The One Who Won't Be Abandoned - Chapter 64

“Damn bastard!”

As soon as the long, drawn-out funeral ended and the crown prince returned to his palace, he exploded with the fury he had been suppressing. He hurled a vase filled with fresh flowers across the room. The crash and sharp shatter as it hit the ground brought him the slightest relief.

Originally, Tim Ferrier was allowed into the capital only once a year—during the New Year’s Festival, the only time the emperor had permitted his entry. Thus, the number of times the crown prince had encountered his uncle could be counted on one hand.

‘A weak-willed man.’

That was the extent of the impression Prince Volvdy had formed of Tim Ferrier. Tim had always been a pathetic and insignificant figure, someone the crown prince could easily eliminate if he so desired. So insignificant, in fact, that the prince often forgot Tim even existed.

But the Tim he saw today was unmistakably different. He was not the same man the crown prince remembered. The once-timid posture was now full of confidence, and his seemingly friendly tone was laced with brazen mockery.

Had there been no eyes watching, the prince would’ve ordered a royal guard to cut Tim’s head off right then and there.

“So that’s it… That bastard really thinks he’s royalty. Just because I’ve ended up like this… he’s deluded himself into thinking he can become emperor.”

How dare he. A man born out of wedlock, without even the violet eyes that mark the blood of royalty.

Until the end of the funeral, fewer than ten noble houses—at best—had approached the prince to offer condolences. Ignorant nobles, believing merely breathing the same air might infect them with a venereal disease, had avoided him entirely.

Even though he clearly noticed their avoidance, the prince scraped together what little patience he had and suppressed his rage. He endured it—because his illness was not a venereal disease!

“To think I, more noble than anyone in this land, am treated like a filthy contagion…!”

It was maddening and humiliating to be regarded as diseased. But he couldn’t go around pitifully handing out a doctor’s note to each noble explaining his condition.

Even if he did have a venereal disease, nobles should have approached him first, bowed their heads, and shown him the respect due to the next emperor—he who would one day wield absolute power.

What enraged the prince most of all was that the nobles who avoided him had, one after another, flocked to Tim instead, eager to curry favor.

“That pitiful failure is clearly scheming something behind my back. There’s no other explanation for everyone behaving that way.”

“Y-Your Highness, please! Watch your step!”

A nervous young attendant, who had been pacing anxiously behind the prince, spotted shards of glass scattered at his feet and quickly pulled him back. Though his hands were trembling with fear of the prince’s wrath, the servant’s concern was genuine—he feared the prince might cut himself.

This attendant had served the crown prince for so long that he was practically raised alongside him. Of all his retainers, he was the one the prince trusted most. With a glance at the loyal servant, the prince steadied his breath and spoke.

“Rousseau.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The attendant, who had been carefully gathering the shards with a cloth from his pocket, stood up and bowed respectfully at the prince’s call.

“Keep an eye on Tim Ferrier. Especially how close he gets with the bastards in Parliament.”

“I’ll assign someone to investigate him.”

“And recruit someone within Ferrier’s domain. Someone who can drive a blade into Tim Ferrier’s throat whenever I give the word.”

“I’ll find someone that meets Your Highness’s satisfaction and make arrangements.”

After issuing his orders, the crown prince waved the attendant away like swatting a bothersome fly. The servant exited, saying he’d send in someone to clean up the shattered glass.

“Just you wait, Tim Ferrier. You dare challenge me? You don’t even have the royal eyes, and yet you covet the throne? Hah!”

Scoffing in disbelief, the prince clenched his teeth and stormed toward a table by the wall. Atop it sat a jar of medicinal cream, prescribed by a renowned foreign physician.

Only this cream could soothe the painful rashes he suffered. Unlike the useless ointments the palace doctors had given him, this one was remarkably effective. The itching eased, and the blisters clearly began to shrink.

