Time melted away like snow, and spring was already upon us. The war that had engulfed the world was reaching its climax. Before the war, Medea's northern Estrian bustling streets were bustling with people, frequented by the affluent, aristocratic, and wealthy. Now, the warm spring sun bathed the city's shopping streets, but they remained empty, and few shops were open.
It was natural that non-military civilians rarely went out due to fear of air raids, so the only visitors were beggars and thieves.
Unable to afford the taxes, most merchants closed their shops and went off to war or joined the military to support their families. A few continued to trade, such as the elderly owner of a bakery and dessert shop at the end of the shopping street. Fortunately, the aristocrat who owned the building was generous, and soldiers and officers frequently visited, allowing them to earn enough to live on.
“Hello, you’re back again.”
The owner busily adjusted his apron and greeted the guests. A man in a gray-brown suit made of luxurious fabric entered, a black coat draped over his arm. He was a handsome man with silver-white hair who had been visiting frequently this year. He possessed a peculiar air. His handsome appearance, refined attire, and languid, breathy voice, though perhaps a bit jaded, were quite charming and likely to win the favor of many.
The owner observed the man's dignified speech and elegant, aristocratic bearing, and guessed that he was either an Esatian mixed-blood nobleman or a high-ranking officer.
He recently learned from a regular officer that he was Princess Medea's ex-husband, Noah Rotsilt. The man, who had been bending over, gazing at the display case with his hands in his pockets, slowly straightened up.
“Three.”
It was a monotonous speech with little change in pitch.
The owner packed three puddings and placed them in a paper bag. He had a reserved and cold demeanor. He always had a blank expression, and it seemed he'd never smiled. He rarely spoke of unnecessary things, and when asked briefly how he was doing or commented on the weather, he simply nodded, showing no desire to continue the conversation. The owner called the man over.
“These are the madeleines I made today. I’ll give them to you as a bonus.”
The man shook his head in refusal to accept the master's offer.
"Oh, would you like something else? It's rare to find a regular like you these days. I guess you like sweets."
The man's dark, blue eyes stared directly at the owner. The owner felt intimidated by the gaze, which seemed to be looking at something cumbersome and troublesome. He was staring at the watch beneath his sleeve when he heard the jingle of coins set down and looked up.
“I don’t like it. My wife likes it.”
Although his expression and tone of voice were still indifferent, the word 'wife' was filled with affection.
“You’re so kind. I’m sure your wife will like it...”
The startled owner quickly gathered his words and finished paying. He had seen the Princess in a portrait. She must have been even more beautiful and noble than the painting. She must have worn refined clothes of velvet or satin, and drank Cynthia's fine black tea. The man must have given his wife a rare smile. The owner watched the man's broad back as he turned and left. The owner's daughter, who had just returned from her errand, caught her breath, her face flushed red.
“Dad, is he already gone?”
"Yes."
"Oh no. I should've run faster! It's one of the few pleasures I have!"
The owner's daughter, who had not seen Noah's face, had a regretful expression on her face.
“He bought some pudding again, didn’t he? Mary said the Princess liked pudding.”
"I see. Karen, the best man is one who is kind to his wife. You should find someone like that, too, and not hang out with a bad guy like Hans."
“I’ll take care of it. I heard rumors recently that the Princess died. I wonder if that man is crazy from the shock... ugh!”
The owner slapped his daughter on the back, warning her to be careful with her words. He, too, was concerned about the ominous rumors circulating these days.
“Don’t say things you’re not sure about.”
"Hello."
In front of the castle where he was staying, Noah encountered Henry Marx, Diana's personal assistant. Dressed in a smart navy suit and bow tie, Henry waved with a bright smile, holding some documents. When he simply stared without responding, Henry put his hand down with a sheepish expression.
“The Princess still hasn’t woken up?”
Noah accepted the documents Henry handed him, stared at him for a moment, and then slowly opened his lips.
“Just say what you want to say and go.”
"Count Manoff, Grand Duke Carlos, and Marquis Belua have completely turned to Frogen. All three families are descendants of the Duke of Rotsilt, aren't they? I don't know if it's because they feel their plan has failed, or if it's your intention."
Noah's mouth remained firmly shut. Henry, who had been studying him with his piercingly dry eyes, his upturned gaze, and his slightly furrowed brow, slowly lowered his gaze. His sharp gaze sent a chill down his spine. He'd previously possessed the social skills to smile, even if it was fake, but now he looked rather dirty. Was that his true self? Henry raised his head, rubbing his half-curly hair with a regretful expression.
