TFLMLD 76

Chapter 76

Hide-and-See

A white brick house with a beautiful garden. Shops and amenities were conveniently nearby, and since it was in the central district, it was safe enough to live alone. The design and everything about it suited me perfectly.

The agent glanced at me, then looked back at the house with alternating expressions of envy and surprise.

“Competition was fierce this time, so it ended up being pricier than expected, but you’ve made a good purchase. Nowhere in the Meringue territory will you find a place this fitting for a lady of your standing.”

He clearly wondered how such a young woman could afford a house like this. Normally, I would’ve been surprised too, but grief had consumed me so completely that I noticed little else.

“Is that so?”

My weak murmur made the agent look a bit baffled, but I no longer had the strength to stand there. After a perfunctory farewell, I went straight inside.

Unpacking absentmindedly, I came across the wind-up magic device last. I almost wound it before quickly pulling my hand away and tucking it into a drawer hidden under the table. I wasn’t ready to reopen those memories.

As I lay down on the bed, the empty space filled with a chill that wrapped around me. I knew a fire would warm the room quickly, but I didn’t want to. Compared to the betrayal and grief Macaron and the children must feel toward me, this was nothing.

If anything, I wished I could come down with a terrible illness, just so I could briefly forget my incompetence and helplessness.

After tormenting myself sleepless in bed for a long time, I finally got up. The face staring back at me in the mirror was pale as death.

“Crying—what for?”

A single tear rolled down my cheek so ridiculously. What had I done to deserve this weakness, this indulgence in sentiment?

The next time I opened my eyes, it was days later—when Lady Marie came to visit. At the sight of my face, she gasped, stoked the fireplace, and thrust a bowl of soup into my hands.

“For the children’s sake at least, eat.”

At her words, Coral and Kai came to mind, and my chest collapsed all over again.

“Do I even have the right to think about them?”

A bitter laugh escaped me. She pressed harder, this time forcing the spoon into my hand.

“If you keep this up and something happens to you, won’t the children be so pleased? His Highness too.”

Though her words were stern, the meaning beneath them was warmer than anything else. She clasped my hand tightly.

“I don’t know what your story is, but just hold on a little longer.”

Lady Marie never once asked about my circumstances. Her restraint, her decision not to pry until I spoke first, was filled with consideration. Yet she didn’t avoid the subject altogether.

“Everything passes. The hardest time in my life was when my husband died.”

For the first time, she shared her own story with quiet composure. A marriage built on love, a husband who never changed, and the love she had for him. Then one day, he died suddenly in an accident. After that came endless conflict with her in-laws…

“It’s laughable, isn’t it? As if grief alone wasn’t enough, people rushed to tear me down. They even called me the woman who killed her husband.”

The thought of Macaron’s death alone made me tremble and freeze. I couldn’t even imagine what weight it must carry to actually lose the one you love. For Lady Marie to speak so calmly of it now, she must’ve shed countless tears over countless years.

Compared to her, my situation—where separation had at least protected the person I loved—was far easier. Even knowing how foolish it was to compare grief, I leaned on her story for comfort.

Her faint smile told me: See, I’m still here.

“Thank you. …For everything.”

Lady Marie gave me a sly smile and squeezed my hand.

“Between us, there’s no need for thanks. Compared to what you’ve done for me, I’ve done nothing.”

The ice inside me began to thaw, little by little. It was a fragile start, but the fact that it had begun mattered most.

I lifted the spoon and ate the watery soup she had cooked herself. It tasted of nothing, but I emptied the bowl completely. She took it back from me with a satisfied look.

She even tried to leave some of her attendants behind, but after much refusal, she finally agreed to leave, promising to return soon.

The fire she lit filled the room with warmth I hadn’t felt in days. My heart, tightly shut, began to open ever so slightly, leaving the smallest crack.

A month passed in this new place. During that time, I opened a shop focused on magical makeup tools. I named it Changer, after one of its flagship products. The sign, glittering boldly, was visible even from afar.

Preparing for the grand opening kept me busy, especially meetings with the Merchant Guild of Märchen. It was a blessing, really—there was no time to think of Macaron.

But news of him found me without warning.

One dawn, as I returned home from work, a child tossed extra editions of a newspaper into the air. A familiar name jumped out in huge letters. I picked it up, and the headline stared back at me:

“Second Prince Macaron Crowned Emperor.”

The report said Emperor Soletin Kraide, who had long been ill, had passed away, and Crown Prince Macaron had ascended the throne.

