Mirabella said nothing, just looked up at him. Atlion, who had feigned detachment, now looked at his daughter with pained eyes. Lady Ritsol, watching the scene, felt her heart break as well. She understood only too well what it was like to be rejected unilaterally, especially by someone so dear.

The children were brutally honest. They didn’t know that their words or actions could hurt an adult. Mirabella was too young to pretend or hide her feelings. As she watched the Emperor kneel before the child, Lady Ritsol found the courage to speak.

“Your Majesty, the princess is very young. At her tender age, she cannot comprehend that someone she perceives as a stranger could be her father. All she feels is fear. Besides, the Princess has been separated from her mother for a long time. Please let her see her mother. If her mother explains that Your Majesty is her father, the princess will accept it much more easily.

She spoke carefully, afraid that her words might provoke the Emperor’s anger. As Lady Ritsol wiped away her own tears and waited anxiously for his reply, the door burst open and Swan appeared.

“What are you doing with my child?!”

The woman, breathless from running, looked utterly distraught. She had always been fiercely protective of her child, and being separated from her for so long had only heightened her maternal instincts. Her face, rare in its ferocity, showed sheer panic, as if she feared the Emperor might have harmed her daughter.

“Una!”

Swan leapt forward, taking the child in her arms as if to shield her. She looked at the Emperor, a rare defiance shining in her eyes. Despite the time she had spent in the palace, cowed and subdued, there was no hesitation in the way she held the child protectively.

Atlion, his expression sharp and unmistakably unforgiving, fixed his steely gaze on Swan as she instinctively cried out.

“Una!”

His face made it clear that he would not tolerate this any longer. Swan, her shoulders hunched in fear, stood her ground, her trembling body betraying her defiance.

“Well done.”

Atlion hissed.

“You’ve raised her so well, she doesn’t even recognise her own father.”

He didn’t ask how she ended up in the princess’s quarters. Swan glanced at Lady Ritsol, standing behind the Emperor, before turning her eyes away. A shiver ran down her spine, her fear only growing as Atlion growled at her, his voice laced with contempt.

“You’re a very remarkable woman.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I’m talking about your audacity. To erase the traces of a living father from the life of a child with your schemes. A child you knew to be a princess!”

The almost thunderous voice echoed through the once cosy bedroom. Swan trembled as she held her daughter, who continued to call for her mother even though she was already in her arms. Since when had he cared so much for the child? Whether it was a daughter or a son, hadn’t his gaze always been cold and indifferent to any child Swan bore?

Perhaps that was why even the child did not seem to want her father. How could a child, even one so young and crying endlessly, not feel the emotions of the man holding her? The sadness and bitterness of the situation felt overwhelming, pressing down on her like a weight she could no longer suppress.

“And since when do you care so much about my child? Since when do you care about her?”

Swan spat, her trembling voice laced with bitterness.

“You…”

Atlion growled, his anger rising.

Swan covered the child’s ears with her hands, her pale face staring back at him.

“She was an unwanted pregnancy, wasn’t she?”

The child, whose tearful eyes kept looking up to see if the person holding her was really her mother, finally buried her face in Swan’s chest and sobbed softly. Swan covered the child’s ears even tighter, her lips trembling as she continued.

“Your Majesty never wanted this child.”

She said, her voice cutting through the room like a dagger.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she thought of her late mother. Her father had been absent for as long as she could remember, and it wasn’t hard to guess why. The man who had fathered her probably hadn’t wanted her mother’s pregnancy either.

It was enough for her to live alone as an unwanted daughter. That was why she had chosen Theo. The love Theo had shown her felt so warm because it was given freely, unencumbered by expectations or regrets.

“But now, after all this…”

“She is still my child.”

Atlion said softly, his voice deep but firm. The words brought her attention back to him, the phrase “still my child” ringing in her ears. Her tearful eyes trembled again.

“Mirabella is my daughter.”

“…”

“She’s not Una, she’s Mirabella. Not the daughter of a commoner, but the princess of an emperor.”

Her arm was grabbed. Swan, too tired to resist, just stared at him. Atlion, correcting the child’s status with unyielding conviction, had never looked more determined. Suddenly the child’s fragile face, pale and worn, turned towards him. Meeting her gaze, Atlion spoke.

“Do you know that the child is underdeveloped compared to her peers?”

Swan remained silent. Atlion raised his hand to gently rub his daughter’s back, feeling the delicate ridges of her small bones under his touch.

