I went to the palace to meet Baroness Mason to express my intention to become the Queen's chief lady-in-waiting and to learn the procedures. Seeing me in my black platter dress with a tweed jacket draped over my shoulders, she complimented my attire and handed me some paperwork to fill out. A palace maid brought me coffee, the aroma of freshly ground coffee.
"Her Majesty has been keeping an eye on you for some time. Even though you usually acted modestly, you seemed to have a keen sense of intelligence."
“You flatter me. I’m no more outstanding than anyone else. I’m just an ordinary person.”
"You seem to be ahead of others and have a keen eye. There are many reasons why she'd want to keep you by your side."
The Baroness opened her eyes and smiled affectionately. Her hand, holding a flower-patterned coffee cup, was graceful, yet, as befitting a knight of military origin, it was calloused and somewhat rough.
“I believe it will be of great help to Her Majesty.”
“I’ll try hard.”
“Are you doing well in your married life?”
“Yes. I am doing well and happy.”
“I think so. You two looked really good together.”
Her expression, her words trailing off slightly, was laced with a hint of regret. I couldn't fathom why she was making such a face, so I just smiled awkwardly.
“Mrs. Rotsilt.”
An awkward silence lingered as the Baroness, having set down her coffee cup, cautiously called out to me. I savored the aroma of the coffee, then quickly swallowed it and looked at her. The Baroness then asked a question out of the blue.
“Don’t you miss your mother?”
“I’ve never seen her before.”
"Parents' love for their children is said to be the most universal emotion and instinct. It's simply natural, without any particular reason."
"Is it so?"
“She must have loved you very much.”
“I guess so.”
“So, I hope you don’t resent her too much.”
Who are you talking about? The Duchess of Groenendaal? Or perhaps the Queen already knows she's my biological mother.
As I walked down the palace corridors to return home after I met with Baroness Mason, I saw maids and servants busily moving back and forth, carrying a lot of luggage, as if they were moving.
"Hey."
As I gazed at them with curious eyes, a sharp, awl-like voice pierced my ear. A hand roughly grabbed my shoulder, causing me to turn in the opposite direction.
The one who caught me was Erita, who had a pale, almost bluish complexion and no makeup on.
“Is that you? You’ve been so obedient all this time, just like you promised!”
She continued to accuse me endlessly and harshly. As I looked over her to figure out what was going on, I realized her demeanor was not just plain, but shabby.
“Have you been caught?”
“Did I commit a crime? What do you mean, I got caught?”
“Then why are you doing this to me? Let go.”
“You put all the blame on me. Her Majesty is so angry that she's sending me to that damned monastery to recuperate!”
"That's too bad. Even with all the people around you protecting you, covering for you, and pretending not to notice, it's just incompetence that you got caught. It's not my fault."
“I tried to give in, but that was too difficult. Why can’t you win?”
“Ah!”
Erita let out a squeal of annoyance at my Noah-style tantrum. Noah would always manage to draw tears and screams from his opponents with a calm demeanor and a smile. I'd witnessed this for quite some time, so I'd mastered the technique. Apparently quite aroused by the effect, she clutched her head with one hand, her eyes widened, and she bit her lip.
“Why do you look like you don’t know anything when you’re trying to dethrone me?”
“Dethrone?”
Not only were they sending her to a monastery to rehabilitate her like a troublemaker, but they were even talking about deposing her? Embarrassed, I feigned indifference. Erita's hand on my shoulder trembled.
"Yes. If I'm dethroned, you won't be able to live peacefully either. Do you understand?"
Erita, furrowing her brow fiercely and growling, turned and left. I swallowed hard as I listened to the click-clack sound of her shoes as she walked down the hallway.
If Erita is deposed, there will be no heir to the Spencer dynasty. There will be no one but me, the biological daughter. You don't intend to acknowledge me as Princess and inherit the throne, do you?
I don't know why my uneasy premonitions were so accurate. The afternoon after Erita left for the monastery, I heard that Admiral Claire, who had smuggled himself aboard Medea, had confessed everything and confessed his sins, vowing to atone for his sins. Unlike Janet's revelations, which had been quietly buried, they were now featured prominently in the kingdom's newspapers.
