#93. Are You Jealous of a Child?
The reason Olivia visited a child who should be fast asleep at this hour was only one.
She needed to know—whose choice had branded the stigma on Suga?
Before facing Greta, she wanted to confirm that much.
Of course, there was no need to rush to Suga’s side so late at night.
She still had time before meeting Greta again.
Even if Greta’s request for an audience had been granted, she couldn’t simply decide the time and come at her leisure.
Greta would have no choice but to appear at the time and place Olivia appointed.
As a diplomat representing a foreign nation, Greta’s position deserved respect, but it was never above that of the Imperial family.
Olivia couldn’t delay the meeting indefinitely, but she had plenty of time to check with Suga through Ambh or Isaac in the middle of the day.
And yet—Olivia was restless.
Just thinking about Cryer and Greta meeting out of “necessity” made her insides twist. She wanted to distract herself, to pour her thoughts elsewhere.
So, the two of them came here first, to confirm whose choice had inscribed Suga’s stigma.
She had rushed over in a hurry, but when she finally faced the boy with his slightly drooping, wide eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to speak right away.
Instead, Olivia looked around for something that might ease Suga’s nerves—he seemed far too tense—and give her an opening to begin.
But what caught her eye was…
“You were reading that journal, weren’t you?”
“Yes.”
Olivia’s lips opened soundlessly, but in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him not to read it.
The journal was filled with nothing but words no child should ever see. But it was too late to shelter him by withholding everything under the guise of protection.
Still, she couldn’t help herself—she had to say at least one thing.
“Don’t pay attention to the nonsense those bastards wrote.”
“…Pardon?”
Suga blinked in surprise at the coarse words—so unlike a princess—and then glanced back down at the journal Olivia’s gaze had fixed upon.
“Ah. You mean these bastards.”
Without hesitation, Suga nodded, calling his ancestors lunatics as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Anyone—even a passing monkey—could tell the writings were those of madmen.
“Exactly. Just take the information you need. There’s no need to let yourself sink into it.”
At those words, Olivia reached out and lightly ruffled his hair.
Suga stiffened at the unexpected touch, but soon closed his eyes and answered in a small voice.
“…Yes.”
It was warm. The gentle warmth carried by her slender fingers tangling his hair felt so tender that Suga thought he might burst into tears.
Why was it that someone he had met only recently—someone who stood on a completely different plane from him, both in station and in future—was able to draw out this sense of family so easily?
Because of his stigma, he had barely been able to step outside. Other than his parents and brother, he had met almost no one.
To Suga, his parents and older brother were family, friends, and the only people he “knew.”
His world was just his home, and occasionally—once or twice a year—he was allowed a short “outing.”
But after his parents died, both his family and his world shrank even further.
Now, though…
His world had grown wider than he had ever dreamed.
From that tiny house, he had stepped into the sunlight, even stayed in the Imperial Palace itself, and now he was here in Tarenga.
But his family was gone. His friends, the people he knew—when the blood-related trash vanished, so too did they.
Left with no one at his side, the child had, for the first time in his life, been forced to make choices for himself.
And then—
“Now, rest a little.”
A hand had reached out to pat his head.
“Let’s live together!”
Someone had gladly extended their hand to him.
Faced with such hands, Suga didn’t know what to do.
His chest tightened, tingled, as though his mouth were filled with candy so sweet his tongue might melt.
He was clever—clever enough to impress Olivia—but he was still just a child, with almost no experience of the world.
So he couldn’t push away the emotions welling up inside him. Couldn’t bury them. Couldn’t even fully accept them.
Olivia sensed the boy bow his head, struggling not to cry—no, struggling to suppress the warmth swelling inside him. She didn’t say a word, just kept gently patting his hair.
Watching Olivia and Suga huddled together—Olivia small, Suga even smaller—Cryer let out a heavy sigh.
“…I shouldn’t have teased Isaac about being jealous of a child.”
There was no reason for him to be bothered by the bond between Olivia and Suga. And yet, just the sight of her hand resting on the boy’s head made his insides seethe.
So love really did make fools of men.
He recalled the line he had once read in a history book of Bolsheik, and rubbed a hand down his face.
Knowing he had become a fool didn’t make it easier to escape.
On the contrary, something deep within him whispered to become an utter simpleton—someone who saw only Olivia, heard only Olivia, existed only for Olivia.
