I was frozen in a state of static, my eyes blinking. Even my thoughts, which had been tumbling, stopped.
I guess I married a really crazy guy.
I asked with a slightly dumbfounded look on my face.
"Why?"
“Because we have to eliminate the cause.”
The cause? Are you referring to the Queen or World War?
As I pondered how they'd be destroyed, I flinched, recalling the massive bomber I'd seen in Cynthia. I turned my head and gazed out the large window, capturing the springtime atmosphere of Loganfield. The scenery, the buildings, the weather—they'd all be the same wherever I went.
But not the people here. I don't worry about everyone. Those who criticize me, strangers, those are none of my business. I just feel like I don't want to lose the people I've interacted with and built a bond with.
"I think it would be sad to see this place burn. There's our mansion, the beautiful garden where we had our wedding, and all these memories we shared together here and there."
"I'll buy you a better mansion and recreate the same garden. And I'll show you more new places."
Oh, right. This man is immune to emotional appeals. He may know my thoughts, but he doesn't understand my heart. If I talked about people, he'd look at me with a pouty look and say, "Didn't you promise to only cherish me?" Struggling, I bit my lower lip and tucked my hair behind my ear.
"I just like it here. It has its own meaning. If possible, I'll go with option 2."
The most important thing is that I don't want Noah to get hurt. The resentment and revenge that follow when someone is harmed are chain reactions, and they are bound to be affected in some way. I wish he could stay in the middle ground of mediocrity, neither falling behind nor advancing.
So that he and I don't fall into the sea of causality made up of countless others.
“I will follow your lead, my queen.”
He kissed the back of my hand as if paying respect.
Is my choice truly the best? As Noah said, it might lead to the worst possible outcome, and perhaps even an irreversible outcome.
Noah used to say I was like him, but in reality, he and I are so different that we disagree on trivial matters like whether or not to turn on the night light. It's only natural, given our different births, environments, and even the worlds we've lived in.
I was the one who ran away, and Noah was the one who destroyed. There's no difference between us, as we were both inherently flawed beings.
“Princess, it seems like it will end in suicide due to pessimism about the family’s debt and her father’s gambling addiction.”
The soft voice of the Marchioness, who had arrived at the Princess's room, was heard. Erita, her discomfort evident, was fiddling with the aquamarine bracelet in her jewelry box. She'd purchased it because its unprocessed, opaque, and dull color resembled Noah's eyes.
“Lady Wales, the Count of Daywood, is a high-ranking noble family that supports the royal family. Is this acceptable?”
"Isn't he completely ruined by gambling now? He couldn't even afford his daughter's funeral. People around him pooled their money to provide funeral expenses and condolence money, but he immediately went gambling and lost it all. It's said he even grabbed the diamond necklace she was wearing as soon as he saw her body. In the end, the Chelsea family paid for the funeral on his behalf."
Erita knew that the Count's addiction to gambling was also a ruse to ruin the Waywood family. She exploited the Count's gullibility and gullibility to deception.
“Madam, you’re sure no one knows?”
"Of course. The dead just remain silent. They failed after receiving such a large sum of money, so there's nothing they can do. They took the risk and did it. The money was also paid by Mastiff, through the Kelheit Bank of the Kappel Federation. Even the Emperor visits, and they don't leak customer information. That's why they're favored by capitalists, politicians, and nobles around the world."
Erita tilted her head toward the ceiling and sighed deeply. She held the gemstone close to her eyes, still looking worried.
"What you're doing now just seems like a pointless venting of anger. I honestly don't understand your intentions. Why do you keep trying when everything else is failing?"
"There will inevitably be disappointments along the way. You need to take a long-term view. After you ascend to the throne as Queen and achieve the feat of reconciling Medea and Frogen."
“Is that a good thing? What does it have to do with this now?”
"There's a reason for everything. If the two countries unite firmly, they will become a power no other country in the world can ignore. And..."
