Previously
Irenia reflects on the suspicious consistency of the testimonies regarding the deaths of previous princess candidates, suspecting a cover-up. Delfina interrupts her to prepare for the official wedding night, which involves a cold medical examination by the royal doctor and Lady Elvira.
“So, what…?”
A cold sweat broke out across my entire body.
“Oh, um… that is, well…”
I flustered, trying to scrape together any words, but Caesar beat me to it. He opened a book and slid it toward me, even pointing his finger at the page as if worried I might confuse it with something else.
There was an illustration of two ducks facing each other, warmly brooding eggs together.
Dizziness struck me as if a heavy blow had landed on my head; my vision blurred.
“I mean, that… what I’m saying is, um…”
My usually fluent tongue suddenly tied itself in knots. How on earth was I supposed to explain this to him? I couldn't think of a single appropriate way, and all that slipped out was an empty, senseless laugh.
Should I tell him I can’t lay eggs? Or give him an explanation straight out of sex education class?
“Ren?”
Caesar’s voice sounded crystal clear, and his pure eyes held fast to the hem of my dress. Was it merely my imagination that he looked so clear and innocent?
What was I supposed to say to that guileless face? How could I explain this in a way he’d understand?
Question marks raced through my head. Should I start with
“the birds and the bees”? Or maybe butterflies? Or talk about pollination? About what happens when a male and a female meet…?
“No! Absolutely not!”
The shout escaped me before I could stop it, and a shudder ran through my limbs. But I clamped both hands over my mouth the moment I remembered the maids outside the room.
I prayed my voice hadn’t sounded strange enough to raise suspicion…
My entire body grew rigid. I shook my head violently. No way. I couldn't say that. There was no earthly way I could explain… those things to him!
“The fruit of love.”
While I was drowning in my fluster, Caesar pressed on with the exact phrase he wouldn't stop repeating: “The fruit of love.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening. Another wave of dizziness washed over me. It might have been better if I simply fainted.
“I mean… what I’m saying is…”
“How many eggs are we going to lay?”
He asked it as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
How many?! I can’t lay anything in the first place!
“Um… well…”
Despite how terrified and sweat-drenched I looked, Caesar continued
barraging me with questions.
“How do we lay eggs?”
“What?”
It felt like a spear had been driven straight into my head. The question was unimaginably direct and mortifying.
My mind went entirely blank. My body stiffened, and when I turned back to him, I saw him staring at me with utter innocence.
His face held absolute trust in me, along with an innocent expectation for answers I didn't have the courage to provide.
I shut my eyes. I could find no other way out:
“U-um… hands.”
“Hands?”
“If you hold my hand… while we sleep…”
I knew it was an absurd excuse, and I was fully aware I was running away.
Even so, I couldn't bring myself to speak the truth. How was I supposed to explain… that to him?
So I quietly held out my hand.
“Hands.”
He took my hand without hesitation, the warmth of his palm seeping straight into my heart. With my other hand, I wiped my forehead.
“Yes, just hold my hand while sleeping, and that's how…”
I didn't dare tell the truth, so I spun a lie.
A white lie to protect his innocence. I had to convince myself that I truly had no other choice.
“Hehe!”
He beamed at me with boundless joy. It was a radiant smile, utterly devoid of malice, and it struck my chest with a pang of guilt.
“Shall we keep reading, then? I was excited to hear the rest of the story!”
I scrambled to change the subject. We had to skip past the scene with the brooding eggs.
And so the long “wedding” night passed. Perhaps out of sheer guilt, I read the story to him multiple times with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.
And we didn't let go of each other’s hands all night long.
The next morning,
the maids entered early. My voice was hoarse from so much reading. Utter exhaustion washed over me, and I yawned as I stretched.
Then I felt an intense gaze.
It was Delfina, holding a water basin and sponge, stepping into the room while fixing me with a strange look, as though she knew everything.
I grew flustered. I wanted to tell her that my exhaustion wasn’t from what she was imagining, but the presence of others held my tongue.
Caesar, as it turned out, had slipped out at dawn. He had left me all alone.
Two older maids stepped in to inspect the bedding thoroughly. That was their duty, and though I had ruffled the sheets beforehand to spare myself embarrassment, the whole process felt thoroughly uncomfortable.
“No doubt about it.”
I had no idea what left no doubt, but the two exchanged glances and carried off the bedclothes.
An unbearable emptiness welled inside me. I tried to redirect my thoughts.
I pictured the banks of a tranquil lake, ducklings splashing in the water. Little ducklings with soft yellow feathers, and among them, a cast-out black duckling.
Perhaps that duckling represented me, and him as well.
I wanted to wrap my arms around that shunned creature and give him warmth.
If that could heal his wounds, so be it.
I wanted to ask him: How much have you suffered? Why do they torment you like this?
And hold him with every bit of tenderness I possessed.
I looked out the window. It was a bright spring day, the sunlight shimmering with brilliant splendor.
Holy Week came to an end. During that sacred observance, donning lavish attire was considered improper. Hence, the true beginning of spring for the capital began now—the social season.
Indeed, it was as if everyone had been waiting for this exact moment, as bright spring attire began filling the streets.
Tailoring boutiques enjoyed an unprecedented boom, none more so than Madame Clementine’s salon.
Hailing from the Kingdom of Etrero, Clementine was the high-society trendsetter of the Empire.
She had burst onto the scene years ago like a blazing star and revolutionized the fashion world. Her designs were consistently innovative, cementing her as the arbiter of fashion trends.
Last year, a relative of the King of Etrero wore one of her creations, making her the talk of the entire realm.
Consequently, securing an appointment at her salon had become extraordinarily difficult. She accepted patrons strictly by advance reservation.
Then one day, a lady named Celestina Flores, a renowned duchess, visited the boutique with her daughter, Giovinetta.
They had arrived to commission a new gown for the upcoming season, but Clementine’s assistants quickly found themselves in a bind.
“Dull, this is dull too… It’s all repetitive! I expected trendsetting pieces, yet everything here is utterly conventional. Do you have anything else?”
Giovinetta remarked disdainfully as she flipped through the design folios.
From the moment she stepped inside, she had been grumbling irritably and snapping at the assistants, who bowed ever lower in an effort to placate her, terrified she might unleash her full fury upon them.
Dozens of designs had already been rejected.
Because this family wielded immense standing, Clementine typically handled them personally…
Thanks to years of seasoned hospitality, she could read the nature of her patrons the second they pushed open the boutique doors.
There were simply people like that. Their character showed in their gait, their facial expressions, their garments, their gestures, and their glances. They didn’t need to utter a single word to reveal what lay within.
Foreseeing that receiving these guests would be no easy task, she quickly recalled the mother and daughter’s reputation. They belonged to a prestigious, prominent noble house, yet were notorious for their cold temperaments. It was hardly surprising that they proved to be exceptionally demanding clients.
While her assistants sweated profusely over handling Giovinetta, Clementine wore an impeccably elegant, taut smile, directing her radiant beam toward the two principal guests.
“Your daughter is truly exquisite.”
The high-ranking lady cast a brief sideways glance at her daughter, then poured tea with effortless, graceful poise.
“You have built a wonderful reputation, Duchess. Beyond your beautiful daughter here, word has it that your younger daughter has now become wife to the Prince?”
“Hmph.”
In an instant, the atmosphere shifted entirely.
FADE OUT