“Lady Cyrene, please get in.”

Cyrene hesitated at the man’s words. Everyone was dressed in black and so was she.

Her mother had died. The nanny had told her repeatedly that this meant she could no longer see her mother.

Why couldn’t she see her anymore? Why had her mother gone into the cold ground?

Cyrene recalled her mother’s pale but strikingly beautiful face.

Inside the carriage, a man leaned out, seemingly surveying the surroundings. As their eyes met, Cyrene gripped the hem of her dress with both hands.

Sometimes, when he was in a good mood, he told her to call him Father, but most of the time she was expected to call him Your Majesty.

She remembered how delighted her mother always seemed when he visited.

Could Your Majesty no longer see her mother?

Cyrene stared at him blankly.

“Your Majesty.”

“If she doesn’t want to follow, let her be.”

“But… she is your daughter, isn’t she?”

“A mere bastard child.”

Cyrene didn’t know what bastard meant, but she could sense it wasn’t good.

“Let’s go. We’re late.”

“Lady Cyrene, please get in.”

The man pushed her on the back, as if to urge her forward. She only knew that he was someone who always accompanied His Majesty. And that he had never told her his name.

“What about my mother?”

He smiled awkwardly at her question.

“You can no longer see the Marchioness.”

“But… she’s here.”

Her mother was here.

When Cyrene mumbled, the man let out a deep sigh. Then he lifted her and placed her in the carriage before closing the door.

Cyrene looked up blankly at His Majesty, the only one in the crowd not dressed in black. She noticed that his eyebrows were slightly raised.

“Your Majesty, what should we do with the villa?”

“Shut it down.”

He replied flatly, crossing his arms and closing his eyes.

“What do you intend to do with the young lady?”

“I don’t know. Did the Marquis say anything?”

“He said he wanted nothing more to do with her since he left the Marquisate.”

“I see.”

Cyrene sat in a chair, her feet dangling. She couldn’t quite understand what they were talking about, but she knew it was about her.

Am I going to live with His Majesty?

The only person who had ever come and gone from the house she shared with her mother was His Majesty. And now they were even travelling in the same carriage.

“If necessary, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to arrange a strategic marriage.”

“She’s only five years old.”

“So what? If I announce that she’s Creusa’s daughter, there’ll be plenty of men lining up to take her.”

“That’s true, but still.”

The man replied with a slightly reluctant expression.

Cyrene glanced around, trying to make sense of it. Take me? Who would want to do that?
She gazed blankly at His Majesty’s face, searching for answers.

It was the first time she had ever looked at him this closely. His Majesty had always been with her mother, never with her. To Cyrene, he seemed a bit intimidating.

“Enough. If anyone wants her, I’ll consider it.”

At those words, the man speaking to him through the window glanced at her, his face filled with pity. Cyrene tilted her head, puzzled as to why he looked at her that way.

The carriage drove further and further away. Through the window, the beautiful villa faded into the distance, getting smaller and smaller. Cyrene realised that just as she would never see her mother again, she would never see the villa again.

She would never see them again.

As the weight of this truth finally sank in, Cyrene began to cry quietly.