CATIP 03

CHAPTER :03

The most noble offering to God, written in the divine tongue.

Those in this world who could read, understand, and interpret the language of God were rare indeed.

Only up to three people in a generation could understand the divine tongue.

Depending on their ability, they were known as the ‘Hearer,’ the ‘Reciter,’ and the ‘Seer.’

And among them, I was the one who could ‘see’ the language of God.

The ‘Seer.’

Because I could see the divine language with my own eyes, I could play any instrument in the world as if I had practiced it for decades, without any formal training or practice.

Among the countless instruments, the one that stole my heart was the piano—the very instrument that had opened my eyes to this miracle.

When I sat before the piano, I didn’t even have to try; I could naturally see the story God was telling.

Even I couldn’t explain how such a thing was possible.

I could only lose myself, falling into a trance to see and convey the words of God.

I transformed the whispers God breathed to me into music, presenting them to the world.

I, who was nothing but a lowborn, dirty bastard, had become someone who understood God.

Faced with my unexpected ability, even the King, who had coldly abandoned me, sought me out once more.

The day of our first meeting.

Adorned in soft garments and splendid jewels, I was presented before the King like a most precious trophy.

The King merely stared at me for a long time as I stood before him with my mouth shut and head bowed.

How much time passed like that?

At last, the King parted his lips.

—Raise your head.

Obeying his command, I lifted my face.

An icy, near-white blue gaze, cold as winter, stared down at me.

I felt an unbearable chill. The King’s stern lips parted without hesitation.

—And here I thought… you would be utterly useless.

It was not a voice that welcomed my existence.

To be honest, it wasn’t that I hadn’t looked forward to our reunion.

For the King who lived in my mother’s stories had been a wonderful, tender man.

She had told me he would always bounce me on his knee, whispering that he would give me the world.

Deep down, I too held a vague hope and longing for the father who had brought me into this world.

But.

—Only now have I found a reason to take you in.

His eyes, looking as if he were staring at his own reflection in a mirror, were cold and spine-chilling.

—Behave yourself. Do not display your lowborn vulgarity like your mother. This is not the slum you used to live in.

—…

That chill. That contempt. That silence.

Every kind of negative emotion poured over me.

Ah, Largo. Back then, I was a mere girl of fifteen.

It was far too dark a burden for me to bear, and even now, I cannot forget the coldness of that day.

—Do not wish for anything. Do not expect anything.

Seeing me frozen in that icy chill, unable to utter a word, the King spat out:

—You are my weakness, my blemish, and my greatest mistake.

It was no different from a warning to live like a corpse, merely breathing in the palace.

In that manner, the King reluctantly accepted me as a princess.

Of course, officially recognizing and accepting a mere bastard as a legitimate princess, rather than an adopted daughter, was unprecedented.

Because I was a ‘Seer,’ what was originally impossible had become possible.

Thus, my life in the royal palace began, though it was far from smooth.

As if to display his displeasure, the King granted me the Western Annex, the palace furthest from his own.

I was called the Western Princess, after the location of my palace.

However, there was a far more famous name for me.

The Bastard of the Western Palace.

Secretly, everyone whispered of me as the Bastard of the Western Palace.

No one welcomed my sudden, out-of-nowhere existence.

The maids looked down on me because of my birth, the King who was supposed to be responsible was indifferent, and the Queen, the mistress of the palace, detested me.

I had expected as much, and I had no complaints. It was only natural.

I had no intention of denying the original sin of my birth.

The sole reason for my existence, bearing this sin since birth, lay in understanding the language of God.

Until the day I reached full adulthood, I saw and conveyed thousands of divine whispers to the world, several times a day.

Yet, perhaps a pathetic yearning for what I could never have still lingered somewhere deep inside me.

Five years passed like that.

It was a time when I had grown somewhat older.

On a day when I had abandoned even the faintest sliver of hope I had harbored, and all the warmth I had longed for—

I met you.

—How chillingly beautiful.

