They frequently played competitive games together. However, the outcome was always the same: Torjin won effortlessly every time. Each time they gathered, Queen Arnei suggested new games.
One day, he became completely absorbed in a new game she had brought, a war game that was popular among the youth at the time. It involved moving set pieces with specific roles and capturing the opponent’s pieces. Delighted by this game, King Torjin began to play it more frequently, even involving adults from his tribe.
… Eventually, when the board game no longer fulfilled him, whether by fate or bad luck, a war erupted between neighboring tribes and his own. As a boy maturing into a young man, King Torjin urged his father, the tribal chief, to allow him to lead a small troop into battle himself.
Exceptionally intelligent from a young age and possessing high combat skills, King Torjin impressively met the expectations placed upon him. He quickly became engrossed in warfare, fully utilizing his abilities. Given the era of frequent conflicts, there were ample opportunities to achieve accomplishments. His prowess on the battlefield swiftly elevated his status.
Eventually, his father acknowledged his accomplishments and ultimately gave him full authority. By that time, King Torjin had emerged as a leader who had unified many tribes, possessing more power than anyone else.
“Like indulging in the sole pastime he cherished, King Torjin pursued the battlefield relentlessly. No one should have been able to stop him. As he grew increasingly uncontrollable, raising concern among those around him, a woman stood in his path.”
“… Queen Arnei?” I asked.
“Yes. Queen Arnei was a gentle-spirited woman who detested the loss of life in war. However, given the era, there were many times when fighting was unavoidable. During such times, when King Torjin sought to pursue even more battles, she stood before him, tears streaming down her face, and scolded him.”
—The gentle Queen Arnei couldn’t bear to watch King Torjin lose himself to war. “If you continue to needlessly take lives, I will come to despise you,” she finally declared. Those words profoundly confused Torjin, and subsequently, he abruptly ceased his participation in battles, dedicating himself instead to building a peaceful nation.
“She truly was a ‘maiden of destiny,’” I remarked. Although I find King Torjin’s simplicity astonishing, I can see parallels between his experiences and emotions and my own, and I can’t feel negatively about it. If Bertia ever told me she would come to dislike me, I might just inadvertently comply with whatever she asked, as long as it was a serious declaration and not just a moment of pique.
‘Maiden of destiny,’ indeed. While she wasn’t officially given such a title, it wouldn’t be wrong to say so. Fortunately, there was another being who could captivate his interest—the existence of Queen Arnei. She became his restraint, allowing him to avoid becoming a tyrant or a fool and instead to be remembered as the ‘Hero King.’”
Regardless of the true details of the story, King Torjin unified the nation and brought peace to this land. As they say, the end justifies the means.
Father continued, “Every few decades, a member of the royal family with extraordinary abilities, like King Torjin, is born. However, they invariably carry some emotional impairments. While they possess great capabilities, they often lack emotions and interest in most things. Once they discover something that captivates them, they become excessively fixated. They are a double-edged sword.”
His intense, serious gaze remained locked on me. “Depending on what piques their interest, they might become wise rulers or foolish ones—or fade away before achieving either.”
“The author of the book I found in the hidden library was one of those royal members, wasn’t he?” I recalled. As a child, when Bertia predicted an epidemic based on her knowledge from an “otome game,” I searched the archives to create a cure and accidentally discovered a hidden library.
This revelation deepened my understanding of my lineage, as well as the burdens and blessings of our extraordinary abilities, shaping how I viewed our duty and destiny.
The hidden library was filled with books containing knowledge that should not have been known yet—perhaps not for decades, or even centuries. The authors of these books all bore the surname “Alphasta.”
Father nodded thoughtfully at my question. “Yes, that’s right. Many geniuses within the royal family, who were considered prodigies, documented their knowledge, which now remains dormant in that library. Several of them gave up their claims to the throne to immerse themselves in their research and stepped away from the public eye.”