The Marchioness of Wales continued, her cheeks flushed brightly, her voice elated. She seemed almost ecstatic, as if imagining the moment her wish had finally come true. These were typical words of a treacherous courtier, but Erita regarded them as comfort and support from a friend.
"When you become Queen, Princess, you can do whatever you want. Don't worry, I'll take care of everything."
If I could do whatever I wanted, would this emptiness be filled?
After the Marchioness left, Erita sat alone in her room, contemplating her inner thoughts. Unable to bear the emptiness, she struggled with depression and insomnia, spending each day tormented. However, as royals were expected to keep their mental health a secret, she confided only to the Marchioness.
"It's so painful that the man I love married another woman. I wanted to be loved, to love..."
I lost the man I loved.
A narrow-minded and desperate conclusion, immersed in self-pity. The long fingernails that had been bitten and chewed by Erita's mouth finally snapped with a crack.
What should I dream of and live for? If I just do as the Marchioness says, will my dreams come true on their own?
Her future was predetermined, and she lived under the pressure of her successor status. Unable to dream of her own future, the eighteen-year-old girl's eyes gazed hopelessly out the window at the cloudy sky. Always expected to do well, even the courage required to say no, she felt a burning pain deep within her.
"Mother, I don't want to be Queen. As you said, I'm inadequate. So I can't do it. I want to run away. I want to get married like any other ordinary woman and live with my family."
At these words, her mother only said that she was talking about being full, comparing her to the poor and unfortunate people.
'Mother, actually, I want to be with the person I love.'
Mother, no, Her Majesty the Cold-Blooded Queen, issued a cruel order to marry her to another man.
As she was biting the nail on her index finger, on the other hand, suddenly, words like an angel's whisper gently embraced her.
"No. You can, Princess. When you become Queen, you can get him back. Then you won't have to do anything you don't want to do, and there won't be any hardships or suffering."
The Marchioness's words, previously heard, flashed through her mind like a ray of comfort. They were like a round beacon, guiding her through the darkness to paradise. Erita covered her face with both hands and bowed her head. "Even if I keep him by my side like that, he can't possibly love me."
"Princess, shouldn't we do something like that? Even if it's just an empty shell, if only we can keep it by our side and look at it."
'So, do as you wish, Princess.'
The delicate hand that had been covering her face fell to her knees. Erita, a smile on her lips, muttered to herself.
"Yes, if I keep him by my side and love him with all my heart, there will come a day when he'll look back at me. There's nothing wrong with that. This is love... As long as that woman isn't there, that's fine, right?"
Noah's affectionate smile, beaming at me, seemed like an illusion. It wasn't mine now, but I hoped that someday, he would smile like that, just for me.
I want you to be terribly broken. I can understand anyone, so in the end, I'll be the one who stays by your side. I'll be that special.
She considered this love. But no one around her could truly enlighten her, that it was a twisted, wrong love.
No one dared to criticize her for being wrong.
Even if it exists, it doesn't exist because she can't hear it.
The morning sun hid behind gray clouds, and a steady rain fell throughout the afternoon. Despite being far from the industrial complex, I could see factory chimneys towering like pencil leads outside the window. The gloomy sky seemed to have been partially tinged with the acrid color of the smoke rising from the chimneys. Inside my room, with the windows closed, the lightbulbs lit, bright as a clear day, and the scent of marigold petals and roasted black tea filled the air.
I was looking through a notebook, listing the names of those who had previously harassed me, those who had criticized me at the anniversary banquet. And I was getting some help in return for inviting Barbara to my home and arranging my meeting with Vincent.
Her extroverted personality and the fact that her father ran the St. Louis Club made her well-informed about their families, positions, and circumstances. Barbara, holding a cookie in one hand, sipped her marigold tea, then raised her eyebrows as if realizing something.
“Well, ma’am. Now that I think about it, these people seem to have something in common, don’t they?”
“What is it?”
"It's connected to politicians in the Senate. They're not the central figures, but mostly people connected through party members, election committee members, and business connections."
I blinked a few times, trying to gather my thoughts.