Lady Ritsol, the nanny at the summer retreat, had once told Atlion that Mirabella was smaller and more delicate than other children her age. He hadn’t needed the reminder to notice her slight frame – he could tell just by holding her in his arms. There was no weight to her, even when she was carried in one arm. Still, he hadn’t thought that her development had lagged behind that of her peers. He had assumed that living in a commoner’s household might mean that she was smaller than noble children of her age.

But Lady Ritsoll had made it clear that Mirabella’s growth was slow even compared to children in common households.

Not just her physical size, but the speed of her overall development. She was at an age when she should have been able to speak. But the words she could speak were few and far between. When Atlion had asked if there was a problem with her intelligence, the answer had been no – but even that had crushed a part of his heart.

The nanny had said that Mirabella showed good judgement for her age. So there was no inherent problem with her. It was clear how impoverished the child had been brought up. It was obvious how Swan, who had wandered aimlessly after leaving her village, had raised the child. There was no need to ask – it was obvious.

If they had grown up in the original hut, Mirabella wouldn’t be so frail and pale. Atlion thought of the man who had stolen his wife and daughter. If Raoul hadn’t kept an eye on Swan and Tom, if he hadn’t received the letter Swan had sent him, he might never have gotten them back.

“Una, no, Mirabella…”

Swan, instinctively using the wrong name, quickly corrected herself and called the child Mirabella.

“How can I ever forgive the man who ruined my daughter?” Atlion muttered bitterly.

“Theo has done nothing wrong.”

“So you still plan to defend this man to the end.”

“I chose him because I wanted to.”

Swan, pale and exhausted, added quickly. The expression on Atlion’s face, which had been sharp with anger, vanished. It vanished as if it had been washed away. The frightened Swan didn’t notice the change and began to babble.

She was afraid he would kill Theo. He was an innocent man. He was nothing more than a person who had filled the endless voids in Swan and Mirabella’s lives.

“Your Majesty. Your Majesty, I chose Theo because I wanted to. You said he ran away and stole, but… that’s not the truth. I needed him. I needed him.”

Tears flowed uncontrollably. She could see Theo clearly, looking for her and the child in the empty house. The tears stained her cheeks. The swan, who had stood defiantly against him, now looked at him with a sad expression.

“So please…”

“Enough, enough, close your mouth.”

“Your Majesty…”

Swan shook her head slowly. Her face was sharper than before, and she wanted to plead and beg even more, her words tumbling out. The expressionless face in front of her suddenly twisted with a pain as sharp as if it had been slashed by a blade.

“I said Theo didn’t touch me…”

“I told you to stop.”

“I…”

“I don’t want to hear another word in his defence!”

“But…”

“One more word and I’ll have his head brought to the palace.”

His low murmur was threatening. Swan fell silent, shocked. Atlion turned away with a cold expression on his face. As he left the bedroom, Swan’s words echoed in his mind. She had said that she had chosen him because she wanted to. She had run away with him because she had wanted to. His insides felt like they were being torn apart.

In a state of mental turmoil, the countless slashes he had made in his mind felt insignificant. He bit his lips so hard they almost bled. His face contorted horribly and suddenly a terrible thought struck him. What if Swan never came back? What if she rejected him forever and pushed him away?

What if this hell never ended? Swan had chosen another man, one she wanted, not him. But it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be… Swan wouldn’t want anyone else. His vision blurred, the darkness closing in.

***

Three more days passed. The Emperor had not seen the Princess since the incident in her bedroom. He claimed that visiting her and seeing the child would only make things more difficult for her.

But anyone could see that the truth was that he feared the child’s rejection. Raoul stood guard, thinking of the emperor’s bedroom, where no light would ever enter. Suddenly the sound of high heels echoed through the corridor.

Raoul turned to the source of the sound and immediately narrowed his eyes.

“Where is the Emperor?”

Renee, with her dazzling golden hair piled high, turned to Raoul and asked. At twenty, Renee was still as beautiful as spring sunlight, a noblewoman of grace. Last summer she had married the knight who had served as her guard, but her status had diminished considerably from what it had been before.

As a result, she could no longer easily enter the Imperial Palace, and with her mother, the Empress and Marchioness Jacqueline, angry with her, even a visit to Solam had become difficult. The Emperor, who had planned and supported her marriage, was someone Renee had yet to truly understand.