I remembered the emperor coughing blood during the crown prince selection. His death was inevitable. At least he had held on until Macaron’s return to the palace. Otherwise, a bloody civil war would have erupted, staining the imperial palace with countless lives.

That was a relief. Yet, my heart still pounded violently. The memories engraved in me were too vivid to accept Macaron and the children’s news with detachment. Just seeing his name made my hands tremble uncontrollably.

When will I finally be able to think of his news as nothing more than a page in memory? Will such a day ever come?

Thoughts tangled, and feelings I had buried deep spread again.

Are the children doing well?

Thinking of the Kraide estate, Coral came to mind first.

Is she crying alone at night? She should forget a mother like me and grow up strong.

Even as I wished they would forget me, I selfishly hoped they would hold me in their hearts forever. Conflicting emotions entwined into a knot that would never untangle.

Now that Macaron was emperor, he had a new beginning. I, who would only stand as an obstacle, had to forget him as quickly as possible—for his sake and mine.

So I packed my schedule with Märchen guild meetings, burying myself in work until I could think of nothing else.

Still, news of him reached me. No newspaper ignored the young emperor’s story, no herald failed to speak of the man at the empire’s center.

Macaron was steadily stabilizing his reign. By rewarding officials according to merit, he reorganized noble ranks and titles. He didn’t mete out cruel punishments to those who had once sided with Reiner, but he excluded them, keeping a delicate balance.

Yet, as I read on, one question arose.

Why wasn’t the Reflair family rewarded? Could it be that Macaron noticed the deal between Evelyn and me?

Impossible. Evelyn was unmatched at wearing masks. More likely, since he would make her empress, he simply saw no need to grant additional honors.

Either way, it was not my concern.

Macaron, you’ll manage everything well.

The imperial palace bustled with the reallocation of positions. After careful deliberation, titles and ranks were distributed based on merit and ability. Though not free from complaints, most nobles considered it fair.

Everyone—except the Reflair family.

Having supplied more troops than anyone, Reflair should’ve received the highest honors. Yet they received nothing at all. It made no sense.

Other nobles whispered among themselves but avoided speaking aloud, unwilling to draw fire to themselves.

Still, rumors spread:

“Is Evelyn not to be empress after all?”
“Perhaps His Majesty seeks to curb Reflair’s excessive power.”

Either way, nothing favored Reflair. Once, they had been the emperor’s staunchest supporters. Now, ignored and humiliated, their prestige plummeted.

To make matters worse, Macaron began applying pressure to their commercial interests. Reflair started to fracture. Whispers blamed Evelyn’s incompetence.

Though Evelyn dismissed it as mere checks on power, dissatisfaction among the elders grew, and some even eyed the position of family head. Evelyn’s cousin, Clemente Reflair, was foremost among them.

When he requested a private audience, Macaron had no reason to refuse. Clemente had his uses.

He came for two reasons: his ambition to become head of the house, and his desire to salvage Reflair’s standing.

Macaron knew it well. He arched a brow slightly, his expression otherwise unchanged. Clemente swallowed hard under that gaze.

“I wish to know why the Reflair family was excluded from the list of meritorious houses.”

If it was merely to check their power, there was nothing they could do. But if there was another reason—then that could be his chance.

Macaron’s aura slashed through the room like a blade. Clemente flinched and lowered his head.

“You could have asked Duke Evelyn. Why trouble yourself to come all this way?”

Macaron’s crimson eyes gleamed meaningfully. Clemente, with his seasoned instincts, understood what that look implied.

“Duke Evelyn… you mean?”

The emperor’s words were sharp, aimed at a clear target.

It was bait—bait Macaron deliberately dangled for Clemente.

Clemente’s lips curved into a triumphant smile as he withdrew. Macaron’s eyes followed him out.

Standing at the emperor’s side—not as a butler but now as his hand—Momonte looked uneasy.

“So, this isn’t about weakening Reflair’s power, but about punishing Duke Evelyn?”

“Both. How could I waste such a perfect chance to kill two birds with one stone?”

“…!”

Macaron had no intention of truly empowering Clemente. From what he had long observed, Clemente was every bit as ambitious as Evelyn, if not more so. Even if granted support, under his leadership, Reflair would collapse quickly.

Reflair had always been a house powerful enough to threaten the throne. If Macaron could weaken them now, it would be two victories in one.

Evelyn’s punishment hasn’t even begun, and already cracks are forming.

A merciless expression, the same one he wore when cutting down enemies, spread across Macaron’s face.

“And Calyps’ whereabouts… still nothing?”