Chapter 94……………………….
Irene, just alighting from the carriage that had come to a halt, gazed with curiosity at the unmarked carriages parked nearby.
Who else has come?
Still, it was likely nothing to do with her. She turned her eyes toward the three-story mansion before her. Without showing any sign of impatience, she stepped lightly inside, the “escorts” behind her following under the guise of protection—but she knew they were there to watch her.
“Good day. My name is Hannah May.”
A small-framed, rather middle-aged blonde woman greeted her. Irene stared at the woman in silence. She seemed utterly ordinary, without any striking features.
She was part of the new “family” Tyraine had taken in after discarding the old.
“Young lady, don’t!”
“Ah!”
Just as Irene opened her mouth to reply, a maid’s scream rang out, followed by the clatter of someone rushing down the stairs. Looking up, Irene saw something dart into the folds of her skirt.
“Oh! I’m sorry!”
Irene was struck dumb when she looked down into the laughing face of a child. The girl—clearly over ten years old—was clutching a wooden practice sword. Her straw-gold hair and freckles across her nose caught the eye.
She bore no resemblance to Irene’s own younger sibling, yet something about her face stirred a memory of him.
Irene, still standing still, asked quietly:
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
“You’re so pretty! Where did you come from, ma’am?”
“Letia!”
Hannah called her daughter’s name in embarrassment, but Irene replied evenly.
“Thank you.”
Her white hand gently brushed over the child’s head. The navy-colored eyes looking down at the girl were calm and still.
“But we should change how you address me.”
“Address you?”
“You should call me Aunt.”
Her voice carried no emotion whatsoever. Hannah tensed at once, but Letia just beamed and nodded.
“Yes, Auntie!”
As Hannah hastily pulled Letia back toward her, Irene asked quietly:
“Which room is my child in?”
“Up the stairs, the third door on the left. Ah, but right now—”
“Thank you.”
Without waiting to hear more, Irene strode quickly up the stairs. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep that night without confirming Ian’s condition with her own eyes.
But the moment she opened the door, Irene froze in place.
Someone was standing at the head of the bed. A tall man in a snow-white uniform, platinum hair glinting in the sunlight. His back looked somehow lonely.
Sensing her presence, he withdrew the hand that had been stroking Noah’s hair and turned to face her. Their eyes met.
“…Your Majesty.”
Irene could barely force out the words in a trembling voice. This was the first time she’d seen his face since eight years ago.
Even when he had cast them out, the man had been nothing but cold; and now, untouched by time, he was still beautiful—so beautiful it felt almost inhuman, like a statue.
“What brings you here?”
“I heard the boy collapsed. I came to see how things were. It would have been better to come while he was awake.”
Looking at the man—still speaking to her formally as he had when he was crown prince—while standing on his lofty throne above all, Irene felt a flicker of rebellion rise up inside her. Even possessing the position she had once desperately grasped for, he showed no trace of joy or sorrow, as if telling her it had all been meaningless.
“Are you disappointed he didn’t die?”
Franz replied coolly to Irene’s barely veiled hostility.
“And you?”
Isn’t it you who’s disappointed I didn’t die?
Her face hardened instantly at his retort. Guilt she’d long buried deep surged up to her throat—the memory of her nineteen-year-old self with her hands around a child’s neck.
A quiet voice drew her back from that self-loathing.
“I used to think of you as nothing but a child… but meeting you now, it seems time hasn’t been wasted after all.”
A faint smile brushed Franz’s lips. Was this what it felt like to glimpse breath within a statue?
She had always thought him utterly inhuman. The smile that didn’t reach his eyes, the composure to propose a bargain even with his life threatened—she had once thought him a monster.
Now, freed from her hunted life, she could see more clearly. Maybe that was why she didn’t feel the same aversion anymore. Unable to bear it, Irene blurted out:
“You almost sound… worried about him.”
As if that could be true. She wanted him to deny it outright. Watching her expectant gaze, Franz opened his mouth—
“Uh…”
But before he could speak, a small murmur came from the bed. Apparently their voices had been loud enough to wake him. Looking back, she saw Noah turning his head, blinking at them.
“Brother?—no, Your Majesty. How… why are you here?”
Seeing Irene behind Franz, Noah’s face went pale. He scrambled up in a panic, and Franz said evenly:
“I heard you collapsed, so I came. How are you?”
“It stings a bit, but I’m fine.”
“I see.”
The large hand gently patted Noah’s head. The touch, so much like the one from his childhood, left Noah even more at a loss. As he started to rise, Franz motioned for him to stay.
“Didn’t they tell you not to overdo it?”
“Moving this much is fine.”
