Princess Erita's blue eyes swiveled again, glaring at me with a twinkle in her eye. Then, abruptly, they shifted to a look of pity, fixing their gaze on Noah. Her hands were tightly clutching the hem of her dress.
“Noah, do you have to do this to me?”
"What?"
“You’re blatantly hurting me. Can’t you just wait?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Noah swirled the wine glass in his hand with a look of complete ignorance. I don't understand that woman's psychology either. I meant to tell her to just give up and get lost, not to provoke jealousy.
“Leaving behind such a ridiculous trace...”
Princess Erita frowned, unable to continue speaking, and placed a hand on her forehead. Her face turned as pale as the white dress she was wearing.
Noah seemed oblivious to the Princess. He slowly rubbed the back of his neck and lowered his eyes. The corners of his eyes were tinted a pitiful red.
Is that guy embarrassed right now? Noah looked at me with that same expression, his face vulnerable.
“Princess, I liked that kind of rough side too.”
“When have I ever been violent?”
“I was backing out of the car and suddenly you hit me...”
“Don’t talk here!”
Princess Erita, who had been listening intently to our conversation, spoke in a sharp voice with an even more aggrieved expression.
“How rude. You keep calling other women Princess in front of me, and you ignore what people say.”
“Another woman?”
Noah tilted his head with a displeased expression. As he leaned closer to Princess Erita, a blush spread across her face. "Why am I so excited? It feels strangely uncomfortable." She suppressed her expression and narrowed her eyes again.
“Is it that fun to play with my heart that loves you?”
“Love.”
Noah covered his mouth with one hand and let out a small laugh. His voice, which continued, was ominously low.
“You must be trying to escape with the word love.”
Her face flushed with obvious embarrassment, contrasting with his emotionless expression. Noah gave her a short, mocking chuckle, then turned away from her and approached me, taking my hand.
“Noah, this is so heartbreaking.”
Behind Noah, she let out a whiny, resentful voice. I couldn't tell what she was saying. She seemed to be under some kind of great delusion.
I thought a child under twenty was suffering from the fever of love. It's common to attach meaning to trivial things and make mistakes.
Maybe I was like that when I was her age. Physically, I'm the same age as her, but mentally, I'm a worn-out 20-something. I tried to understand how emotionally drained she was, throwing tantrums and getting angry, which was typical of adolescence.
Princess Erita suddenly approached me, who was pretending to be generous and had a calm expression, and opened her mouth with a venomous expression, placing her hand on her waist.
“You don’t think you’re special? You’re being used.”
Hmm. That's just an abnormally obsessive behavior, hearing only what you want to hear and seeing only what you want to see. Come to think of it, I wasn't like that when I was eighteen.
Noah's face gradually became expressionless as Princess Erita spoke.
“I have nothing to use it for.”
I answered with a stern expression. "I really don't have any, so that was a concern of mine too." Princess Erita raised one corner of her mouth and tried to speak with composure.
"That guy is a bit peculiar. He's using you to test my feelings."
“Can’t the Princess marry someone who isn’t a Medea anyway?”
"That's why he's urging me to quickly give up my right to the throne. To see if my heart is sincere."
“Who said that...?”
I asked with a somewhat bewildered expression. That woman seemed... strange. She seemed to be firmly under the illusion that the world revolved around her.
The longing for what one does not have can turn into a severe love sickness, and when it becomes severe, it can turn into a pathological delusion.
This is something we've seen quite often in real life. It's like someone suddenly confessing to someone and getting angry when they don't accept it, asking, "If that's the case, why did you even smile?"
Our gazes met sharply. She, consumed by a deep sense of self-pity, looked down on me as if I were the perpetrator (unfortunately, I was shorter).
Soon, the sound of brass instruments was heard, accompanied by shouts announcing that Queen Grace II of Medea had entered the ballroom.
People all stopped what they were doing and bowed in reverence and respect.
Princess Erita, with a fresh expression on her face, walked toward the Queen with her maids who had been waiting at a distance. Contrary to our expectations that she would accuse us of being rude, she bowed to her mother, the Queen, with a determined expression.
The Queen looked at her daughter with a gaze that was both kind and cold.
