Chapter 6….
Jeusia looked unusually pained after letting out only a single word.
Maybe it was the leftover moisture on her face, but her eyes seemed wet.
“If it’s Calliope then surely….”
Calliope Dilohim. That was my biological father’s name.
Instead of asking, “Is he my father?” I pressed my small lips together.
‘Remember when Senya almost died because she called out the wrong name on the day I was born? That might only rile Jeusia up more.’
But I couldn’t just keep blinking and pretend I hadn’t heard any more than that.
If it was Jeusia, she might very well try to kill me for daring to contradict her.
No matter how I thought about it, I couldn’t tell which option would speed up my demise less.
“If I’m going to die no matter what…!”
Clutching the trowel like a lifeline with both hands, and behaving like someone from the polite East in my previous life, I decided to put on a bright, innocent greeting.
“N—nice to meet you, Your Majesty.”
…There was no answer.
“A-are you not feeling well?”
I tried adding an innocent smile, but she remained unresponsive.
Rather than thawing the frozen atmosphere, it felt like the temperature dropped ten degrees every time I spoke.
Just when I was convinced it was over, Jeusia’s face — which had been staring at me — suddenly crumpled without warning.
“You’re not Calliope, are you.”
…What?
If there was one thing I could be thankful to Jeusia and the unknown biological father for, it was the excellent genes they’d given me.
My soft pink hair that called to mind cherry blossoms and my bright red eyes, nearly identical to Jeusia’s, blended together in an almost startlingly charming way.
And my dainty features were so cute that, to be honest, I often smiled involuntarily at my reflection.
This wasn’t narcissism — objectively, I was cute.
Klein, Senya, and even the servants who sometimes visited the annex always looked disarmed when they saw me.
Of course children resemble their parents, but overall my features were more like Calliope’s than Jeusia’s.
If he’d been around to play the role of father, we would’ve been a pair of pink doppelgängers for sure.
But—
‘How could she possibly confuse that big man with little me?’
She must have gone mad from too many wars, or from doing too many bad things. Maybe she’d been crazy since birth.
‘Gah, I accidentally glared.’
Realizing that, I forced another ingenuous smile — but it seemed I was too late.
Jeusia’s gaze sharpened, the same keen edge it had had at our first meeting.
“Well, of course that bastard wouldn’t be here.”
She swept her hair back and muttered the words with a scoffing laugh.
‘Well, that bastard may not be here, but your child is. So please spare me!’
Of course I didn’t actually say that nonsense out loud.
“So you mean you’re not Calliope….”
“…….”
“That would mean you’re the one I gave birth to that day.”
“I’ll greet you again, Your—ah, Majesty.”
She hated being called by her name, hated it even more when someone called me “daughter.” I didn’t want to seem overly familiar and risk having my head taken off.
I bowed politely — my pronunciation was a bit off, but I did it properly the way Klein had taught me.
She watched the whole ritual of my greeting silently, without comment.
When I finally rose and timidly looked up at Jeusia, I forgot, for a moment, that this situation was a disaster — her face was so beautiful.
But I shouldn’t be fooled by that pretty face….
“You’ve grown a lot.”
My heart dropped.
“‘You’ve grown a lot’ — that’s the kind of cliché a cold parent says when they feel a sudden pang of affection, isn’t it?”
The death flags that had been standing straight up suddenly seemed a little less rigid.
“Today — no, um, yesterday was your sixth birthday.”
“Has it already been six years?”
I nodded frantically.
Right, Jeusia was still human — she couldn’t have zero maternal feeling.
Come to think of it, this was before the original story began, so she was in a less crazy state than she would be later.
Hope began to bloom.
Two maids and fleeing to exile weren’t bad options, but living as the lovely princess who reformed her tyrant mother would look like the true ending from every angle.
‘Use the original story’s information to help the Eastern Empire revive and get along with the Western Empire. While I’m at it, make my mother a decent person.’
A happy future painted itself in my mind. The past six years felt like the groundwork for this day.
‘Maybe I could say “I missed you so much” and throw my arms around her?’
Fidgeting my small hands, I resolved and started to move to hug her.
“You really don’t look anything like me except for your eyes. You actually look more like— that bastard Calliope.”
Yikes. Not yet.
I hurriedly hid the arm I’d been about to reach out with and forced a smile while I recalculated my timing.
Don’t forget that The Mad Emperor’s Red Bedchamber differs in tone from other romance fantasies.
Jeusia wasn’t just called a tyrant — she was truly mad. It would be dangerous to think I was entirely safe.
‘Should I change the plan even now? How on earth can I get out of this situation?’
Not knowing whether I was burning up inside, Jeusia finally spoke after a long pause.
“You’ve really grown. You used to be annoying when you were the size of my palm, but now that you’re bigger, you’re even more annoying.”
Huh? Wait a minute…?
Isn’t it normal to think a king’s child grows cuter as they grow?
“If you’re six, you’re still not an adult.”
Jeusia’s lips curved into an elegant line as she murmured. Her smile was as charming as it was wicked — the same cruel smile I’d seen after six years apart.
“I told you not to stand out until you were old enough to look for my neck.”
“…….”
“You take after your father — stubbornly disobedient.”
Damn it, God.
But it was quicker for Jeusia’s hand to clamp at my throat than for me to blame the heavens.
“Ugh…!”
This time I was sure I was going to die. The murderous intent radiating off her was so sharp.
Except that this was outdoors and I was noticeably larger now, the scene was identical to that day six years ago.
Jeusia held my life in her hand, and I was utterly powerless, my fate entirely at her mercy.
‘I should’ve just died quietly six years ago if I’d known this would happen.’
But the nihilistic thought lasted only a moment.
“W-why are you doing this to me?”
A six-year accumulation of resentment and outrage I hadn’t known I had exploded from my chest like a volcano.
“What?”
“I never wanted to be born! You gave birth to me without asking, cough—why, why are you doing this…!”
Once the knot burst, my grievance didn’t subside; instead it fueled more of my indignation.
Because of her capricious decision, the miserable years I’d lived flashed before my eyes like a slide show.
As if consumed by emotion, I struggled with all my strength.
“Let me go…! It hurts, it hurts!”
My voice came out almost crushed with tears, but I didn’t stop thrashing.
“You’re mean!”
I’d been avoiding thinking about it, but since the day I resolved to run away from the palace, I’d had this question: if Jeusia had always intended to kill me right after giving birth, why did she wait until the day of delivery?
‘If she’d planned to kill me within those ten months she carried me… then she wouldn’t have—’
At some point Jeusia’s hand that had gripped my neck had loosened.
Realizing that, I shouted what I most wanted to say, with the loudest voice I could muster.
“Then don’t give birth to me!”
Those words were for Jeusia and also for the parents of my previous life.
‘If you were going to abandon me so irresponsibly, you shouldn’t have given birth!’
The pain would belong solely to the child.
Both in my previous life and in this life I had been reincarnated into the same miserable position, and I’d fought tooth and nail to survive.
Even in despair I ran an almost pathological positive loop and did everything I could.
I’d somehow managed to smile and endure — living so hard without harming others.
And yet, why was the world so cruel to an abandoned child?
“Waaah!”
Without even realizing that the pressure on my throat had fully disappeared, I began to cry so hard my face became soaked.
