Previously
Relying on her innate navigational instincts despite freezing exhaustion and bloodied feet, Iris reaches the lone wooden doorway of the North Gate and collapses as she steps through. She awakens six years in the past on her nineteenth birthday, sweeping snow at the convent where she grew up before her arranged royal marriage.
The King Is Born on the Road.
In the past, Celios had been disappointed to discover her daughter had learned nothing, abandoning all expectations of her.
Agatha, however, was someone whose parents had sent her to the convent for the sole reason that they were ashamed of a daughter who had failed to win her fiancé’s heart.
Seeing Agatha indulge in the comforting belief that there were parents who truly loved their children, Iris had no desire to shatter her illusions.
Iris spoke up for Agatha’s sake.
“Tell me more about high society.”
“Really?”
Agatha asked with obvious delight, soon launching into tales of the capital’s noble circles.
Having rediscovered the joy of gossiping, Agatha continued talking well into the night.
“So the most sought-after bachelor in the capital’s high society right now is, of course, His Majesty’s eldest son, Lord Sid Repos.”
“I see.”
Though she heard the name of her second cousin and husband of six years, Iris managed to feign ignorance and smile.
Husband was hardly an accurate term; he had always kept numerous lovers and never met with Iris outside of formal public appearances throughout those six years.
Facing him again would likely feel stranger than meeting a total stranger.
Perhaps because they had shared a bed fewer than five times across those six years, they had never conceived a child.
Regardless, having lived at court, Iris knew far more than Agatha ever could, yet she kept quiet for the sake of Agatha’s love of storytelling.
Only after she had somewhat adjusted to returning six years into the past did Iris finally muster the courage to ask what she had feared to voice.
“What happened to… the Tehas Knights?”
“Ah, the order led by Lord Heyer? Well, won’t they probably have to stay at the border forever? He fell firmly out of His Majesty’s favor, after all.”
Agatha went on to recount what had once been an enormous scandal: Heyer Asheri’s lineage.
“King Eswa is almost certain Heyer isn’t his son. But what could he do? When it was revealed that the king himself was born to a concubine, every single sage was executed. So even if the king knows in his heart that Heyer isn’t his flesh and blood, his hands are tied from casting him out of the family. That’s why he banished him from the capital instead.”
Iris nodded, then asked,
“At any rate, he is alive, isn’t he?”
“Huh? Of course. As long as no sages remain, Lord Heyer is still legally His Majesty’s second son. If he were to die at the border, they would have held a state funeral.”
Agatha’s words brought Iris a deep sense of relief.
When Iris covered her face with both hands and let out a soft laugh, Agatha’s eyes widened.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Nothing… sorry.”
Iris tried to stifle her laughter, but she could not.
She was overjoyed that he was alive, yet she found it bitterly absurd that her heart fluttered for him despite his dying plea never to love him.
Her emotions churned. The knights had escorted her all the way to the North Gate to save Luwan, yet here she was, returned to the past only to be consumed by such petty personal feelings.
* * *
Dawn broke on her birthday.
Iris had not slept. She spent the hours recalling the events of the morning of her nineteenth birthday.
She had no intention of letting history repeat itself six years from now.
As far as Iris knew, the Tehas Knights had fought harder than anyone to save Luwan.
She distinctly remembered the day she met Heyer in the capital and fell in love at first sight; the memory remained vivid.
Using her recollection of that day, she planned to find a way to save Heyer Asheri.
However, fleeing the convent right now to head for the capital alone was out of the question.
The fastest route to the capital was the trade road carved out by merchant caravans over centuries. The danger varied depending on which merchant troupe one encountered, and notorious bandit gangs demanded tolls at every pass.
‘On the trade road, paying the toll might at least leave a chance of survival, but…’
Straying from that path meant entering true lawlessness.
There was no telling whom one might run into, or where, or when.
Moreover, Heyer was stationed at the southern border; reaching him required at least an armed escort of knights. She needed help.
Iris had few chances. She devised a plan to travel south, timed to when Heyer would emerge from his outpost.
The guest arriving today would play a pivotal role.
Several hours later, morning arrived.
At a nod from the Mother Superior, who had come to her cell, Iris draped her veil and followed behind.
Arriving at the parlor door, she saw a woman flanked by dozens of guards.
Only then did Iris truly feel that she had traveled back in time, reliving the exact same encounter a second time.
She knew all too well who the visitor was: her mother, Celios Repos.
Celios’s lavish attire matched Iris’s memory perfectly.
Wearing a gown fashioned from bright crimson silk announced that she cared nothing for drawing eyes, confident that she commanded sufficient force to guarantee her safety.
Around her collar lay white fur, exquisitely tanned by master craftsmen.
When Iris offered a silent bow, Celios, seated in the parlor, spoke.
“Are you mute?”
Before passing through the North Gate and reversing time, Iris had faced this exact scenario.
Back then, Celios had been deeply unimpressed with Iris—she had despised her.
Though her daughter had grown up secluded in a convent, Celios had harbored the naive expectation that any child of hers would show exceptional promise.
Iris knew her mother judged people solely by their utility. Because she needed her mother’s aid, Iris could not afford to be dismissed as useless.
Iris answered calmly,
“You have stepped into a sanctuary of silence.”
At that unyielding reply, Celios chuckled dryly.
“You do take after me. And your father, too. He doted on me from the time I was very young.”
Without being asked about the father, Celios chattered away, perhaps worn down by the long journey.
Iris wondered whether the convent’s vow of silence perversely made visitors yearn to talk more.
Celios asked,
“Still, being my daughter, you must know how to wield a spear?”
To think she could ask so casually, after paying no attention to her daughter for nineteen years.
Iris was struck once again by the absurdity of it.
In her previous life, she had answered that she did not know how, but having spent three months alongside the Tehas Knights, that was no longer true.
Iris replied,
“I know a little.”
At her words, the accompanying Mother Superior gasped in astonishment.
“No weapon has ever crossed the threshold of this cloister.”
“…”
Celios’s brow furrowed.
Yet Iris carried on nonchalantly.
“Even so, I can do it.”
To Celios, this was the first time seeing her daughter in nineteen years, having sent her away from the royal palace at birth.
Because Celios considered sending Iris away necessary for her own survival, she harbored not a shred of guilt.
To Iris’s knowledge, Celios—her mother—was the quintessential royal figure, for better and for worse.
The only fulfillment Celios Repos derived as an individual was seeing her name etched into history. She was ready to subordinate any affection for her child, or for the lover who fathered Iris, to that ambition.
“You look… far too frail to handle a spear.”
“I am not particularly robust.”
“Even before I conceived you, the king fed me poisons meant to prevent pregnancy. It is hardly a surprise that you are frail.”
‘So that was why.’
Iris finally understood why she had fallen ill so frequently, despite having been born in the frigid north and possessing a natural resilience to cold.
Celios scrutinized Iris’s face.
“You are pretty enough, but for royalty, beauty is the most useless trait of all.”
Iris noticed that Celios’s reaction differed from six years ago.
Her mother was regarding her with an interest she had never shown back then.