Franz’s eyes narrowed, then softened again, as if at an unwelcome thought. A sigh escaped him, sounding almost weary. Noah tilted his head.
“Why do you say that?”
“I just thought… perhaps that person felt the same way. It stings, seeing it from the other side now.”
“Sir?”
Franz cast a sidelong glance at Irene.
“I won’t intrude on your family time any longer. The Queen said to tell you she’s truly grateful, and that she’ll repay you properly later.”
“There’s no need for that. I only did what was right.”
“I told her the same. I haven’t done a single thing well myself.”
His cold reply lingered as Franz fixed his eyes on Noah—like a man looking at a troublemaker.
“Don’t be reckless.”
“Yes, sir…”
Even with no rise or fall in his tone, it felt like a scolding. Noah’s shoulders hunched slightly. Yet, somehow, it felt strange—in all his life he’d never been reprimanded by Franz like this.
From the moment he’d matured, Franz had always been distant. Presumptuous though it was, he almost felt a little closer to him now.
After Franz left and the door closed, only Irene and Noah remained in the room. Like a man facing his greatest trial, Noah forced a smile and wrapped the blanket around his waist.
“Mother. The truth is…”
“There’s no need to hide it. He’s already told me everything.”
She could almost see the ghost of Tyraine, hands clasped, murmuring apologies. Noah, realizing excuses wouldn’t work, tried another question.
“Where’s Uncle?”
“He said he had business and left. They told me he hadn’t regained consciousness yet.”
“He woke up just now. I was going to send word immediately, but I never thought you’d come in person.”
“Ian.”
At the sound of his name, spoken firmly, Irene’s eyes twisted with sorrow.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Facing his quiet mother, Noah replied:
“I didn’t want to worry you. This shouldn’t have happened. It was my failure.”
“So if this hadn’t happened, you would have kept hiding it.”
Irene moved to the bed and sat beside him, her fingers cold with tension as they clasped his.
“Ian, let me ask you one thing.”
“Yes?”
“Do you feel guilty toward me?”
Noah’s tumbling thoughts stopped dead. He couldn’t answer. Irene explained softly:
“You once told me you could take responsibility for yourself now. That I should live my own life.”
He had no memory of saying that. Perhaps Lady Cordelia had.
Flustered at first, then calm, Noah thought of how he’d meddled in Cordelia’s body himself.
“Ian. Are you truly happy with your life now?”
Seeing her anxious expression, Noah considered lying, then gave a tiny nod.
“Then that’s enough.”
Her quiet answer reached his ears.
“I used to wonder if you were only forcing yourself to get used to this life.”
“Mother!”
“But I know that’s not true now. Come to think of it, we’ve never spoken so frankly before.”
Irene smiled faintly and stroked his cheek.
“I only need you to live. That alone is enough for me.”
It was an answer far more heartfelt than simply saying I’m glad you’re safe. Gathering her pouring sincerity, Noah stammered:
“I thought you wanted power, Mother. That you’d be disappointed in me no matter what…”
Irene slowly shook her head.
“What use is any of that? It can’t make you smile.”
She knew how happy he’d looked with a brush in his hand. Even as a prince, he’d never seemed that content.
If that’s the life he wanted, she too had to accept it.
She remembered seeing the studio full of fabrics and tools when she arrived at the mansion, the recreation of memories she herself had forgotten. She recalled the boy who’d once delighted in receiving a hat, now grown into a solid man.
He’d always been a sly one—even making it hard to resent him.
“So please, no more getting hurt like this. Don’t leave my side too.”
Noah immediately caught the words she left unsaid. For once, instead of turning away, he opened his mouth.
“Like Uncle?”
Irene didn’t answer, but Noah continued lightly.
“But Uncle always worries about you.”
“I haven’t forgiven him.”
“Not forgiving isn’t a reason to cut someone off entirely.”
Noah didn’t miss the flicker of hesitation in her eyes, the trace of lingering regret.
He’d always thought they would run on parallel tracks forever. But if one of them tilted just slightly… maybe, in a far-off future, they could cross.
“If you’re worrying about me, Mother, don’t. I just want you to be happy.”
He didn’t want anyone sacrificing themselves for him. The very thought was suffocating. He liked his life as Noah. Not that he hated being Ian, but still…
And then it struck him.
Maybe he’d felt burdened by all of this for a long time. Carrying someone else’s life had turned into guilt.
“All right, then.”
He let himself be drawn into his mother’s embrace. It felt as though the weight pressing on his heart had fallen away.
Ah. Something this simple.
He wondered how she would react to hearing this story. The image of Cordelia’s lively smile rose in his mind, her voice saying, See? It worked out, didn’t it? Even in the midst of his choked feelings, he found himself smiling.
He missed her. Desperately.