“What about those who didn’t become engrossed in research? What happened to them?” I asked, eager to understand more about the varied fates of those like me.
“I don’t know everything, but there were those who never found anything that truly captured their interest. Among them, some lived their lives as if they were mere dolls, and others, unable to endure the tedium, took their own lives,” he answered.
“That’s chilling,” I commented, shuddering at the thought that I, too, could have ended up like that.
The atmosphere hinted that the successful cases were few. It was a dark aspect of our royal lineage—one that should never be revealed to the outside world.
“When you were born, it wasn’t long before you began to understand and speak words far earlier than other children. I was shocked. Even knowing that such children could be born, I had never imagined my own child would be one of them.”
“You must have been disappointed,” I remarked, recalling my emotionless childhood self—intelligent but devoid of the charm that draws parental affection.
Instead of agreeing, Father slowly shook his head. “It was more worry than disappointment. Having a wise child is preferable for the royal family. But as a parent, I hoped you would experience a range of emotions and find happiness.” His voice carried a melancholic tone.
“From the time you were born, even though you lacked emotions, it was possible for you to learn happiness and other emotions as you grew. I knew this because of King Torjin and several other successful cases. These individuals, more often than not, had interests not just in ‘things’ but also in ‘people.’ It seems that having someone important in their lives made it easier for emotions to develop. That’s why I took a gamble.”
“Was that gamble Bertia?”
Confirming, Father nodded firmly, “yes.”
As I reflected on his response, it seemed as if the pieces of a puzzle were falling into place. Bertia was hardworking, her family background flawless for a crown princess. She was surrounded by capable, compassionate people eager to assist her, which made her well-liked. Even though she sometimes showed naivety, I wondered if she was genuinely the best choice for a crown princess, particularly given her overly lively and occasionally reckless behavior as a child.
Joanna could have been a more suitable option, but the choice of Bertia was evident. It wasn’t just her impressive skills that captivated me; it was the distinct manner in which she engaged my interest.
“Bertia might seem a little absent-minded, yet she is captivating and delightful. Isn’t she the kind of lady who effortlessly attracts others? She is expressive and emotional, displaying a profound compassion. In many ways, she contrasts sharply with you. Above all, she openly shows her affection for you. I believed that being around her could spark something within you.”
“And it seems your judgment was correct.”
Bertia, as I see her, was nearly identical to Father’s description. The only change I would suggest is that Bertia doesn’t merely fail to hide her affection; she appears unable to conceal it, even if she might want to.
Father, satisfied with the result, sipped his Kiwi drink contentedly.
“Your confidence has really grown. I’m pleased my prediction came true. You’ve appeared much happier since you met her, and that’s been a relief for me. I recall when you first took the initiative to ask for a birthday gift—I toasted to that with the queen. I wanted to steer clear of discussing a potential negative outcome… yet since you’ve come to understand it yourself, now is certainly the right moment to have this conversation.”
“Unknowingly, I must have caused you quite a bit of trouble,” I admitted.
“What purpose do parents serve if not to endure some hardship for their children’s future? In return, I expect a great deal of filial piety from you moving forward,” he said with a bright, carefree smile.
“Does that mean you’re saying you’ll assign more official duties to me?”
“It’s a privilege to have a capable son.”
“For now, as long as Bertia is with me, I suppose I can manage to maintain the effort.”
“So, the future of the kingdom is in her hands?”
From that perspective, it certainly appears that way.
“With her by my side, even the most mundane official duties feel enjoyable.”
“For now, I’ll ensure that more guards are assigned to Lady Bertia.”
“Since my hobby appears to be observing her free-spirited and energetic nature, please ensure it is done subtly from the shadows, without being overly restrictive.”
“I will think about it.”
Father and I raised our glasses again and continued drinking deep into the night.
—It went without saying that Father was the first to give in to the wine’s effects and fall asleep, eventually being carried away by Mother.