‘…Where am I?’

Ophelia looked around in a daze. Only moments later did she realize she was standing in the middle of the greenhouse garden at the Marquisate of Wilhelm.

She had no idea why she was here. None of it made sense.

‘Who is that child?’

Near the edge of the flowerbed, crouched between the bushes, were Veronica and an unfamiliar little boy.

Dark black hair, visible only from the back.

Ophelia slowly approached, believing she would see his face if she got closer.

But before she could, the door swung open and Renoir stepped inside.

The moment Veronica and the boy saw him, they both sprang to their feet and ran to him as though they had been waiting.

Renoir wrapped his arms around both children with a natural ease, a gesture so familiar it made Ophelia faltered.

Then he walked towards her.

Only then did the boy’s face come clearly into view.

His eyes were blue, the exact same shade as Renoir’s. His entire appearance resembled Renoir’s so closely that it was startling.

The boy opened his arms as if to embrace Ophelia.

But just before his small hands touched her—

Her eyelids flew open.

The blurry world sharpened slowly and she realized that she was lying in bed. Sunlight streamed through the window, bright enough to make her squint.

A large, warm hand gently shaded her eyes.

Renoir.

Dark circles ringed his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept all night. Exhaustion weighed on him, yet his gaze was fixed entirely on her.

“Ophelia, you’re awake?”

His low voice carried a subtle tension, as if he feared the answer.

‘…It was a dream.’

Ophelia realized that what she had just seen had been a dream. Then the memory of collapsing and bleeding just before losing consciousness returned, and she hurriedly touched her stomach.

“It’s all right. I was told the baby is perfectly fine.”

Ophelia let out a faint exhale.

Dr. James had said the child was safe. She remembered drifting into sleep right after hearing those words—but waking so suddenly now made the memory feel distant.

“You must have been frightened, Renoir.”

Ophelia offered a small, cautious smile.

“I’m just… really grateful the baby is safe.”

The moment she finished speaking, Renoir’s expression stiffened.

“I am grateful you are safe.”

His tone was so curt that it sounded almost like a scolding. It was as though he was accusing her of only worrying about the baby and not herself.

This wasn’t her intention, but Ophelia found herself looking away, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

Only then did she realize that she was in Renoir’s bedroom. Even the negligée she was wearing was different from the one she remembered. It was clean, with no trace of blood.

‘Did Meryl change me…?’

But more than that, it bothered her that Renoir had clearly sat awake all night beside her.

“Renoir, I’m all right now. You should rest.”

Renoir pressed his lips together as he looked down at her.

“…But—”

A hesitation flickered across his face.

Ophelia let out a soft, teasing smile.

“I want to wash… Are you planning to stay and watch even that?”

“…I’ll fetch Meryl.”

After a moment of stunned silence, Renoir’s neck turned red and he sat up straight. He hurried out of the room. As Ophelia watched him leave, she couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh.

‘I’m so relieved… that the baby held on.’

At that moment, she remembered the little boy from her dream, the child with Renoir’s blue eyes.

‘A name related to the sea might be lovely.’

Renoir had been struggling to think of a name, and the thought brought a faint smile to her lips.

Just then, a careful knock sounded at the door.

“Your Highness, it’s Meryl.”

“Come in, Meryl.”

Meryl entered with a basin of washing water. Ophelia pushed herself upright to lean back against the headboard.

Setting the basin down, Meryl asked with concern.

“Are you feeling better, Your Highness? I wanted to stay with you last night, but His Lordship insisted he would keep watch. Come to think of it… I suppose His Lordship must have changed your clothes.”

Ophelia froze.

“W-what?”

When she stammered the question, Meryl hesitated, then added.

“Ah—the negligee. His Lordship… asked me to bring a clean one so he could change you.”

“So… it wasn’t you—it was Renoir who changed me?”

“Yes. I offered, but he refused.”

Ophelia’s cheeks flushed hot at once.

‘Then… he must have wiped me down too.’

When the thought dawned on her, she pressed her lips together tightly. Renoir had seen her body before, yet hearing it described like this made her feel even more flustered.

