Raising the Princess to Overcome Death-Chapter 209: Jenia Side Story

Raising the Princess to Overcome Death-Chapter 209: Jenia Side Story

- Clink, clink
The residence of Viscount Sauer. An arranged meeting of distinguished individuals was taking place.
Since Viscount Brian Sauer paid special attention to the matter, the maids serving were on their best behavior. Carefully selected, they spoke gently and walked gracefully with their hands clasped.
However, the actual participants of the meeting, after exchanging a few words, found no significant topic to discuss. They were busy picking at the food in front of them, not because they had nothing to talk about, but because they lacked the will to continue the conversation.
Golden-brown, cooked chuck flap tail of a young lamb.
Though a precious part that yielded only a palm-sized piece even from an entire lamb, Jenia soon put down her utensils, bored. She meticulously wiped her lips stained with lipstick using a napkin and turned her head.
Her arranged partner was the same. In silence, Tothen Tatian and Jenia looked around the lavish (yet somewhat vulgar) residence of Viscount Sauer. After having tea and snacks, Jenia accepted Tothen's formal escort and stepped outside.
“I had a pleasant time today.”
“So did I.”
Parting words that were too insincere to be anything but shameless. Jenia smiled bitterly. Ironically, she felt envious watching Tothen Tatian leave with a lady knight by his side in his carriage.
Men have it good.
If she were to take her escort knight in her carriage, it would cause a scandal. Not that she had anyone she liked enough to engage in such unconventional behavior.
Jenia returned home. When her father asked how the meeting went, she replied that she would not see him again.
“How many times has it been now? You said no to Gilbert Forte as well. Do you think there are many such suitable grooms as Tothen Tatian or Gilbert?”
“What can I do if I don’t like them?”
The one who wanted to sigh was her, but her father sighed instead. Then, he glared at her and spoke decisively.
“This time, you cannot refuse. I will arrange another meeting. I have already spoken with Marquis Benar Tatian.”
“... According to whom?”
Jenia Peter crossed her arms and retorted. Usually, it wasn’t easy for a noble lady to argue against the head of the family, but Jenia, resembling her mother, 'Edlin Peter,' was free-spirited.
Speaking of her mother, Edlin Peter loved the arts. She painted and sang herself.
Though her skills were lacking, she had an eye for discovering unknown artists destined for greatness. She sponsored theater troupes and provided shelter to now-extinct minstrels.
Edlin could indulge in such hobbies because she was the sole heir to the Peter Count family. Her husband, Count Gustav Peter, who had entered as a husband by right of her position, had no authority to object to her extravagance.
Jenia grew up watching such a mother. She was destined to follow a similar path.
Jenia knew her own worth well. As the only daughter of the Peter Count family, she would inherit the title unless Count Gustav Peter took in an adopted son. Additionally, she would inherit the Baron Monarch family from her maternal relatives in the Kingdom of Conrad.
However, her father had no intention of taking in an adopted son. This was deeply related to his past, which Jenia also knew. Her father was obsessed with pure bloodlines.
That’s why he wanted to link her with heirs from noble families like the Forte County or Tatian Marquisate.
Ha!
She understood his feelings well.
She had heard how her father grew up eating his aunt and grandfather’s disapproval (they were half-siblings). Her grandfather was an illegitimate son who was cast out of the family. Her father, barely adopted, developed an obsessive complex about his lineage.
However, Jenia found it hard to empathize with such a complex. She had been noble since birth, and her young mother had declared she would bear no more children.
The sole daughter and noble lady of the Peter Count family. From birth, she was bathed in refined milk to cleanse her postnatal blood. The maids who attended her were nothing but cautious.
Jenia spoke firmly.
“I will choose the man who takes me away. And I don’t care if I never marry.”
“There you go again. I cannot permit it. A grown woman not getting married and idling around?
Do you think that’s what a noble lady does? You should marry a good man and support him, benefiting our family.”
“It’s not necessary to marry. I will become the count. Though I am a woman, I can lead the family.”
“Then what about an heir?”
“...”