"The air battle was a defeat, and it seems like the Allies are finally winning... Could you give me a hint? I've invested a lot of money. It includes my future wedding fund, a ring to propose to my future wife, and the education of my future children."
“That’s your choice.”
Henry stared at Noah's back as he turned away with a cold reply. Even if the man had participated in the war to protect the Princess from other capitalist and Frogenist forces, he must have also been directly involved in guiding the war in his own way. Perhaps he had antagonized the capitalist families who had suffered significant losses in the process. Ultimately, the only thing left was the unconscious Princess. If she didn't wake up, Medea United Kingdom might as well be over. After all, the Queen wasn't positive about their relationship. Henry sighed softly.
The scenario of a new world emerging will remain unchanged. This war will cause the eternal sun to set, and a new sun to rise beyond the night. Not in a nation ruled by a long history, noble lineage, and a unified people, but in a new land where the diverse peoples of the world gather. This has been foreseen ever since the great empires that produced countless royal families and dynasties since ancient times fell, giving way to the emerging nations of the Guiana continent as powerhouses.
A time of ease would arrive, when the caste system that bound and confined individual desires would completely disappear, capital would become power and status, and humanity would gain technology capable of reaching the moon. Of course, this too would bring new discrimination and oppression, but it was a task entrusted to those who would live in that era.
“If the Princess hadn’t been swapped with the fake, hmm. What would it have been like?”
Still, he thinks the two of them would have gotten married.
Henry, who had been standing silently, smiled faintly. Then he got back into the car to go back.
Noah returned to Diana's room, carrying the pudding. The silence that greeted him was still the same. Only the quiet breathing of the sleeping person filled the room.
Sometimes, the Queen would come here with Boaz, who had recovered, and wept quietly. Diana's condition and whereabouts were kept secret, so only a few knew the exact circumstances. She remembers quite a few people visiting her when she fell down the stairs and lost consciousness. Now, even if it wasn't a secret, most people wouldn't come. She also heard that Diana's noisy friend, Commander Chelsea's daughter, was killed in an air raid.
He once wished he were her only. He even reached the point where he realized that if she had something precious to him, she wouldn't have left, and she might have returned just as quickly as before. He pursed his lips. He didn't realize that this feeling, growing bitter with each passing day, was regret. It was an indecipherable emotion, but it was directly connected to the realization that he must protect the things she held dear.
"Diana, I won't let you be lonely. I'll create more precious things for you and protect them. What's precious to you is precious to me, too. But I don't like men, especially Henry."
He took out a bottle of strawberry pudding and tried to put it in her hand, but it just fell out and rolled across the white sheets. Knowing it was futile, he picked up the pudding and sat down on the chair next to the bed.
“It’s your favorite strawberry flavor.”
He spoke in a somewhat regretful tone, opening the lid of the pudding and taking a large bite. After a couple more bites, he quickly swallowed it down and put the pudding down, shaking his head.
“It’s too sweet for me to eat.”
He thought he could hear her laughter from somewhere, so he just stared at her sleeping face for a long time.
It feels like she'll curl up under the covers, telling him not to wake her up and that she'll sleep better if he kisses her cheek.
Her pale, serene face resembled that of a saint in deep repose. Barely surviving on IV fluids and medications fed through narrow veins, she had reverted to the gaunt figure he'd seen when they'd first met. The doctor's terrifying words—that there was no hope of waking up and that death might occur at any moment—always hovered over him, a constant source of anxiety. Was she slumbering, exhausted and longing for rest? Or was she loathing this world, so terrible she couldn't wake?
“Are you having happy dreams now?”
He stroked Diana's cheek. Slowly, his hand moved down to cover her chest, feeling her faint pulse. Was this proof that she was alive? He wasn't satisfied with that alone. He remembered how her gaze had remained fixed on him, even though she was easily capricious. Even though the sweet aftertaste lingered in his mouth, it felt bitter. Noah, swallowing his loneliness, stared helplessly at her unresponsive lips. He knew no words of comfort that would resonate with her. Instead, a yearning twisted by misguided desire was uncontrollably swallowing his reason and turmoil.
'The happier your dreams are, the more nightmares they become for me.'
At the same moment, his cloudy blue eyes glared fiercely. The fierce gaze settled back into gentleness after he remembered what she had said in the past.
"I might end up hating you. I won't smile or answer you, ever. I can do that."
It was natural that non-military civilians rarely went out due to fear of air raids, so the only visitors were beggars and thieves.
