CHAPTER 102…
A short while later.
“…So…”
In the silence where my sobbing had long since ceased, I gathered my emotions and spoke first.
“How long are we going to stay like this?”
I was still turned away, leaning back into Idris’s arms.
Then, from behind me, a lazy voice brushed my ear along with the tickle of his breath.
“Until you stop crying?”
“Ahem, I’m fine now.”
Truthfully, I had been fine for quite a while.
I had only stayed still out of embarrassment—after all that tough posturing, I’d ended up crying in his arms.
“I was worried you might still be crying.”
At that, Idris finally released me and stepped back.
Perhaps because I’d been held for so long, the place where his warmth had been now felt not only empty, but cold.
I turned to face him, meaning to speak, but caught a glimpse of what my face must look like and instinctively covered it.
“I’ll wash my face and come down. You can go ahead and eat.”
“Aren’t you curious?”
At the sudden question, I looked at him in puzzlement.
“You’ve let me in on your family history—aren’t you curious about mine?”
“…”
“I know your weak spots, but you don’t know mine. Doesn’t that feel unfair?”
Not particularly.
As he’d said, Idris wasn’t the sort of person to exploit my vulnerabilities.
Still… I was curious about his story.
More than that…
Since he’d comforted my wounds, I wanted to hear his and try to understand him in turn.
‘Although… this swollen face of mine is still a little embarrassing…’
It had been mortifying at first, but since he didn’t seem to mind looking at me, I had grown used to it.
“This might be a long story. Shall we sit and talk?”
Sensing my answer, Idris nodded toward the sofa.
I followed him there and sat down.
“Where should I start…”
With his long legs crossed, Idris pondered for a moment before settling on a beginning.
“His Majesty the late emperor—my father—had a woman he loved.”
I already knew who that was: the current emperor’s mother.
The romance of the late emperor had once been famous among the people.
In a noble society full of arranged marriages, he had miraculously married for love—but sadly, their happiness had not lasted long.
The first empress had died giving birth to the current emperor.
Idris spoke along those familiar lines before moving into uncharted territory.
“After that, he accepted a new empress recommended by the nobility. But the new empress wasn’t content with simply being empress.”
Outwardly, Deon’s mother, the second empress, was known to be so compassionate that she had even taken in Idris, the illegitimate child.
But, as I had suspected, that was merely a mask to preserve the royal family’s image.
“She wanted her own son on the throne, and so she constantly sought to kill the young crown prince.”
“…”
“The late emperor, wanting to protect the son his beloved wife had left behind, one day heard news.”
“…”
“The news of a palace maid he had once slept with by mistake, and the illegitimate child she had borne.”
That was when something began to feel off to me.
If he loved his late wife and wanted to protect her son, why would an illegitimate child come into the picture?
“The late emperor brought that child—me—into the palace and doted on him, as if to make it seem he cherished the illegitimate prince more than the crown prince.”
“…”
“So that the empress would see the bastard prince as her son’s rival, not the crown prince.”
My eyes shook violently at the unexpected truth.
The late emperor had used his youngest son as a shield—to protect the son of the wife he loved.
“And the plan worked.”
“…Did you know about it?”
Idris thought for a moment before answering.
“I didn’t know for sure, but I think I sensed it… that the late emperor didn’t truly care for me.”
“…”
“I just didn’t want to believe it.”
I could guess the rest without hearing it.
Wanting his father’s love and approval, Idris must have fought tirelessly on the battlefield so as not to disappoint him.
At the same time, something I’d long wondered came to mind.
“Then… was it a lie that you tried to harm the late empress?”
I had never asked before—hating to expose my own shame, I’d assumed he felt the same.
But now, I felt I could ask him.
As I expected, Idris answered without hesitation.
“No, that part’s true.”
“…”
“To explain further… the late empress tried to poison me after I survived the war, and after I was poisoned, I lost control.”
“Then why did the rumors say—”
I stopped mid-question.
Because I suddenly realized what his answer would be.
“Because the late emperor wanted it that way.”
“…”
“The crown prince had safely grown up, and the late empress who’d threatened him was bedridden. There was no more need for a decoy.”
Idris spoke as though telling someone else’s story, detached and indifferent.
But I couldn’t be indifferent.
My heart ached for the man who had carried a truth no one else knew, a story buried without witness.
I didn’t want to pity him—I knew too well how awful it felt to be pitied.
But…
“Why are you crying again? You’re breaking my heart.”
His fingertips brushed the corners of my eyes.
It seemed my tears troubled him more than the pain or shame of having his wounds exposed.
“Not embarrassed to cry in front of me anymore?”
Idris chuckled faintly as he looked at my silent tears.
He looked so beautiful smiling like that, I wanted to cry in his stead.
And so, the tears I’d been holding back spilled over.
“…I’m sorry.”
Sorry for misunderstanding you.
“I’m sorry…”
Sorry for daring to pity you.
Idris watched me quietly for a while before asking:
“Do you want me to hold you again?”
His playful question made my tears stop instantly.
Even now, he was teasing me—still the same as ever.
I could feel he was trying to make me stop crying.
I laughed through my tears and cut him off firmly.
“No, thank you.”
“So cold.”
He grumbled, but his eyes were smiling at me.
“Now that you know my weak spot, I guess this was a fair trade, wasn’t it?”
“No. This isn’t your weakness—it’s your father’s.”
At my firm response, his eyes widened slightly, then he let out a small laugh.
“You’re right, I’ll amend that. It’s not my weakness. And your father’s faults aren’t yours, either.”
“…”
“So there’s nothing for you to be ashamed of.”
Instead of answering, I smiled and nodded—hoping he truly believed that too.
“Shall we go eat, then?”
Idris rose and offered me his hand, as he always did when escorting me.
Out of habit, I took it and stood.
I stared for a moment at our joined hands.
‘I’ll have to let go of this hand someday.’
I couldn’t imagine it—losing the warmth of this hand.
Already, I felt I would miss this moment. So I gripped his hand tightly.
Even if the day came when I had to let it go…
I wanted this moment to be etched in my memory for a long, long time.
