The orchestra’s music played in the distance. Light seeped through a single layer of curtains from the great hall, brightly lit as though night had not yet descended. Separated from the tumult, two people stood outside on a balcony.
“You’re right,” the crown prince said quietly.
He wore a sorrowful expression, one so beautiful that I wanted to capture it on paper and frame it. I almost felt it regrettable that the only one admiring it was a dirty crow perched on a branch.
“I can rest assured if I entrust the matter to Leonhart... Though it’s a little frustrating.” The crown prince smiled bitterly. “I will refrain from seeing her in person. However, sending a message would be acceptable, yes? I’m worried about Rose’s health, and I’d like to send her home soon.”
His Majesty the King glanced at the prince and shook his head slightly. “They’ll be on their way soon if you leave them be.” To answer the prince’s dubious look, His Majesty continued in a blasé tone, “I ruined her hair. Even if her maid tries to fix it, it’ll take time to rearrange it the same way.”
“Huh...?” Unable to grasp the meaning of his explanation, the crown prince looked flabbergasted, and I, who was eavesdropping on them, was likely making the same face.
“That one is stubborn, so it’s possible she won’t give up, but Leonhart will persuade her,” His Majesty stated dispassionately.
“Um, please hold on,” the crown prince said, trying to slow the conversation. “You...ruined her hair? What in the world did you do to Rose?”
“I merely patted her head.”
“Huh?”
I almost made the same noise. It was a struggle, but I managed to swallow it back down—it showed how shocking that was to hear.
His Majesty patted the princess’s head? That heartless human... Actually, sometimes I suspect he might not even be the same kind of life-form as the rest of us. That king did what? The man who didn’t even think of himself as a father and didn’t hold a shred of affection for his family? That same king?
There were so many parts to be surprised about that I didn’t know what to retort with first. I’m a third-party observer, and I’m this shaken, so how bewildered must the princess be? It required little effort to imagine her trembling in fear, wondering if it was some kind of trap or an omen of a natural disaster. She must be trembling like a small animal. I pitied her.
“You patted Rose’s head? You?”
“Is that a sin?”
Their conversation continued while I was escaping from reality.
Although His Majesty’s face was devoid of expression, he gave off a shameless air. He snorted. “Is it wrong for a father to pat his own daughter’s head?”
The crown prince was at a loss for words, but his face had It’s wrong written in large letters on it. Even though he had no justifiable reason to denounce the king, he didn’t want to accept it on an emotional level. The crown prince was the princess’s older brother, but he was also a father figure to her.
Ever since the princess was young, she had always been bad at acting like a child. The crown prince, who had watched over her all the while, had the sole privilege of being the only person who could treat her like her age. Giving her a head pat was the prime example of an action that fell under his special rights. It was only natural he would be furious that his biological father—who had always been apathetic toward children—was suddenly infringing upon those rights now.
His Majesty surely knows how the crown prince feels, but he fanned the flames on purpose. He has an awful personality. I want to tell him, “Your kids hate you because you act like this!” Not that I ever would. I value my life.
Suddenly, a dignified and lovely voice interrupted the unproductive parent-child feud. “It is wrong.”
A blindingly beautiful woman entered the fray. Her face closely resembled the princess’s—it was Her Majesty the Queen. She glared at His Majesty and the crown prince, her slightly upturned eyes drawn into thin lines.
“You stole a march on me and visited Rose, and you patted her head on top of that? I seldom ever get the chance to do that... I’m envious.”
I was taken aback. What did she just say with such a straight face?
“And need I remind you that this event is hosted by the royal family? For two royals to be secretly hiding out here... Of course you’re in the wrong.”
“Stepmother. I’m very sorry.”
“It’s just one noisy person after another. I can’t take a break like this.”
There was something lovable about the way the crown prince became crestfallen like a child caught mid-prank. On the other hand, His Majesty took on a brazen attitude, showing no signs of remorse.
Irritated, the queen raised one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. Her heels clacked on the floor as she approached the king with a menacing smile. She stretched out her arm and plucked the wineglass from His Majesty’s hand.
“Oh my. If you want to take a break, then please relax on the throne in the hall. You’re not one to be bothered by stares, so it doesn’t matter where you rest. Isn’t that right?”
I felt like I could hear her inner voice: “If you’re not going to do anything, then at the very least be a showpiece.”
The enraged queen’s smile reminded me very much of the princess when she was angry. I thought they were completely different besides their appearances, but their personalities might be unexpectedly similar.
The couple wordlessly glared at each other. Seconds passed.
His Majesty was the first to fold. He sighed in resignation and walked past the queen. She and the crown prince followed after him into the great hall.
I exhaled as I gazed at the empty balcony. Witnessing that unbelievable spectacle had exhausted me. A cold and awkward father, a mother who henpecks her husband, and their rebellious children. Commonplace interactions of a run-of-the-mill family. However, when I consider the fact that it’s that royal family—the one people say is so beautiful that they don’t seem human—the narrative is a great deal different.
No one would believe me if I told them... No, even if I told my past self, he’d laugh, and that would be the end of it.
It was a fact—up until a few years ago, the royal family had not been a normal family. Their relationships had been as cold and lifeless as their doll-like exteriors. Their current relationship was by no means the result of a natural course of events. Rather, their present had been shaped by the princess’s unrelenting and excruciating efforts.
She truly is incredible, that one. A wry smile played on my lips as I pictured the face of that young girl—one who looked like a gust of wind could snap her in two but who’d even scaled a precipitous mountain with spirit and willpower.
I scanned the area from atop a large tree. There wasn’t even a mouse nearby, let alone an assassin, which was likely because the situations with neighboring nations had settled down for the most part. I had thought it would be a dull night, but contrary to my expectations, I’d witnessed something amusing, so I was satisfied.
Let’s just take it easy for the remainder of the time. I was leaning against the trunk of the tree when I heard whispers coming from the garden beneath me. A spy would never be gleefully chatting in enemy territory, so I reasoned that the voices belonged to some servants, knights on patrol, or guests who’d slipped out of the great hall.
The voices are too far away to hear from here. In one smooth motion, I silently descended from the tree. I kept myself hidden as I approached the voices. On the other side of a rosebush, I spotted a man and a woman who appeared to be guests of the soiree facing each other. I’d thought it might be a pair of clandestine lovers, excited to be on a romantic tryst, but it didn’t appear so.
“Leave me alone,” the young lady said sternly.
I recognize her. I believe she’s Count Baalke’s second daughter, Sandra. She was making eyes at the princess’s husband earlier.
“It has nothing to do with you,” she said coldly.
Deep wrinkles formed on the man’s brow. “I wanted this to have nothing to do with me.” He fixed her with an icy stare.