She was wearing a gorgeous dress of platinum-colored fabric, with countless diamonds scattered on the fabric, and a royal blue sash.
The stark contrast between her perfectly pitch-black hair and her white skin was so dazzlingly beautiful that I wondered if Snow White had actually existed.
Her every expression and gesture was elegant, and she possessed the authority and dignity befitting a royal of noble blood. She was as beautiful as a portrait painted by an artist, and it wouldn't be strange at all for either man or woman to have her as a lover.
Noah took my hand and stepped forward before the Queen. Queen Grace's green eyes lit up with kindness as she watched us.
“May God bless Queen Grace II, the eternal sun of Medea. My name is Diana.”
I paid her a courtesy, as I had been taught. The Queen smiled at me. It was a smile that had a strangely chilling quality. I felt a strange sense of unease. I don't know her, and I've never seen her in a portrait or photograph.
"Diana, the name of the goddess who rules over the moon. I heard you've been through a lot. You've been through a lot."
As the Queen and I stood face to face, time seemed to stop. The place where we met felt like a completely different space.
A ringing in my ears echoed, and the sounds around the ballroom faded away. The floor beneath my feet shook and heaved, as if an earthquake had struck.
The Queen, who had been looking at me standing there blankly, slowly tilted her head.
“Beautiful girl, why are you crying?”
The beautiful Queen asked, her voice elegant and gentle.
I was startled by the tears streaming down my cheeks, and I wiped them with my sleeve. I had no thoughts or feelings.
I wasn't even interested in watching the people betting on when the ice sculpture of a swan in the middle of the ballroom would completely melt. They were from a completely different world from mine.
I hesitated for a moment, not knowing why tears welled up in my eyes without even giving me a chance to blink.
“Because you're beautiful.”
I just thought she was beautiful, so that must be the reason. The Queen took my hand and stroked the back of it. Her hand was a bit cold, but I found it warm.
"Thank you. I can imagine you've had a very difficult time. Now, as a descendant of Medea, I hope you can enjoy happiness under the protection and care of your homeland."
I've never seen it before, yet it feels familiar. And those eyes are like mine. Eyes that know the weight they're suddenly being forced to bear is too much to bear.
They are eyes that distrust people and don't even expect anything. Those who realize the principle that if you don't expect anything, you won't be disappointed, don't even look forward to the future, and are therefore uninterested and apathetic about everything.
She was like that, too. She was somewhat listless.
“We are thinking of getting married.”
Noah, breaking the silence created by the mutual observations, entered, grinning and wrapping his arm around my shoulder. The Queen covered her mouth and smiled brightly at the words, which seemed like a disguised permission.
Her green eyes briefly brushed the marks on Noah's neck, but she showed no sign of it.
Princess Erita remained surprisingly quiet. She seemed afraid of her mother. Perhaps she was a strict mother to her daughter.
In fact, even the most educated royal families are bound to have children with flawed character. That's their own problem.
"Yes. You look great together. I was curious about you, the Count's fiancée. Please come visit often and tell us about your story."
After exchanging a few words with the Queen, we left the bustling ballroom and walked through the gardens.
The artificial streetlights lining the garden, which was well decorated with winter trees, illuminated the night at Tempshire Palace.
Noah, walking among the camellia trees, each adorned with white camellia blossoms, suddenly stopped in front of a bench. He sat down, took off his coat, spread it out beside him, and patted it with his hand.
“Sit down.”
“Aren’t you cold?”
“It’s cold. I’m taking off my clothes because you’re a Princess.”
He seems a bit tsundere. His clothes would probably get wrinkled too. I was worried, but I didn't refuse.
We sat side by side and looked at the white camellia flowers in full bloom across from us.
Compared to other countries where peanut butter was frozen solid, perhaps because it was warm, the cozy winter smell was pleasant. A warm hand wrapped around my wrist. He opened my hand and looked at it intently.
Having done all sorts of work since childhood, these hands were by no means delicate or soft. They were rough, calloused, and swollen, perhaps from frostbite.
My damaged nails were rough, breaking even when they grew just a little, making them impossible to grow back. Embarrassed by the scaly, psoriasis-like skin on my palms, I quickly closed them.
“My hands are a bit clumsy.”
