MTMT 28

Chapter 28

A Certain Sob

Through the gap of the slightly opened door, the silhouette of a woman sitting on a chair could be seen. A man and his accompanying entourage were watching her through that narrow opening.

“Ugh… sob… hic! Huh!”

Her delicate shoulders trembled with sobs. When she turned her head, the nape of her neck appeared exceptionally slender. Sunlight streamed through the window as clouds passed, illuminating her slender figure. The dress draped over her was dazzlingly bright—almost ridiculously ornate for the grim situation she was in.

Around her neck was a large sapphire necklace, finely crafted, and on her arm was a bracelet made entirely of sapphires. Despite the lavish accessories, she looked more miserable than anyone else in that room.

It had been three days since she had stopped eating, and she continued to cry.

“For the death of that foolish maid…”

“Our queen always brings trouble to His Majesty. And now, she tried to run away again. Poor Rogafl.”

“Maybe she’s crying just to show us.”

Hearing the soft voices from behind, the man turned his gaze coldly. Though their eyes were initially defiant, they quickly fell silent upon meeting his gaze.

Many were blaming the woman as she wept.

And justifiably so. She had attempted to escape. That was why they wanted to show her the consequences. Especially that ‘maid’—she had to die without fail.

Thus, he personally made her witness the maid’s final moments. And now, this was the result.

The man forced his way through the door gap. He could have knocked first, but knocking is a gesture of mutual respect. When knocking yields no response, one must enter by force. Since respect no longer existed between them, he had no hesitation about this intrusion.

“Your Majesty.”

His voice resonated lowly, yet the woman continued to sob bitterly. Damn her weakness—it was infuriating. What had she done to deserve this? Why was she crying so? Why was she skipping meals?

He reached out and grasped the woman’s shimmering, pale blonde hair. What he had once hesitated to touch, he could now hold freely.

The moment his large hand made contact, she flinched violently. Seeing the man she touched, her eyes widened, and she stepped back—no, she tried to strike him but her legs gave out, and she fell.

“Wh-what… is the matter?”

Tears streamed down her wide-open eyes. Her voice, attempting calm, trembled miserably. She seemed ready to retreat if he took another step forward. The revulsion she felt now surpassed even when they had been physically intimate.

He felt her body trembling. This woman was afraid of him, terrified to the point of being unable to withstand it—but she did not flee. Not out of stubbornness, but because she was genuinely scared.

He realized then.

This… this was far worse. Far worse than her previously looking down on him as a slave. The bright, smiling girl he once knew was gone.

Philip’s birthday party was a month before Diana’s thirteenth birthday. Diana had pondered many times what would be a suitable gift for Philip.

“Your Majesty, what would you like for your birthday?”

“Huh?”

In the end, Diana asked directly—she couldn’t think of anything. On her way back after visiting the princess, Philip laughed in mild disbelief at her question.

Understandably so. A girl suddenly chasing after him to ask such a thing.

“My gift? Surely the duke gave me something.”

“…”

“Why, must it also come from you?”

Philip giggled. When Diana nodded, he smiled and reached out to touch her head.

“Ow! My hair!”

The gift was one thing, his affection another—but Diana was genuinely annoyed. Hair was important. No matter how casual one was, how could he carelessly touch the hair of a noble girl who had gone to such lengths…!

Seeing her expression, Philip laughed.

“Ah, Princess, don’t be mad. We’re friends now, right?”

“Friends?”

“Yes. We meet daily, talk in the garden. That counts as friends, doesn’t it?”

“But that doesn’t mean you… touch my hair like this…”

“I just thought it was cute. I can do that to a little sister.”

“Little sister?”

“Yes. Does that bother you?”

Philip’s green eyes softened in amusement. Little sister… a nostalgic word. Her relationship with Emil had soured; she was no longer anyone’s little sister.

Diana smiled bitterly. Seeing this, Philip scolded lightly.

“Really, Princess, you don’t need to buy gifts with your own money. Gifts bought with pocket change aren’t necessary.”

“…”

“Just be kind to Ionia; that’s enough for me.”

Was he distancing himself? Diana felt a twinge of disappointment.