That was the whisper I heard, just as I emerged from my trance.

I turned my head toward the voice.

The setting sun filtered through the stained glass of the temple.

Floating specks of dust, like blazing embers, obscured your figure like a mirage.

As I stood frozen in a daze, a silhouette drew closer.

The dark shadow cast over you felt like the beckoning hand of God, causing my bowed head to tremble.

Tap, tap… The sound of heels clicking against the temple floor echoed. Soon, a dark shadow fell over me.

Neatly trimmed black hair fluttered softly.

Faced with you, I gasped in silent admiration.

How could a human being be this beautiful?

I thought that even if eternity passed, I would never see anyone more beautiful than you.

—A ‘Seer,’ they say.

My reflection was mirrored in your dark, deep-set, crimson eyes.

Your hand slid down, caressing my cheek.

Unlike your softly moving red lips, your fingertips were calloused and firm.

The unfamiliar warmth of another person touching my chin made me tense.

—Is the world you see a little different from the world I see?

Leaving behind those incomprehensible words, your warmth receded.

Turning around, you gracefully left the room.

Sitting blankly on the piano bench, I played the divine whispers I had just seen over and over again.

It was the first time I could not comprehend the meaning of God’s words, which I saw with my own eyes and conveyed with my own fingertips.

To be precise, it was because the strange illusion of an exquisitely beautiful person kept flickering before my eyes, preventing me from concentrating on God’s words.

It was that evening when I learned about you.

The King, on a rare occasion, invited me to a banquet.

Attending for the first time in a while, the gathering felt as uncomfortable as wearing ill-fitting clothes.

I took a seat at the very end of the table, avoiding people as much as possible.

Unlike the Queen, who glared at me with open disgust, the King said nothing even though he saw me sitting at the far end.

Anxiety washed over me, making it impossible to swallow even a single sip of water, but the atmosphere of the banquet was warm and convivial.

Watching you smile as you sat to the King’s left, the lower-ranking nobles seated at the end of the table whispered among themselves.

Just as I had been mesmerized by your dazzling appearance in the temple, others were no different. Everyone first gasped in admiration of your beautiful looks.

The whispers that followed that obvious praise:

—That is the Grand Duke.

Information that no one would ever tell me flowed naturally in this place.

I strained my ears to catch their whispers.

—I heard he is the vassal king whom His Majesty dotes on the most.

There were numerous tributary kingdoms in the realm that pledged allegiance to the crown.

And of all those vassal kings, he was the one the King cherished most.

I found it puzzling.

My father was a man who deemed his own flesh and blood a blemish.

It sounded so strange that such a man could actually cherish someone.

I glanced at the King from the corner of my eye.

Contrary to my doubts, the King looked truly delighted as he gazed at you.

An affection I had never received myself filled that space.

Only now, with the passage of time, did I seem to know the name of the emotion I felt at that moment.

—Well, then. What brings you here today?

Wiping his mouth with a handkerchief, the King brought up the main topic.

You answered in a quiet voice.

—I have found something I wish to have.

—Something you wish to have? You?

—Yes.

He lowered his elegant eyes.

At that trivial gesture, soft sighs of admiration escaped those nearby. Gasps of awe could be heard here and there.

—If I dare to ask, will you grant it to me?

At his attitude, the King let out a hearty laugh.

Seeing the unstinting affection pouring out of him, I realized that the King was indeed capable of being such a warm person.

—If it is your request, is there anything in this world I wouldn’t give you? Go on, speak.

—Please give me Her Highness, the Princess.

—…The Princess?

At those words, the King tilted his head in confusion.

He spoke as if reciting something utterly obvious.

—A princess? But the Queen has no daughters…

His voice trailed off, and his face contorted.

He cast a glance toward me, quietly hiding among the crowd at the far end of the table.

The voice that had been so full of affection was now steeped in displeasure.

—Do you mean the girl of the Western Palace?

—Yes.

On that day of late summer.

—I wish to marry the Princess.

You asked for me.