While she was still processing her embarrassment, Meryl seemed to remember something, pulling a letter from her sleeve.

“Ah—Marchioness Josephina sent this letter this morning.”

Thinking it might be about Frederick, Ophelia opened it immediately.

[To Her Highness the Princess.
His Majesty’s condition is critical.
A month from now, a memorial banquet will be held for Her Late Highness Violetta Xavi, where His Majesty intends to announce Young Lord Frederick’s appointment as Crown Prince. It seems he plans to register Frederick as the adopted son of Her Late Highness.]

‘A memorial banquet for my mother…?’

Of course, if Frederick were to join the royal family, he would have to be adopted and take the name of the late Violetta Xavi.

But why did they suddenly want to hold a memorial for her after not doing so for over a decade?

Ophelia couldn’t help but smile bitterly at the absurdity of it all.

Nevertheless, she had planned to give Josephina advance notice. Knowing that King Alfonso’s condition was critical, the Marchioness had acted quickly.

Entrusting Frederick to her had been the right choice. Without her, King Alfonso would never have reached a decision this quickly.

***

A week later…

An official royal invitation arrived, summoning her to a memorial banquet for the late Violetta Xavi. Finally, Ophelia had the perfect excuse to visit Frederick.

She entered the palace without delay and headed straight for Reycan Palace.

“His Majesty bids you enter,” a maid announced with a bow.

As Ophelia approached the bedchamber, she heard King Alfonso’s booming laughter.

“Hahaha! Clever boy, Frederick. Now tell me, of all the kings before me, whom do you respect the most?”

“I respect Your Majesty. I was born and raised during Your Majesty’s reign. My mother taught me so.”

“You rascal, always choosing the words most pleasant to my ears.”

Fortunately, Frederick was doing an excellent job of pleasing the king.

“Father.”

“Come in, Ophelia. I assume you’ve come because Marchioness Josephina’s invitation raised some questions?”

Frederick widened his eyes as if surprised and quickly hid behind the king performing exactly as though this were the first time he had ever seen Ophelia. It was the perfect reaction to avoid suspicion.

“May I… ask who that child is?”

King Alfonso replied with a satisfied smile.

“He is Johanna’s son. The very child I have long been searching for. I told you about him before, did I not? It is he.”

“Was his name… Frederick?”

“Indeed. And at Violetta Xavi’s memorial banquet, I will announce him as Crown Prince.”

Ophelia deliberately widened her eyes a little, nodding slowly.

“I… I see.”

“If he is registered as Violetta Xavi’s adopted son, then by lineage, he becomes your younger brother. As his sister, help him well.”

“Yes, I will.”

“Now that Cassandra has been deposed, are you resentful that the next in line is not you?”

“Of course not. I know how desperately Your Majesty has searched for Lady Johanna’s child. I will treat him with the respect he deserves.”

King Alfonso narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her expression.

“But if Frederick is declared Crown Prince… the Privy Council and the Church will object. Do you know how to silence their complaints?”

“…Why not adopt Penelope as well, and make her a princess under my mother’s name?”

“Penelope… that child?”

“Yes. If there is someone for them to compare him to, the resistance will lessen. If both are adopted, public attention will focus on which of the two will become the heir.”

“Hmm.”

“And compared to Penelope… people will naturally prefer the prince who carries the royal symbol.”

Penelope originally became a princess at Bianca’s request after she earned the Laurel Medal.

Bianca lost her left eye in that battle. By making Penelope a princess, Ophelia would also ensure Bianca’s safety from political backlash.

“A fine idea. One more princess won’t hurt. I can trust you with this—you’re truly without greed.”

“I am already the mistress of Wilhelm thanks to Your Majesty. Anything more would be beyond what I can bear.”

King Alfonso asked, almost amused.

“Then… could you forfeit your claim to succession?”

“Yes. If Your Majesty wishes, I would even relinquish Veronica’s claim.”

“Good, good—just a joke—khuk!” Kraa!….”

He burst into a light laugh. Suddenly, he coughed up blood again. This time, it was thicker and clotted, which was a grim sign that his condition had worsened drastically.

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