“Are you feeling very unwell?”

“I’m just a little tired. I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

“Ah—my name is Captain Eden Reinhardt. I’m with the 17th Division.”

“Ah… I see…”

My voice trailed off as I instinctively grew wary. Noticing it, the man lifted both hands slightly and took a step back, as if to assure me he meant no harm.

“Actually… I’m one of the people who survived thanks to you, my lady. Do you perhaps remember Saint Rufina Orphanage?”

“…Pardon? Saint Rufina Orphanage… Yes, of course I remember. It was in the southern region…”

“That’s right. Ten years ago, when the building collapsed and I thought I was going to die, you came and saved me and my friends. After that, I worked hard, entered the academy, and became an officer. Even though we ended up on opposite sides during the revolution, I still feel nothing but gratitude toward you.”

“Oh…”

Overcome with a swirl of emotions—shock, relief, something close to joy—I covered my mouth with both hands and stared at him in astonishment.

A child I had saved… had grown up this well.

At his words, the bright, lively eyes of the children from Saint Rufina Orphanage came flooding back to me—small faces, full of life.

He had grown into a fine man, tall and handsome in the way of a soldier. There was a vitality about him, a sense of life brimming over.

I could never bear a child of my own, but in that moment, I felt as though I understood—just a little—what it must be like for a mother to see her child grown.

If sharing my insignificant life could save young lives like his…

Then perhaps it was not such a bad exchange after all.

Even as I had been forced to comply with tyranny, this was what had allowed me to hold on to myself—
the pride, the sense of purpose, in being able to save others with my power.

“…You’ve grown into someone remarkable.”

“It’s all thanks to your kindness and grace, my lady.”

“Are the other children doing well too?”

“Yes, they’re all doing well. Some of them have grown up and are even attending this event today—”

“Attention!”

In an instant, his posture snapped into place. Eden brought his hand sharply to his brow, announcing himself in a clear voice.

“Captain Eden Reinhardt of the 17th Division reporting to Supreme Commander Helares, sir!”

Even without turning, I could tell from the large shadow cast over me exactly who had arrived.

“Captain… Eden Reinhardt.”

My husband slowly read the name from the insignia on Eden’s navy uniform, his voice measured, deliberate.

“I appreciate the courtesy, but I’ll take care of my wife. You may return to your post.”

His tone was outwardly polite—almost gentle.

But I knew better.

This was how he spoke when he was deeply displeased.

Eden gave me a respectful glance before quietly retreating to his place, obeying what was not quite an order—but might as well have been.

“So,” my husband murmured, a pleasant smile on his lips, his voice low enough that only I could hear,
“have you already started looking for your next husband?”

“That captain said he’s one of the people I saved.”

Used to my husband’s biting remarks, I ignored his tone and explained calmly.

“He’s from Saint Rufina Orphanage. He said he wanted to thank me for saving his life.”

For the first time since the revolution, a bright expression must have crossed my face—overwhelmed by the realization that perhaps my life had not been entirely useless or wretched.

My husband watched me silently for a moment.

Then—

“That d*mn nosebleed again. Use this instead.”

He snatched away the handkerchief Eden had given me without hesitation and pressed his own into my hand. Fortunately, he did not question me any further.

Still, as we sat together in our assigned seats and watched the ceremony unfold, his mood remained visibly sour.

Pretending not to notice, I kept my gaze fixed forward. Just then, the president—recently elected by the assembly—began his speech.

“All human beings are born free and equal in their rights, and all sovereignty resides not with royalty or nobility, but with the people.”

In that instant, as if by silent agreement, countless eyes turned toward me.

Clutching my husband’s handkerchief so tightly it nearly tore, I endured the piercing stares, forcing myself to remain composed.

“Our republic shall not be swayed by the whims or incompetence of a monarch, but will instead establish itself as a nation governed strictly by the rule of law. We will faithfully serve as representatives of the people, using public authority to safeguard their freedom and rights.”

At the mention of “the whims or incompetence of a monarch,” people openly turned to look at me—some even pointing.