The upper house of this parliament is the House of Peers, representing the same upper class and supporting the royal family. Prime Minister Medea also serves as a representative of the House of Peers.
“By any chance, Count Daywood?”
"Olivia's father? He was also a Conservative Lord. He was a clerk at the Treasury, but he fell into gambling and was subsequently suspended from his position and his seat. He was sued for failing to repay his debts, but thanks to his immunity as a Lord, he avoided prison. The horrors of gambling addiction are evident in his daughter's death; even after she died, he went to the casino. My father covered the expenses and held Olivia's funeral for her."
Barbara's face turned bitter as she mentioned Olivia's death. She even said something pitiful, like, "How could she have acted so wickedly just to impress the Princess?" She already knew that Erita had a bad personality.
In the meantime, I seem to have discovered something incredibly profound. Noah probably already knew. He said he was trying to destroy the power that would protect the incompetent Erita even if she became Queen. Since I don't trust Barbara 100%, I pretended not to know and only gave her a partial conclusion.
"I'm coming from a group that values authenticity and dignity so much that they criticized me. I'm a mixed-race, illegitimate child, and Noah is a progenitor."
"Most of the senators in the House of Lords are secular nobles. While they embrace the times, they may be concerned that their privileges will disappear. That's understandable."
“Some countries have abolished titles, and the middle class has risen to the top and is buying titles with money, so they may want to differentiate themselves from them.”
Barbara nodded in agreement with my opinion, crunching her cookie.
"The cookies are delicious. Anyway, if the power of the middle-class capitalists, like Francia, grows, the aristocracy itself will disappear. But that doesn't seem easy. Other countries have interfered, and the monarchy has been restored, then turned into a monarchy, then a republic, and it's already become our third republic."
Eventually, Barbara began talking about her trip to Francia, about the beautiful sunsets along the river and the tall, pointed towers. I outwardly agreed with her, but inwardly, I had reached a real conclusion.
Erita is slowly, with her own hands, destroying the power base that will support the future monarchy from below.
I guess I married a really crazy guy.
I asked with a slightly dumbfounded look on my face.
"Why?"
“Because we have to eliminate the cause.”
The cause? Are you referring to the Queen or World War?
As I pondered how they'd be destroyed, I flinched, recalling the massive bomber I'd seen in Cynthia. I turned my head and gazed out the large window, capturing the springtime atmosphere of Loganfield. The scenery, the buildings, the weather—they'd all be the same wherever I went.
But not the people here. I don't worry about everyone. Those who criticize me, strangers, those are none of my business. I just feel like I don't want to lose the people I've interacted with and built a bond with.
"I think it would be sad to see this place burn. There's our mansion, the beautiful garden where we had our wedding, and all these memories we shared together here and there."
"I'll buy you a better mansion and recreate the same garden. And I'll show you more new places."
Oh, right. This man is immune to emotional appeals. He may know my thoughts, but he doesn't understand my heart. If I talked about people, he'd look at me with a pouty look and say, "Didn't you promise to only cherish me?" Struggling, I bit my lower lip and tucked my hair behind my ear.
"I just like it here. It has its own meaning. If possible, I'll go with option 2."
The most important thing is that I don't want Noah to get hurt. The resentment and revenge that follow when someone is harmed are chain reactions, and they are bound to be affected in some way. I wish he could stay in the middle ground of mediocrity, neither falling behind nor advancing.
So that he and I don't fall into the sea of causality made up of countless others.
“I will follow your lead, my queen.”
He kissed the back of my hand as if paying respect.
Is my choice truly the best? As Noah said, it might lead to the worst possible outcome, and perhaps even an irreversible outcome.
Noah used to say I was like him, but in reality, he and I are so different that we disagree on trivial matters like whether or not to turn on the night light. It's only natural, given our different births, environments, and even the worlds we've lived in.
I was the one who ran away, and Noah was the one who destroyed. There's no difference between us, as we were both inherently flawed beings.
