“It’s a big responsibility as a fiancée, but I know you’ll do your best.”
“Yes, I will do my best!!”
Her understanding still seemed a bit off, but her idiosyncrasies were part of what made her intriguing. I decided not to correct her further and simply responded with a smile.
“I’m happy to celebrate my eleventh birthday with you.”
“I’m also happy to celebrate your eleventh birthday—Wait, eleven? Your Highness, you’re turning eleven?”
Miss Bertia suddenly looked puzzled.
“Yes, that’s right. Didn’t you know?” I asked, surprised by her reaction.
“No, I knew… It’s just that, if you’re turning eleven tomorrow… and I’ve just turned nine not long ago. That means, by my next birthday, I will be ten…”
As Miss Bertia murmured to herself, her face gradually paled, and tears started pooling in her amber eyes.
“Because, Your Highness, my mother—”
Tears spilled over her waterline, and she began to sob uncontrollably.
Why? Is this somehow my fault? But she mentioned her mother.
What does that mean? I’m lost.
Seeing Miss Bertia suddenly break down, even her maids started to panic. They tried to comfort her with a handkerchief, but then, placing it gently on the table, they retreated, casting a “we’re counting on you” glance my way.
Could you not, please? I’m only ten… well, nearly eleven, but I’m still a child and certainly not omnipotent. Besides, she’s your charge, right? Supporting her is part of your job… Fine, I get it. Don’t look at me with those pleading eyes. I’ll do what I can.
Losing the silent standoff, I reluctantly addressed Miss Bertia.
“What’s wrong? Can you tell me about it? I’ll help however I can if it’s within my power.”
“My mother—” She cried even harder upon hearing my words, beginning to speak between sobs.
Listening intently to her difficult-to-decipher explanation, I was struck with disbelief.
According to Miss Bertia, in the “game scenario,” her mother was supposed to die just before she turned ten, and tragically, the cause was a contagious disease that started spreading through the capital three months prior to her mother’s death.
The disease Miss Bertia mentioned was a new variant or, more precisely, an evolution of an existing contagious disease. It took a month to find a treatment because one of the required herbs had been difficult to acquire. It was not only challenging to cultivate due to its rarity and minimal usage, resulting in low production, but it also bloomed only in spring. Since the outbreak happened in the summer, none had been available locally, and importing it from other countries had taken time, resulting in the disease claiming many lives.
“When my mother fell ill, my father desperately searched for Ruona Grass but couldn’t find it… He even asked the king to share some from the royal stores, but it couldn’t be spared. With so many of the king’s subjects suffering, he couldn’t show favoritism to just one. Plus, Your Highness’s brother was ill with the same disease, so, considering the what-ifs, they couldn’t give us any. My mother passed away. I understand the king’s position; with many others ill, he couldn’t prioritize one person over others, especially when considering the royal family’s own vulnerabilities.”
Though still tearful, Miss Bertia seemed slightly more composed as she continued, “After my mother’s death, my father changed. Even though he understood it was unavoidable, he couldn’t fully accept it. Some took advantage of his grief, leading him down a darker path.”
Hearing her story made me think. If Miss Bertia’s next birthday, late next autumn, is still a year away, why not prepare the herb in advance? If the disease’s spread and the herb’s unavailability were known factors, gathering it beforehand could save not only her mother but many others as well. If, of course, the future she spoke of was to be believed.
“Listen, Miss Bertia. You’re talking about the future, right? If so, can’t we prepare the medicine in advance to save your mother?”
“But, Your Highness, that would change the scenario…”
“‘Scenario’? Which is more important to you, the ‘scenario’ or your mother?”
“Of course, my mother is the most important! But… but…” Miss Bertia seemed caught between realities, muttering about “compulsory events” and concerns that the “scenario” would be disrupted in ways that were hard to grasp.
“If we run into trouble, we’ll figure it out together,” I reassured her, trying to soothe her distress with gentle persuasion.
She looked uncertain but seemed to recognize that crying wouldn’t change the situation. After nodding vigorously, she dried her tears and started to eat her cake again. Silently, she pondered deeply while nibbling on the dessert.
I chose to watch quietly without interrupting her thoughts until Marquis Noches returned to retrieve her.
“Thank you for keeping Bertia company, Your Highness. Come now, Bertia, it’s time to go home,” he said, slightly out of breath, probably having rushed back. Is he that worried about Miss Bertia?
Seeing the marquis by her side, Miss Bertia clenched her fists as if making a resolution.
“Your Highness, I apologize. I cannot compromise on my mother’s well-being, even if it means our family’s downfall. If changing this scenario causes any issues, I’m sorry. I’ll try to make adjustments, so please forgive me.”
Why is she so fixated on this “scenario”? With the sudden mention of downfall, the marquis looked utterly bewildered.
Well, it sounded intriguing enough to let it play out.
“It’s all right. I’ll help too,” I offered with a reassuring smile, which made her smile slightly and bow her head in gratitude.
“Thank you very much.”
As she stood to leave, the marquis lingered, firing off questions. “What do you mean by ‘downfall’? You’re not implying the prince will assist in our downfall, are you? Right?” I just smiled back, choosing to leave my response open to interpretation.
As the marquis awkwardly hurried after Miss Bertia, who had already left the room, I considered my own next steps.
“Perhaps I should go see my father too?”
“To His Majesty’s quarters?” Zeno asked, standing by my side.
“Yes. Tomorrow’s my birthday, after all. This time of year, Father always says he doesn’t know what to do because I don’t ask for much. Maybe I’ll use this opportunity to ask for permission to use the greenhouse and request some Ruona Grass seedlings.” If Miss Bertia’s predictions were accurate, it would be best to be prepared.
While it was unclear if her visions of the future would come to pass, engaging with her story and attempting to cultivate a difficult herb could be intriguing. Plus, if it ended up saving lives, that would be a win as the crown prince.
Even if the predicted future never materializes… Well, I can consider it birthday entertainment.
As I smiled at this thought, Zeno spoke up. “Isn’t His Majesty already preparing a gift for you?”
“He has a few options lined up, but he hasn’t decided yet. He wants to surprise me this year, so he’s struggling to choose without being able to ask my opinion.”
“A surprise, yet you know so much about it already,” Zeno lamented.
“Hm? What are you implying?”
“Nothing, Your Highness.”
“All right then, good.”
I tilted my head with a grin, and Zeno muttered, “This crafty prince, I swear,” as he held his head in exasperation.
Ignoring his dismay, I felt a surge of enthusiasm as I made my way to my father’s quarters.
“Let’s go, Zeno.”
If I expressed interest in botany, Father would likely facilitate whatever I needed without suspicion. There was something exciting about having so many plans—a feeling I hadn’t experienced since I first met Miss Bertia. I owed her for this refreshing change. It was time to show some gratitude.