TIRS 72

CHAPTER 72………….

 Ancelot and Arbella

Ancelot, the late king’s youngest son, lost his parents at a young age.

Countess Camilla, Arbella’s mother and a close friend of the late Queen Bartizé, willingly became Ancelot’s nurse.

Thanks to this, Arbella was able to spend her childhood in the palace alongside Ancelot, following her mother around.

The two grew up as childhood friends, and over time, their feelings deepened until they became lovers.

Arbella loved Ancelot.

His handsome face that made so many young ladies swoon, his warm and gentle nature like sunlight, his graceful manners, and elegant bearing.

But there was just one thing.

He was only the late king’s youngest son—and could never be more than that.

At the ball celebrating Ancelot’s coming-of-age ceremony, Arbella encountered Prince Arno.

While Ancelot briefly stepped away, Arbella noticed something in the way Arno—openly flirtatious and persistent—looked at her.

Compared to Ancelot, the youngest prince with little future, Arno’s prospects seemed far brighter, competing with Enzer for the position of crown prince.

If she played her cards right, she might even become crown princess.

“I don’t dislike you, Prince Arno. But as long as Ancelot is here, we cannot grow closer.”

At those whispered words, Arno’s expression shifted—like someone scheming something grand.

Not long after, Ancelot was conscripted to the war.

While he was gone, Arbella secretly continued meeting with Arno, and she eventually became pregnant with his child.

Ancelot and Arbella had been one of the most famous couples in Luenhart.

But because Arno already had a notorious reputation, the people’s scorn fell on him, not Arbella.

Arbella played the part of the tragic heroine, weeping mournfully each day. The furious Count’s family formally lodged protests with the crown, and in the end, she became Arno’s wife.

Thus, she married the man closest to the crown prince’s seat.

At the time, she had no way of knowing.

That Ancelot would return as a war hero.

When he heard Arbella had married Arno, Ancelot reportedly went mad, slaughtering enemies recklessly and securing victory.

Hearing the news, Arbella, for the first time, questioned whether she had made the wrong choice.

And when she met Ancelot again at the celebration for his return—

“Ancel…”

She called out to him timidly, but he walked past her with a cold, cutting indifference.

His frigid demeanor, as though he were a completely different man, startled her. But perhaps it was natural—after all, the woman who had once been his lover was now his nephew’s wife.

No wonder people said he went mad because of her.

Poor Ancelot.

Arbella truly pitied him.

The gentle prince, once warm as spring sunshine, had become a violent madman as cold as winter frost.

Soon people began dying within his palace, and he gained the reputation of a “murderous lunatic.”

Arbella told herself it was because of his love for her that he went mad. Along with pity came…

“Ah, to drive even a sound man insane with love… How sinful I must be. If only I were a little less charming.”

A strange satisfaction welled up inside her.

Though she was now Arno’s wife, she decided to bestow her “special mercy” upon Ancelot, sneaking into his palace late at night.

Surely he, who tolerated no one else at his side, would be grateful for her grace.

But what she found upon entering his bedchamber was Ancelot, expressionless, cutting the throat of a servant.

Noticing her, he turned and gave a chilling grin, his face drenched in blood.

Terrified, Arbella fled immediately.

She’d heard he’d gone mad—but to feel him so utterly changed was another matter entirely.

After that, she never encountered Ancelot again in private.

Whenever she heard of his new engagements, a dark resentment welled up within her.

Yet every woman who dared claim him met a miserable end. And in the end, Ancelot was left alone.

Rumors spread that he killed his fiancées because he couldn’t forget his first love.

Though Arbella knew that wasn’t true, she liked the rumor all the same.

After Arno’s death, Arbella waited for Ancelot to come to her.

By then, as a war hero, he was far more promising than the worthless Arno had ever been.

But instead of coming to her, Ancelot left for the Empire of Azester.

Soon after, rumors spread that he had fallen into a fated love with Azester’s Third Princess.

Arbella was dumbfounded.

She, better than anyone, knew he had lost his mind because he couldn’t forget her. How could such a ridiculous rumor circulate?

Worse, even those who knew of her “tragic love story” with him began to repeat it.