“Ah, that’s still not enough? Then how about this? I really want something.”

“Yes…”

“Let me call you ‘Anne.’”

“…”

“‘Anne’—your nickname.”

It felt strange. Diana bit her lip. Philip had an uncanny ability to narrow the ‘appropriate distance’ she maintained in an instant.

He approached without malice, without trickery, without observation or mockery.

Having been exposed to malice before, Diana could keenly sense when people held ill intent.

But Philip was different. He approached with a natural, gentle charm. Always clean and refreshing.

“Alright.”

“…I’m glad. Thank you so much.”

Philip smiled softly. Was granting him her nickname really that joyous? It was significant, yes, but the ‘right to call me by my nickname’ was hardly precious. Diana felt her cheeks heat up for no reason.

“Oh, Anne. Here’s some candy.”

“Again?”

He smiled and handed her candies from his pocket, then left. Diana laughed quietly, exasperated. With so many candy jars already full, she’d need more jars. And gifts too.

Looking at the sparkling candy, Diana thought.

Returning home, Diana encountered Emil. They hadn’t spoken since Mirva left, and Diana had never discussed his birth with him. Emil stood coldly, staring at her; Diana stiffened in return.

“You seem… truly happy.”

Diana’s eyes widened. The tone seemed to wish her unhappiness. When she tried to speak, Emil passed by her. She lowered her gaze; such hostility was inappropriate even for speaking to a younger sister.

She knew without words: Emil already knew Mirva was his mother. When he discovered it didn’t matter.

Once affectionate in childhood—stroking her hair, celebrating birthdays—how had it come to this?

Today, she felt gloomy. Perhaps she needed to look at the stars to ease her mind.

After finishing her schedule, Diana went to a backless bench. She lay down immediately, gazing at the stars.

Philip’s matter had made her smile, but Emil’s had left her frustrated. She took a candy from her pocket and popped it into her mouth. The sweet scent eased her sharp mood.

Lost in thought, she heard footsteps and quickly rose. It was Giskar. Seeing Diana, he bowed slightly and adjusted his posture.

Diana sighed.

“Giskar.”

His steps halted. After Emil, now Giskar. She wished she could stop worrying about even one of them. Giskar carefully approached, matching her pace, then quickened when she remained still. Standing before her, he looked down at her seated form.

“Yes, Miss.”

He bowed politely. His gaze briefly fell on her round cheek puffed with candy. Diana, seeing this, was momentarily speechless.

When Giskar once bore murderous intent toward her, she had nearly fainted from fear. Should she ask him never to do that again? But how could she even say it?

“I… apologize.”

Diana was startled by the sudden words. He knelt, looking up at her.

“I was wrong.”

What should she say? Seeing someone suddenly kneel before her left Diana in confusion. Was he scary? Still scary? Not the same paralyzing fear as before, but…

She cautiously spoke.

“You tried to kill me back then, didn’t you?”

“…”

Giskar said nothing. Diana noticed the collar around his neck. Oddly, she felt reassured and clenched her fists. She forced herself to speak calmly.

“I know you won’t obey me. I know you don’t want to, and you won’t.”

“…”

“I won’t even ask why. It’s clear I touched a part you couldn’t tolerate.”

Giskar’s face showed confusion.

“You don’t have to obey. You don’t need to. Just…”

Diana sighed.

“Just… don’t be hostile toward me. If you dislike me, say so, like when you first came. And… no, never mind.”

‘And… don’t kill me, or my people…’

Diana said no more. Instead, she decided to bury her questions about Heria. Giskar quietly asked, raising his head.

“Weren’t you curious about me?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be curious anymore.”

Giskar becoming her slave, being freed from the mansion’s oppression, then released. That was all she could do.

She wondered who Heria was. But if asking would anger Giskar, it was better left buried. As in her previous life. This distance between them was appropriate. She decided not to concern herself with Giskar’s ‘private matters.’ This was a severance regarding their relationship.

“It’s my mother.”

But Giskar, as if resisting her detachment, spoke, meeting her gaze.

“She who gave birth to me. My mother.”