Taking in an adopted son. — Saying that would be disastrous.
Fearing to touch her father’s sensitive spot, Jenia hesitated, and Count Gustav Peter frowned.
He finally informed her, “I will set another date,” cornering Jenia.
Even if she told her mother, it wouldn’t change anything.
In fact, Count Peter’s suggestion was not unreasonable. It was natural for a noble lady to marry for the family’s sake, and her value was extremely high due to her unique position.
If the only daughter married and bore children (typically sons), the sons would inherit their father’s and mother’s families.
Nobles, whose fortunes could quickly rise or fall depending on their actions, always sought strong alliances, and there was no alliance stronger than brothers sharing a parent and splitting families. The bond would last through grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
This was Jenia’s value. Grinding her teeth, Jenia muttered, “I’m sick of this.”
Then what am I?
Is my purpose in life to marry into a family my father approves of and bear sons for a man I do not love?
No. I won’t do it.
Back in her room, Jenia made a decision. She told her personal maid,
“I’ll move to the annex.”
After moving, she hung a marigold (marigold) on the door.
Hanging a marigold with its contrasting meanings of ‘grief’ and ‘inevitable happiness’ on the door was a subtle request for time to contemplate and a promise to leave soon.
Standing before her vanity, Jenia first removed her earrings. Oh, I almost forgot. She had her maid bring wash water to remove her makeup and looked at herself in the mirror again.
Her upper eyebrows, with prominent curves, softened into a sharp shape, and a small mole slightly to the left of her nose bridge stood out.
Her heart pounded.
Seeing her bare face and herself without jewelry felt strange, and she leaned closer to the mirror. Wiggling her soft philtrum, biting her delicate lips, and wrinkling her nose. Ah— she opened her mouth roughly and frowned deeply enough to create wrinkles.
This is me.
On impulse, Jenia also took off her elaborate dress. She calmly traced her reflection in the mirror to clearly perceive herself.
Dressed in the simplest everyday clothes she could find, Jenia was ready for adventure. She climbed out the window of the annex’s first floor and, looking around, clung to the high wall.
- Rustle
Pah!
Dirt and sand spilled from the poorly gripped wall, but Jenia laughed. After a couple of falls, she mastered the technique and stood atop the wall. The wind blew.
Farewell.
As she looked around the mansion, Jenia snorted in disdain. She was about to jump down confidently but then changed her mind. Clinging awkwardly to the wall and eventually dropping down, she dusted off the dirt from her clothes. However, she soon realized there was no point in cleaning herself.
Emerging from the alley behind the mansion, Jenia was confronted by the grim world of commoners.
People wore monotonous clothes haphazardly, the ground was unpaved, and faces were caked with grime that hadn't been washed off in ages... It was nothing like what she saw from the carriage.
Being at the same eye level revealed things she hadn't seen before, and above all, no one paid any attention to her.
People passed by indifferently.
In this indifference, Jenia felt a peculiar sense of liberation. She no longer needed to maintain the composed walk of a noble lady, so she lifted her legs high and walked with abandon, her skirt fluttering.
Good heavens, have I gone mad for a moment? ─ she thought, but no one was watching her. Jenia burst into laughter in the middle of the street.
She could be anything. The nobility given to her at birth was neither something she had built nor something she had particularly wanted.
Freedom.
At seventeen, a noble lady at the age of marriage, Jenia blended into the bustling world of commoners. She left behind everything that had been given to her, but she didn’t regret it for a moment.
---
“Sorry, but you’ll have to look elsewhere. Our shop can't afford to hire someone with no experience.”
But the world wasn't so forgiving. After two days of job hunting, Jenia was in trouble.
She didn’t know how to do anything.
All she had was a handful of silver coins she had taken from home, and even those were gone, spent on lodging. If she had found a cheaper place to stay, she could have lasted a few more days, but her high standards led her to choose a relatively good lodging, thinking things would somehow work out.
What should I do now?
Yet Jenia’s demeanor remained calm.
A baseless confidence.
Even though she had no intention of returning to the count’s estate, she laughed off her current reality. Despite facing potential homelessness, it seemed extremely amusing to her.