He didn't say anything, but I figured he'd think so, so I made up some excuses. Especially since it wasn't my original thing.
“Appearance doesn’t matter.”
Noah spoke gently, rubbing his cheek against the back of my hand.
“I see things differently than other people. You know that?”
“Do you see a ghost? Or something like a spirit.”
“Huh? It’s similar.”
"Is this a situation where he's suddenly confessing his superpowers to me?" He chuckled, looking at my bewildered expression.
"Essence and meaning. The process and reason why it came to exist as it is."
“It’s difficult. I don’t know much about philosophy.”
"Every moment you've lived has shaped you into who you are today. It's all beautiful. Because you're unique, one of a kind."
He paused for a moment and cupped my cheek.
“You don’t have to look beautiful to everyone. You just have to look good to me.”
“Even when I become a grandmother?”
“I’ll tell you that you’re the prettiest grandmother in the world.”
Indeed, Noah seems like he'll be a handsome grandfather even when he's older. As I was imagining him in his old age, an unexpected scene came to mind, and I was momentarily taken aback.
We repeatedly watched the setting sun each day, imagining a future together that would last into old age. The fleeting imagination was remarkable. He even depicted marriage, children, and family life with a thrilling fervor.
I raised my head and stared at the night sky, mocking myself inwardly.
The sky was so dark that not even the morning star could be seen, and the moon itself seemed pale, enveloped by wispy clouds. The silence was as quiet as after a performance, when the curtains were drawn, and it felt almost melancholic.
Suddenly, I felt cold metal touch my fourth finger. Slowly, I looked down at it, my hazy eyes widening.
I closed my eyes, feeling as if starlight had descended upon my hand. Noah put a ring on my hand and smiled prettily.
It twinkled, as if replacing the vanished stars of the sky. He still held my rough, clumsy, and ugly hand as if it were precious.
I stared intently at his face. The clouds that had obscured the moon drifted away, drifting away somewhere. As if the curtains that marked the beginning of a stage were slowly being lifted, a faint moonlight shone through. A beautiful man, bathed in moonlight, smiled.
"Diana. I'll tell you you're beautiful forever. You probably will be beautiful forever. No matter how you live, no matter what you look like, that will never change. That's who you are."
“Noah, do you have to do this to me?”
"What?"
“You’re blatantly hurting me. Can’t you just wait?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Noah swirled the wine glass in his hand with a look of complete ignorance. I don't understand that woman's psychology either. I meant to tell her to just give up and get lost, not to provoke jealousy.
“Leaving behind such a ridiculous trace...”
Princess Erita frowned, unable to continue speaking, and placed a hand on her forehead. Her face turned as pale as the white dress she was wearing.
Noah seemed oblivious to the Princess. He slowly rubbed the back of his neck and lowered his eyes. The corners of his eyes were tinted a pitiful red.
Is that guy embarrassed right now? Noah looked at me with that same expression, his face vulnerable.
“Princess, I liked that kind of rough side too.”
“When have I ever been violent?”
“I was backing out of the car and suddenly you hit me...”
“Don’t talk here!”
Princess Erita, who had been listening intently to our conversation, spoke in a sharp voice with an even more aggrieved expression.
“How rude. You keep calling other women Princess in front of me, and you ignore what people say.”
“Another woman?”
Noah tilted his head with a displeased expression. As he leaned closer to Princess Erita, a blush spread across her face. "Why am I so excited? It feels strangely uncomfortable." She suppressed her expression and narrowed her eyes again.
“Is it that fun to play with my heart that loves you?”
“Love.”
Noah covered his mouth with one hand and let out a small laugh. His voice, which continued, was ominously low.
“You must be trying to escape with the word love.”
Her face flushed with obvious embarrassment, contrasting with his emotionless expression. Noah gave her a short, mocking chuckle, then turned away from her and approached me, taking my hand.
“Noah, this is so heartbreaking.”
Behind Noah, she let out a whiny, resentful voice. I couldn't tell what she was saying. She seemed to be under some kind of great delusion.
I thought a child under twenty was suffering from the fever of love. It's common to attach meaning to trivial things and make mistakes.