Erita wasn't sent to the monastery for treatment. The official position was that she was imprisoned due to the circumstances surrounding her mental illness, which led to her immoral and antisocial murders. The government and royal family had already decided to depose her and were discussing her punishment. Noah, who relayed the news to me, spoke with a somewhat subdued expression.
"It seems he realized this fact had leaked to other royal families with a claim to the throne, and brought it to light before anyone could raise the issue. The admiral even came to visit and confessed that it was a fake."
The admiral's confession was a turning point for the royal family.
But to me, it was a bolt from the blue. Like a father who was never helpful. I lowered my gaze to the newspaper article spread out before me.
"Admiral Winston Claire, commander of the Belford Empire's navy, confessed to a crime he committed in collusion with the Frogen forces. Admiral Claire revealed that the current Princess is a fake and that the real Princess is still alive somewhere."
The Great Fencer, a newspaper that serves as a barometer of public opinion here, is a pro-royalist and has been cautious in its reporting. The fact that they published such an article at this juncture suggests a strong political agenda.
Everything was tilting in one direction. For a while, I just stared blankly at the wall. Noah, who seemed somewhat depressed, smiled reassuringly, but the gloomy atmosphere remained unchanged.
"I'm not sure if Mastiff arbitrarily changed his plans or if Admiral Claire acted impulsively. Your sister's death was likely a factor. Strangely, the Admiral didn't reveal that he was your biological father or that you were the true Princess."
Noah always insisted he wasn't perfect. He could understand others' thoughts, but he couldn't empathize with their emotions. He didn't anticipate that Celine's death would trigger her nanny, Janet, to reveal my identity in an emotionally uncontrollable way, or that the Admiral would experience a change of heart and confess all his sins. I, too, hadn't fully grasped the special bond between parent and child, so I hadn't even considered that.
"Noah, now, as promised, let's go to another country together. Before my true identity is revealed."
I held Noah's hand and earnestly pleaded. With the Queen already aware of my true identity and the sole heir, Erita, dethroned, there was a strong possibility I would become the true Princess. I was desperate, convinced that we couldn't be ordinary or happy here, but for the first time, Noah broke his promise to me.
"Sorry."
The image of him apologizing to me seemed hazy and distant, like he was in a fog. I was suddenly terrified that he might drift away, that I might lose him.
“What? You don’t have to feel sorry for me.”
“Because I couldn’t keep my promise.”
Noah's blue eyes narrowed and then gently opened as he pulled his hand away from mine and wrapped it around mine again. In that moment, my mind felt completely emptied. Before I could even hear his conclusion.
“From now on, you must live like a real Princess, Diana.”
What are you talking about? I'm fine, but you, from a war criminal nation, shouldn't be here. Because of Frogen's involvement, no one will look upon our marriage with a pure heart. Noah, with his intelligence, would know this without even needing to be told. Nevertheless, watching him make this choice made my heart burn.
“What are you going to do?”
So, what are you going to do?
Even as I questioned him, his voice filled with despair, ignoring the answers he'd assumed, he maintained a consistent smile. Why did things always go the opposite way I'd hoped? The world doesn't always go as planned, but since arriving in Medea, I've never intended to take revenge on Celine or the admiral, nor have I ever been the first to harm others. I've done neither wrong nor right. I've done nothing.
“Princess, I’m fine.”
I find myself hating that affectionate nickname so much. If he had planned this from the beginning, if he had only been using me. If I just dismissed it as a betrayal, it might hurt in the moment, but it would be easier in the end. But that's not the problem.
“Noah. Why are you always the one who sacrifices yourself?”
“Don’t worry too much, I’ll protect you.”
“You’re telling me not to worry, they’re going to send my husband to war and kill him?”
Noah, who had been holding me in his arms as I snapped and snapped, slowly patted my back as if to calm me down. Every time he held me in his arms, I felt the scent of soap, something like mine, yet different. It was something I loved. He gently rubbed his cheek against mine, like a cat rubbing its affectionate scent on mine.