I was the only surviving member of the Beatrix royal family present to hear this speech.

Unable to lift my head, I stared only at the floor—at my own feet.

My neck and back stiffened, burning, as though I might collapse at any moment.

My husband was probably enjoying this—watching me reduced to a spectacle.

The brief warmth I had felt after meeting Eden Reinhardt faded quickly. As the speech dragged on, all I could think about was how to escape this place.

“Following these congratulatory remarks, we will now introduce the distinguished guests in attendance, both domestic and international.”

I had barely managed to endure the speech, but the next part of the program unsettled me.

“We are honored by the presence of Grand Duke Lambert of the Adelaid Empire.”

The introduction of foreign dignitaries was expected. But when the Speaker of the Assembly and the ministers of each department began to be called one by one, a chill ran down my spine.

Each person whose name was announced rose to their feet, greeted by applause as they offered a courteous wave.

‘Surely… we won’t be called as well?’

The order followed the hierarchy of power.

And before I could even fully grasp the situation, it was already my husband’s turn—a man of the highest rank.

“Supreme Commander Reinhardt Helares, and—”

In that moment, countless sharp gazes pierced into me like blades. I could barely breathe.

“—his wife, Lady Sienna Helares, are also in attendance.”

Silence fell over the hall as if it had been frozen in place.

I—wife of the Supreme Commander Reinhardt Helares—was the daughter of the royal family they had overthrown with their own hands.

And that truth, like a brand seared into a criminal, could never be erased.

They watched it all as though it were a spectacle.

The memories came rushing back—the vicious articles that had been poured out against me during my trial after the revolution, the daily protests demanding harsher punishment for someone who had sided with tyranny, the citizens who had grown so violent I could no longer step outside.

In an instant, guilt, self-loathing—every suffocating emotion—closed in around me.

When I failed to rise, trembling like a leaf, frozen in place like a statue, even the soft orchestral music that had been playing in the background came to a halt.

“Perhaps Lady Helares would honor us with a few words for the Founding Day celebration?”

A journalist, repeatedly setting off camera flashes, called out with ill intent.

It was an outrageous request.

And yet, no one seemed to think it was out of place.

To them, such rudeness toward me was only natural.

A staff member approached and guided me toward the stage.

Instinctively, my gaze turned to my husband.

But he made no move to help me.

Leaning back with his chin resting on his hand, he simply watched me—as if I were nothing more than a spectacle. If anything, it was obvious he was enjoying the predicament I had been forced into.

In the end, I rose unsteadily, as though pushed forward against my will.

Half out of my senses, I climbed onto the stage and grasped the amplifier with trembling hands—like someone deprived of a vital drug, shaking uncontrollably.

The crowd stared as if they would devour me.
Whispers rippled through them.
Camera shutters burst again and again.

And there I stood—brazenly adorned in expensive jewels and a lavish dress, a perfectly presented spectacle.

A prey to be consumed.

‘What should I say?’

‘Should I congratulate them for killing my father and escaping tyranny? Apologize? Promise to spend the rest of my life in repentance?’

Cold sweat trickled down my back.

I felt like I might collapse at any moment, yet I clung desperately to the last thread of my consciousness.

“Did you knowingly support the royal family’s wrongdoing during the monarchy? Do you intend to apologize to the victims of that time?”

“Ah… I… I’m… s-sorr—”

The words came out broken, stuttering like a fool’s.

I couldn’t breathe.

My body stiffened, trembling like prey caught before a predator. I couldn’t say another word. I could only stand there, enduring the merciless stares that bore into me.

Time stretched on, endless—like an eternity meant to torment me.

“That’s enough.”

My husband’s voice reached me only after I had long since shut my eyes, frozen where I stood.

Perhaps he had seen enough.

With long strides, he ascended the stage and pulled me into his arms.

Through clenched teeth, he muttered under his breath—just loud enough for me to hear—

“D*mn it… Sienna. Breathe.”

I had forgotten how to breathe.

After that, I don’t remember how I came down from the stage…or how I made it back home.