TWCT 13

Chapter 13

[SIDE: King Feliks] — Rupia, 3

“Your Majesty, are you perhaps in a good mood?”

While I was working through documents in my office, one of my attendants who had brought in new papers asked me that question—and I realized my expression had softened.

“…No.”

I had simply been thinking about my wife.

I couldn’t say that, so I covered it with a cough instead.

However, the chancellor, who was working in the same room, shot me a sharp glare. Perhaps he had already seen through the fact that I was thinking about my wife.

Trying to avoid his gaze, I looked out the window—and the snow on the Lesteria mountain range caught my eye, reminding me of Rupia’s white hair.

No matter what I did, my thoughts kept drifting back to her. Realizing this, I straightened my expression.

“…Have I become so easily swayed?”

As I returned the processed documents to the attendant, I murmured under my breath so no one could hear.

And then I thought—yes, perhaps that was true.

And I also thought it wasn’t so bad.

Because Rupia was sincere in everything she did, and approached everything with her full effort. She was the kind of person one could never think ill of.

At first, I suspected she might have some hidden intent, that she was acting out a performance of being in love with me. But as we lived together, I came to understand that she was the type whose emotions always showed on her face.

When she was happy, when she was trying to hide something, when she was a little discouraged—her feelings were immediately clear.

She had never once verbally expressed affection toward me, but she looked at me with such sincerity, and acted for my sake so often, that I could easily believe she truly cared for me.

Perhaps Rupia was simply born with a deeply affectionate nature.

She loved her parents and siblings dearly, and no doubt she extended that same love to me, her new family.

She always smiled brightly, and everyone who saw her—the maids, the knights, even the stern-faced commander of the knights—couldn’t help but smile in return. Just having her there brightened the entire atmosphere.

I had heard that she often visited various places in the palace whenever she had time, such as the kitchen and the back garden.

Her small figure walking around in little steps was endearing, and it was no wonder everyone wanted to look after her.

It was likely that in such a short time, many people in the palace had come to like her.

I recalled a traditional dish that had recently been brought to me.

It was a fried dish called “Kufros,” something I had liked as a child. However, when the former head chef left the palace, that flavor was lost, and I had resigned myself to never tasting it again.

Yet it was recreated for the first time in six years and presented before me, leaving me both delighted and astonished.

And as I expressed my joy, I was immediately told, “It was prepared by Her Majesty the Queen.”

The next day, when I thanked Rupia, she panicked in an extremely obvious way, clearly trying to deny that she had made it herself. It was honestly quite charming.

—A princess of a great nation would hardly be expected to cook.

Before my engagement to Rupia, I had occasionally received sweets from noblewomen.

These so-called “homemade” sweets usually meant, in practice, that they were wrapped in fine cloth. Or perhaps that the final step of tasting them to judge their quality counted as participation in their creation.

For noble ladies of high status, if they had assisted in even a small part of the process, they considered it acceptable to say they had “made” them. It was not necessarily a lie.

So even if “Rupia made it” referred to something far too elaborate for a princess to reasonably produce, it was proper etiquette to overlook it.

That said, I could only sincerely admire her ability to recreate a dish that even the palace chefs had once declared impossible to reproduce.

Perhaps Rupia possessed a talent for drawing people in and motivating them.

And perhaps that was why the chefs had done their utmost to recreate the former head chef’s flavor for her sake.

“When one sees her, it feels like one must do something for her. Yet even when I personally requested it, the head chef insisted it could not be recreated… such favoritism is excessive.”

I muttered it quietly, though I also thought this was not limited to the chefs.

Knights and attendants who had once thought her a proud princess of a great nation—and had even been wary of her—were now protecting her as though she were a fledgling bird guarded by its parent.

She likely had a natural ability to attract people.

And that was the most important quality for a queen.

“I have married a truly irreplaceable queen.”

It had been a politically arranged marriage for the sake of a great nation’s interests, but now I felt there could be no better wife than Rupia.

As I murmured this sentiment, Chancellor Gilbert, who was in the same room, let out an exasperated sigh.

“You’ve been muttering things that sound half like boasting and half like lovey-dovey nonsense. Could you please focus on your work? Honestly… I never imagined Your Majesty would be this easy. To be completely softened in just a month and a half by your own wife!”

“I wouldn’t say I’ve been… softened to that extent.”

I denied it quietly.

But Gilbert glared at me sharply.

“What are you saying? This is exactly what people mean by ‘completely softened’! To see someone as flawless only because you’re in love is not normal!”

“Rupia doesn’t have any flaws.”

I immediately objected, surprised.

Gilbert threw his hands up in frustration.

“Of course she does!! For example, Her Majesty has severe food preferences! She basically doesn’t eat meat—only vegetables and fruit with any enthusiasm! At the recent banquet, she left more than half her meal untouched, and the nobles at the table were shocked!”

“Don’t make such a fuss over something like that. I have my preferences too.”

“But Your Majesty eats everything! The Queen makes no effort to adapt her diet and simply leaves what she dislikes!! Treating those as the same thing is exactly what ‘being softened’ means!”

I shrugged in response.

I didn’t say it aloud, but I thought Gilbert lacked compassion.

When I had once asked Rupia about her food preferences, she had replied, “Because I am a witch.”

At that moment, I understood.

Ah—being a witch might be a kind of escape for her.

Whenever something inconvenient happened, she would use her identity as a witch as an explanation.

—Witches are beings from fairy tales.

Stories say they “once existed,” but everything is hearsay. No one can prove anything. If Rupia uses “witch” as a reason, no one can refute her.

Because witches are unknown beings, no one can say she is wrong.

And so, being a witch was likely her place of safety.

If that was the case, I felt I must protect that identity of hers with everything I had.

Rupia had come to this country alone as a bride from a great nation.

She must often feel lonely or uneasy in this unfamiliar land, separated from her parents and siblings.

In such times, she needed an absolute place of safety—and it was my duty as her husband to provide it.

“I will cherish Rupia. She is my wife, and it is only natural that she should be treated as such.”

I spoke aloud, no longer caring about the chancellor’s glare.

Because I believed it was my duty.

However, the next day, when Rupia came down with a fever, I would come to realize just how deeply I had become attached to her.