He would have to slather the cream over his body for at least a month, but if the symptoms disappeared entirely afterward, it would be worth it.

This renowned physician was the only one who had diagnosed the prince’s illness as not a venereal disease. The cream’s effectiveness was the basis for that diagnosis. Unfortunately, even he did not know the true cause of the illness or how to cure it swiftly.

“I’ll need to call the doctor again.”

Because he had to attend the funeral today, the crown prince had skipped his morning and evening applications of the cream. Just missing that one dose, the itching had already started to creep back.

“All symptoms must be gone before the coronation ceremony…”

The crown prince allowed himself a satisfied smile. No matter what cheap tricks Tim tried to pull, it was as natural and inevitable for him to become emperor as the sun rising and setting, or water flowing downward.

There was no way he could attend his upcoming coronation with a face covered in blisters. As he imagined himself walking into the ceremony with his clean, dignified face restored, the crown prince’s mood improved.

Like a jeweler appraising a gemstone, the crown prince carefully picked up the jar of cream. He removed the lid, scooped out a generous amount with his finger, and began applying it thickly to his face and the back of his neck with a sense of reverence.

While a servant entered the room and began cleaning the shattered glass from the floor, the crown prince paid no attention. He was entirely focused on applying the cream with the solemnity of a prayer.

* * *

It had already been a week since the country girl from D’Hel entered the royal palace. Though the palace’s dazzling exterior had quickly become familiar, the pain from the constant pressure on her calves each day never did.

“Aaah! I can’t do this anymore!”

“Just a little more. You’ll feel better soon.”

Despite my protests, the princess replied calmly. I shook my head, pleading again that I couldn’t go on.

“It hurts too much! Please… can’t we stop?”

I hated the cool air brushing against my exposed lower body. I hated the hands kneading and pressing my body this way and that. How had I ended up in this ridiculous situation…? I squeezed my eyes shut as the pain surged again, accompanied by a wave of hollow despair.

At this moment, I was in the princess’s bedroom, receiving what she called a “massage” from a handmaid, together with the princess herself. Since my arrival at the palace, the princess had summoned me every day without fail to join her for these palace massages. It was beyond discomforting to be nearly naked in front of a stranger, leaving my body so defenseless—it was downright humiliating.

Unlike me, the princess accepted the handmaid’s touch with practiced ease and scolded me as she did so.

“A woman’s beauty doesn’t just come from her face. The slender lines of her arms and legs, the graceful curves of her body—they’re essential parts of a woman’s allure. Especially massages—good circulation clears the skin and relaxes the muscles, preventing insomnia.”

The handmaid attending to me poured a generous amount of oil into her hands and began kneading my body again with long, smooth strokes.

“I couldn’t believe the D’Hel estate didn’t have a single maid skilled in massage. I know there’s no mistress managing the household, but still… it’s a sign things aren’t being run properly. When you marry Andrei, make sure you hire plenty of good handmaids.”

“W-what are you saying? Why would I marry the young master?”

Her sudden and shocking words made me flustered. The princess replied coolly.

“Think about your age. Andrei may have just come of age, but you’re not far from the age when women start to fade. Anyone you date now should be someone you’re considering marrying. Don’t tell me you were only thinking of having a fling with him?”

“As you said, the young master is very young. The idea of dating him with marriage in mind is just… it’s absurd.”

At my words, the princess scoffed and pushed away the handmaid who was massaging her forearm.

“Bring some tea.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

After dismissing all the handmaids from the room, the princess sat up on the massage table and looked at me.

“Does Andrei know?”

“Pardon?”

“That you’re seeing him without any thought of marriage—does he know?”

I sat up as well, following her lead.

“We’ve never really talked about it, but I’m sure he knows. I don’t think he wants to be tied down by someone like me either.”

It was something I’d always been conscious of since we began our relationship. Saying it aloud left a bitter taste in my mouth. I was four years older than Andrei. Of course, there are married couples where the woman is older—but I was a commoner, and Andrei was a noble. Even dating him felt like a heavy burden…

The perceptive princess caught on to my thoughts instantly.