Maybe I was like that when I was her age. Physically, I'm the same age as her, but mentally, I'm a worn-out 20-something. I tried to understand how emotionally drained she was, throwing tantrums and getting angry, which was typical of adolescence.
Princess Erita suddenly approached me, who was pretending to be generous and had a calm expression, and opened her mouth with a venomous expression, placing her hand on her waist.
“You don’t think you’re special? You’re being used.”
Hmm. That's just an abnormally obsessive behavior, hearing only what you want to hear and seeing only what you want to see. Come to think of it, I wasn't like that when I was eighteen.
Noah's face gradually became expressionless as Princess Erita spoke.
“I have nothing to use it for.”
I answered with a stern expression. "I really don't have any, so that was a concern of mine too." Princess Erita raised one corner of her mouth and tried to speak with composure.
"That guy is a bit peculiar. He's using you to test my feelings."
“Can’t the Princess marry someone who isn’t a Medea anyway?”
"That's why he's urging me to quickly give up my right to the throne. To see if my heart is sincere."
“Who said that...?”
I asked with a somewhat bewildered expression. That woman seemed... strange. She seemed to be firmly under the illusion that the world revolved around her.
The longing for what one does not have can turn into a severe love sickness, and when it becomes severe, it can turn into a pathological delusion.
This is something we've seen quite often in real life. It's like someone suddenly confessing to someone and getting angry when they don't accept it, asking, "If that's the case, why did you even smile?"
Our gazes met sharply. She, consumed by a deep sense of self-pity, looked down on me as if I were the perpetrator (unfortunately, I was shorter).
Soon, the sound of brass instruments was heard, accompanied by shouts announcing that Queen Grace II of Medea had entered the ballroom.
People all stopped what they were doing and bowed in reverence and respect.
Princess Erita, with a fresh expression on her face, walked toward the Queen with her maids who had been waiting at a distance. Contrary to our expectations that she would accuse us of being rude, she bowed to her mother, the Queen, with a determined expression.
The Queen looked at her daughter with a gaze that was both kind and cold.
She was wearing a gorgeous dress of platinum-colored fabric, with countless diamonds scattered on the fabric, and a royal blue sash.
The stark contrast between her perfectly pitch-black hair and her white skin was so dazzlingly beautiful that I wondered if Snow White had actually existed.
Her every expression and gesture was elegant, and she possessed the authority and dignity befitting a royal of noble blood. She was as beautiful as a portrait painted by an artist, and it wouldn't be strange at all for either man or woman to have her as a lover.
Noah took my hand and stepped forward before the Queen. Queen Grace's green eyes lit up with kindness as she watched us.
“May God bless Queen Grace II, the eternal sun of Medea. My name is Diana.”
I paid her a courtesy, as I had been taught. The Queen smiled at me. It was a smile that had a strangely chilling quality. I felt a strange sense of unease. I don't know her, and I've never seen her in a portrait or photograph.
"Diana, the name of the goddess who rules over the moon. I heard you've been through a lot. You've been through a lot."
As the Queen and I stood face to face, time seemed to stop. The place where we met felt like a completely different space.
A ringing in my ears echoed, and the sounds around the ballroom faded away. The floor beneath my feet shook and heaved, as if an earthquake had struck.
The Queen, who had been looking at me standing there blankly, slowly tilted her head.
“Beautiful girl, why are you crying?”
The beautiful Queen asked, her voice elegant and gentle.
I was startled by the tears streaming down my cheeks, and I wiped them with my sleeve. I had no thoughts or feelings.
I wasn't even interested in watching the people betting on when the ice sculpture of a swan in the middle of the ballroom would completely melt. They were from a completely different world from mine.
I hesitated for a moment, not knowing why tears welled up in my eyes without even giving me a chance to blink.
“Because you're beautiful.”
I just thought she was beautiful, so that must be the reason. The Queen took my hand and stroked the back of it. Her hand was a bit cold, but I found it warm.
"Thank you. I can imagine you've had a very difficult time. Now, as a descendant of Medea, I hope you can enjoy happiness under the protection and care of your homeland."
I've never seen it before, yet it feels familiar. And those eyes are like mine. Eyes that know the weight they're suddenly being forced to bear is too much to bear.
