#115. Ah, Damn. We Really Did Need to Talk
“I truly wished for you to become my consort—the mother of all my children.”
My fingers, which had been idly rubbing the rim of my teacup, froze.
I couldn’t say a single word.
The bent back before me. The pale hand clutching the wine glass.
After those words, the room fell into complete silence.
I thought I had understood that silence.
I had acknowledged that there was a personal affection behind his proposal.
I had considered what kind of procedure and justification would be necessary for such a proposal to be accepted.
But there had been one emotion I had failed to read.
Those words were not something that had slipped out in drunken impulse.
They were words that carried the weight of decades by the time they were spoken.
“…You really didn’t know. That’s a face of someone who’s never even imagined it.”
“I’ve never… imagined it.”
Wasn’t that natural?
Who would ever think that His Majesty—who had ruled dozens of nations with nothing but political judgment—would let himself be swayed by a mere emotion and make a decision that would last for decades?
At least I had seen His Majesty since childhood, so I believed that even he was capable of emotions.
But others considered even the feelings he displayed to be entirely fabricated.
“And so.”
His Majesty leaned forward toward me.
The fiery red hair fell forward, shading his brow.
“If you had known my heart back then, would your choice have been different?”
I wrung my dazed mind for an answer.
If I had known His Majesty’s true feelings at that time…
If I had known that he had left the position of Empress vacant for more than twenty years because of me…
Then, on that day—when I already had a spouse but no children left—what answer would I have given?
“…No. It wouldn’t have changed.”
And yet the answer that left my lips was the same.
Even if I had known, I wouldn’t have chosen differently.
Because—
“Too much had already piled up.”
By then, I had already married, built a household, given birth, and lost a child.
I had deepened ties with my clan.
I had gained friends and comrades.
Too many bonds were already intertwined.
To abandon them all and take the seat as the Queen of Qin instead of the White Lotus of the Yi family… it would have been impossible.
But still—
“…If you had said such words back when we exchanged letters. Back then… I might have waited.”
When we were still a boy and a girl.
When you were but the King’s younger brother, and I was leading the fallen Yi family.
Politically, we were a perfect match.
If the royal house wanted to absorb the Yi family, marrying you into us would both resolve the matter of succession and reconcile the clans. A benefit for both sides.
And I too liked you back then.
I had some certainty you felt the same about me.
So, in my own way, I had prepared my heart.
But after Your Majesty returned to the capital, circumstances changed.
You became king.
The Yi family revived, and then cast me aside.
We were no longer equals politically.
Of course, I judged that marrying you was no longer possible.
But still, what would people think of a young man and woman who had once had the possibility of marriage?
That was why I hastened to marry someone suitable, and only afterward swore my loyalty to Your Majesty.
By the time we met again, I had already made every resolution, every resignation.
From that point on, whether you proposed or not—it no longer held meaning.
But if it had been before then… before I was married, before I had sorted out my emotions… perhaps I might have steeled myself differently.
Perhaps I would have prepared to become Queen of the royal house that had destroyed my clan.
“Ah, damn. We really did need to talk.”
His Majesty chuckled bitterly, covering his face with his hand.
But I could not agree with those words.
So I only pretended to sip the tea, long since gone cold, and kept my lips shut.
“I think we need to have a talk.”
…Do we, really?
I stared out the carriage window, my thoughts crooked and cynical.
“Your Highness. It seems we’ll arrive in the capital today. We should be within the palace before supper.”
Count Griff, returning from a conversation outside, opened the door and reported.
I smiled faintly, as if I hadn’t been troubled at all.
“I see.”
Once he boarded and closed the door, the carriage rolled on again.
After weeks of carriage travel, my bones and muscles screamed.
But with the Count seated opposite, I couldn’t let it show.
It would almost have been better to ride horseback and at least feel the wind.
But Count Griff, who clung to propriety, would never allow that.
And I, heading back into enemy ground, had no reason to stir up conflict.
So I swallowed my sighs and kept my posture perfect.
Well, it’s nothing new. Looking flawless is something I’ve done all my life.
Annoying, yes. Tiresome, yes. But not unbearable.
…If only it truly were unbearable—perhaps that would have been easier.
“I think we need to have a talk.”
Since that day with His Majesty, I found myself replaying it whenever I had a moment to spare.
The path we might have taken.
The disasters I might have prevented.
I blamed His Majesty for not giving me certainty.
But was that really the problem?
What if I had been the one to ask his intentions first?
What if I had written to ask, Has your heart changed with your station?
What if I had asked, How best can I help you?
What answer would he have given then?
What choice might I have made?
And with my child… was I right to hide my end from him?
Wasn’t it selfish to keep silent—simply because I feared that if he begged me to stop, I would want to listen?
Perhaps he misunderstood my intent.
Or… perhaps it wasn’t a misunderstanding at all.
I think back to those final days, when even swallowing food was difficult.
When he saw me end with only His Majesty’s letter in my hands—what must have gone through his heart?
Was it arrogance that I failed to consider him?
Or did I simply excuse it as fine when in truth I was too worn down to care?
In the end, I know none of it can be undone.
That child was never even born.
And after all this, I could never resolve to marry His Majesty.
And yet I keep turning it over.
I keep clinging to the past.
Is this really right?
Would it not have been better to remain ignorant?
I always believed that knowledge was power.
And yet, even I can’t help thinking like this now…
My brooding ended only when the carriage entered the capital, passed the palace gates, and rolled into the royal court.
“Her Highness, the Seventh Princess, Blanche Roa Vandaluin, has arrived!”
“Oh! You’ve come, my daughter.”
Only when I met the family that was mine in name alone.
“It has been a long time.”
The royal family of Lamore who came to greet me numbered eight:
The king, the queen, and their six legitimate children—three princes and three princesses.
One could either marvel that a royal house, where heirs only multiply the struggle for succession, would have so many legitimate children… or else marvel at their devotion—that even with six of their own, they still refused to send any to the Empire, instead adopting a newborn orphan and shipping it off in their place.
I straightened my heart that kept turning cynical, and smiled as kindly as I could.
“Your Majesty’s grace covers the entire land.”
I kissed the king’s hand—the man who was my father on record.
He patted my shoulder with his free hand.
After that, my “mother” and siblings stepped forward with greetings.
How was the Empire?
It must feel good to return.
You must be tired…
Empty words.
How could a child who left at three years old remember the kingdom and feel glad to return?
How could people who barely knew one another pretend to be family?
It would have been cleaner to admit we were strangers and offer words of professional encouragement.
But if they wanted to play family—
“I’m so glad you all welcome me home. At supper, we can speak more closely, yes? I’ll be looking forward to it.”
I smiled like a beloved youngest daughter, choosing the words such a daughter would say to family she hadn’t seen in a long time.
It wasn’t difficult.
All I had to do was mimic what Fania did with her family.
And thinking of Fania made the smile come easier.
Truly—though not a drop of blood connects us, you are more of a family to me than any of them.
And so, with that thought, I ensured the entire royal household would attend the evening meal.