“Ah, it’s the difference in status, isn’t it? But your mother’s family was noble, wasn’t it? You could just be added to their family registry.”

She said it as if it were the simplest thing in the world, wondering why I was degrading myself like this. I replied with a bitter smile.

“I don’t even know what noble house my mother belonged to. I don’t know their name, their family name—nothing. We never had contact with them, and… the lady of the D’Hel estate once mentioned that my mother was terribly humiliated by them back then. That family would never accept me. And frankly, I don’t want to bow my head to a family like that just to become a noble.”

“Then we’ll have to come up with another way. Hmm… how about this? Just get pregnant. Even if the Lord of D’Hel opposes your marriage, the Kaimans don’t have many heirs. They’ll have to treat you well for giving them a child, even if it’s illegitimate.”

I couldn’t help but wonder where the princess, just two years older than me, had stashed her maturity. Ah… right. This sister had already given birth to a child without knowing who the father was.

“Your Highness…”

Concerned about her mood, I spoke gently.

“I don’t want to have a baby just to marry the young master.”

“There’s no stronger bond between a man and a woman than a child. It’s an unbreakable tie, proof of love forged in blood.”

It was reckless. Listening to her made me realize how deeply irresponsible her thinking was. I looked at her in dismay.

Though her child had been recognized as royal, many still whispered behind their backs, calling the child a bastard. An illegitimate child, born without a known father. No matter how much you covered their ears or shielded their eyes, the insults would still slash at that child’s heart. I felt a pang of sorrow for the child I’d never even seen. Would that child be happy? Or perhaps, crushed by the weight of their very existence, they were already drowning in despair.

Just then, the maids entered the room with the tea. Thanks to their timing, I was able to avert my gaze from the princess before my stunned expression could turn into one of judgment.

It suddenly struck me—I didn’t even know the name of the princess’s son. The poor child, known only as the princess’s illegitimate offspring, had neither his face nor his name known to the world.

Perhaps because I’d been spending more time with the princess lately, I found myself feeling brave enough to ask her.

“You said your son’s nickname is ‘Titi,’ right? What should I call him?”

“My son? Oh…! You misunderstood, didn’t you?”

“Sorry?”

“You may leave now.”

After pouring tea for us and cleaning up the massage oils, the maids exited the room at the princess’s instruction. The princess sipped her tea and waited until the door had fully closed behind them before speaking again.

“Titi isn’t my son’s nickname. My son’s full name is Douglas Dysnya Sendfinden, and his nickname is Doug.”

“Oh? Then Titi is…?”

I asked in confusion, and the princess beamed at me. Her smile was filled with open, unabashed pride.

“Titi is the nickname of my son’s father. Tim Ferrier. My beloved lover.”

“I-I see. So Titi isn’t your son—it’s Lord Ferrier’s nickname…”

The ‘Titi’ I had assumed referred to her son this whole time was actually the pet name of Tim Ferrier, the lord himself—half-brother to the late emperor and the princess’s uncle.

“…!”

Only now did I fully grasp what the princess had said, and I was utterly shocked. She had called Tim Ferrier both the father of her child and her beloved lover. Unless my ears had deceived me, that was what she said.

Watching my reaction, the princess laughed playfully, clearly amused.

“Don’t look at me like I’m some kind of animal. Don’t you remember the story I told you? About the poor palace woman who fell in love with her knight and ended up having Titi?”

“Then… you and he… you’re not related by blood…?”

“Correct. Titi and I aren’t related by a single drop of blood.”

The princess smiled, her eyes curving gently at the corners, but I only looked back at her with a stiffer expression.

I had just learned one of the royal family’s dangerous and dreadful secrets. I wished I could turn back time to when I hadn’t heard any of it at all.

* * *