Episode 28
I wrinkled my nose slightly and asked another question.
Bertholt didn’t answer. He only smiled faintly.
The moment I met that smile, a chill ran down my spine.
I don’t even need him to say it—I already know.
His answer was only one thing.
Worthless.
“…No matter whose daughter I might be, Harzen is my father. And I am his daughter.”
I repeated the words I had once spoken in front of Grandfather.
Bertholt kept his smiling face, gazing past me into the air.
“You could think that way. You, and that child Harzen as well.”
“…”
“Relations and perception.”
Then he looked directly at me, lips curving upward in a soft, deliberate smile.
“How frail, how hollow those things truly are.”
On the surface, the smile resembled Father Harzen’s.
But where Father’s smile carried warmth, this man’s held none.
He’s nothing like Dad.
I felt like an idiot for even momentarily thinking he resembled him.
“Of course, it may be too early for a child like you to understand such things.”
He extended a hand toward me.
“Let’s end this pointless chatter. Come, we’ll go to the physician.”
“No, it’s fine.”
Wrapping my arms around my chilled skin, I shook my head.
“I’m really not sick. Something just got in my nose earlier, that’s all.”
“Hmm.”
Bertolt regarded his own outstretched hand, then slowly lowered it.
“If I don’t take you to the physician, Harzen will no doubt scold me.”
I tilted my head.
Strange.
Those words almost sounded as though he were terrified of falling out of favor with Father Harzen.
Yet a moment ago, he had been dismissing relationships as meaningless.
“Do you dislike being hated by my father?”
I studied his expression closely as I asked.
“Hm?”
At my question, his brows arched in surprise—then he laughed lightly.
“Haha. What an amusing question.”
It wasn’t meant to be amusing.
“But, child,” he continued smoothly, eyes curving as he smiled,
“There’s no way that boy could ever hate me.”
His answer carried such arrogance, it was as though he were simply stating an undeniable truth.
I blinked at his certainty and asked again.
“Why do you think so?”
“For the same reason you love Harzen.”
Bertholt chuckled softly.
“Because here in the palace, no one cherished that boy more than I did. Which means, of course, that the one he trusts and treasures the most is also me.”
I clicked my tongue inwardly.
Wow. The arrogance.
And the worst part was—he wasn’t wrong.
Hadn’t Father once told me himself that Bertolt was the person he trusted above all?
That was exactly what made it horrifying.
I wish I could just deny it outright.
If only I had Uncle Kyle’s shameless courage, to grin and say, ‘Sure, you’re right. Right in the face.’
“…What if that isn’t the case anymore?”
I tried a small, timid rebellion.
“What if Father decided that someone else is the one he trusts and cares for the most?”
“Unlikely… but.”
Bertolt frowned ever so slightly, then cast me a sidelong glance before twisting his lips into another thin smile.
He didn’t answer.
But I already knew.
From his expression.
From his eyes.
From that smile.
I couldn’t help but know.
If such a thing were to happen, he would make certain—no matter the cost—that he reclaimed that place for himself.
Even if it meant eliminating whoever had taken it.
***
“Phewiiing…”
After enduring that tense duel of nerves, I collapsed face-first onto my bed the moment I returned to my chamber.
“You shouldn’t lie down on the bed right away, my lady.”
“You must wash first…”
My maids fretted nervously behind me, but—
I don’t care, I don’t care. I’m exhausted!
I yanked the blanket over my head and burrowed deeper.
So much had happened today.
I was completely drained.
Ugh.
Just that conversation with Bertholt had sapped all my energy, and after that I still had to face the physician.
Endless questions, endless examinations—I nearly drowned in them.
And that’s not all, either.
I kicked my feet restlessly as I recalled the rest of the day.
I’d made sneeze powder.
Before my clash with Bertolt, I’d met that strange boy—and for the first time, I’d actually used my powers.
That boy…
The image of him came back to me.
Red eyes, strikingly beautiful.
His features flawless—almost as perfect as Father’s.
What was that about?
Was it his doing that froze everyone around us?
He looked about my age, yet even a great mage couldn’t easily perform such a feat.
And why was he lying unconscious in the palace garden?
Most of all, what were those words he spoke to me?
Could he really see the scroll, like me?
And what was that nonsense about fate and love?
No, I shouldn’t dwell on that.
Talking about love and destiny was absurd when I was only seven years old.
I shook my head vigorously.
Besides, this wasn’t the time for such thoughts.
What mattered most—first, second, and third—was Mother’s safety.
That was all that truly mattered.
But why does Bertholt want to kill her?
So far, he’d shown no interest in her whatsoever.
The root must be Father Harzen.
But surely he wouldn’t commit murder simply out of a desire to see Father unhappy.
Well, perhaps he had nearly triggered the “extra story” the moment Father admitted to feeling happy lately…
No, it has to be something more complicated than that.
Think.
In the original side story, I wouldn’t have gone with Mother and Father.
That meant Father would have remained in the palace in utter misery.
This shattered relationship between father and son wasn’t going to fix itself.
So, if Berhtolt planned to kill Mother right when Father was about to return home, that would make sense…
But the side story actually began when they entered the audience chamber.
More precisely, right as they greeted Grandfather, and just as he was about to speak…
That was when I—somehow—interfered, and everything changed.
Which means, in the original, Bertolt must have decided to kill Mother right during that audience.
I rolled the thought around in my head until finally letting out a long sigh.
Maybe if I thought harder, I’d figure it out…
Argh, forget it!
I’d already overloaded my brain today.
I couldn’t think anymore.
“I want something sweet…”
Maybe sugar would get my mind working again.
I lifted my head and looked carefully at my waiting maids.
As though they’d been waiting for my glance, they immediately scooped me up.
“Feeling better now, my lady?”
“Then let us go bathe.”
“Eh?”
Wait, time out!
“Can’t I please just skip washing tonight? Just this once?”
Sure, I’d spilled powder and sat on the grass… but I wasn’t that dirty!
“I’m afraid not, my lady.”
Their resolve was ironclad, utterly immune to my cuteness.
“Nooo!”
I flailed helplessly in the maid’s arms, legs kicking in protest.
Just ten more minutes!
No, five!
One!
…
…
…
In the end, I succumbed to adult strength and was scrubbed clean from head to toe.
Thoroughly.
Relentlessly.
