Whatever the truth of Princess Beljeanne might have been, the fact remained: She had borne all calamity alone, fought alone, chosen to become a villainess of her own volition, and then perished. All that was to guide everything toward the best possible outcome. And within that best possible outcome, for some reason—yes, for some reason—we, the last descendants of the royal house, had been included.
That was why I wanted to know why she would do that amid such harsh circumstances. Was it because of resentment? Because of loneliness? And above all, was she still lonely?
This emotion had to be close to longing. When I’d ascended the throne as king, I’d learned that the image of the unmatched villainess I’d taken for granted was an illusion, and her true form was painfully pitiable.
At some point, I’d begun to yearn to know what the princess—my aunt by blood—had been thinking.
“Princess Beljeanne never resented anyone in the first place,” Lady Robur replied with a wry smile, as if to imply I was being quite the troublemaker.
“What if I said I couldn’t believe that that easily?”
“Well, what if I said she didn’t feel enough affection for those around her to harbor resentment toward them?”
“That...” I stammered, realizing that might indeed be possible.
“As a person, well, she was flawed and immature. The fundamental emotions people possess were fundamentally broken within her. Whether the princess was broken from the start, broken because she was destined to be broken, or broken by others—well, I don’t know if it was one, some, or all of those. But do you think the princess ever received enough care or love from others to warrant such resentment?”
I could only nod as Lady Robur described the princess’s inner world. That was precisely why I’d harbored doubts all along. “But then why did she strive to guide everything toward the best possible outcome?”
“Because the first to give her love, the first to show her tender care, were the sacred beasts who had long protected this kingdom. While there were humans who had vented their emotions at the princess, there was not a single human who’d nurtured her by giving her a place for her emotions.”
“But without planting seeds of emotion, how could anything sprout?”
“Indeed. Perhaps it was because she was a child born without emotion, one who’d never cried.”
A child without emotion. Lady Robur’s words made me recall a passage from the late king’s diary.
A baby who never cries. An eerie infant. A cursed child born to one I loved. An infant who cursed its mother the moment it was born. Why did this happen... I cannot forgive that man, nor this child. I hate everything about this infant.
Had the color of its mother’s bloodline not been so strong, I would have killed it just as I did that man. I hate this child, whose very indigo eyes hold the color of the royal family... Yet because it bears the likeness of my beloved... I cannot kill it. Only my hatred grows deeper...
That excerpt came from the diary left behind by the late king, which had surfaced when Regulus fell under a curse and the late king had moved to the villa where he spent his final days. In its pages were written the late king’s feelings, directing his anger and hatred born of uncontrollable circumstances toward the princess who hadn’t been his own child.
From the context and background of the time, the king’s beloved and the princess’s mother were the same person, likely a concubine, and the infant was Princess Beljeanne.
Then who was “that man”? I’d read it all, but nowhere in the diary had it been explicitly stated. However, the princess’s hair color was unique to royalty, and the princess had inherited her bloodline not from the king but from another royal. When the late king had ascended the throne and the princess was born, the only royal male present was the king himself. Yet he’d ascended the throne immediately after learning of the concubine’s pregnancy. If it had been just before that, then two royal males would have been present.
Even after hearing from the late king and the two previous queens, it still hadn’t quite clicked. But in that instant, I realized the origin of the twisted relationship between the king and queen two generations ago, their successors, and my aunt, Princess Beljeanne.
“Without Casquette, even Sharona Cherria might not have become special to the princess. Or perhaps if the princess and Casquette had met several years later, after she’d developed a sense of self, the princess’s heart might have closed completely, and even the affection Casquette offered as a sacred beast might not have resonated within her. Then, rather than considering what’s best, I would’ve simply stood by and watched this country crumble.”
Princess Beljeanne had literally been abandoned in the Palace Retreat immediately after birth by order of her grandfather, the king. She’d spent the first three years of her life in complete isolation from others. As she was an infant, the few within the castle who’d known of her existence naturally assumed she’d died and forgot her, as recorded in the diary.
When the princess had been found, it seemed that Sacred Beast Casquette, who was found at her side, had raised her. Therefore, a gag order was imposed and the truth concealed. But, reading between the lines, did what Lady Robur had just said not imply that Casquette’s involvement and Princess Beljeanne’s survival were unrelated?
