He thought he had muttered quietly enough for no one to hear, but the blonde-haired young man sitting nearby turned to look at him. The youth had striking dark brown eyes, a simple yet honest appearance and a slender build. Tom noticed that he hesitated before speaking.

“Excuse me, but… would you happen to be Mr Tom?”

“Huh?”

“Well, I… My name is Theodor Dianton.”

The young man said, scratching his head and smiling shyly.

Tom stared at him, his mind racing back to the letter Swan had sent and Nancy had read to him. In it, Swan had written about following the Crown Prince, but later parting ways with him and settling in a small village in Romenkastil. Tom had been relieved to hear that she had left the prince, and even more so to learn that she had formed a bond with another man.

And now, he realised, this man before him – Theodor Dianton – was the very man Swan had mentioned in that letter.

“Oh… so you’re that Theodor?” 

“Yes!” 

Tom asked, glancing at Theodor, who, like himself, was dressed smartly for the occasion. Then his gaze shifted to Swan and the Emperor, who were standing in front of the High Priest. For some reason, a bitter taste remained in his mouth. 

Theodor greeted him cheerfully and struck up a conversation. Tom, still slightly dazed, absentmindedly accepted his greeting before turning his eyes elsewhere. Suddenly, a familiar face across the room caught his attention. 

‘Where have I seen that man before…?’ 

It was a middle-aged man with light blonde hair streaked with grey. His piercing eyes and stern expression gave him a rather formidable appearance. Though undeniably handsome, the severity etched into his features made him the kind of man who would make anyone weak in the knees if they met him on the street.

“Do you recognise him?”

“No, it’s nothing like that.”

Tom shook his head, trying to dismiss the strange feeling and look away. But when Theodor glanced briefly in the same direction, he leaned in to whisper. 

“That’s Marquis Clepassé. They say he’s going to be Swan’s adoptive father.” 

“Really?” 

Tom had intended to concentrate on Swan alone, but Theodor’s unexpected words made him look back at the Marquis. It was then that their eyes met. Tom’s heart dropped like a stone. 

‘He’s the one who was looking for Petunia.’ 

The thought flashed through his mind like lightning. Cold sweat trickled down his forehead as he bit his lip. The more he thought about it, the more certain he became – it was him. The man who had been searching for Petunia and her child. Yes, the man who had been looking for Swan’s mother. 

Tom lowered his gaze and closed his eyes tightly for a moment, trying to calm his pounding heart. When he opened them again, he was greeted by Theodor’s worried voice, asking repeatedly if he was all right. 

“I’m fine.”

Tom murmured. He took a deep breath and forced himself to concentrate, looking at Swan and her husband.

—

Mirabella was officially recognised as a princess. For Swan, this brought greater joy than her own coronation as Empress. The recognition of Mirabella as the Emperor’s daughter meant more to her. 

The looks of the others, however, were far from kind. It wasn’t hard to see the thorns beneath the veneer of courtesy and politeness. But Swan found she could bear it. Facing hostility was something she had grown accustomed to. 

Perhaps it was because she had endured so much of it before. Lady Amien, the Emperor’s cousin, his siblings, his aides – those who had tried desperately to deny her existence. It was perhaps because of them that she had built this resilience. 

But today, the very people she was facing again seemed conspicuously subdued. Lady Amien’s expression, though still a little dissatisfied, was far less hostile. Her mother’s gaze remained prickly, but Swan found it manageable. 

The Empress Dowager, on the other hand, wore a contented smile. The day before the coronation, she had sought Swan out and spoken to her.

“I was once a princess of another land,” she began. “In fact, Ruslan’s mother was my aunt. Still, there were many who found fault with my status and the dowry I brought with me. Quite a few, in fact. Well, Swan, it’s the same for everyone. Not everyone will like you.”

The Empress Dowager had smiled after saying these words. And she was right. When she had heard them, Swan had just looked at her without answering. Even a princess from another kingdom, married into the Imperial family, had experienced her share of hostility.