Unable to afford the taxes, most merchants closed their shops and went off to war or joined the military to support their families. A few continued to trade, such as the elderly owner of a bakery and dessert shop at the end of the shopping street. Fortunately, the aristocrat who owned the building was generous, and soldiers and officers frequently visited, allowing them to earn enough to live on.
“Hello, you’re back again.”
The owner busily adjusted his apron and greeted the guests. A man in a gray-brown suit made of luxurious fabric entered, a black coat draped over his arm. He was a handsome man with silver-white hair who had been visiting frequently this year. He possessed a peculiar air. His handsome appearance, refined attire, and languid, breathy voice, though perhaps a bit jaded, were quite charming and likely to win the favor of many.
The owner observed the man's dignified speech and elegant, aristocratic bearing, and guessed that he was either an Esatian mixed-blood nobleman or a high-ranking officer.
He recently learned from a regular officer that he was Princess Medea's ex-husband, Noah Rotsilt. The man, who had been bending over, gazing at the display case with his hands in his pockets, slowly straightened up.
“Three.”
It was a monotonous speech with little change in pitch.
The owner packed three puddings and placed them in a paper bag. He had a reserved and cold demeanor. He always had a blank expression, and it seemed he'd never smiled. He rarely spoke of unnecessary things, and when asked briefly how he was doing or commented on the weather, he simply nodded, showing no desire to continue the conversation. The owner called the man over.
“These are the madeleines I made today. I’ll give them to you as a bonus.”
The man shook his head in refusal to accept the master's offer.
"Oh, would you like something else? It's rare to find a regular like you these days. I guess you like sweets."
The man's dark, blue eyes stared directly at the owner. The owner felt intimidated by the gaze, which seemed to be looking at something cumbersome and troublesome. He was staring at the watch beneath his sleeve when he heard the jingle of coins set down and looked up.
“I don’t like it. My wife likes it.”
Although his expression and tone of voice were still indifferent, the word 'wife' was filled with affection.
“You’re so kind. I’m sure your wife will like it...”
The startled owner quickly gathered his words and finished paying. He had seen the Princess in a portrait. She must have been even more beautiful and noble than the painting. She must have worn refined clothes of velvet or satin, and drank Cynthia's fine black tea. The man must have given his wife a rare smile. The owner watched the man's broad back as he turned and left. The owner's daughter, who had just returned from her errand, caught her breath, her face flushed red.
“Dad, is he already gone?”
"Yes."
"Oh no. I should've run faster! It's one of the few pleasures I have!"
The owner's daughter, who had not seen Noah's face, had a regretful expression on her face.
“He bought some pudding again, didn’t he? Mary said the Princess liked pudding.”
"I see. Karen, the best man is one who is kind to his wife. You should find someone like that, too, and not hang out with a bad guy like Hans."
“I’ll take care of it. I heard rumors recently that the Princess died. I wonder if that man is crazy from the shock... ugh!”
The owner slapped his daughter on the back, warning her to be careful with her words. He, too, was concerned about the ominous rumors circulating these days.
“Don’t say things you’re not sure about.”
***
"Hello."
In front of the castle where he was staying, Noah encountered Henry Marx, Diana's personal assistant. Dressed in a smart navy suit and bow tie, Henry waved with a bright smile, holding some documents. When he simply stared without responding, Henry put his hand down with a sheepish expression.
“The Princess still hasn’t woken up?”
Noah accepted the documents Henry handed him, stared at him for a moment, and then slowly opened his lips.
“Just say what you want to say and go.”
"Count Manoff, Grand Duke Carlos, and Marquis Belua have completely turned to Frogen. All three families are descendants of the Duke of Rotsilt, aren't they? I don't know if it's because they feel their plan has failed, or if it's your intention."
Noah's mouth remained firmly shut. Henry, who had been studying him with his piercingly dry eyes, his upturned gaze, and his slightly furrowed brow, slowly lowered his gaze. His sharp gaze sent a chill down his spine. He'd previously possessed the social skills to smile, even if it was fake, but now he looked rather dirty. Was that his true self? Henry raised his head, rubbing his half-curly hair with a regretful expression.
"The air battle was a defeat, and it seems like the Allies are finally winning... Could you give me a hint? I've invested a lot of money. It includes my future wedding fund, a ring to propose to my future wife, and the education of my future children."
“That’s your choice.”