Ha ha ha. How far am I going to fall? How far can I fall?
However, she wasn’t foolish enough to push herself into the gutter willingly. Jenia pondered and soon thought of something she could do.
Theater.
She had often followed her mother to the ‘Arille Theatre,’ and she thought she could manage that.
As a noble accustomed to donning the necessary masks, acting didn’t seem particularly difficult. Mastering etiquette, she had the potential to become a rare actress.
Etiquette was the domain of the nobility. However, there were jobs among commoners that required knowledge of etiquette.
For instance, professions like butlers or housekeepers needed to master etiquette, and maids serving the nobility received at least minimal training. Although different, knights also maintained a level of etiquette to match their dignity.
These were all professions that interacted with the nobility. However, another profession where learning etiquette was advantageous was that of an actor.
Many characters in plays were nobles or royalty. Aspiring lead actors often spent time and money learning etiquette.
By that measure, Jenia was a prepared lead actress. Etiquette was easier than breathing, and acting as a noble wasn’t acting for her.
Okay!
There’s no rule that says a person has to die. Thought Jenia, heading straight for the Arille Theatre.
She wasn’t worried about being recognized. Nobles never visited such theaters meant for commoners. Perhaps her mother, who sponsored the Arille Theatre, might come? Jenia wouldn’t mind being caught by her mother.
If her mother saw her as an actress, she would laugh heartily. Unlike her father, who feared rumors about the runaway noble lady and didn’t issue a wanted notice, her mother was entirely different.
However, Jenia soon realized how mistaken she was.
Becoming an actress at the Arille Theatre was easy enough, but the roles given to her were lifeless objects like trees or rocks, or speechless maid number seven. There was no room to showcase her talent, and acting was not as simple as she had thought.
An art form that elicited audience reactions through carefully chosen actions.
Jenia gradually became captivated by the intricacies of theater. Even the role of a minion of the Demon King, covered in a black sack and writhing around, was performed with all her might, and after six months of hard work, she got her chance.
“Nice to meet you. I am Bretin. I wanted to discuss...”
The owner of the Orange Theatre, a theater less than a decade old, approached her. He lured her with the promise of a good role.
It wasn’t a bad offer.
At the esteemed Arille Theatre, there were too many people wanting to act. With many already established in lead roles, it was difficult for Jenia to escape being an extra, so she moved to the Orange Theatre. There, her talent blossomed.
However, the Orange Theatre was a strange place. It had once been a brothel, and former prostitutes still lived on the theater’s third floor.
Of course, Jenia didn’t mind.
They were all commoners.
No matter what they had done in the past, they were all lowly commoners. To Jenia, the person was more important than their past or background. She laughed and shared help with them.
I guess I can live like this now.
With her life on track, Jenia had no further desires. She was an actress who could become anything, and her earnings weren’t bad. Although she felt a vague emptiness, she diligently went out for her morning exercise like a busy squirrel.
Perhaps it was because she enjoyed the unusually cool weather on a hot summer day?
Jenia ran farther than usual, reaching the north gate. On her way back, she tripped and fell.
She had collided with a boy walking with his eyes glued to a small water cup. The water, filled to the brim, spilled all over her.
The boy, who had caused the accident, said,
“I, I’m sorry.”
Reaching out, he stared blankly at the victim who had lifted her head. Holding her hand, he immediately confessed.
“I think I love you.”
“What?”
“So, please help me.”
Looking closely, he was a complete mess. This boy, or rather young man, was undoubtedly a beggar.
But he gazed at her with burning eyes, and Jenia, who was about to laugh, swallowed her smile. This man was sincerely confessing to her.
In his eyes, focused solely on her, and in the beggar boy’s boldness, Jenia’s heart pounded. She liked the person, but the fact that he was a beggar felt destined.
What would happen if I accepted? How far can I fall?
Her rebellion against her father became the wind pushing her forward. The small affection she felt was fanned into a wildfire, and Jenia answered that she would help him.

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Chapter 209: Jenia Side Story