How many people must have a grudge against Swan? The thought brought a pang of fear to her heart. But the Dowager Empress’ next words soothed her unease.

“On the other hand, it also means that not everyone dislikes you.”

With that, the Dowager Empress patted Swan gently on the shoulder and smiled. Swan took a deep breath, steadied herself and bent her knees slightly in a curtsy. Before her stood Atlion, now grown to his full stature as Emperor. He held the Empress’s crown high in his hands, his expression solemn. But the warmth in his sharp, steady gaze betrayed his affection. 

Their eyes met, clear and unwavering. Swan pressed her lips together, trying to hold back the laughter that threatened to break out. 

Atlion’s own lips trembled slightly, betraying his effort to remain composed. It was clear that he found his now mature wife unbearably adorable. Swan lowered her head slightly and looked down, her movements graceful and demure. 

As the crown of pearls, feathers, sapphires and rubies fell onto her elaborately adorned hair, she felt its weight settle firmly in place. Swan had become Empress.

The cathedral bells chimed as white petals fluttered softly above them. Swan stood and faced Atlion directly. She tried to compose herself to appear as a graceful empress, but the blush on her cheeks betrayed her nerves and made it impossible to maintain the regal facade.

With an expression of deep emotion, Swan glanced at Atlion before shifting her gaze to Mirabella, her hair beautifully braided behind her ears. The little girl wore a cream dress studded with pearls and diamonds, her delicate appearance almost radiant.

Nestled in the arms of her nanny, Mirabella looked serene and calm. Even on a day as chaotic and full of attention as this, her daughter was remarkably calm. Swan felt a surge of pride, so much so that she wanted to plant a kiss on her cheek.

Standing beside Atlion, Swan received the priest’s final blessing before slowly turning. She caught sight of Theo and Tom, who had been graciously invited by Atlion. Seeing them in their neatly tailored ceremonial robes, looking far more polished than usual, almost made her laugh.

As the High Priest’s long and solemn blessing came to an end, Swan descended the steps alongside Atlion. Clear bell chimes echoed through the air as endless white petals cascaded around her, the scene almost surreal in its beauty.

***

Two days after the coronation, Theo refused the carriage Swan had arranged for him and instead set off alone, packing his own bags. He avoided looking too closely at Swan’s face as she saw him off. If he lingered on her expression, he wouldn’t like it – or rather, Swan wouldn’t like it.

Swan’s husband had offered him a large mansion with servants in the domain of the Lord of Romenkastil, but to be honest, Theo didn’t want to go back there. He didn’t want to live in that place again. He felt he should return briefly to explain everything to Mr Tolly and ask for forgiveness, but the thought of opening the door to that house – empty of Swan and Mirabella – left a dull ache in his chest.

‘Not that I know where else I’d want to go…’

He sighed deeply. But the only thing he was sure of was that he had to leave the palace. And so his choice was to shoulder his belongings and go wherever his feet took him. 

Swan, realising that his destination wasn’t Romenkastil, had urged him to stay in touch, wherever he ended up.

Theo smiled and assured her that he would. After carefully packing the bag of gold coins and jewels that Swan had given him, he set off on his journey. Walking alone for the first time in a long while, his mind began to wander with various thoughts.

‘Perhaps I should try my hand at trading, like Mr Tolly.’

But if he became a merchant, what would he sell? Where would he get the goods? The logistics overwhelmed him and left him deep in thought. 

As dusk fell, Theo decided to find an inn for the night. He planned to eat and rest, scanning the buildings for one that seemed decent enough to enter. 

Just as he was about to enter, he noticed something in the narrow space between two buildings – a dark alley. Someone was huddled against the wall, as if abandoned or exhausted. The figure seemed to be sobbing softly, faintly audible in the still evening air. A woman’s voice.

Sensing something was wrong, Theo approached cautiously and spoke softly to her. 

“Excuse me…”

The figure stirred at the sound of his voice, perhaps noticing the shadow falling over her. She raised her head, and even in the dim light of the night, her tear-stained green eyes sparkled vividly.