But I had no intention of interrupting the story now. Those were trivial matters of no consequence.
After the princess’s survival was confirmed, she had been subjected to severe abuse by the then queen Sriarde and her child—my grandmother and father—driven by jealousy toward the king and his concubine. Princess Beljeanne had been treated like a slave, her talents exploited as she grew up. That was the unalterable truth.
What became of a child whose seeds of emotion remained untended, raised only to endure extraordinary malice? And if that child possessed magical talent and cunning rivaling even the founding monarch, the first king of the royal house, then... No matter how one looked at it, every possible outcome would be catastrophic.
And yet the lady would have stood by as a spectator? What a delightfully charming way to describe the worst possible ending.
“Either way, until her death, the princess only ever classified those around her as either special or not,” Lady Robur went on. “Naturally, this included her fiancé Soviesch Robur. The vast majority were classified as not special.”
Soviesch Robur. That was a tale of star-crossed lovers spread by the late king and the heads of the Four Great Ducal Houses at the time.
Soviesch Robur, betrothed to the inherently wicked princess, met Sharona Cherria and found true love. Yet the young heir to the Robur house remained bound by duty to his betrothed.
However, when she learned of Miss Cherria’s existence, the princess was consumed by jealousy, and committed a heinous act. Though royalty, the princess possessed little magic and no talent. She sacrificed Miss Cherria as a live offering, summoning a demon to curse and destroy the entire kingdom. Truly a villainess without equal.
Fortunately, our great crown prince, though gravely wounded, defeated both the demon that possessed her and the unmatched villainess herself.
To Princess Beljeanne, the rumors were utterly baseless, but because these rumors spread, the royal family and the Four Great Ducal Houses parted ways with the sacred beasts once and for all.
After erasing my blessing-name, the princess declared that if I wished to preserve the Rovenia bloodline as royalty, I must take upon myself all future sins. She added that if I did so, I must never speak of it to anyone, not even the sacred beasts, and take it to my grave.
At first, it seemed like salvation for me to remain king. But it was all a mistake. The House of Rovenia was framed by the princess.
That might well have been true, though whether the princess had harbored any ill will remained unknown.
With the princess’s passing, the pact with the sacred beasts ended. Simultaneously, diplomatic relations with neighboring countries became unstable. If we’d continued to denigrate the princess as an unmatched villainess, the sacred beasts would have abandoned this country entirely. Even neighboring nations, who’d been saved from plague by the princess during her lifetime, might not be willing to hold back their invasion of our country indefinitely, even out of a desire to repay the princess’s kindness.
Moreover, the king, my father, had lost his mind and was useless. The House of Rovenia was a sinking ship, its fate uncertain. This fact had been unknown even to the sacred beasts. I myself hadn’t known of it until I saw the diary.
Even so, I had resolved to wipe away the rumors branding the princess as a peerless villainess. For this was the only true atonement for forcing the young princess to bear the brunt of the numerous sins committed by the royal family.
“Therefore, for the princess, there was no reason for her emotions to be stirred by anyone, including those who’d harmed her. Possessing immense magical power, incredible talent for magic, and insight beyond the ordinary, she found everyone around her insignificant. She felt neither pleasure nor displeasure.” Lady Robur fell silent for a moment as if in deep thought. “Yet on the day she died, for some reason, an intense anger welled up in her. With miraculous timing, passion had sprouted. Honestly, it was nothing short of a mystery.”
The day the princess had died was also the day she’d erased the king’s blessing-name and secretly become the true ruler of this land.
“It might have been typical adolescent behavior to lash out at those around her with that uncontrollable passion. That’s also why she struck her legal father and his wife for the first time in her life.”
Eh? Princess Beljeanne had struck Sriarde too? The diary hadn’t mentioned that... Such brainless—no, childish—defiance. That only made me more... I covered my mouth. “Hmph... Hah...”
“Don’t laugh. After all, the princess was just a child who’d only turned seventeen that day.” Lady Robur lowered her eyes bashfully, pouting her lips in embarrassment like any other girl her age. The sight was so endearing that the corners of my eyes crinkled. But then she muttered, “A tender smile from a cool guy... I see.”