“Don’t be angry. I was wrong. I should have done better.”
“I’m not saying it’s your fault.”
"I know what you mean. I just want to protect you and give you what you want. There's no other way to do that."
“Do you know what I want?”
"You live a smooth, smooth, ordinary life. I wanted to be a part of your world, too. Even when we're not together, I want to always be in your thoughts. So, even if I sometimes make you sad, please don't hate me. I hope you understand and trust my thoughts."
He didn't seem to have a well-defined concept of "heart." What he gave me as his heart was yellow daffodils, with their contradictory flower language of love and self-love. Even those actions and words must have been calculated based on an empirical judgment of what the other person would like. He always acted under the influence of probability, prediction, and calculation. I was a variable to him, and his feelings for me were nothing more than an inexplicable error. Whether thought gives rise to feeling, or feeling gives rise to thought—I don't know the fundamental answer either. Now, that didn't matter.
“Did you judge that there was a high possibility that I would abandon you?”
If I were to think solely from my own perspective, it would be most reasonable to deny him, claiming he was no longer worth using, by deceiving and exploiting a former Frogen officer to become a Princess and gain proper recognition. However, I am a human being with feelings, even if they aren't as rich as others.
“So please don’t abandon me, Princess.”
He caressed my cheek, then lightly pressed our foreheads together as he answered. His long, downturned eyelashes and lips were close together.
He only does things I like and says nice things. It saddens me to think he's been trying so hard to minimize the possibility of being abandoned. I gazed at the faint scar at the end of his eyebrow.
“You said it: I am a variable, an uncertain element.”
“Yeah. Your actions and thoughts are always hard to predict.”
"I don't live thinking about the distant future. I only act when it's right in front of me. My life hasn't always gone as planned. Meeting you, and getting married, when I've always been single, were both completely unexpected."
I grabbed him by the tie as if trying to restrain him as he walked away, and pulled him closer.
"So, get out of here with me and run away. It's a decision I made because I like you. I need you, always."
My voice and expression were sharpened with a menacing ferocity. On the other hand, I knew I was useless, like a leopard baring its fangs, trapped in a cage. In other words, I was desperately begging him.
"Her Majesty has been keeping an eye on you for some time. Even though you usually acted modestly, you seemed to have a keen sense of intelligence."
“You flatter me. I’m no more outstanding than anyone else. I’m just an ordinary person.”
"You seem to be ahead of others and have a keen eye. There are many reasons why she'd want to keep you by your side."
The Baroness opened her eyes and smiled affectionately. Her hand, holding a flower-patterned coffee cup, was graceful, yet, as befitting a knight of military origin, it was calloused and somewhat rough.
“I believe it will be of great help to Her Majesty.”
“I’ll try hard.”
“Are you doing well in your married life?”
“Yes. I am doing well and happy.”
“I think so. You two looked really good together.”
Her expression, her words trailing off slightly, was laced with a hint of regret. I couldn't fathom why she was making such a face, so I just smiled awkwardly.
“Mrs. Rotsilt.”
An awkward silence lingered as the Baroness, having set down her coffee cup, cautiously called out to me. I savored the aroma of the coffee, then quickly swallowed it and looked at her. The Baroness then asked a question out of the blue.
“Don’t you miss your mother?”
“I’ve never seen her before.”
"Parents' love for their children is said to be the most universal emotion and instinct. It's simply natural, without any particular reason."
"Is it so?"
“She must have loved you very much.”
“I guess so.”
“So, I hope you don’t resent her too much.”
Who are you talking about? The Duchess of Groenendaal? Or perhaps the Queen already knows she's my biological mother.
As I walked down the palace corridors to return home after I met with Baroness Mason, I saw maids and servants busily moving back and forth, carrying a lot of luggage, as if they were moving.
"Hey."
As I gazed at them with curious eyes, a sharp, awl-like voice pierced my ear. A hand roughly grabbed my shoulder, causing me to turn in the opposite direction.
The one who caught me was Erita, who had a pale, almost bluish complexion and no makeup on.
