Tan slept a lot, so if he was put to bed for a while, she could have some time to herself.
However, no matter how much she tried to hint at it, others stayed by her side the entire time, leaving Leticia unable to be alone.
They said it was to monitor whether Leticia might do something strange to Astrid, so she understood, but…

“I’m not that tired. I’m fine.”
“You keep dozing off during the day.”
“I just naturally sleep a lot. Tan, you sleep a lot too, don’t you?”

Hearing this, Chamuka lowered his gaze deep in thought. After a brief silence, he asked Leticia, “Are you the same age as Tan? Not ‘Prince Sion,’ but you.”

The official information about Prince Sion, who had been sent as a hostage to Basilinte, was as follows:

The youngest son of the Emperor of Herta.
Blonde hair, purple eyes.
Eight years old.

It was very simple, but really, what more information could there be about an eight-year-old child?
Moreover, “Prince Sion” was neither the Emperor’s first nor second son.

If, like in other countries, there was a concubine system where a child’s succession rank depended on their mother’s status, that would be another matter. But the Herta Imperial Family practiced monogamy.

Thus, officially, all of the Emperor’s children were the Empress’s children.
The youngest child was said to be doted on by the Emperor.
Other than that, “Prince Sion” was essentially just a distant royal member in the line of succession.

It was unlikely that all five of his older siblings would die.
So the Grand Duke of Basilinte understood why the Emperor sent his youngest prince as a hostage. Logically, it made sense to send the least valuable prince.

However, what the Grand Duke overlooked was that, no matter how much he had lost the war, the Emperor of Herta felt it was a great insult to give away anything of his.

Unlike the people of Basilinte, ordinary humans often made decisions based purely on emotions.
Especially if that human was an Emperor who had never bowed to anyone in his life.

Thus, the Emperor of Herta swapped his youngest son with a death row orphan and sent the orphan in his place, while the Grand Duke of Basilinte believed the death row prisoner to be the prince.

Of course, upon seeing the child’s condition, the Grand Duke suspected that this might not be the youngest “Prince Sion” who was said to be doted on by the Emperor.
He assumed the Emperor had found a collateral royal child of the same age somewhere.

This was, in fact, a half-certain guess.
After all, the “Prince Sion” brought as a hostage was far too mild and kind to be a real prince.

The Grand Duke could never have imagined that the Emperor, prioritizing his pride over the fate of the nation, would send a common orphan death row prisoner as a prince.
If discovered, the repercussions would include not only enormous reparations but also the Grand Duchy of Basilinte preparing for full-scale war. Surely, the Emperor wouldn’t be so insane as to do such a thing.

But the Emperor, whose pride mattered more than the fate of the nation, had indeed done such an insane thing in a fit of rage.

If the Emperor had been a rational person, he wouldn’t have sparked a border dispute with Basilinte, known as the “Mad Dog of the Continent.”
There would have been no need for a hostage treaty in the first place.

And so, the Emperor’s carelessness led to Basilinte suspecting nothing about the hostage’s identity.
As for Leticia, the common orphan death row prisoner, she had no choice but to accept their misunderstanding with gratitude.

Naturally, Chamuka’s question, which presumed she had imperial blood, was something she had to accept as well.

“I won’t press you even if you admit you’re not ‘Prince Sion’ now. Father would feel the same. After all, what Father demanded was a prince with purple eyes, not Sion Herta himself.”

The problem was that she wasn’t even a prince.

“If your purple eyes are as vivid as theirs, you’d either be a fairly high-ranking collateral royal or…”

Leticia was starting to wonder just how significant purple eyes were in the Herta Imperial Family.

Chamuka spoke with conviction.
“…an illegitimate child of the Emperor. Either way, it doesn’t matter.”

“….”

If she said she was neither, and instead a common orphan with no imperial blood, would that still not matter?

Leticia was curious, but she didn’t voice the truth.
She had to remain a “prince” as stated in the treaty between the Herta Empire and the Grand Duchy of Basilinte, as long as her family still lived within the Empire.

“If it doesn’t matter, then you don’t need to ask things like how old I am. It’s not that important.”

“Then what should I call you?”

“Just keep calling me ‘prince’ like you have been.”

“There are lots of princes. It’s confusing.”

“But I’m the only prince here in Basilinte, aren’t I? There’s no need to differentiate.”

Chamuka fell silent.
His expression didn’t change, but Leticia could sense his dissatisfaction.

After a brief pause, he spoke again.
“I want to differentiate.”

“Then call me the Sixth Prince.”

Sion Herta was the Emperor’s sixth prince, so that was a reasonable suggestion.
However, Chamuka shook his head.

“Not that kind of differentiation…”

Struggling to explain, he opened his mouth a few times but closed it again.

Leticia turned her gaze to Tan, who was lying with his head resting on her lap.
At first, it had been awkward, but now the silence between them felt familiar.

This was the result of Leticia adapting to the quiet humans around her.
Tan, at least, tried to talk to her, but as a five-year-old who had just started learning to speak, meaningful conversations were difficult.

‘Still, he’s adorable.’

It was impossible not to find a five-year-old child, who looked like a doll and followed her around with a bright smile, utterly endearing.

When Leticia learned that “Tan,” whom Chamuka always carried around, was actually his younger brother, she tried to treat him as the precious noble child he was.
But the people of the Basilinte household treated him no differently than they had when he was a beast.

Even when Tan ran around on all fours, they didn’t bat an eye, and when he seemed bored, they threw him a disc-like toy.

It seemed Leticia was the only one wondering, “Is this really how you treat the second son of the Grand Duke’s family?”

According to Hilda, Basilinte raised all children except for the heir in a rather laissez-faire manner…

‘Most people would think that means letting them live freely, not raising them like actual animals.’

They claimed he would calm down as he grew older, but the issue wasn’t about calming down.

However, since neither Tan nor his family seemed to have any complaints, Leticia found herself swept along and treating Tan like a precious puppy.

Leticia gently stroked Tan’s silver hair as he slept.
As she watched the soft silver strands slip through her fingers, Chamuka broke the long silence.

“I want to call you something that sets you apart from others.”

It was the same topic as before.

Leticia shrugged.
“I don’t mind what you call me. Do as you wish, Chamuka.”

“That’s no different from calling you ‘prince’ as I do now.”

“Why does that matter?”

Leticia asked sincerely, puzzled.

Chamuka, after a long silence, gave a thoughtful answer.
“It’s not that it matters… I just don’t want to call you something so generic.”