***
“Princess, it seems like it will end in suicide due to pessimism about the family’s debt and her father’s gambling addiction.”
The soft voice of the Marchioness, who had arrived at the Princess's room, was heard. Erita, her discomfort evident, was fiddling with the aquamarine bracelet in her jewelry box. She'd purchased it because its unprocessed, opaque, and dull color resembled Noah's eyes.
“Lady Wales, the Count of Daywood, is a high-ranking noble family that supports the royal family. Is this acceptable?”
"Isn't he completely ruined by gambling now? He couldn't even afford his daughter's funeral. People around him pooled their money to provide funeral expenses and condolence money, but he immediately went gambling and lost it all. It's said he even grabbed the diamond necklace she was wearing as soon as he saw her body. In the end, the Chelsea family paid for the funeral on his behalf."
Erita knew that the Count's addiction to gambling was also a ruse to ruin the Waywood family. She exploited the Count's gullibility and gullibility to deception.
“Madam, you’re sure no one knows?”
"Of course. The dead just remain silent. They failed after receiving such a large sum of money, so there's nothing they can do. They took the risk and did it. The money was also paid by Mastiff, through the Kelheit Bank of the Kappel Federation. Even the Emperor visits, and they don't leak customer information. That's why they're favored by capitalists, politicians, and nobles around the world."
Erita tilted her head toward the ceiling and sighed deeply. She held the gemstone close to her eyes, still looking worried.
"What you're doing now just seems like a pointless venting of anger. I honestly don't understand your intentions. Why do you keep trying when everything else is failing?"
"There will inevitably be disappointments along the way. You need to take a long-term view. After you ascend to the throne as Queen and achieve the feat of reconciling Medea and Frogen."
“Is that a good thing? What does it have to do with this now?”
"There's a reason for everything. If the two countries unite firmly, they will become a power no other country in the world can ignore. And..."
The Marchioness of Wales continued, her cheeks flushed brightly, her voice elated. She seemed almost ecstatic, as if imagining the moment her wish had finally come true. These were typical words of a treacherous courtier, but Erita regarded them as comfort and support from a friend.
"When you become Queen, Princess, you can do whatever you want. Don't worry, I'll take care of everything."
***
If I could do whatever I wanted, would this emptiness be filled?
After the Marchioness left, Erita sat alone in her room, contemplating her inner thoughts. Unable to bear the emptiness, she struggled with depression and insomnia, spending each day tormented. However, as royals were expected to keep their mental health a secret, she confided only to the Marchioness.
"It's so painful that the man I love married another woman. I wanted to be loved, to love..."
I lost the man I loved.
A narrow-minded and desperate conclusion, immersed in self-pity. The long fingernails that had been bitten and chewed by Erita's mouth finally snapped with a crack.
What should I dream of and live for? If I just do as the Marchioness says, will my dreams come true on their own?
Her future was predetermined, and she lived under the pressure of her successor status. Unable to dream of her own future, the eighteen-year-old girl's eyes gazed hopelessly out the window at the cloudy sky. Always expected to do well, even the courage required to say no, she felt a burning pain deep within her.
"Mother, I don't want to be Queen. As you said, I'm inadequate. So I can't do it. I want to run away. I want to get married like any other ordinary woman and live with my family."
At these words, her mother only said that she was talking about being full, comparing her to the poor and unfortunate people.
'Mother, actually, I want to be with the person I love.'
Mother, no, Her Majesty the Cold-Blooded Queen, issued a cruel order to marry her to another man.
As she was biting the nail on her index finger, on the other hand, suddenly, words like an angel's whisper gently embraced her.
"No. You can, Princess. When you become Queen, you can get him back. Then you won't have to do anything you don't want to do, and there won't be any hardships or suffering."
The Marchioness's words, previously heard, flashed through her mind like a ray of comfort. They were like a round beacon, guiding her through the darkness to paradise. Erita covered her face with both hands and bowed her head. "Even if I keep him by my side like that, he can't possibly love me."
