.jpg)
“……Why is this?”
His father, who had been exchanging light greetings with the noble ladies, turned to Valentin with a look of surprise.
“What did you just say to me?”
“Why are people smiling?”
A noble lady, startled by his question, covered her mouth and burst into laughter.
“Because a great celebration has occurred in the Novarov Imperial Family! The long-awaited Imperial Princess has been born, so all the nobles of Makhachkala have gathered to celebrate….”
Words beyond that did not reach his ears. Valentin steadied his breathing with a blank expression. Perhaps because his heart was racing for the first time in months, he felt as if his head were spinning.
‘Impossible. Princess Larisa was born? No. It can't be, that’s… that’s a lie.’
Everyone must be sublimating the Empress's death into a play called the ‘Birth of Princess Larisa.’ As if screaming against death, Valentin endlessly denied reality, waiting only for the Empress's bedroom to open.
And the Empress he faced was—
“You’ve grown quite thin, Valentin. Do you remember me?”
She was, truly, alive.
“……Your Imperial Majesty.”
“Yes, you remember. I’ve often heard stories about you from Duke Dmitriev. I heard you frequently skip your meals. You mustn't do that.”
The gaze that greeted him, the gentle smile, the somewhat pale yet life-filled expression. It was all truly the Empress. Valentin turned his head as if possessed. He saw a snow-white cradle. If his eyes were not deceiving him, something wrapped in a white blanket was definitely wriggling inside the cradle.
“Don't forget, Valentin. You must sleep well, eat well, and play well to grow big and become a wonderful gentleman….”
“Your Imperial Majesty, is this really alive?”
Startled by the blunt manner of speaking, his father scolded him.
“Valentin.”
The Empress also seemed surprised, but she soon showed her usual affectionate smile.
“Come here, dear.”
The Empress lifted Valentin up. Then, slowly leaning down, she gently placed Valentin's fingertips upon something as small as a maple leaf.
“How is it?”
Wriggle. Something unbelievably soft and fragile lightly grasped Valentin's index finger and then let go.
“Does it feel alive?”
“……Yes.”
A lie.
No, it wasn't a lie. Just as the Empress was, the baby was perfectly alive. Though the child slept with eyes closed, he could tell. He could clearly feel the warmth in the tiny piece of flesh gripping his finger.
“Yes, it's alive. The child is truly alive, Your Imperial Majesty. Larisa… Princess Larisa is….”
A life that had not seen a single day of light across three lifetimes.
It had merely been a matter of basic decency; he hadn't watched over her with any great sense of responsibility.
“Valentin? Oh my… are you perhaps crying?”
The flustered Empress pulled Valentin into her embrace. He didn't know how long it had been since he last cried, but just a few sniffs of his nose drained all the energy from his body. I've become this weak. Half-asleep, Valentin returned home held against his father's back.
That day, though he didn't know exactly in what form, a great change occurred in Valentin's heart.
With a withered body, he endured the dawn, thinking of the young princess all day long. He thought of that unbelievable sensation that had curled around his fingertip.
The following evening. For the first time since opening his eyes in this life, Valentin faced his father at the dining table. Facing his father, whose face clearly showed an excitement that didn't need words, Valentin felt a bitterness in his mouth.
“Father, when did you say Bishop Parben would arrive?”
“He said he would come at noon in two days. Why do you ask?”
“Since he will be my mentor, I wish to welcome him formally.”
Why had this sudden motivation arisen? The end would be the same regardless. Just as before, he was destined to surrender his neck to Libertan.
But if that were the case… what about Princess Larisa?
What was the fate of that tiny creature, wriggling like a caterpillar with eyes not yet fully open? What on earth had that child's fate been? If she were destined never to be born, why had she appeared before Valentin now?
That question drove Valentin out of his bed.
For the first time in decades, without any effort, struggling, or resignation, Valentin began to watch over a living being with a purely sincere heart.
In short, it meant he visited the Imperial Palace whenever he had a spare moment.
“You've come, Valentin. Tell me another interesting story today.”
For the first thirty minutes, he shared light conversation with the Empress, who welcomed him like family, and spent the remaining thirty minutes staring blankly at the child in the cradle.
“Princess Larisa.”
After two months, he noticed a new fact. The child, who occasionally cried, stared blankly at the ceiling, or sucked her thumb, would slightly pucker her lips whenever Valentin called her. The Empress clapped her hands in joy, saying the youngest princess recognized him. It was a strange feeling.
One day, he met Princess Larisa alone with the Imperial nanny. Time flew by simply by gazing into those pale purple eyes that shone like glass beads. He wasn't bored at all.
She's cute. Her eyelashes are so long. When will her hair grow? When will she wake up? Will the day come when she calls my name?
As he tossed various questions to the nanny, suddenly, undignified and hasty footsteps rushed toward the doorway.
The boy who entered with a beaming smile, Ivan, immediately wore a scowl upon discovering Valentin clinging to the cradle.
“Who are you to touch our Lara's cheek so carelessly? Do you want to die?”
Tatyana, following behind, clicked her tongue while looking at Ivan.
“You idiot, it's Valentin of Dmitriev. Can't you even recognize people?”
“What? That guy? No way… wasn't Valentin not this kind of scrawny thing?”
The two who had been threatening Valentin soon joined him, clinging to the cradle to inspect Princess Larisa.
“So cute.”
“Why are this little one's eyelashes so long?”
“When will our Lara's hair grow long like mine?”
“She'll definitely memorize my name first. Ivan is the easiest and shortest, right?”
Listening to the conversation that sounded familiar, he recalled a memory he had completely forgotten.
‘Ivan used to have such a lively personality.’
Valentin thought of Ivan standing beside Libertan, and realized that he had never once seen a smiling face while by Libertan's side.
Had Ivan also felt uncomfortable around Libertan? Recalling Libertan's cruel and merciless actions, it didn't seem like he would have been very kind even to his own son.
The time Valentin spent at the Imperial Palace grew longer.
It wasn't to achieve a special purpose as before, but rather a natural flow of gathering around Princess Larisa, mingling, parting, and mingling again.
Then one day.
Valentin smelled a pungent scent of burning.
.jpg)