They are eyes that distrust people and don't even expect anything. Those who realize the principle that if you don't expect anything, you won't be disappointed, don't even look forward to the future, and are therefore uninterested and apathetic about everything.
She was like that, too. She was somewhat listless.
“We are thinking of getting married.”
Noah, breaking the silence created by the mutual observations, entered, grinning and wrapping his arm around my shoulder. The Queen covered her mouth and smiled brightly at the words, which seemed like a disguised permission.
Her green eyes briefly brushed the marks on Noah's neck, but she showed no sign of it.
Princess Erita remained surprisingly quiet. She seemed afraid of her mother. Perhaps she was a strict mother to her daughter.
In fact, even the most educated royal families are bound to have children with flawed character. That's their own problem.
"Yes. You look great together. I was curious about you, the Count's fiancée. Please come visit often and tell us about your story."
After exchanging a few words with the Queen, we left the bustling ballroom and walked through the gardens.
The artificial streetlights lining the garden, which was well decorated with winter trees, illuminated the night at Tempshire Palace.
Noah, walking among the camellia trees, each adorned with white camellia blossoms, suddenly stopped in front of a bench. He sat down, took off his coat, spread it out beside him, and patted it with his hand.
“Sit down.”
“Aren’t you cold?”
“It’s cold. I’m taking off my clothes because you’re a Princess.”
He seems a bit tsundere. His clothes would probably get wrinkled too. I was worried, but I didn't refuse.
We sat side by side and looked at the white camellia flowers in full bloom across from us.
Compared to other countries where peanut butter was frozen solid, perhaps because it was warm, the cozy winter smell was pleasant. A warm hand wrapped around my wrist. He opened my hand and looked at it intently.
Having done all sorts of work since childhood, these hands were by no means delicate or soft. They were rough, calloused, and swollen, perhaps from frostbite.
My damaged nails were rough, breaking even when they grew just a little, making them impossible to grow back. Embarrassed by the scaly, psoriasis-like skin on my palms, I quickly closed them.
“My hands are a bit clumsy.”
He didn't say anything, but I figured he'd think so, so I made up some excuses. Especially since it wasn't my original thing.
“Appearance doesn’t matter.”
Noah spoke gently, rubbing his cheek against the back of my hand.
“I see things differently than other people. You know that?”
“Do you see a ghost? Or something like a spirit.”
“Huh? It’s similar.”
"Is this a situation where he's suddenly confessing his superpowers to me?" He chuckled, looking at my bewildered expression.
"Essence and meaning. The process and reason why it came to exist as it is."
“It’s difficult. I don’t know much about philosophy.”
"Every moment you've lived has shaped you into who you are today. It's all beautiful. Because you're unique, one of a kind."
He paused for a moment and cupped my cheek.
“You don’t have to look beautiful to everyone. You just have to look good to me.”
“Even when I become a grandmother?”
“I’ll tell you that you’re the prettiest grandmother in the world.”
Indeed, Noah seems like he'll be a handsome grandfather even when he's older. As I was imagining him in his old age, an unexpected scene came to mind, and I was momentarily taken aback.
We repeatedly watched the setting sun each day, imagining a future together that would last into old age. The fleeting imagination was remarkable. He even depicted marriage, children, and family life with a thrilling fervor.
I raised my head and stared at the night sky, mocking myself inwardly.
The sky was so dark that not even the morning star could be seen, and the moon itself seemed pale, enveloped by wispy clouds. The silence was as quiet as after a performance, when the curtains were drawn, and it felt almost melancholic.
Suddenly, I felt cold metal touch my fourth finger. Slowly, I looked down at it, my hazy eyes widening.
I closed my eyes, feeling as if starlight had descended upon my hand. Noah put a ring on my hand and smiled prettily.
It twinkled, as if replacing the vanished stars of the sky. He still held my rough, clumsy, and ugly hand as if it were precious.
I stared intently at his face. The clouds that had obscured the moon drifted away, drifting away somewhere. As if the curtains that marked the beginning of a stage were slowly being lifted, a faint moonlight shone through. A beautiful man, bathed in moonlight, smiled.
"Diana. I'll tell you you're beautiful forever. You probably will be beautiful forever. No matter how you live, no matter what you look like, that will never change. That's who you are."
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