A Digression: First Prince Luke’s Soliloquy
The royal study was filled with neatly stacked documents and a polished wooden desk. Sunlight, dyed golden by the late afternoon, streamed through the large windows, brushing the edges of the heavy curtains and making them sway.
By the time the afternoon’s work had settled and I had finally made some progress on the piles of paperwork, I—Luke—suddenly set my pen down.
Outside the window, the sunlight was slanting, and the flowers in the garden swayed gently in the breeze.
(I wonder if the construction of the princess’s pavilion is going smoothly…)
A scene I had witnessed about a month ago flashed through my mind. The trigger had been an offhand comment from Keith.
“Prince Luke, could you perhaps check on Princess Lilybel’s pavilion once?”
He usually didn’t offer advice or speak out, but on that day he had carefully chosen his words to ask me this.
Apparently, Lilybel had fallen into a fountain, and Keith had saved her. A few days had passed since then, but I had not yet received any report about it.
Curious, I went to visit during a break in my afternoon duties.
And I was horrified.
The floorboards were damaged, the room cold, the furniture and bedding all aged and worn. According to the maid, supplies had barely been replenished over the years. Even that maid had largely abandoned her duties.
Lilybel had been living alone in such conditions for years.
(I can’t believe she never said anything…)
On the day I visited, Lilybel did not voice any resentment toward me; instead, she expressed gratitude for the healing magic I had performed.
Even after moving her temporarily to a guest room, the new maids I sent could only tell me of the neglect she had suffered.
It seemed that the neglect extended beyond mere inattention—she had endured physical abuse as well. The maids reported, eyes lowered, that her body bore painful bruises.
Since then, I began to truly recognize Lilybel as my sister.
And I was struck by the fact that the only conversations I had ever had with her were from our childhood. I had always thought her quiet and inscrutable, but perhaps we simply never tried to understand her.
—I even reported on Lilybel to Father not long ago.
“Father… did you know about Lilybel’s circumstances?”
I had asked during a break in state affairs. A heavy silence filled the reception room. My father, the king, sipped his tea while staring out the window.
After a long pause, he quietly set his cup on the saucer and seemed about to speak—then averted his gaze.
“Your hair… it’s the same golden color as Mariabel’s. Your eyes, too, are the same blue as mine.”
“…Yes. Is that a problem?”
Mariabel was my mother, the late queen of this country.
My father’s expression twisted as if he were biting on something bitter.
“She is different.”
That single statement left me speechless. “Different”—he had clearly excluded Lilybel from the family circle by choosing that word. The intention to deny our blood connection was far too obvious.
“Where could such rumors have come from? They’re baseless and unreliable, yet you ignored them?”
Even I was surprised by the coldness in my voice. But Father did not become angry; he simply exhaled quietly.
“It’s not about believing them… This matter ends here.”
Rising to his feet, he turned his heavy cloak and began to leave the room without waiting for my response.
I straightened my back and spoke firmly.
“Then I will act on my own. I believed… that my sister should be raised with more care as a princess.”
Mother and sister, gone from the pavilion—Mother had died of illness, and my sister never returned. We were busy. I was busy. I knew that was no excuse for her suffering.
If only I had known sooner, I could have rescued her.
“Do as you will.”
Father paused for just a moment, then left the room without another word.
Was it a judgment of a king or the prejudice of a father? I could never tell what that back of his truly meant.
One thing was certain: some unresolved tension remained within him. I had at least gained a foothold, and I wanted to improve my sister’s situation in any way I could—but I still did not know how to approach it.
(Perhaps I should have listened more carefully when she said she wanted to study medicine…)
I muttered this unintentionally. It was I who had rejected Lilybel’s earlier request in the study. When she said she wanted to learn medicine and pharmacology, I had thought it inappropriate and had been vague in my response.
(I wonder if she’s tending the herb garden by now…)
I found myself speaking aloud, likely because the sister who had always faded into the background had recently captured my attention.
Maid gossip had it that she was seen tending medicinal herbs in the garden and reading medical books fervently in the library. She was pursuing knowledge on her own initiative. I was surprised again when I learned that Keith, who happened to be in the library, had become her teacher.
Even when offered jewels and dresses, she chose seeds, seedlings, and gardening tools.
“Hmm…”
Leaning back in my chair, I pressed a finger to my forehead. What had happened to her? She seemed like an entirely different person. Of course, this change was not for the worse; it was something to rejoice over as a member of the royal family.
(…Or is it just a coincidence?)
Instinctively, I sensed that a “strength of character” had taken root within her.
It was certainly a good sign for the future of the Gutenberg Kingdom.
Even so, I wished I had known sooner. Though her hair and eyes differed from mine, she was my sister.
I felt deep shame for never considering the child who had once gripped my finger tightly with her small, tiny hand.
