RMSBD 04

Chapter – 04

Encounter in the Garden (Part 2)

The seasonal courtyard of the royal palace—it was early summer, and the garden was in full bloom with red roses—was prepared for the garden party, filled with many finely dressed boys and girls of my age.

Mother accompanied me as far as the entrance; apparently, the adults would wait inside the palace until the children’s party ended. They would be in a room with large glass windows overlooking the courtyard where the children could be seen.

Today, Mother wore a very simple dress that was still proper for the royal palace, with unobtrusive light makeup—and yet she was still very beautiful. When I looked at Mother in that room, the other mothers were all dressed up as if for their own party, but I couldn’t understand why. To me, Mother looked far more beautiful.

Since the main event today was the children’s party, it wouldn’t take long. We were gathered shortly before noon and would be dismissed before afternoon tea time.

His Majesty the King introduced the prince, who was around our age, and began with a speech telling us all to forget our ranks and enjoy ourselves. I was the only one who bowed at those words—a little embarrassing. But everyone was so captivated by the prince they were meeting for the first time that no one noticed, so that was a relief.

As for me, I was immediately surrounded by many girls. They asked why I had such makeup on when my dress and hairstyle were so lovely. Aside from the freckles, they seemed particularly bothered by my eyebrows and lips.

“My stepmother did this to me.”

At my words, most of the girls lowered their brows in pity and fell silent. Then they gently changed the subject.

Only three of them got angry, saying, “That’s terrible!” I decided I wanted to be friends with these three. I smiled and said, “Please don’t worry about me—just enjoy the party,” and urged the others who had changed the subject to go on.

The three who had been angry stayed behind. They apparently couldn’t forgive what had been done to me, puffing up their round cheeks even more in indignation.

Their names, I learned, were Bianca, Estelle, and Celen. I also heard their surnames and their fathers’ titles, but I set those aside for the moment. Remembering faces and names correctly at once seemed to be a matter of good manners. With such a large group it might have been difficult, but with just three I managed.

To the three who stayed, I confessed the truth.

“Actually, Mother did this makeup to help me find friends who would get angry on my behalf. She said those would be the ones who would take my side. So once again, I’m Sheryl. Bianca, Estelle, Celen—thank you for getting angry for me. Will you be my friends?”

My etiquette instructor had taught me that humility is noble, but one must never become servile. So I only added in my heart: even someone as uncute as me.

The three of them said, “Of course!” and took my hand, leading me toward the tables lined with party refreshments and sweets. As we chatted, they became curious about my mother. I didn’t mention that she never compliments my looks—instead, I told them how much she praises me and showers me with love.

I felt that if I mentioned she never praises my appearance, it would be taken the wrong way. Even I could tell I wasn’t cute compared to Bianca and the others. They had light blush on their cheeks and lovely peach-colored gloss on their lips that gave them a sheen. Honestly, they were adorable. Since my base was bad to begin with, Mother’s approach was clearly the right one.

Well, the lipstick had come off after I ate some sweets, though. I had learned how to eat without removing lipstick, so my slightly brownish, matte lips stayed that way until the end of the party.

Before the party ended, I needed to use the restroom, so I parted ways with Estelle and the others there. By the time I returned, it would be over anyway. We promised to write letters and visit each other, and I had made three wonderful new friends.

There were, of course, adult attendants and guards at the party, so I told a royal servant standing at the entrance that I needed the restroom. I was directed to a room just through an archway, adjacent to the garden, with open terrace doors—the restroom was there.

Since children were the main guests, they seemed to have taken care with such arrangements. I was fairly certain I could find my way back without getting lost, but the garden we had been in was the one with the early summer red roses in full bloom; outside this room was a garden with white roses and a fountain.

As I gazed at that fountain, I noticed a boy in clothes embroidered with gold thread on white. A boy with golden hair that flowed shimmeringly in the wind. He’s beautiful, I thought, momentarily captivated, but the party would be ending soon and His Majesty would likely appear again.

“Is something the matter? The party is about to end, you know.”

I felt it might be a little forward, but I called out to him anyway.

The boy who turned around had very beautiful bright green eyes filled with tears—and for some reason, he was crying.