It’s not like I can throw a tantrum when it turns out like this.

Just until I entered the room, I was planning to dissuade Ophelia from appearing in front of people, but now that didn’t matter at all.

Idren, who had barely managed to hold back his laughter, spoke to the woman who so easily broke him.

“I’ll try not to blush in the future, so please forgive me just this once.”

“… Not ‘I won’t do it,’ but you’re asking for forgiveness with just a promise to try?”

“Isn’t there something that can be changed with effort?”

Casually bringing up a conversation they had once had, Idren approached his wife who had turned away. Sure enough, the woman’s face reflected in the mirror was completely red.

He shouldn’t laugh here. If he did, he really would be banned from touching her face and more.

Barely suppressing the corners of his mouth that kept trying to rise, Idren bent his waist slightly. After briefly kissing the reddest part of her small face, her ear, he said,

“This is proof that something can be changed with effort.”

… He must be really crazy. Ophelia muttered, raising her hand to cover her ear.

Idren nodded slightly to the woman looking at him with sharp eyes through the mirror. He could tell that wasn’t anger.

“Besides, I’m not the only one who blushed, so it’s sad to be punished alone.”

“I only caught it because you made your face red first.”

Perhaps she was very flustered, as Ophelia gave an excuse she wouldn’t normally even utter.

Of course, that didn’t mean there was no way out, so Idren calmly added.

“We’re a married couple subject to guilt by association, so we’ll be punished together. Even if I’m fine with it, if you get punished too, I won’t be able to live from sadness.”

“I don’t care since I won’t touch your face. And no one in the world has ever died from sadness.”

How could she still argue back so precisely even with her cheeks so flushed?

Idren, who finally laughed at the sight of a woman who wouldn’t yield even in a situation where he would have long since given up, said,

“I was wrong.”

“Alright.”

“Still, please let it go just this once.”

Ophelia, her face still heated, finally repeated the same words once more.

“Alright.”

When he entered the audience chamber with Ophelia, the Brinwell envoys were already prostrated before the throne.

Idren sat down next to his wife, whom he had let sit first. It was surprising to see everyone, including the royal prince consort, bowing their heads.

As the defeated country, they wouldn’t receive good treatment, but that didn’t mean they were required to bow their heads. He had heard that some kings trampled on the pride of the enemy army first when they won, but Idren had no interest in that. His tastes aligned with practicality.

So it meant they had voluntarily bowed their heads.

Setting aside that the elderly minister would have a high nose, it was impossible for the prince consort to endure such humiliation without internal agreement within the country.

Prince Masaran must be quite poor. Having reached this conclusion, Idren raised his head. Anyway, from the position of exploiting, there was no need to care about the poverty of the other party.

When he signaled, Salode, who was standing below the platform, said,

“The Brinwell envoy is permitted to speak.”

“I am Randin Hazna, the minister of Brinwell. First, I will deliver the king’s edict.”

The old man’s words were polite, but the voice carrying them was trembling. Everyone present knew it was due to shame.

In any case, it wasn’t a sight good for Ophelia to see, so Idren flicked his hand again. He was thinking of quickly dealing with the matter and then going for a walk with Ophelia. Heavy snow would start falling soon, and then going outside would be out of the question.

Salode spoke again.

“Permitted.”

At that, several of those who had been prostrating rose and began to move. One advanced to the front of the platform with a letter on a silver tray, while another brought the box that had been placed in the middle of the procession.

Salode, who received the letter from Brinwell’s servant, handed it over. Idren, breaking the seal, scanned the contents written inside.

The first thing that caught his eye was the unfamiliar handwriting. He had received letters written by King Nasda several times and knew his handwriting, but what filled the paper was handwriting he had never seen before.

He had personally beheaded Prince Hator, so there was only one person who could write a letter on paper stamped with the royal emblem. Prince Masaran.

Masaran had elaborately described how poor they were. Through that description, Idren was convinced that he was more incompetent than his father.