Henry stared at Noah's back as he turned away with a cold reply. Even if the man had participated in the war to protect the Princess from other capitalist and Frogenist forces, he must have also been directly involved in guiding the war in his own way. Perhaps he had antagonized the capitalist families who had suffered significant losses in the process. Ultimately, the only thing left was the unconscious Princess. If she didn't wake up, Medea United Kingdom might as well be over. After all, the Queen wasn't positive about their relationship. Henry sighed softly.
The scenario of a new world emerging will remain unchanged. This war will cause the eternal sun to set, and a new sun to rise beyond the night. Not in a nation ruled by a long history, noble lineage, and a unified people, but in a new land where the diverse peoples of the world gather. This has been foreseen ever since the great empires that produced countless royal families and dynasties since ancient times fell, giving way to the emerging nations of the Guiana continent as powerhouses.
A time of ease would arrive, when the caste system that bound and confined individual desires would completely disappear, capital would become power and status, and humanity would gain technology capable of reaching the moon. Of course, this too would bring new discrimination and oppression, but it was a task entrusted to those who would live in that era.
“If the Princess hadn’t been swapped with the fake, hmm. What would it have been like?”
Still, he thinks the two of them would have gotten married.
Henry, who had been standing silently, smiled faintly. Then he got back into the car to go back.
Noah returned to Diana's room, carrying the pudding. The silence that greeted him was still the same. Only the quiet breathing of the sleeping person filled the room.
Sometimes, the Queen would come here with Boaz, who had recovered, and wept quietly. Diana's condition and whereabouts were kept secret, so only a few knew the exact circumstances. She remembers quite a few people visiting her when she fell down the stairs and lost consciousness. Now, even if it wasn't a secret, most people wouldn't come. She also heard that Diana's noisy friend, Commander Chelsea's daughter, was killed in an air raid.
He once wished he were her only. He even reached the point where he realized that if she had something precious to him, she wouldn't have left, and she might have returned just as quickly as before. He pursed his lips. He didn't realize that this feeling, growing bitter with each passing day, was regret. It was an indecipherable emotion, but it was directly connected to the realization that he must protect the things she held dear.
"Diana, I won't let you be lonely. I'll create more precious things for you and protect them. What's precious to you is precious to me, too. But I don't like men, especially Henry."
He took out a bottle of strawberry pudding and tried to put it in her hand, but it just fell out and rolled across the white sheets. Knowing it was futile, he picked up the pudding and sat down on the chair next to the bed.
“It’s your favorite strawberry flavor.”
He spoke in a somewhat regretful tone, opening the lid of the pudding and taking a large bite. After a couple more bites, he quickly swallowed it down and put the pudding down, shaking his head.
“It’s too sweet for me to eat.”
He thought he could hear her laughter from somewhere, so he just stared at her sleeping face for a long time.
It feels like she'll curl up under the covers, telling him not to wake her up and that she'll sleep better if he kisses her cheek.
Her pale, serene face resembled that of a saint in deep repose. Barely surviving on IV fluids and medications fed through narrow veins, she had reverted to the gaunt figure he'd seen when they'd first met. The doctor's terrifying words—that there was no hope of waking up and that death might occur at any moment—always hovered over him, a constant source of anxiety. Was she slumbering, exhausted and longing for rest? Or was she loathing this world, so terrible she couldn't wake?
“Are you having happy dreams now?”
He stroked Diana's cheek. Slowly, his hand moved down to cover her chest, feeling her faint pulse. Was this proof that she was alive? He wasn't satisfied with that alone. He remembered how her gaze had remained fixed on him, even though she was easily capricious. Even though the sweet aftertaste lingered in his mouth, it felt bitter. Noah, swallowing his loneliness, stared helplessly at her unresponsive lips. He knew no words of comfort that would resonate with her. Instead, a yearning twisted by misguided desire was uncontrollably swallowing his reason and turmoil.
'The happier your dreams are, the more nightmares they become for me.'
At the same moment, his cloudy blue eyes glared fiercely. The fierce gaze settled back into gentleness after he remembered what she had said in the past.
"I might end up hating you. I won't smile or answer you, ever. I can do that."
He must be affectionate toward her. He doesn't know when this resolution began. It was engraved in him like a mission, like an instinct, from the moment they first met. Noah rested his forehead against the back of Diana's hand and sighed deeply.
"Noah, if you ever have a Princess of your own, always be considerate and affectionate to her. Once a heart is hurt, it's hard to heal."
These were the words his mother spoke before she died. She had come from a wealthy, educated family, but after Eiland was occupied, she worked as a maid for Captain Frogen, who was stationed there. Treated worse than an animal, beaten countless times, she was on the verge of death, and her father, who rescued her and married her, never once raised his voice or got angry at his traumatized mother. He was always affectionate and smiled. He always spoke of his love for her. That was the kindness he had seen. Wouldn't she return the favor if he spoke of his love? Noah tried to speak of his love for Diana, but then gave up.