“He’s just a kid. Just a kid.”
He muttered it to himself over and over, trying to suppress the wild sincerity clawing at his chest.
It was barely a whisper, but Olivia, being so close, turned her gaze toward him.
“What? What about the kid?”
“…Nothing. More importantly, wasn’t there a reason you came to see him at this hour?”
When his gaze shifted to Suga, Olivia looked at him doubtfully, but his lips didn’t seem likely to open again.
So she turned back to the boy.
“Suga.”
“Yes.”
“There’s a reason I came to see you.”
“Yes, Your Highness. Please give your command.”
His eyes were still red from tears, but Suga bowed firmly. Olivia waved a hand.
“No, it’s not an order. I just want to ask you something.”
“Ask… me?”
Startled, Suga shifted in his seat, fidgeting nervously.
Olivia waited silently until he calmed down, then spoke.
“Do you remember when the stigma was branded on you?”
Suga instinctively rubbed at the mark near his ribs, tilting his head.
“Hmm…”
He furrowed his brows, thinking hard. Then his expression softened and his eyebrows drooped.
“…I’m sorry. But from the moment I can remember, the stigma was already there. So… since I was three years old.”
“Three… years old?”
“Yes. I had it even then.”
“No, I mean—are you saying you actually have memories from when you were three?”
“Uh… yes? Don’t… people?”
Olivia, thrown off by something she hadn’t expected, asked again. Suga, even more flustered, looked between them in confusion.
Was something wrong with him?
Knowing he wasn’t like other children, he grew restless. His eyes darted around and—met Cryer’s.
In that instant, Suga clung to him with desperate eyes, like a drowning man grabbing at a straw.
And perhaps sensing that desperation, Cryer finally opened his lips.
“A boy this sharp could very well have memories from age three. Especially given the unusual circumstances he grew up in.”
“…Ah.”
Olivia remembered Suga’s upbringing—life lived hiding from the eyes of an ancient god.
Yes. His world had been narrower than anyone else’s.
So painfully narrow.
Perhaps, with so little to remember, it was only natural he would cling to and revisit the few memories he had.
She regarded him anew, then nodded.
“Memories from three years old… The Empire truly has its share of talent.”
“Th-thank you.”
For a royal to call someone a talent was high praise indeed. Suga flushed red to his ears.
Blushing all over, he blinked rapidly when Olivia continued.
“Then… in those memories, do you recall any unusual reactions from your family regarding the stigma?”
Suga’s eyes darted inward, scanning his past.
As Olivia suspected, most of his memories were of repetitive daily life, so it didn’t take him long.
“Ah! I remember now—when my parents first noticed the stigma, they kept checking again and again, saying they couldn’t believe it. I think… I think that was before I turned three. The memory is so faint, I’m not even sure it’s real, but…”
At his hesitant words, Olivia let out an unconscious sigh of relief.
If that was true, then his parents had not chosen to sacrifice him.
And Cryer, too, seemed to realize it, for his tightly shut lips parted.
“Then it must have been the damned choice of the ancient god.”
“…Excuse me?”
As Suga looked at him in confusion, Olivia told him—harshly, bitterly, but with a sliver of warmth.
The stigma may have been caused by his accursed bloodline, but his parents had never offered him up to the ancient god.
“…Ah.”
Suga let out a soft groan and touched the stigma again.
A sharp, searing pain shot through it.
Unlike Cryer, he was unaccustomed to the torment. His face went ghostly pale in an instant, sweat beading on his brow.
Seeing the boy’s condition change so suddenly, Olivia’s mouth opened to call for a physician—but Cryer stopped her.
“Is it hurting?”
Suga couldn’t speak, only nodded. Cryer looked down at him with calm eyes.
In his mind, faint and formless possibilities began to take shape—like grasping at a shadow in fog.
But they were still only shadows.
“…Hff. Haa…”
The pain soon subsided. Suga let out a long breath, and Olivia wiped the sweat from his pale face and wide forehead.
Once he had collected himself, Suga looked up at Olivia with oddly resolute eyes.
“Your Highness.”
“Yes?”
“…May I ask you just one question?”
“As many as you like.”
Encouraged by her faint smile, Suga asked without hesitation.
“…Is it strange to feel like someone you’ve only just met is already family?”
