People Aren't Meant to Be Fixed! (4 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 181

“What are you talking about?”

Freyrie looked utterly incredulous at my behavior—frantically shielding my forehead and the sides of my face—as if I were trying my hardest to avoid something that hadn’t even happened. It was laughable; anyone watching might think I’d been beaten senseless every single time, even though I’d never actually been struck. No wonder she let out an exasperated chuckle.

Fortunately, the only witness was Poppy, so even if I claimed I’d been hit, nobody would believe it anyway. Still, it was somewhat cowardly of me to flinch even at something as mild as a flick on the forehead—though honestly, who would enjoy getting hit, even lightly? Besides, it simply wasn’t right for a Crown Princess to be struck by her own maid. Absolutely not.

Even if I had done something wrong to provoke such a reaction, the mere rumor that violence had been used against me would spark an uproar.

This remained true despite the fact that behind our titles—Crown Princess and personal maid—lay a hidden secret: both of us had once been drenched in the boundless attention and love of the cosmos and God within Paradise itself.

If, upon hearing this, someone were to ask, “What’s the big deal? Why make such a fuss over nothing?”—they’d truly be missing the point. Who in their right mind would dare lay hands on a member of the Imperial Family?

Of course, Freyrie was an exception, and she hadn’t even truly struck me… But just for a moment, I imagined what would happen if I pretended I’d actually been hit—if I refused to brush it off gracefully and instead screamed loudly, called for help, and caused a commotion.

After all, if I were really upset, I could just hit back. It would be simple enough to return the favor and move on, since I had no desire to escalate things unnecessarily.

Anyway, I’d gone on far too long with pointless rambling.

I wasn’t usually the type to let thoughts race through my mind like a flickering lantern—but ever since meeting Carlisle and hearing all that talk about how “adorable” he was, my head had grown muddled.

At least, that’s what I wanted to believe.

“I’m not that uncultured.”

Freyrie, after a long silence, finally spoke up.

“Besides, aren’t you going to put your arms down already?”

When she asked if I was planning to make her massage my sore arms later because I’d held them up so long, I grew embarrassed and quickly dropped them. My muscles were already starting to tingle from keeping them raised like that.

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