#047. “Yes, There Is. I’ll Give It to You.”
Fortunately, it seemed that spite of his had a reason behind it. Well, if you’re going to torment someone, there ought to at least be a reason. I sat back down and prepared myself to calmly listen to the Archduke’s words.
“How well have I treated you all this time? Yet now, just because I haven’t visited for a month, there’s gossip going around. That must mean the rumors haven’t spread well enough.”
“…So you were hoping Lady Martina would spread those rumors for you?”
It was more amusing to hear that the Archduke had been keeping Lady Martina in check because of me than to simply hear he had treated me well. The angrier she got, the faster the rumors would spread.
“As expected, I do like how quick you are to catch on.”
The Archduke gave a soft smile and asked,
“So? Do you find it burdensome?”
Is that even a question? I stared at him speechlessly in disbelief. He asked again.
“Shall I stop?”
“Do I even have a choice?”
The Archduke simply looked at me with that same smiling face.
“Yes, you do. Because I’m giving it to you.”
He set his empty teacup aside, propped up his chin with one hand, and questioned me.
“Now, tell me. What is it that you want?”
“Whatever Your Grace desires.”
I answered without hesitation. The Archduke tilted his head, still resting his chin on his hand.
“You don’t mind? You’ll just endure it?”
“I don’t mind.”
The Archduke leaned in slightly. Of course, we were only six or eight years old, seated across a table—so even as he leaned in, the distance wasn’t particularly small. Still, from that short distance, he studied me carefully.
“…Doesn’t seem like a lie.”
“It’s not.”
I even smiled leisurely in response.
“I was merely asking that Your Grace not tease Lady Martina too much.”
I knew it was effective in spreading rumors, and I wouldn’t stop him if he insisted, but at least let’s try not to torment her too much.
I stared at him with that intention in my gaze. The Archduke let out a quiet chuckle and straightened his posture.
“Very well. I’ll show some leniency.”
“Then… the next time we go to the Martina duchy to schedule the event, may I go alone?”
He laughed—a clear, childlike laugh that contrasted with his usual adult-like demeanor.
“Of course, just as you wish.”
It felt like I had just been outplayed somehow, but I didn’t let it show and simply smiled. After all, I’d achieved what I came for.
Once both Lady Martina and the Archduke had left, I was left alone. I sat quietly, absentmindedly touching the now cold teacup, lost in thought.
The Archduke said he’d give me what I wanted. But what exactly do I want?
In my past life, the answer would’ve been simple: Please don’t show me such excessive favor. The affairs of the divine should be handled by the divine. Your Majesty need not concern yourself.
But whenever I tried to say the same to the Archduke, something always held me back.
It was the memory of His Majesty.
“It seems you’re never pleased with the gifts I bestow. Tell me honestly—what lies in your heart? Loyalty? Or treason?”
When was it again that His Majesty had said that? Was it when he created the new position of “General of the Opposition” for me? Or when he gave me the Emperor’s seal, permitting me to review royal decrees and affix the imperial stamp as I saw fit?
Ah… perhaps it was when he granted me a name of my own.
Whatever the moment, I remember being so overwhelmed that I begged him to rescind the honor. Now that I think about it, I begged quite a lot back then.
I don’t remember exactly what I had pleaded him to take back, but I do remember clearly that he never did. He was a man who rarely changed his mind.
Ever since the day the Archduke said he would personally handle the promise regarding the Empress, I often recalled those memories.
I sometimes wonder—had I obediently accepted His Majesty’s gifts as he wanted, would our ending have been any different?
Back then, when I was questioned about my unwillingness to accept those honors, I only felt wronged that he would doubt my loyalty.
But now that I think about it… maybe His Majesty was just hurt. Perhaps he wanted me to accept what he gave me joyfully, purely—not with calculations about public opinion or power dynamics.
Of course, even if I returned to the past, I’d behave the same. Because it was His Majesty.
If I had obediently accepted his favor, only to have it taken away later… I can’t imagine what would have become of me.
I remember the end.
Even knowing he would eventually calm his fury, I couldn’t bring myself to eat. That feeling, like a fire blazing in my chest.
I tried so hard not to grow used to it. And yet it was still unbearable. No matter how cautious and guarded I’d been my whole life, it was as hard as I’d feared.
Being abandoned by him felt like that.
Remembering that fire in my chest, I turned my attention back to the present. What do I really feel about the Archduke? How did I fare during the month he stayed away?
I was fine. I wasn’t tormented. Sure, I did worry about what it would mean for my standing if our relationship soured.
But the Archduke’s whims didn’t cause me emotional pain. I respect him. I think he’s excellent, fair, and will make a good emperor.
But that’s it. He’s not someone I can pledge my full loyalty to.
Good. That makes things easier. Even if the Archduke changes his attitude later, I won’t be hurt. I can endure it. I won’t stop eating.
So I’ll go with the flow. I’ll let the Archduke do as he wishes.
Because I’m curious what might happen to my life if I choose a path I hadn’t before.
While Blanche sat quietly with a cold cup of tea, lost in memories, Melchizedek boarded a carriage used for traveling between palaces.
It was the same carriage that had just seen off Lady Fania Shayne Martina.
“You seem troubled.”
As soon as the door closed, the aide spoke carefully, as if he’d been waiting to ask. Melchizedek ran a hand through his bangs in frustration.
“It’s ambiguous.”
“Because of Princess Blanche?”
Melchizedek let out a long sigh instead of answering. That was answer enough.
“What did Princess Blanche do wrong?”
“It bothers me that she didn’t do anything wrong.”
It was irrational. But Melchizedek was the Crown Prince and the Archduke. No one was going to call him out on being unreasonable. The aide didn’t either. After a moment of silence, Melchizedek continued.
“I gave her a choice. To decide whether she was just enduring my behavior or whether it really didn’t matter to her. And she said—it didn’t matter.”
It was the best possible answer.
Had she said she was enduring it, he’d have felt guilty. If she’d sidestepped the options and said what she really wanted, he might have suspected Liana tipped her off.
So Blanche’s answer was exactly what he hoped for. And yet, judging by her demeanor, it only made it more suspicious.
Maybe she knew what he wanted—and gave that answer intentionally.
“It’s ridiculous to complain after offering a choice.”
By offering options, he had limited her answers. And unless one was confident they could handle the consequences, they wouldn’t reject the given choices.
“But still… I feel like even if I hadn’t given her a choice, Princess Blanche would’ve chosen the best possible answer anyway.”
Even Melchizedek found the situation frustrating. He had a desired reaction from Blanche, but receiving that reaction only led to more doubts.
Is this genuine? Or did she give me what I wanted on purpose?
Logically, a six-year-old couldn’t possibly be manipulating his mood with such precision.
“…Then perhaps you just don’t like Princess Blanche.”
If you’re dissatisfied even when you get the response you want, maybe the person just doesn’t appeal to you. The Emperor and Empress believed Melchizedek was sulking because he liked Blanche, but the aide—whose job was to manage the Crown Prince’s moods—thought otherwise.
Melchizedek didn’t seem to like Blanche. He seemed fixated on her.
Of course, one can be obsessed with someone they like, but the aide saw no affection in Melchizedek’s fixation.
“Sometimes people just aren’t compatible, even if no one’s done anything wrong. If that’s the case, wouldn’t it be best to keep some distance?”
Melchizedek closed his eyes. He always carried a maturity beyond his years, but with his eyes shut, he looked more fitting to his age.
“…But I don’t want that either. Isn’t that the real problem?”
Even without seeing him, the aide could probably guess Melchizedek’s expression.
One that said: I have no idea what I really want.