“I still don’t know what you mean by love.”
At least he didn't want to lie to her.
Even though people and love were everywhere, she was the only one who could tell them what it meant.
“Please come back quickly and let me know.”
He found it unseemly of him to whine like a child. But since he couldn't find a way to bring her back, he had no choice but to plead with her in a vulnerable manner. She was vulnerable to such things. While casting an indifferent gaze outward, inwardly she pitied and sympathized with the pitiable and wretched. How wonderful it would be if she took pity on him, sympathized with him, and returned to him.
Knock knock.
A knock pierced the loneliness, and Vincent, dressed in a coat, entered. He was carrying a bouquet of daisies he had bought from a florist under the guise of visiting a sick person.
“Maybe it’s because it’s not winter, but there were a lot of flowers at the flower shop.”
"That's because there are so many people dying," Noah muttered to himself, leaning back in his chair and turning to look at him. Vincent placed a newspaper and a bouquet of flowers on the bedside console, his expression complicated.
“If things continue like this, there is a high possibility that the Allied Forces will be defeated.”
"Yes."
Noah's blue eyes turned to the Frogen newspaper on the console.
"Princess Diana Spencer Grace of the United Kingdom of Medea is likely deceased. The global stock market is experiencing unusual volatility, and investors are also unsettled."
"With rumors of the death of the sole heir to the House of Spencer, three houses of the Knights of the Round Table have split, and five have become neutral. And Dr. Benedict Libert is also a problem. His daughter, who attended the Francia boarding school, has been taken hostage, so there's a possibility he'll actively cooperate with the Frogen faction."
Noah showed the documents he had received from Henry.
“I know. The eldest son of the Marx family told me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I have to keep my promise.”
Noah lifted his chin toward Vincent. He smiled loosely for the first time since Diana lost consciousness.
“For the world she will return to.”
"Noah, if you ever have a Princess of your own, always be considerate and affectionate to her. Once a heart is hurt, it's hard to heal."
These were the words his mother spoke before she died. She had come from a wealthy, educated family, but after Eiland was occupied, she worked as a maid for Captain Frogen, who was stationed there. Treated worse than an animal, beaten countless times, she was on the verge of death, and her father, who rescued her and married her, never once raised his voice or got angry at his traumatized mother. He was always affectionate and smiled. He always spoke of his love for her. That was the kindness he had seen. Wouldn't she return the favor if he spoke of his love? Noah tried to speak of his love for Diana, but then gave up.
“I still don’t know what you mean by love.”
At least he didn't want to lie to her.
Even though people and love were everywhere, she was the only one who could tell them what it meant.
“Please come back quickly and let me know.”
He found it unseemly of him to whine like a child. But since he couldn't find a way to bring her back, he had no choice but to plead with her in a vulnerable manner. She was vulnerable to such things. While casting an indifferent gaze outward, inwardly she pitied and sympathized with the pitiable and wretched. How wonderful it would be if she took pity on him, sympathized with him, and returned to him.
Knock knock.
A knock pierced the loneliness, and Vincent, dressed in a coat, entered. He was carrying a bouquet of daisies he had bought from a florist under the guise of visiting a sick person.
“Maybe it’s because it’s not winter, but there were a lot of flowers at the flower shop.”
"That's because there are so many people dying," Noah muttered to himself, leaning back in his chair and turning to look at him. Vincent placed a newspaper and a bouquet of flowers on the bedside console, his expression complicated.
“If things continue like this, there is a high possibility that the Allied Forces will be defeated.”
"Yes."
Noah's blue eyes turned to the Frogen newspaper on the console.
"Princess Diana Spencer Grace of the United Kingdom of Medea is likely deceased. The global stock market is experiencing unusual volatility, and investors are also unsettled."
"With rumors of the death of the sole heir to the House of Spencer, three houses of the Knights of the Round Table have split, and five have become neutral. And Dr. Benedict Libert is also a problem. His daughter, who attended the Francia boarding school, has been taken hostage, so there's a possibility he'll actively cooperate with the Frogen faction."
Noah showed the documents he had received from Henry.
“I know. The eldest son of the Marx family told me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I have to keep my promise.”
Noah lifted his chin toward Vincent. He smiled loosely for the first time since Diana lost consciousness.
“For the world she will return to.”
Previous Next
Comments
Post a Comment