The war reparations he had set this time were slightly higher than in his previous life. However, King Nasda, who had held real power in Brinwell in his previous life, had never complained.

Unless he had attempted fraud.

Of course, that was possible then because Gilrod Nevel was still in Edegrun. Idren, briefly recalling an unpleasant memory, skimmed through the letter. The same meaning was repeated in various expressions, but there was one conclusion. They don’t have enough money to pay the demanded war reparations. So please change the amount set. Instead, the head of the rebellion leader…

Idren frowned at the unexpected words and looked up. A servant was placing a box in front of the platform.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to stop it, realizing what was inside, the servant opened the box.

“Don’t look.”

Idren whispered to Ophelia sitting next to him in a trembling voice.

The woman read desperation in the man’s hand tightly gripping hers.

But it was already too late. She had already seen what was inside the box.

Inside the box was a child’s head, preserved in white salt. Ophelia held her breath as she saw the shining golden hair of the small head and the wide-open light green eyes.

It wasn’t the first time she had seen a severed head. She had encountered such sights several times before. Hadn’t she even inflicted similar things on some people herself?

So it’s fine. Even though she thought so in her mind, she just couldn’t take her eyes off the wide-open light green eyes. The cloudy and swollen eyes characteristic of corpses resembled those of the first head she had ever seen. Gentle, innocent, and wronged…

“Don’t look.”

Please. The man who pleaded again squeezed her hand a little tighter. It was the maximum entreaty he could make in a place with many watching eyes. Even though she thought she should comply with those words, Ophelia simply couldn’t tear her gaze away.

Fortunately, even though she didn’t move her gaze, the head soon disappeared from view. People who appeared from somewhere hurriedly closed the lid of the box and cleared it away.

Idren said something beside her. Judging by the sharp voice dripping with anger, he seemed to be speaking to someone other than her.

Ophelia tried to tell the man who was still holding her hand and not letting go that she was fine. She didn’t know why he was angry, but since he seemed to be worried about her, she felt she should say those words.

But strangely, her mouth wouldn’t open.

Perhaps it was because the sight she had just seen wouldn’t leave her mind. Ophelia blinked to try to remove the light green eyes that had met hers directly despite the considerable distance. But the small head, half-shrunken and bloodless, still wouldn’t easily disappear.

It was then that Idren, having finished venting his anger, stood up. The man holding her hand strode forward. Ophelia was led into the resting room behind the audience chamber.

Idren, who sat the still slightly dazed her on the sofa, said something to the servant waiting in the room. Idren, who was looking around with an irritated face as if he couldn’t contain his anger, said with round eyes,

“Ophelia, breathe.”

Only then did Ophelia realize that she had been holding her breath. The reason her chest felt tight and her head dizzy seemed to be because of that.

She opened her mouth to follow his instruction. However, the breathing that she usually did without any awareness was strangely difficult.

Is it because the clothes are too tight? Ophelia, guessing with a dazed mind, put her hand to her collar. Since she was wearing clothes that covered up to her neck, it seemed like it might be because of that.

However, her trembling hands couldn’t grasp the buttons well. Her increasingly urgent touch became almost like clawing at her neck. It was then that Idren grasped her hands.

“I’ll do it.”

And the man knelt down so that she could rest her head on his shoulder. Blinking at the sensation of large hands undoing the buttons one by one, Ophelia recalled why she had deliberately worn clothes that covered her neck.

“Ah, no.”

She hurriedly grabbed his hands. There were still bruises on her neck from Netepel. They had faded a lot, but not enough to be unrecognizable.

Because she had thoroughly hidden it until now, Idren knew nothing about those bruises.

But the man didn’t budge as she pushed.

“It’s alright.”

He whispered as he undid the last remaining button. His face couldn’t be seen, but Ophelia vaguely thought he was crying. The man who had fully exposed her neck said in a trembling voice,

“I already know.”