“The Countess of Cattleya has arrived.”

“Let her in.”

Mirabella replied to the maid, who approached cautiously. Soon the door opened and a woman with reddened eyes entered. From behind her veil, Mirabella quietly looked at the woman – the one her son had capriciously impregnated and later taken as his wife.

The woman’s youthful, innocent face was warm and gentle, like golden wheat in the sun. Her expression was soft, almost too tender for someone standing in such a place.

Mirabella thought of the child Atlion had claimed as his own. The child’s pearly face and soft, lemon hair came to mind – a delicate little one who had cried endlessly, left motherless by circumstance. And the father, stern and unyielding, had ordered the child to call him “father” without any tenderness.

“You must be the mother of baby Mirabella.”

Swan jumped, her whole body shaking. Startled, she nodded, her eyes wide with fear. From behind her veil, Mirabella smiled faintly and motioned for her to sit.

“Please, sit.”

“Thank you.”

The woman sitting opposite Mirabella stared silently at Atlion as he lay unconscious. Her eyes, already reddened, began to tremble uncontrollably. She opened her mouth slightly, as if to speak, but couldn’t bring herself to ask the question that lingered on her lips. Instead, she lowered her eyes.

“I’m told he took far more of the prescribed medication than he should have. Fortunately, his life isn’t in danger.”

Swan lifted her head to look at Mirabella. The woman was wearing a black dress with a plunging neckline, devoid of any intricate lace or embellishment, and a semi-transparent black veil draped over her shoulders. She looked like a widow in mourning. Though Swan was certain that Mirabella’s hair under the veil was a vibrant golden blonde, everything about her seemed muted, as if shrouded in shades of grey.

“May I… may I know what medication he was taking?”

Swan hesitated, her voice tentative. The veil obscured Mirabella’s expression, making it impossible to read her features or her mood. Swan knew this woman was the Emperor’s biological mother and asking such a question might provoke her displeasure. But she had to know.”

“Simur and Latique. Mixed with a sedative.”

“I see…”

Drugs were already powerful. While they were effective at calming nerves and treating conditions such as sleepwalking and psychological trauma, their severe side effects meant that they could only be prescribed for short-term use. Swan’s face turned pale and she bit her lip.

“How long… how long has he been taking them?”

“I think he’s been taking them ever since you left.”

“But Simur and Latique are only meant for short term use. I can’t believe the court physician didn’t know that…”

“There wasn’t much choice, was there? If you didn’t sedate him, he would harm himself. We couldn’t risk innocent servants getting hurt either.”

“His Majesty…”

“There has been no interruption in the affairs of state. That’s why he can still keep the throne.”

Swan pressed her lips together, silencing her words. Her red, swollen eyes began to cool, the warmth draining away. Behind her veil, Mirabella wore a faint smile. Swan lowered her gaze and turned her attention to the unconscious man before her.

“Aren’t you at all concerned for His Majesty’s health?”

Mirabella remained silent. Swan scowled, trying her best not to show her disappointment. When he had coldly ordered ears torn off and skin flayed, she had found him unbearably hateful. She had resented him deeply for not understanding her heart.

And yet to see him now, pale and restless with his eyes closed, made her heart ache unbearably. The pain was so sharp she could hardly understand it herself. She wanted to bury her face in his chest and sob uncontrollably.

“I thought you hated Atlion.”

Swan couldn’t answer, just looked at her. Suddenly, Mirabella removed her black veil, revealing her gleaming golden hair, elaborately styled. She wore no earrings or jewellery, her appearance completely unadorned. Yet even in her simplicity, she seemed more strikingly beautiful than anyone else in the room.

And then…

“Do you love Atlion?”

It was a woman who bore a striking resemblance to Swan’s daughter. Startled, Swan looked at her with wide eyes. Mirabella responded with a faint, knowing smile.

“I look a lot like your child, don’t I? I was surprised myself. Atlion brought the baby to me, saying she wouldn’t stop crying.”

“Mirabella?”

The woman nodded. Her face, unmarked by a single wrinkle, was strangely and exquisitely beautiful. Considering Atlion’s age, she must have been well into her forties, yet she was as stunning as a vibrant rose under the summer sun.

“The child’s name is Mirabella, isn’t it? What a thoughtless man to give her her mother’s name without asking permission…”

Swan’s eyelids trembled slightly. She hadn’t known that Mirabella’s name came from her grandmother. It was something she had never considered. She wondered if the Empress Dowager had been angry that the child had been named without her consent, but Mirabella just smiled gently.

“Is Mirabella well?”

“Of course. Though she still shies away from her father.”

The Empress Dowager shifted her gaze to Atlion, her eyes lingering on him. Swan followed her lead, her eyes tracing his still form. His pale lips were now motionless – lips that had once been merciless and greedily possessive. And yet it was strange to see him in this state. She almost wished he would take her as he pleased, consumed by desire, instead of lying there so lifeless.

“Why… why did he take the medicine like that?”

“For the same reason he took it in the first place.”

“Is it because of me?”

Swan lifted her head. Mirabella, who had been as silent as her unconscious son, looked at her. Her gaze, though elegant, was clouded, as if dusted with soot, and devoid of the warmth her gentle features might suggest. After a long silence, Mirabella finally spoke.

“Of course not.”

“Then…”

“The cause of madness is not someone else. Madness is the darkness within oneself.”

Mirabella, who had been quietly watching Swan, whispered quietly. There was no smile on her face and Swan froze as she stared at Atlion’s wounded flesh.

‘Was Mirabella suggesting that it was all Atlion’s fault, that Swan had no need to blame herself? Swan raised her eyes to meet Mirabella’s determined expression, as if she fully understood what she was saying.’

“Even when you lose someone you love…”

Mirabella began, but paused, her lips pressed together for a moment. Her face betrayed a fleeting struggle, as if she were suppressing something unbearable, forcing herself to swallow what was too hard to bear. Her pale cheeks flushed slightly, but her beauty remained undiminished. She closed her eyes and whispered softly, “Ruslan”. Then, as if regaining her composure, she turned her gaze back to Swan.

“It is up to this person not to be consumed by the darkness.”

“…….”

“That’s true. It’s something he has to overcome. So even if Atlion dies, you will leave the palace.”

“I…”

“Go and live the life you want. With the person you love.”

“But… but I promised to stay with His Majesty… And now, with him in this condition, if I go…”

“My son can never overcome you. Never.”

Mirabella’s bright smile lit up her face. Swan looked at her in confusion, unable to comprehend her serene expression. She was Atlion’s mother. Was it because of her unshakable faith in her ability to support him that she could speak with such certainty?

“If he has to choose between death and defeating you, he’ll choose death. He’ll never win you.”

“…….”

“Because Ruslan couldn’t either.”

Mirabella’s eyes dropped as she finished speaking. There was a dark shadow in her eyes, like dry, brittle leaves that couldn’t be brushed away. It wasn’t something she could hide or suppress. She didn’t explain who Ruslan was, but Swan didn’t need to. It was clear. He must have been someone Mirabella loved very much – perhaps her husband.

“That’s what love is. The more you love, the more you lose.”