LMJO 37

#27. So What

“The betrothed—do you mean the Prince of Aglante?”

“Yes.”

At that, his master let out a sigh, looking up at the sky.

“Ah… so he became Ophelia’s betrothed.”

Sensing the faint shock in the young man’s voice, Bahamal quickly added,

“Her Highness the Princess clearly seemed to want to come alone. But the Prince of Aglante…”

“Shh, Bahamal. Be respectful. He is the Crown Prince of Aglante.”

And the young man murmured in a sorrowful voice,
“He’s a king with a country… unlike me.”

Bahamal saw his beautiful master walk wearily toward the ship’s railing and lean on it. The twilight sunlight poured over his back, adding a touch of melancholy.

Bahamal felt a surge of hostility toward the prince who had caused his master such heartache.

It had been nearly ten years since his master began harboring feelings for the Princess of Reden, his childhood friend.

Bahamal knew just how hard his master had worked to win her as his bride. His master didn’t often show his true feelings to others, but Bahamal had earned his trust as a loyal servant.

And yet… this was the result?

Unable to contain his frustration, Bahamal burst out,

“How could the Prince of Reden allow this? After all Your Highness has done…”

“You can’t blame the prince. I simply wasn’t enough.”

The young man added in a fragile voice,
“Of course the prince wouldn’t like me. I’m of illegitimate birth, and…”

“But isn’t the Crown Prince of Aglante also illegitimate?”

“Yes, but he has a kingdom.”

His master furrowed his brows, and Bahamal read the pain behind that beautiful expression. He hurried over. The closer he got, the more deeply he could feel his master’s anguish.

Bahamal knelt before him and looked up as if worshiping a divine figure, beginning to comfort his master.

“Your Highness, please don’t be so sad. The Prince of Reden made a mistake. You are no less than the Crown Prince.”

But the young man looked down at him with sorrow in his eyes and gently placed a hand on his head.

“No, Bahamal. I’m less.”

The pain behind those words was so vivid that Bahamal lowered his head and wept. His master softly stroked his hair.

The gesture felt so sacred, Bahamal couldn’t hold back his emotions.

Netepel Runtalis placed his hand on his follower’s head and looked up at the sky. The sunset-stained heavens were glowing red.

Looking at the red and blue sky, he murmured,

“At least for now… I’m not as good as him.”

It was a cold, cutting remark, void of earlier wistfulness. But Bahamal, lost in his tears, didn’t hear it.

In the carriage heading to a nearby lord’s estate, Idren sat across from Ophelia, studying her. She leaned her chin on her hand and looked out the window. Her blue eyes, lit by golden sunlight, blinked in a steady rhythm.

As twilight tinted her cheeks, Idren recalled what had happened before they boarded the carriage.

“Make your choice. Either come with me, or don’t.”

To be honest, Idren had thought Ophelia would be displeased by his words.

Before time turned back, during their three-year marriage, Netepel Runtalis had always been a frequent visitor—Ophelia’s guest.

Even though Idren knew the young, unmarried prince came and went from Sigrazil Castle and Ophelia’s villa as he pleased, he had never dared to say anything.

First, he lacked the courage to interfere in her personal relationships. Second, he knew there was nothing romantic between them.

He’d never spoken to the prince himself, but Ophelia had been around him often.

Although she never loved Idren, he knew her well enough to recognize if she ever fell in love with someone else.

But her blue eyes had always remained calm. Right up until the moment she died.

A person in love couldn’t look that way.

Looking in the mirror every day had taught him that much.

Still, Idren had inserted himself between Ophelia and the second prince of Egelbamot—purely out of selfishness.

In his past life, he had disliked Netepel Runtalis visiting the castle. Even knowing that Ophelia had no romantic interest in him, he couldn’t help how he felt.

But he didn’t want to repeat that behavior in this second chance at life. So he acted on his desire.

And yet, contrary to his expectations, Ophelia readily accepted his words.

“So what? It’s hardly something worth making a choice over.”

She said it in a detached tone.

Before he could say anything else, Ophelia instructed the second prince’s servant:

“Go tell your master my betrothed will be joining us.”

It would be a lie to say that didn’t affect him.

Even knowing her words carried no emotion, hearing her call him “betrothed” brought Idren a small flicker of joy.

The fact that she dismissed his request as trivial didn’t bother him at all.

Ophelia glanced sideways at the man smirking to himself.

He looked so at ease, but her mind was in turmoil.

She couldn’t help but wonder: if Netepel had visited Reden in her past life, why hadn’t he come to see her?

They had known each other since long ago.

Runtalis, Sigrazil, and Mevasa would gather yearly in Egelbamot for council meetings. That’s where they met.

Although he was the second prince of Runtalis, not born of the empress, Netepel was constantly bullied by his siblings.

His half-brother, the crown prince of Egelbamot, led the bullying, and his sisters stood by and did nothing.

So Netepel was always alone. And in that, they were the same.

Ophelia remembered how withdrawn she had been as a child. Until she met Haslen, she didn’t even know how to talk to people. No one in the palace ever talked to her.

Naturally, the two outcasts had gravitated toward each other.

Of course, Mahanas never liked her spending time with Netepel.

If she were to make friends, he insisted, it should be with the princesses of Egelbamot or the princes of Aglante.

But Ophelia didn’t want to obey.

She didn’t get along with the Runtalis princesses, and the princes of Aglante were like little Mahanases.

They laughed at vulgar jokes and casually trampled on those weaker than them.

So she secretly spent time with Netepel.

At the council, children and adults were usually separated, so Mahanas never noticed.

But on the journey back to Reden, his pre-assigned attendants would report whom she had been with, and Mahanas would explode in rage.

Ophelia was afraid of that. But she couldn’t bring herself to ignore Netepel.

The withdrawn boy who couldn’t connect with anyone was like a mirror of her younger self.

They were wounded in the same place. Misunderstood. Wandering souls.

Time passed, and Haslen entered her life.

Her first betrothed taught her kindness.

Meeting him gave her hope that she could escape Mahanas and Dareth’s grasp.

Even if that hope proved to be in vain, at the time, it gave her a reason to live.

But Netepel was still alone.

She grew tired of council meetings where Haslen was absent, while Netepel waited all year just for those brief encounters.

When Ophelia realized they felt differently about their friendship, she was overcome with guilt.

Back then, even hurting someone’s unseen emotions could make her sad.

Eventually, Netepel noticed the change before she could hide it.

*

In the summer when they were twelve, the boy sat with her in the field where they always secretly met.

“Is it me? Am I the problem?”

Though phrased as a question, it was full of certainty.

“Everyone else has someone. But I’m always alone.
My family hates me… They say they’d be happier if I were gone.”

The boy lowered his eyes and muttered,
“So many people can’t all be wrong.”

Trying to comfort him, Ophelia said,
“It’s not that there’s something wrong with you.”

But despite her conviction, she had no idea how to prove it.

When she spoke, Netepel turned to her with red eyes and asked,

“But if I’m not the problem… then why am I the only one alone?”

“You’re not alone, you—”

“You don’t have to comfort me, Ophelia. I’m glad you’re engaged.”

Because I always knew.

You’re nothing like me. You’ve never been the problem.

Then Netepel stood up, leaving her behind in the field.

That night, she didn’t see him at the banquet.

People said he had finally taken the hint and vanished.

That he was never suited for such a place to begin with.
And now things were back to how they should be.