Chapter 1690: Born of the Same Root

"Leave." The King softly repeated, neither rejecting nor resenting her, after all, their marital relationship had been good over the years. He didn’t really want to talk now, it was tiring, "I will... I will call you all back when I’m dealing with the aftermath, these few days I want some peace."

His tone carried helplessness and a plea.

"Okay." With a soft plop, tears rolled down, and Catherine glanced at Ian Shelby’s profile, then slowly turned around, stepping away sadly.

Almost everyone was deceived by an illusion, thinking the King wanted to spend his final moments reminiscing with Prince Louis, separated for years.

In reality, it wasn’t so; the King wanted to discuss succession with him and cooperate in administering medicine, as everyone has an instinctive desire to survive.

Listening to Catherine’s footsteps fading away, he also heard the sound of the door closing.

The room fell completely silent, and after about a minute, the King slowly opened his eyes. Though still weak, the pain had noticeably lessened.

In sight was his son sitting on the edge of the bed; he had grown taller and matured, becoming a handsome young man. The King mused on how quickly time flies.

Father and son locked eyes, a gaze that held and lingered for a long while...silent.

Ian Shelby’s eyes brimmed with tears, and his heart felt as if it were tearing apart, filled with remorse, urgency, and anxiety... a mix of complex emotions intertwined in his heart.

"Father, I’m sorry..."

"Those three words are meaningless... don’t say them again."

"You must hold on and have a strong will to survive." Ian Shelby wouldn’t give up any hope, he encouraged, "I’ve obtained the antidote, although there’s only one bottle, I’ll soon develop a second one."

"Who do you think... who do you think the murderer might be?" The King was indeed very weak, needing a pause between every sentence.

Ian Shelby thought for a moment, being a very steady person, reluctant to draw conclusions without firm evidence.

"Father, what do you think?" Ian Shelby looked at him, wanting to hear his judgment, sensing he had something to say.

Perhaps the ’sour plum soup’ had worked its magic, for the King’s complexion had noticeably improved, and his breathing became more stable.

He didn’t name anyone, merely saying, "It wouldn’t be Catherine, she wouldn’t..." This was instinct, after years of a marital relationship.

He further stated, "Nor would it be Taylor, this child is genuinely kind at heart, just with an unstable temperament, spoilt from a young age. Even if you hadn’t returned, I wouldn’t have handed Lorelei over to him."

"So... assuming I didn’t return, who would you plan to give the throne to?" Ian Shelby asked.

Several faces flashed through the King’s mind, and he sighed lightly, "There’s no such assumption, Heaven has eyes, you returned."

"..." Ian Shelby in fact had no interest in the throne; he didn’t understand how to govern a nation. He had only the simplest wish, hoping his father could recover.

This wish depended partly on human effort and partly on fate.

"Louis, whether or not I can survive, one day I will inevitably leave first."

As a father, he held his son’s hand and advised, "Though you and Taylor aren’t full siblings, you share half the same blood..."

Speaking this, the King’s throat started choking too, tears welled in his eyes, "Born of the same root."

Ian Shelby, who had been silent all along, shed a tear, "I know, I won’t make things difficult for him." He appeared quite calm.

"You’re a steady personality, always having your own opinions since childhood, capable of undertaking important responsibilities. I hope you show him more tolerance." The King advised, as if conveying a last wish.

"Okay." Ian Shelby agreed, even without his father’s advice, he’d harm no one. He’d try his best to harmonize all these relationships, to properly settle that mother and son.