43. Me Too, Thank You
“I simply did as Her Highness the Princess wished.”
“A blatant lie.”
“He seemed to think Her Highness wouldn’t deny it.”
Penrel, too, had considered the possibility that she might actually side with her family.
Some people, even knowing they were being mistreated by their family, couldn’t let go of their hope.
It was irrational, but surprisingly common. After all, things learned in childhood often stayed the longest.
As if reading his thoughts, the king spoke.
“I’ve already spoken to Ophelia about that. More importantly, isn’t the second prince of Egelbamot in Reden right now?”
“Yes. I saw his entourage arriving the day I left.”
It was probably because of the crown prince.
Orien, the crown prince of Egelbamot and Nettefel Luntalis’s half-brother, used his younger sibling as if he were a mere messenger. Idren had learned of this by chance in his previous life—it was something known only within the palace walls of Egelbamot.
So, it wasn’t strange for the second prince to come to Reden. What concerned Idren was something else.
The second prince had sent an attendant to Lord Rohos’s funeral. That attendant had once visited Ophelia, supposedly to deliver a message from his master.
Idren remembered how arrogantly the attendant had behaved, so he had deliberately kept him from meeting Ophelia. Fortunately, she had no interest in the funeral or those attending, so it hadn’t been difficult.
It was uncommon for a foreign prince’s servant to attend a local lord’s funeral, so Idren had investigated. He discovered that the late Lord Rohos and the second prince had once been close.
That discovery raised a question.
Did Nettefel Luntalis not know what the late Lord Rohos had done to Ophelia in their past life?
Considering the prince’s relationship with Ophelia, he should have known. If he did and still took no action against Taeran, then it cast serious doubt on him.
If it had been Idren’s friend — not that he had any — he wouldn’t have let it slide.
So, had Ophelia never told even her closest friend what had happened?
Frankly, Idren wanted to believe that version, but it was hard to make sense of either scenario.
Surely, if she had told him, that friend would’ve done something.
As unpleasant as it was, the truth was that Ophelia didn’t trust him as much as she trusted Nettefel. Even if she’d grown closer to Idren lately, he wasn’t deluded.
Still, perhaps it was something he could ask her once they grew closer. Their relationship was clearly improving, and Idren believed a day would come when he could.
He wrapped up his thoughts and asked the knight before him:
“Did you learn anything else?”
Penrel hesitated, then replied.
“I did hear one baseless rumor. I tried to find something more credible, but it seems there’s a gag order over all of Reden. I couldn’t learn anything more.”
“I don’t mind rumors.”
After Reden fell in his previous life, even rumors were hard to come by.
Besides, if it was a senseless rumor, he might need to act preemptively.
The gag order suggested that Mahanas was trying to do damage control, but Idren didn’t trust a prince who got beaten to death for being too drunk to defend himself.
And Ophelia certainly wouldn’t care about her reputation. So it would fall to him to handle things.
Penrel finally spoke.
“There’s talk that Her Highness was once engaged.”
“I already knew that.”
After stabilizing the throne to some degree, Idren had inquired into how Ophelia was doing.
He hadn’t looked into it in detail — he had plenty of problems at the time — but he knew the basics.
Ophelia had once had a fiancé. Prince Mahanas had even casually mentioned it during their meeting, probably just to emphasize that his sister was no longer betrothed.
Still, it didn’t matter. Ophelia’s husband was now him, and in the previous life, her old fiancé had never even been mentioned.
But surprisingly, the knight — who should’ve understood how royal marriages worked — hesitated. Idren waited in silence.
Eventually, Penrel spoke again.
“It seems she was close to the man she was betrothed to as a child.”
“…”
“Because of that, some say Her Highness was once in love with him.”
Idren returned just as the conversation with the tailor was ending.
Ophelia had something to say to him anyway, so she called the man over.
“You should get your measurements taken too.”
Idren just stared at her blankly. She realized from his expression that he hadn’t understood her. It was an unusual way for her to speak.
She added awkwardly:
“I figured it’d be better to have clothes made for you too while we’re at it. I picked the fabric and design myself.”
She wouldn’t have done such a thing before.
Even in their previous life, after they’d been married, Ophelia had never paid attention to what Idren wore.
He always dressed well enough anyway, and they hadn’t been close enough for her to notice the smaller details.
But after seeing him sit there looking gloomy, then leave the room, she had impulsively asked the tailor for a men’s design. The tailor, prepared as ever, had immediately pulled out some samples, assuming she was thinking of her fiancé.
As she picked out the fabric that would suit him best, Ophelia wondered why she was doing this.
Whether he was sad or not, it wasn’t her job to cheer him up. Idren was her equal — if not more powerful — and in a way, she was the one being pushed around.
She knew all this rationally, and yet she still felt like she held the upper hand. Even though logic said otherwise.
It was uncomfortable, inadvertently affecting someone — lifting or lowering them without intention. Especially once she realized she’d hurt him. That was even worse.
She knew these emotions were all because of Idren. His reactions to even her most casual words and actions had started to affect her in return.
Sometimes, she just wanted to ask him how he could be so sensitive.
But she mustn’t. Watching him obediently stand there getting measured, she reminded herself again. Better to keep her mouth shut than say something she’d regret.
Hadn’t she made someone cry once just by prying?
She hadn’t forgotten what happened in the carriage. How she’d later realized her mistake and apologized — all of it.
Ophelia didn’t want to be a bad person in Idren’s eyes. Even if she couldn’t always speak kindly, she didn’t want to say anything she’d regret.
Yet whenever he was this passive — when he absorbed everything like a fruit overripe and bruising under her touch — she wanted to say something.
It wasn’t intentional, but if he kept getting hurt, she wanted to figure out why and stop it.
Just three more years. Ophelia shifted her gaze to the open design book on the table and made a silent vow. Reden and Mahanas would fall in less than three years — maybe even sooner.
That was when it happened.
“Ophelia.”
His voice was faint, slightly subdued. She turned her head.
Idren was standing at a distance, looking at her. The measuring was apparently finished, and the tailor was packing up.
He seemed to have something to say, so Ophelia waited.
But even as he adjusted his clothes, Idren said nothing. Not until the door shut and they were alone in the room did he finally speak.
To better read his hesitation, Ophelia furrowed her brow. But before she could glean anything meaningful, Idren spoke.
Lowering his gaze, fidgeting with his collar as if unaware it was out of place, he said:
“The wedding will probably happen earlier than you remember. Having it soon will also help you settle in.”
His large hand lingered over his sleeve. From the angle of his head and the way he stared at the floor, Ophelia realized he hadn’t said what he truly wanted to say.
The subtle dishonesty made her slightly uncomfortable — as it naturally would.
The problem was, even if she didn’t like it, she didn’t know what to say.
In a small, unsure voice, Ophelia murmured:
“That’s fine with me.”
Idren, as if he had expected that answer, replied calmly:
“Yes. And thank you, for thinking about the clothes.”
Ironically, it was only after hearing that that Ophelia realized what she should’ve said yesterday when he brought up clothes.
She hesitated, then opened her mouth.
“I… me too. Thank you.”
