15
The child opened her mouth in awe, then closed it again. After straightening the head she had tilted back, she looked at the back of Roze’s head. Her neatly tied dark brown hair had come slightly loose and now covered the nape of her neck. It must have gotten messy from carrying her.
“Is it uncomfortable, Lady?”
“……”
Plita stared intently at the back of Roze’s head and shook her own. Ah, but then she quickly realized Roze couldn’t see her gesture and opened her mouth.
“It’s not uncomfortable.”
“That’s a relief. You’re not scared either?”
“Not scared at all. I’m not a kid.”
Plita puffed up her chest as she replied to Roze’s question. Then she turned her head left and right again, looking around at the scenery.
“Wowww…”
She couldn’t help but exclaim. With her viewpoint so much higher, everything looked new and fascinating. The sky felt closer, and even the trees seemed to be about her height now. Well, they were still a bit taller than her, but still.
Excited, Plita kicked her legs back and forth while being carried on Roze’s back. Roze must have felt the movement, because she paused, then quietly laughed.
…That laugh sounded so nice.
Plita stopped swinging her legs and gently rubbed her face against the nape of Roze’s neck. She smelled a soft fragrance—like the scent of sunlight on a warm day.
Kind. Warm.
‘…Would having a mom feel like this?’
The child suddenly wondered. But she had no way of knowing. She had never had a mother before. All she could do was vaguely imagine.
“Roze.”
“Yes?”
“…Hehe, nothing. I just wanted to say your name.”
Plita giggled for no reason and rubbed her nose against Roze’s neck. A gentle breeze blew as if teasing the child. The short walk back to the guest residence was peaceful like that—
Until they ran into the former queen right in front of the building.
It had felt like a dream. Even though Roze was worried and wanted to hurry and show Plita’s scraped knee to a healer, the warmth of the child on her back lifted her spirits. If the injury had been more serious, she wouldn’t have allowed herself this much ease.
‘Still, she needs to get treated quickly.’
Roze suppressed her selfish desire to keep carrying the child and quickened her steps.
When Plita had come running to her and tripped, her heart had dropped. And when she saw the blood welling on the child’s scraped knee, her whole body had gone numb. Even a small wound on a child can become a deep scar for a mother.
“Hehe…”
Meanwhile, Plita kept giggling, seemingly unbothered by the pain. Roze smiled, feeling the little girl squirm with laughter on her back.
What a relief.
That she didn’t seem hurt.
That she seemed happy.
Roze was smiling again and just about to enter the building—when a group of people stepped out first.
“…!”
Roze’s face stiffened as soon as she saw the person at the front of the group. Plita, too, peeked out from behind her and quickly shrank back.
“What are you doing, not showing proper respect before Her Majesty the Former Queen?!”
A middle-aged woman behind the group sharply scolded Roze.
Roze finally snapped out of it and quickly lowered her gaze.
…The former queen was standing right in front of her.
She couldn’t breathe. And at the same time, the words the former queen had once spoken to her rang in her ears:
“Put this in His Grace the Grand Duke’s tea.”
What had she done, following that command?
“Then the child you give birth to will live enjoying everything, as a royal of noble blood.”
She had erased Heivan’s memories and sent Plita—whom she had carried for ten months—away. As a wife, and as a mother, she had done something unforgivable. She had justified it to herself, saying she had no choice, and turned her back on the two people she loved.
Roze was shaking uncontrollably in shock as she stood face-to-face with the former queen. The same middle-aged woman who had scolded her earlier spoke again:
“Are you deaf, or just—”
“That’s enough. One cannot expect proper etiquette from the ignorant.”
The former queen cut her off. Her tone was cold and arrogant.
…Just like back then.
“Raise your head.”
“Raise your head.”
Roze’s chest went cold. The voice from the past overlapped with the one in the present. She had no choice but to lift her head—and met the former queen’s gaze.
Those golden eyes, which had looked at her with boredom, suddenly twisted.
“…?”
The former queen frowned slightly and tilted her head. Roze’s heart sank, but she forced herself to appear calm.
“You… have I seen you somewhere…? Ah, don’t tell me—Plita?”
Her eyes scanned Roze up and down before shifting to the child clinging tightly to her back.
“My goodness. Are you seriously being carried on a maid’s back?”
The former queen let out a mocking laugh and spoke to Plita. She had already lost all interest in Roze—she had never had much to begin with.
“Um… Roze, I… please put me down.”
Plita whispered nervously in Roze’s ear. Roze, frozen like someone in the dead of winter, finally came to her senses and gently lowered the girl.
Roze’s fingers trembled as she adjusted the child’s wrinkled dress.
Her heart was pounding out of control. She trembled in fear that the former queen might recognize her—or guess at the connection between her and Plita.
She barely held back her emotions, fixed the girl’s clothes, and stepped back.
“Y-Your Majesty, greetings to you.”
Plita mustered up the courage to give a quick curtsey. The former queen clicked her tongue at the girl’s trembling form and spoke.
“I fear someone may have witnessed that shameful sight. A noble girl being carried by a lowly maid? At a place commemorating the late king, no less. How vulgar…”
“S-sorry…”
“This is why blood cannot be hidden.”
The former queen’s disdainful mutter made Plita lower her head and droop her shoulders. Roze stood behind her, biting her lip as she looked at the girl. Her small shoulders shook silently as if holding back tears.
Blood.
The lowly blood she had passed on.
The pain her child had endured because of it stabbed at Roze’s heart once more.
“A stain of common blood in the Guenther line…”
“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty.”
Roze cut in, interrupting the former queen. The people around her gasped in disbelief. Their eyes looked at her as if she were insane.
Roze knew she was acting mad. She had just trembled moments ago in fear the queen would recognize her, and now she had dared to interrupt her?
Still, she had to speak. She couldn’t let Plita keep hearing words like “bloodline” any longer. Roze clenched her jaw, then spoke directly to the queen.
“Her Ladyship injured her leg, so I offered to carry her. I only thought it best to get her treated quickly. That’s why…”
“So you’re saying I was wrong to scold her?”
The former queen’s voice grew quiet, her anger apparent. A lowly maid had cut her off and dared to argue. At that moment, the same middle-aged woman from earlier stepped forward again.
“To be so insolent before Her Majesty!”
Smack.
She slapped Roze across the face. Her head snapped sharply to the side.
“R-Roze…”
Plita’s eyes widened at the sight. But Roze, unfazed by the burning pain and the ringing in her ears, hurried to calm the girl.
“My lady, I’m fin—”
“How dare a lowly maid!”
The woman grabbed Roze’s shoulder and raised her hand again.
“No! Stop! Roze!”
Plita burst into tears. A slap was nothing—but hearing the child cry made Roze’s heart shatter.
‘Maybe I should’ve kept quiet.’
But she couldn’t let Plita hear those words.
She shut her eyes, bracing for another strike. But—nothing came. Far too much time passed without any impact.
“…?”
Roze cautiously opened her eyes.
The woman stood pale, staring at something. The queen wore the same expression, eyes fixed behind Roze.
Following their gaze, Roze turned around—and her face turned white.
“…!”
Their eyes met: her own trembling green ones and his calm blue ones.
The one standing there was none other than Heivan.
He looked at Roze for a moment—then turned his gaze to the child.