“Is that you? You’ve been so obedient all this time, just like you promised!”
She continued to accuse me endlessly and harshly. As I looked over her to figure out what was going on, I realized her demeanor was not just plain, but shabby.
“Have you been caught?”
“Did I commit a crime? What do you mean, I got caught?”
“Then why are you doing this to me? Let go.”
“You put all the blame on me. Her Majesty is so angry that she's sending me to that damned monastery to recuperate!”
"That's too bad. Even with all the people around you protecting you, covering for you, and pretending not to notice, it's just incompetence that you got caught. It's not my fault."
"You never let go of a single word until the very end!"
“Ah!”
Erita let out a squeal of annoyance at my Noah-style tantrum. Noah would always manage to draw tears and screams from his opponents with a calm demeanor and a smile. I'd witnessed this for quite some time, so I'd mastered the technique. Apparently quite aroused by the effect, she clutched her head with one hand, her eyes widened, and she bit her lip.
“Why do you look like you don’t know anything when you’re trying to dethrone me?”
“Dethrone?”
Not only were they sending her to a monastery to rehabilitate her like a troublemaker, but they were even talking about deposing her? Embarrassed, I feigned indifference. Erita's hand on my shoulder trembled.
"Yes. If I'm dethroned, you won't be able to live peacefully either. Do you understand?"
Erita, furrowing her brow fiercely and growling, turned and left. I swallowed hard as I listened to the click-clack sound of her shoes as she walked down the hallway.
If Erita is deposed, there will be no heir to the Spencer dynasty. There will be no one but me, the biological daughter. You don't intend to acknowledge me as Princess and inherit the throne, do you?
I don't know why my uneasy premonitions were so accurate. The afternoon after Erita left for the monastery, I heard that Admiral Claire, who had smuggled himself aboard Medea, had confessed everything and confessed his sins, vowing to atone for his sins. Unlike Janet's revelations, which had been quietly buried, they were now featured prominently in the kingdom's newspapers.
***
Erita wasn't sent to the monastery for treatment. The official position was that she was imprisoned due to the circumstances surrounding her mental illness, which led to her immoral and antisocial murders. The government and royal family had already decided to depose her and were discussing her punishment. Noah, who relayed the news to me, spoke with a somewhat subdued expression.
"It seems he realized this fact had leaked to other royal families with a claim to the throne, and brought it to light before anyone could raise the issue. The admiral even came to visit and confessed that it was a fake."
The admiral's confession was a turning point for the royal family.
But to me, it was a bolt from the blue. Like a father who was never helpful. I lowered my gaze to the newspaper article spread out before me.
"Admiral Winston Claire, commander of the Belford Empire's navy, confessed to a crime he committed in collusion with the Frogen forces. Admiral Claire revealed that the current Princess is a fake and that the real Princess is still alive somewhere."
The Great Fencer, a newspaper that serves as a barometer of public opinion here, is a pro-royalist and has been cautious in its reporting. The fact that they published such an article at this juncture suggests a strong political agenda.
Everything was tilting in one direction. For a while, I just stared blankly at the wall. Noah, who seemed somewhat depressed, smiled reassuringly, but the gloomy atmosphere remained unchanged.
"I'm not sure if Mastiff arbitrarily changed his plans or if Admiral Claire acted impulsively. Your sister's death was likely a factor. Strangely, the Admiral didn't reveal that he was your biological father or that you were the true Princess."
Noah always insisted he wasn't perfect. He could understand others' thoughts, but he couldn't empathize with their emotions. He didn't anticipate that Celine's death would trigger her nanny, Janet, to reveal my identity in an emotionally uncontrollable way, or that the Admiral would experience a change of heart and confess all his sins. I, too, hadn't fully grasped the special bond between parent and child, so I hadn't even considered that.
"Noah, now, as promised, let's go to another country together. Before my true identity is revealed."
I held Noah's hand and earnestly pleaded. With the Queen already aware of my true identity and the sole heir, Erita, dethroned, there was a strong possibility I would become the true Princess. I was desperate, convinced that we couldn't be ordinary or happy here, but for the first time, Noah broke his promise to me.
