The Reborn Witch Princess

She's Special

"Your Highness, please forgive her!" Sensing the gravity of the situation, Prince Ariel sprang to his feet and bowed deeply toward the queen, his voice trembling slightly.

Consort Watelonu's face darkened, her features twisting into a mask of rage as she watched her son's submissive gesture. The usually elegant lines of her face were now marred by an expression of contempt and fury.

Her eyes flicked toward Rara, sharp and cold, betraying a simmering hatred. The contemptuous glance was brief but searing.

Rara bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, her gaze fixed firmly on the floor. She dared not lift her eyes to meet the accusing stares that seemed to burn into her.

'It's your fault! Why did you remind me of home?!'

<It's not me. It's you! You're the one controlling my body! Look at the mess you've made! My God! Can we still go home now?!>

Inside Rara's mind, Hara buzzed around like an agitated bee, her anxieties amplifying every second.

'Stop.'

(Oh my god! We're gonna die!)

'Stop!'

(Are we going to be executed in front of the public? (Gasp) Perhaps they want to hang us and feed us to the wild dogs they keep behind the castle?)

"I said, stop!" Rara's voice cut through the tension as she stood abruptly, hurling the fork she had been holding onto her plate with a clatter that reverberated through the room.

The noise startled everyone, causing heads to turn. The sharp metallic sound of the fork hitting the plate seemed to hang in the air like a discordant note.

Prince Ariel's face went pale, his eyes wide with shock and fear. He instinctively took a step back, as if distancing himself from the commotion.

Concubine Beanilda, caught off guard, tried to stand up to avoid the food splattering onto her. Despite her best efforts, some of it reached her new dress. Her face fell as she glanced down at the once-pristine Golden Blue Starry dress now stained with greenish streaks. The vibrant color had been ruined, transforming her elegant gown into a grotesque parody of cabbage.

The dress, a gift from the King himself, held sentimental value beyond its cost. Beanilda's heart sank as she gazed at the King, her eyes filling with tears. She remained silent, her expression pleading, hoping the King would intervene and restore her dignity.

Consort Watelonu's eyes widened with disbelief. She hadn't anticipated such defiance from the girl. Her initial shock quickly turned into interest. This act of boldness—standing up and shouting in such a manner—was not only unexpected but seemed to ignite a spark of scheming within her.

Queen Lustia's face flushed with fury. She had been prepared to dismiss the incident, but Prince Ariel's intervention had only added fuel to her anger. Now, she was resolute in teaching this insolent girl a lesson.

Queen Lustia rose from her seat, and King Magdon followed, his expression thunderous. His eyes blazed with anger, not just over Rara's outburst but over the disrespect she had shown by ruining the concubine's dress.

The King's pride was wounded. The prospect of a poorly mannered girl disgracing him and his family was unacceptable. How could he, the supreme ruler of the five great kingdoms, endure such humiliation?

The butler and the servants in the dining room exchanged glances, shaking their heads in quiet disapproval. The "Queen of the Day" or Chosen Lady had proven to be anything but refined.

(You... you... kneel down right now! Quickly! We might still be able to beg for forgiveness and ask them to let us go.)

Rara felt paralyzed, her mind racing with self-reproach.

'This is not me. Hara, I know you don't like me taking over your body. But... you... damn it! I'm not a poorly mannered girl!'

<It's not me! It's you!>

"Guards!"

The King's command brought a swift reaction. The dining room door swung open, and the guards strode in with disciplined precision, their guns gleaming in the light.

Rara observed them with a mix of frustration and despair. They wore long, dark-blue uniforms with black pants and boots. Each guard had a nametag prominently displayed above the breast pocket, their attire signaling their rank and role.

The three guards in front were especially striking. Their uniforms were adorned with pendants of varying colors—white, green, and red—indicating their positions. The head guard, bearing the red pendant, stood out with a stern and authoritative presence.

'Not cool. Not cool at all! You're supposed to hold a spear and wear a soldier's hat!'

(Stop your nonsense! Go and beg the King to spare you!)

'What do you mean? You want me to beg the King? Are you insane?'

(Shut up! Do you want to live or not?)

'Of course, I want to live! But I definitely won't beg the King!'

(You... fine! When you die, I will settle this matter with you and the universe, hmph!)

Taking a deep breath, Rara approached the guards. She submitted to having her wrists cuffed, the cold metal feeling heavy and uncomfortable.

Turning toward the King and queen, she forced herself to meet their gaze. "I'm not a poorly mannered girl!" she declared defiantly, sticking her tongue out in a childish gesture.

The King and queen's faces darkened further. Their expressions twisted into a mix of disbelief and disgust. Wasn't sticking out her tongue just further proof of her lack of decorum?

The King and queen, their appetite spoiled by the scene, turned and retreated to their chambers, their departure marked by the rustle of silk and the muted click of their footsteps.

Concubine Beanilda, her face flushed with shame, hurriedly exited the dining room. Her strides were quick and unsteady, her eyes fixed ahead as she tried to escape the embarrassment.

Consort Watelonu, however, was in high spirits. She sipped her wine slowly, savoring the moment. The scene replayed in her mind, a gleeful smirk tugging at her lips.

What a delightful spectacle!

It seemed the palace would not be so dull in the coming days.

"Mama?" Ariel looked at his mother with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

He couldn't shake the feeling that his mother was in an exceptionally good mood, her eyes sparkling with amusement and her lips curved into a satisfied smile.

"Mm... Ariel, you and that girl are acquainted, correct? What are your thoughts on her?"

Ariel folded his arms, his gaze thoughtful. Chihara wasn't someone he was close to, but there was something different about her. Unlike most who would quail in the face of authority, Chihara had faced the King's anger with a startling lack of fear.

She was unique, not easily intimidated, and her behavior had certainly been unconventional.

"We're not that close, but... I think she's special."