved to make up for neglecting her in favor of business and to show how much he cared about her.

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