The Maid of the Cursed Princess

Rapturous.

A bewitching whisper so intoxicatingly rapturous that it compelled to tightly shut her eyes.

“…No.”

But clenching her jaw, Sibylla confronted reality.

“Telling a lie to your master…”

Not a shred of sincerity resided in Dorothy’s words. Without any intention to veil her true feelings with hypocrisy, her voice was cold and dispassionate.

A loveless confession devoid of even perfunctory effort to sound convincing – a disingenuous response.

“Do you mean to scorn your master as her servant…?!”

From the beginning, Sibylla hadn’t expected Dorothy to reciprocate love, for she knew her own unlovable flaws better than anyone.

A frail, withering body cursed to waste away. Who could love such an unsightly visage?

Nor did she possess any remarkable talents, wealth, or redeeming social status.

Having spent her formative years receiving little education before being exiled to the High Tower, she lacked knowledge or personal assets like other royals. Her status as an Orléans Princess? The cursed daughter of a mad King – such a pedigree invited only mockery.

She had nothing, save for her useless husk of a body. Who could sincerely whisper love to such a woman? Who could truly love someone like her?

“…Yes, it was a lie.”

Readily admitting her wrongdoing in response to Sibylla’s rebuke, Dorothy showed no intention to deceive.

“I had no plans to deceive you. I merely wished to shock you out of your melancholic mood that seemed to be spiraling into an abyss, to clear the air.”

She had no reason to deny it, for she had never intended to lie in the first place.

“My declaration of love was indeed false, for I don’t love you, Princess.”

From the start, Dorothy’s intent had been to pull Sibylla from the quagmire of guilt.

For one consumed by any extreme emotion, whether joy or sorrow, inevitably becomes deaf to external voices. Had Dorothy not resorted to that shock tactic, her voice wouldn’t have reached Sibylla drowning in despair.

“However, that doesn’t mean I despise you.”

Just what were Dorothy’s feelings toward Sibylla?

Neither Sibylla nor even Dorothy herself could discern if it was blind loyalty to a client, or something else entirely.

“Princess, you instructed me to free you from the curse, to bring you happiness.”

As a person, Dorothy Gale was more accustomed to simply following others’ orders verbatim rather than formulating her own thoughts.

Thus, she clung to those commands, her master’s instructions, like a compass allowing her to navigate the uncharted seas instead of drifting aimlessly.

“The order to break your curse, I shall fulfill by any means necessary. But the order to bring you happiness is a far more daunting riddle to me than any theorem posed by the greatest mathematicians.”

So it was only natural for Dorothy to falter when tasked with matters requiring autonomy and creativity.

Having lived her entire life relying solely on others without any willpower or conviction of her own, what could be more challenging for her than independent thinking and judgment?

“Princess, is my presence required for your happiness?”

Dorothy inquired of Sibylla whether her existence, Dorothy Gale herself, was an essential component of that objective called ‘happiness.’

“I wish to ask if I, this person named Dorothy Gale, am truly necessary for your happiness.”

Should she depart or remain? Which path would truly benefit Princess Sibylla?

No matter how many times she agonized over it alone, Dorothy couldn’t find an answer, for either option seemed equally problematic. Leaving would create issues, but so would staying.

Thus, she decided to defer the choice, for if both paths led to difficulties, it would be better to let the person involved decide.

“If I’m not needed-“

“You are needed.”

But before Dorothy could finish voicing her dilemma, Sibylla resolutely cut her off without hesitation:

“Without you, I can never be happy.”

The one who had awoken the long-forgotten emotion of happiness within her.

Dorothy had become an indispensable presence in Sibylla’s life, the only one in all of Orléans who could interact with her cursed form without the slightest reservation.

“It’s also true that I desire your affection.”

Yet Sibylla yearned for more than a mere master-servant dynamic, bound not by contractual obligation but a deeper bond surpassing social boundaries.