"Princess, shouldn't we do something like that? Even if it's just an empty shell, if only we can keep it by our side and look at it."
'So, do as you wish, Princess.'
The delicate hand that had been covering her face fell to her knees. Erita, a smile on her lips, muttered to herself.
"Yes, if I keep him by my side and love him with all my heart, there will come a day when he'll look back at me. There's nothing wrong with that. This is love... As long as that woman isn't there, that's fine, right?"
Noah's affectionate smile, beaming at me, seemed like an illusion. It wasn't mine now, but I hoped that someday, he would smile like that, just for me.
I want you to be terribly broken. I can understand anyone, so in the end, I'll be the one who stays by your side. I'll be that special.
She considered this love. But no one around her could truly enlighten her, that it was a twisted, wrong love.
No one dared to criticize her for being wrong.
Even if it exists, it doesn't exist because she can't hear it.
***
The morning sun hid behind gray clouds, and a steady rain fell throughout the afternoon. Despite being far from the industrial complex, I could see factory chimneys towering like pencil leads outside the window. The gloomy sky seemed to have been partially tinged with the acrid color of the smoke rising from the chimneys. Inside my room, with the windows closed, the lightbulbs lit, bright as a clear day, and the scent of marigold petals and roasted black tea filled the air.
I was looking through a notebook, listing the names of those who had previously harassed me, those who had criticized me at the anniversary banquet. And I was getting some help in return for inviting Barbara to my home and arranging my meeting with Vincent.
Her extroverted personality and the fact that her father ran the St. Louis Club made her well-informed about their families, positions, and circumstances. Barbara, holding a cookie in one hand, sipped her marigold tea, then raised her eyebrows as if realizing something.
“Well, ma’am. Now that I think about it, these people seem to have something in common, don’t they?”
“What is it?”
"It's connected to politicians in the Senate. They're not the central figures, but mostly people connected through party members, election committee members, and business connections."
I blinked a few times, trying to gather my thoughts.
The upper house of this parliament is the House of Peers, representing the same upper class and supporting the royal family. Prime Minister Medea also serves as a representative of the House of Peers.
“By any chance, Count Daywood?”
"Olivia's father? He was also a Conservative Lord. He was a clerk at the Treasury, but he fell into gambling and was subsequently suspended from his position and his seat. He was sued for failing to repay his debts, but thanks to his immunity as a Lord, he avoided prison. The horrors of gambling addiction are evident in his daughter's death; even after she died, he went to the casino. My father covered the expenses and held Olivia's funeral for her."
Barbara's face turned bitter as she mentioned Olivia's death. She even said something pitiful, like, "How could she have acted so wickedly just to impress the Princess?" She already knew that Erita had a bad personality.
In the meantime, I seem to have discovered something incredibly profound. Noah probably already knew. He said he was trying to destroy the power that would protect the incompetent Erita even if she became Queen. Since I don't trust Barbara 100%, I pretended not to know and only gave her a partial conclusion.
"I'm coming from a group that values authenticity and dignity so much that they criticized me. I'm a mixed-race, illegitimate child, and Noah is a progenitor."
"Most of the senators in the House of Lords are secular nobles. While they embrace the times, they may be concerned that their privileges will disappear. That's understandable."
“Some countries have abolished titles, and the middle class has risen to the top and is buying titles with money, so they may want to differentiate themselves from them.”
Barbara nodded in agreement with my opinion, crunching her cookie.
"The cookies are delicious. Anyway, if the power of the middle-class capitalists, like Francia, grows, the aristocracy itself will disappear. But that doesn't seem easy. Other countries have interfered, and the monarchy has been restored, then turned into a monarchy, then a republic, and it's already become our third republic."
Eventually, Barbara began talking about her trip to Francia, about the beautiful sunsets along the river and the tall, pointed towers. I outwardly agreed with her, but inwardly, I had reached a real conclusion.
Erita is slowly, with her own hands, destroying the power base that will support the future monarchy from below.
Comments
Post a Comment