Impossible.

She was the only woman in Ancelot’s life.

Even after Ancelot arrived in Luenhart with Princess Ruivel, Arbella clung to that belief.

Perhaps he had only returned with Ruivel to wound her in revenge.

To hurt her as much as she had hurt him.

But that was fine.

She could understand.

Because their bond was special.

They were not ordinary lovers—they were lifelong companions from childhood through youth.

So she would accept everything.

She would endure every cruel word and act if it meant their love would grow stronger.

But contrary to her expectation, Ancelot neither lashed out nor approached her. He remained constantly by Ruivel’s side.

At the last ball, he had surely seen her, yet he didn’t even acknowledge her.

Then came whispers from the temple festival—people had witnessed Ancelot and Ruivel sharing a kiss.

“This can’t be, Ancelot. After everything I’ve done for you…!”

Arbella could no longer stand it. She sought him out first.

And so, they met like this.

“I’m sorry. We can’t… do this anymore.”

Ancelot looked down at her with the face of a man deeply enraged.

Seeing that, Arbella smiled secretly.

It was a good sign.

Anger meant he still had feelings for her.

She dabbed her eyes delicately with a handkerchief.

But no matter how long she waited, he never reached out to help her up.

Awkwardly, she had to stand on her own.

“Do you remember? This garden… It’s where we first confessed our feelings.”

Ancelot’s expression grew twisted, as if daring her to say more.

Every instinct screamed she shouldn’t push further, but Arbella forced a trembling smile.

“Coming back here must mean you also treasure our memories.”

She stepped closer to him.

“Even though we can’t be together anymore…”

Then she gently folded her handkerchief and slipped it into the pocket of his vest, whispering:

“I looked at this handkerchief you gave me every day and thought of you. You know, Ancelot, I…”

Her tender confession was interrupted when Ancelot suddenly snapped his head aside, staring elsewhere.

Thud.

The handkerchief she’d tucked into his pocket fell uselessly to the ground.

Following his gaze, Arbella saw Princess Ruivel standing there, breathing heavily as if she’d run to arrive.

How did she find this place?

This secluded garden behind Luenhart Castle was known only to the royal family. It was also where she and Ancelot had once confessed their feelings and made promises.

Could it be… Ancelot brought her here?

The thought made her feel violated, as though her memories had been intruded upon.

But Ancelot paid her no mind. He was only looking at Ruivel.

“Your High—”

He started toward her, but Ruivel spun on her heel and strode away.

“Your Highness…!”

Ancelot hurried after her.

“Don’t follow me.”

She didn’t even glance back, walking briskly.

“Are you angry?”

“……”

Ruivel said nothing, while Ancelot, clearly uneasy, trailed after her.

Only after the two disappeared did Arbella realize—

She had been left behind, completely ignored.

Ancelot had thoroughly dismissed her.

When Lady Helena Azeline first told me the story of Ancelot and Arbella, I thought it was nonsense.

Even when I saw on the minimap that Ancelot was with that woman, I told myself it was coincidence, nothing more.

But when I arrived and saw Arbella gazing at him with such yearning—

“Do you remember? This garden… where we first confessed our feelings.”
“I looked at this handkerchief every day and thought of you. You know, Ancelot, I…”

—something inside me snapped.

“Your Highness…!”

Ancelot chased after me desperately, but—

“Don’t follow me.”

“Are you angry?”

“……”

I gave no reply and strode straight to the Prince’s Palace.

There, at the entrance, a stranger awaited.

“Greetings, Princess Ruivel. I come at Crown Prince Enzer’s bidding.”

The servant bowed respectfully, presenting a tray with a white envelope.

“It is a letter inviting you to an opera performance three days hence.”

Before I could respond, Ancelot arrived at my side. He snatched the envelope, tore it open, and ripped it to shreds without even glancing at the contents.

“That bastard’s finally lost it? If he wants to watch an opera, he should damn well do it alone. Why—”

“Fine.”

I cut off Ancelot’s words and addressed the servant.

“Tell His Highness the Crown Prince that I accept.”

The servant’s face lit up, while Ancelot’s expression hardened like stone.