She knew such prospects were implausible – that Dorothy, unconcerned by her curse, a person – had already fulfilled half her original hopes was miracle enough.

Sibylla vividly recalled the countless servants who had fled within a fortnight, often less than a week on average. So Dorothy’s mere existence was already a blessing, a marvel.

Yet human greed knows no bounds, like one who demands a whole bundle after being fished from drowning.

“However… I don’t want to force you.”

Even so, Sibylla ultimately couldn’t bring herself to command Dorothy’s love.

“An insincere confession devoid of true feeling would bring me no joy.”

She wished to avoid earning Dorothy’s resentment, having striven to avoid incurring her dislike ever since becoming aware of her.

Whether during the initial period when she had tried to deny and reject her repulsive desires, or after resolving to confront them honestly. Sibylla had consistently avoided anything that might make Dorothy despise her.

To flaunt their differences in status and rank, to demand love as if owed obeisance – such ugly actions would only reveal her own unsightly interior, undoubtedly stripping away what little regard Dorothy might harbor.

Sibylla had thought it would only undermine what little goodwill she might possess in Dorothy’s eyes.

“…I understand what you desire, Princess.”

Silently listening to Sibylla’s words, Dorothy nodded as she took the Princess’s hand in her own.

“You wish for me to genuinely love you.”

“…”

Rendered speechless as Dorothy verbalized the feelings she couldn’t bring herself to voice aloud through such casual physical intimacy, Sibylla could only bow her head in a mixture of embarrassment at having her vulnerability exposed, and resignation that her unattainable hopes would never be realized.

“I don’t yet love you, Princess.”

“…I am aware. So let’s end this discussion here…”

“Will you hear me out to the end, Princess?”

However, Dorothy’s subsequent words caused Sibylla’s eyes to gradually widen.

“It would have been the same with anyone else, not just you. For this person named Dorothy Gale has only experienced loving someone that one time since birth.”

A child who had never learned love couldn’t understand how to love others. A heart that had lost the capacity for empathy couldn’t become attached to anything.

In other words, Sibylla’s starting point was no different from anyone else’s.

“So Princess, if you truly wish for me to wholeheartedly love you, then first…”

What Dorothy required now was:

“Won’t you teach me what love is?”

A definition of the concept called ‘love.’

Just what was this ‘love’ that could render people so utterly blind?

Just what was this ‘love’ that could make people so desperately yearn?

“As your servant, it may be presumptuous of me to make such a request of you, my master.”

If she could comprehend this ‘love,’ could she understand this young Princess?

If she could comprehend this ‘love,’ could she soothe the aching in her chest that flared whenever recalling that girl from beyond her memories?

If she could comprehend this ‘love’-

“Make me fall for you, Princess.”

Could she too come to wholly love someone?

“Let lies become truth.”

Setting those questions aside as she gently caressed Sibylla’s trembling, elated hands, Dorothy had once again unconsciously ensnared the Princess like a serpent.

“Because I so adore such fairy tale-like stories.”

“…”

Just what manner of sorcery had this woman learned?

Or was she simply too susceptible to such wiles? Sibylla wondered amidst her turmoil.

“…You possess a truly bewitching tongue. Though perhaps my own ears are simply too vulnerable.”

But soon clenching her fists as she turned to face Dorothy directly, Sibylla declared.

“You asked me to teach you love. Very well, I will teach you.”

Taking Dorothy’s hand and placing it upon her chest, Sibylla proclaimed:

“I shall make your heart beat as mine does, make you yearn for love as you gaze upon me with affectionate eyes.”

A vow akin to a declaration of war from a master to her servant.

“I hereby proclaim, as one person to another, that I, Sibylla Thérèse d’Orléans, shall make Dorothy Gale fall for me.”

Witnessing Sibylla’s unusually impassioned pronouncement akin to a rustic stage play-

“I will make you fall for me.”

“…As you command.”

Dorothy couldn’t help but let a faint smile grace her lips.