"Sorry."
The image of him apologizing to me seemed hazy and distant, like he was in a fog. I was suddenly terrified that he might drift away, that I might lose him.
“What? You don’t have to feel sorry for me.”
“Because I couldn’t keep my promise.”
Noah's blue eyes narrowed and then gently opened as he pulled his hand away from mine and wrapped it around mine again. In that moment, my mind felt completely emptied. Before I could even hear his conclusion.
“From now on, you must live like a real Princess, Diana.”
What are you talking about? I'm fine, but you, from a war criminal nation, shouldn't be here. Because of Frogen's involvement, no one will look upon our marriage with a pure heart. Noah, with his intelligence, would know this without even needing to be told. Nevertheless, watching him make this choice made my heart burn.
“What are you going to do?”
So, what are you going to do?
Even as I questioned him, his voice filled with despair, ignoring the answers he'd assumed, he maintained a consistent smile. Why did things always go the opposite way I'd hoped? The world doesn't always go as planned, but since arriving in Medea, I've never intended to take revenge on Celine or the admiral, nor have I ever been the first to harm others. I've done neither wrong nor right. I've done nothing.
“Princess, I’m fine.”
I find myself hating that affectionate nickname so much. If he had planned this from the beginning, if he had only been using me. If I just dismissed it as a betrayal, it might hurt in the moment, but it would be easier in the end. But that's not the problem.
“Noah. Why are you always the one who sacrifices yourself?”
“Don’t worry too much, I’ll protect you.”
“You’re telling me not to worry, they’re going to send my husband to war and kill him?”
Noah, who had been holding me in his arms as I snapped and snapped, slowly patted my back as if to calm me down. Every time he held me in his arms, I felt the scent of soap, something like mine, yet different. It was something I loved. He gently rubbed his cheek against mine, like a cat rubbing its affectionate scent on mine.
“Don’t be angry. I was wrong. I should have done better.”
“I’m not saying it’s your fault.”
"I know what you mean. I just want to protect you and give you what you want. There's no other way to do that."
“Do you know what I want?”
"You live a smooth, smooth, ordinary life. I wanted to be a part of your world, too. Even when we're not together, I want to always be in your thoughts. So, even if I sometimes make you sad, please don't hate me. I hope you understand and trust my thoughts."
He didn't seem to have a well-defined concept of "heart." What he gave me as his heart was yellow daffodils, with their contradictory flower language of love and self-love. Even those actions and words must have been calculated based on an empirical judgment of what the other person would like. He always acted under the influence of probability, prediction, and calculation. I was a variable to him, and his feelings for me were nothing more than an inexplicable error. Whether thought gives rise to feeling, or feeling gives rise to thought—I don't know the fundamental answer either. Now, that didn't matter.
“Did you judge that there was a high possibility that I would abandon you?”
If I were to think solely from my own perspective, it would be most reasonable to deny him, claiming he was no longer worth using, by deceiving and exploiting a former Frogen officer to become a Princess and gain proper recognition. However, I am a human being with feelings, even if they aren't as rich as others.
“So please don’t abandon me, Princess.”
He caressed my cheek, then lightly pressed our foreheads together as he answered. His long, downturned eyelashes and lips were close together.
He only does things I like and says nice things. It saddens me to think he's been trying so hard to minimize the possibility of being abandoned. I gazed at the faint scar at the end of his eyebrow.
“You said it: I am a variable, an uncertain element.”
“Yeah. Your actions and thoughts are always hard to predict.”
"I don't live thinking about the distant future. I only act when it's right in front of me. My life hasn't always gone as planned. Meeting you, and getting married, when I've always been single, were both completely unexpected."
I grabbed him by the tie as if trying to restrain him as he walked away, and pulled him closer.
"So, get out of here with me and run away. It's a decision I made because I like you. I need you, always."
My voice and expression were sharpened with a menacing ferocity. On the other hand, I knew I was useless, like a leopard baring its fangs, trapped in a cage. In other words, I was desperately begging him.
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