The prince’s words about cherishing his younger sister were a lie.

The palace servants, thoroughly silenced, mechanically chirped that the princess had truly grown up receiving affection, but their accounts of their master’s hobbies varied. Penrel wondered if there was any truth even among flower arranging, painting, and embroidery.

That wasn’t the only unsettling part.

There were no portraits in the palace recording the princess’s growth. Only a few official records remained with her wearing formal attire and a composed face.

If she was truly a beloved princess, everyone would have regretted the passing of her time and left records, so it was strange.

In a palace without even portraits, there was no chance other traces remained.

The luxurious gardens in the palace all belonged to Mahanas. They lied that they were the princess’s in front of them, but the flowers the gardener knew by heart were only those the prince enjoyed.

Penrel slipped a gold coin to one of the servants and asked where the princess usually went for walks, and the answer was the field behind the palace.

The field was green, with many tall trees, but that was all. It was far too lacking for a preciously raised princess to frequent.

Penrel tried to find out more information, but the servants were unwilling to speak deeply about the master they served. When he showed money, many were greedy, but none of them offered proper information.

Through that consistent attitude, Penrel noticed they were being managed with their lives held hostage. That was the only thing people would commonly prioritize over material goods.

So Penrel went outside the palace to gather information. But people who read his origins from his accent – he tended to pronounce things strongly, having grown up in northern Aglante – were reluctant to talk deeply.

After many failures, Penrel was able to lure someone at a tavern he entered in disguise. The very elderly man took him to his house when he offered gold coins.

At the old man’s house, Penrel gave him one gold coin each time he spoke new information. The old man grasped the money with his wrinkled hands every time it was offered.

When the conversation was nearing its end, the old man said:

“Actually, the princess had a betrothed.”

Penrel did not place a gold coin on the table between them.

Royalty often repeated engagements and breakups until marriage was realized. Since marriage was a difficult transaction to undo once done, it was to reassess conditions as much as possible beforehand.

Then the old man extended his wrinkled hand to him and said:

“It wasn’t just any engagement. The princess was in love with that man.”

“The crime of tarnishing royal honor with rumors is severe.”

“The crime of revealing truths hidden by royalty is even more severe. That’s why I called you to my house, isn’t it?”

And the old man extended his hand further. Penrel finally placed a gold coin on it.

The reminiscence that began thus had a romantic plot.

A boy who became salvation for a girl mistreated by her family, young lovers who held hands and walked the capital on special days. The heir of a noble family who prepared new events each year for his betrothed who could rarely leave the palace flowed from between wrinkled lips.

But as time passed, the young man’s family gradually declined, and coincidentally, the young man who had been so respectful to his betrothed ended up committing rudeness against her brother.

In the end, the young man was executed, and the incident was buried under the pretext of considering the honor of the princess left alone.

“There were rumors that the princess knelt to save him. As with most rumors involving royalty, only God knows the truth.”

Women don’t sacrifice unless they’re in love, do they?

Hearing those words, Penrel rose from his seat. The old man followed him to the entrance.

Just before crossing the threshold, Penrel looked back. The old man with a face deeply etched with the traces of time stood behind him.

Penrel asked him:

“Is there a reason you’re speaking of these stories now?”

He couldn’t help but be curious why he alone opened his mouth when everyone else was reluctant to speak.

Then the old man showed him the gold coins he had paid.

“Gold coins are valuable. If you’ve ever owed your life to them, they look even more valuable.”

Before he could ask the meaning of those words, the old man pushed him out of the house. As the door closed behind him, Penrel unwittingly recalled that the dead young man’s family had done charity for the poor.

After that, he couldn’t obtain any new information about the empress’s dead betrothed.

But that wasn’t what mattered.

Penrel was not confused about what the king had asked him to find out.

And he had plenty to say about it.

Penrel bowed once more to the prince who looked at him with an arrogant face like an impression, then mounted his horse. He spurred on, facing the spring sunlight that had softened.

As Prince Reden had said, he intended to report everything he had heard to the king.

The lords they met while heading north after Rohos territory were all friendly.

Ophelia neither conversed with them nor tried to recall anything. Idren also didn’t ask anything particular of her.

He seemed to handle the elderly lords well on his own. When talking to people, he acted quite differently from how he did in front of her.

He didn’t childishly insist, nor did he show signs of being hurt or sulk. That attitude, soft and skillful beyond his years, was the appearance she originally knew. The image of a husband neither unkind nor close.

Finally, in the carriage entering the central region, Idren asked:

“How about getting clothes fitted before arriving in Edegrun?”

Without taking her eyes off the blue vineyard visible through the window, Ophelia questioned back:

“Clothes?”

“As you know, isn’t Edegrun cold? The clothes you have are too thin to wear there.”

It was true that Edegrun was cold, and it was also true that her clothes weren’t that thick. Ophelia nodded.

“Do as you please.”

If a person says that, one should generally understand it as an affirmative, but the man clung to her words.

“Isn’t it you who should do as you please since you’ll be wearing them, not me?”

Ophelia didn’t say that every time he acted so sensitively, it made her reconsider trying to get along well.

During her travels with Idren, she had roughly learned how to deal with him.

When he acts fussy like that, just go along with it. Ophelia nodded once more.

“Alright.”

The discontented man grumbled even though she had agreed.

“I don’t know what you like.”

But she didn’t know what she liked either.

Looking down at the field where no fruit had yet been borne, Ophelia wondered why he always seemed curious about things she couldn’t answer.

At the castle they arrived at, there was a steward instead of a lord. Ophelia turned to look at her fiancé standing beside her. Feeling her gaze, he answered:

“This is royal property.”

It’s been passed down to direct royal descendants, and it became my share this generation.

Hearing those words, Ophelia was newly reminded that he had ascended to the throne by killing his own relatives. It was a fact she had forgotten since he hadn’t even laid a hand on anyone’s body, let alone commit murder, in front of her.

The royalty of Aglante deserved to die. Ophelia recalled his family members she had seen. The Aglante princes in her memory closely resembled Mahanas.

Such people tended to incur murderous intent wherever they went.

As he led her into the castle, Idren said:

“A procession from Reden will arrive soon.”

When Ophelia didn’t respond, not understanding his words at once, he added an explanation:

“We couldn’t bring everything necessary since we came in a hurry. So Prince Mahanas agreed to prepare and send the rest.”

Come to think of it, she seemed to have brought a lot of things when coming to Aglante in her previous life as well.

None of it was useful though.

As she walked along with her hand held, Ophelia muttered:

“There’s no need for that, doing unnecessary things.”

It was obvious since if they were servants, they would all be connected to Mahanas, and if they were items, anything would be inferior to what could be obtained in Edegrun.

Idren agreed with her as well.

“I don’t intend to let you use anything he sends either.”

“…”

“Dismiss immediately those you don’t like. I’ll make sure Mahanas can’t say anything about it.”

There was no need to speak so resolutely about such a matter, but Ophelia just left him be. After observing for a few days, it seemed Idren liked situations where he could do something for her.

It was a preference she couldn’t understand, but Ophelia decided to accommodate him. One doesn’t necessarily need to understand the other person to be considerate, and she was originally generous to friends.

Idren wasn’t a friend yet, but.

But since she had decided to try making him a friend, this much was nothing. Feeling the warmth rising from the hand holding hers, Ophelia repeated to herself.

The sunset entering through the open windows of the castle tinged them a rosy hue.