The Weight of Secrets
When lunchtime arrived, I was immediately summoned to the headmaster’s office.
“You must be aware that the situation isn’t looking good, Your Highness.”
The headmaster of the Royal High School knew my secret. Since the royal family had entrusted him with their one and only princess, it was inevitable that at least one person outside the palace would have to know the truth.
“Ever since Miss Carter filed her complaint, more and more students have been stepping forward to support her.”
It wasn’t an accusatory tone, but I still lowered my head in apology. After all, I really had caused him trouble.
“I’m sorry, Headmaster.”
“It’s all right. A school only proves its worth when it becomes a hall of mistakes. What concerns me, however, is Your Highness’s honor.”
“It would be quite the spectacle if the true identity of the dorm president who sparked a revolution in the dormitory were ever revealed.”
I tried to speak as lightly as possible, but I couldn’t hide the heavy weight behind those words.
I could somehow keep my identity hidden while I was still enrolled, but once I graduated, that would become nearly impossible.
Especially if I achieved my goal and refused to marry the “most outstanding student.”
I would have to reveal that I, Evey Underwood, had proven myself to be the most outstanding of all.
And once that happened, the disgraceful posts currently circulating on the anonymous board would spread far and wide across social media.
The various media outlets would even compile it all into news articles for the people who didn’t use social media.
Evey Underwood may be academically gifted, but she is arrogant and self-righteous. She couldn’t even finish her term as dorm president and was ultimately driven out by the students.
Once rumors like that took root, someone would surely try to use them for political gain. The royal family had always been little more than a gathering of monsters baring their teeth at one another’s weaknesses.
The palace and Owen would do everything they could to suppress the rumors, but in this day and age, there was no way to silence every mouth.
“My dear relatives will be absolutely thrilled when they hear about this.”
The power of the royal family came from the people’s faith. In modern society, there were countless cases where a royal family that lost that faith was reduced to nothing more than a tax burden, stripped of its traditions and honor.
In other words, once my name was plastered with disgrace, not even my parents would be able to protect me.
They would simply try to install another successor to calm public opinion.
“I’m glad to see you understand the gravity of the situation.”
“To be honest, I never imagined it would come to this.”
All I had wanted was to attend school quietly and focus on my studies. I never dreamed such a simple plan would stir up a wave this massive.
“That’s how most things begin.”
“Headmaster.”
I looked him straight in the eye from across the desk and asked,
“Do you think I should drop out?”
Quietly leaving the school before this situation reached its “conclusion” was the safest option available to me.
If I did that, there would be no need to officially announce that I had ever attended.
And even if I ran into any of the students I’d met here outside in the real world, most of them probably wouldn’t recognize me.
Including Cyrus Quinton, who would one day stand beside me at the wedding ceremony.
“Well… that would certainly be one good option.”
I almost said, It would be the only option, but stopped myself. The headmaster couldn’t very well recommend expulsion himself.
“I was foolish. I never should have taken the dorm president position. If I had known it meant constantly meddling in everyone else’s business, I never would have done it.”
“Is that so.”
“Yes. What could I possibly know about other people that would make me qualified to interfere? As you know, we royals have a chronic condition. Lack of social skills. What am I even saying right now?”
I had accidentally spilled my honest thoughts and gave an embarrassed little smile.
“Sorry. That was pointless. How much time can you give me?”
“I’d like to give you as much as possible, but considering Your Highness’s position, it might be better not to drag this out too long. Let’s meet again in three days.”
“That’s Friday. I’ll see you in the morning.”
As I stood up to leave, the headmaster quietly added,
“I hope you feel at least a little relieved.”
I paused and looked at him for a moment before answering with a small smile.
“A little, yes.”
Now that I had actually voiced the complaints I’d only been muttering to myself, I did feel slightly better.
“Not that the situation has improved at all.”
“No, it hasn’t.”
The headmaster simply smiled gently.
When I stepped out of the headmaster’s office, I could hear students who were passing by whispering about me.
I knew I was supposed to act unfazed, but it wasn’t easy at all.
Their careless chatter kept ringing in my ears.
It was time to grab something to eat at the cafeteria, but how many students would be there right now?
Just imagining it made my chest feel tight, so I turned away from the direction of the dormitory and headed for the library instead.
Choosing the library had been the right decision. I had never been so grateful for the fact that academically passionate students were relatively few in number.
I wandered slowly between the bookshelves, replaying the conversation I’d just had with the headmaster.
Do you think I should drop out?
I had pretended to be fine when I said it, but in truth, the words had felt like they were choking me.
There was an answer I had wanted to hear.
Even though the headmaster hadn’t given it to me.
It’s not even something I should be agonizing over.
I needed to leave this place immediately. There was far too much to lose, and in the worst case, I would only become a burden to my father and mother.
But if I do that…
I would be forced into that horrible, predetermined marriage. I already knew exactly how the rest of my life would unfold—I had seen the answer sheet.
Still unable to reach a conclusion, I turned another corner between the shelves.
This section had been empty the entire time, but now, to my shock, someone was standing there. I froze in place.
“Quinton?”
He was holding several books and frowned when he turned to look at me, so I mentally deducted ten points from Cyrus Quinton’s score.
In my heart, of course.
“You again?”
“Anyone listening would think I came looking for you. I have business here too, you know?”
“Here?”
He jerked his chin toward the bookshelf. I wondered what kind of books would warrant that reaction, but it turned out to be the section on teaching methods.
“Yes. Here.”
I stood beside him, crossed my arms, and scanned the spines.
Effective Elementary Teaching Methods – David Coleman
Communicating with Young Learners – James Bradshaw
Developing Mathematical Thinking: Approaches for Ages 7–12 – Sarah Pendleton
I pulled out Communicating with Young Learners and flipped through the table of contents.
It seemed Cyrus had decided to stop paying attention to me. His eyes had already returned to the book in his hands.
For a while, the only sound was the soft rustle of pages turning. Then, unusually, he spoke first.
“You really do like meddling, don’t you?”
“What?”
I looked at him, startled.
“If I liked meddling, would I have ended up in this mess?”
The biggest reason I had been dragged into this situation was his infuriating indifference.
So much so that when I had mentioned my “lack of social skills” earlier, the headmaster hadn’t even bothered to deny it.
“I don’t know what kind of mess you’re in, but you definitely like meddling.”
“Isn’t it a bit strange to label someone a ‘meddler’ just because we’ve run into each other a few times on campus?”
“That’s not the reason.”
“Then what is?”
I lifted my chin higher, giving him an openly skeptical look.
Cyrus closed the book he was reading with a snap.
“It’s obvious from all those explanations you wrote in the margins.”
“What the hell are you—”
Before I could finish asking what he meant, I understood. He was talking about the grading I had done yesterday.
“You added so many comments that it felt noisy for the person reading it.”
“Those aren’t meddling. They’re sharing thoughts. If you hated them that much, you could have erased them all and written your own.”
“I never said I hated them.”
“But you called me a meddler?”
“I don’t know why you keep picking fights, Underwood.”
He adjusted his glasses, his gaze sliding slightly away from mine.
“I’m saying I liked your explanations.”