Chapter 7: Rui’s Secret (6)

Even while recognizing the beauty of the scene, everything still felt oddly detached, as though she were reading it from a book. Because of that, Larie found herself moving mechanically, reaching for the food that had begun to fill the table.

So this is how it feels not to hurt—viewing everything from one step away.

“…”

“…”

The only sound crossing the table was the fountain’s spray. Even the attendants had quietly disappeared at some point.

When even the clinking of cutlery felt absent and the silence became oddly comforting—

Terian, who had been silent until now, asked something strange.

“Is there nothing you wish to tell me?”

What did he mean?

Even with her foggy mind, her wariness spiked. Was there something she should be telling him?

If he was looking for some kind of family secret, that would be a problem. She had no value in that sense.

“Something you truly want to say, or something I ought to be aware of,” he added after a moment’s hesitation.

Larie’s thoughts were drowned out by the rush of the fountain’s waters.

“…”

There used to be many things she wanted to say, didn’t there?

Now, she had lost them all.

“There’s nothing Your Majesty needs to concern yourself with.”

She spoke quietly. Thankfully, she managed to say it with a surprisingly calm tone.

“…I see.”

After that, Terian said no more.

Larie, too, had nothing left to say. The silence in the garden thickened, soaked in unsaid words.

❖ ❖ ❖

The next day.

“Sigh… What am I to do…”

Near the Emperor’s working palace, the Marchioness of Incarze wandered restlessly, murmuring with concern.

It had taken her a long time to make up her mind before coming here.

Each step toward the Emperor’s palace felt heavy with worry. She feared that bringing something up would only stir trouble. And yet, she couldn’t get the image of the Crown Prince out of her mind—the way he smiled so brightly, and how Larie had trembled when the boy clung to the Emperor’s leg.

She didn’t know exactly what stood between the two of them. But she no longer believed the infamous rumors about the youngest daughter of House Tromperie.

She prided herself on her keen judgment of people.

Many of the noble ladies who had made their debut under her tutelage had passed along gossip about Larie—most of which turned out to be lies. The social circles could be vicious, but it had gotten to the point where she felt compelled to gather them and reprimand them herself.

The more she watched, the more she felt pity for the tangled circumstances of the people involved.

The Marchioness of Incarze had served as a royal nursemaid since the time of the previous Emperor. It was a difficult position she had accepted after losing her husband, the former Marquess Incarze.

But all she had felt since then was growing disappointment in the imperial family. There were times she even thought—blasphemous as it was—that it might have been better for the previous Emperor to have left no heirs at all.

Then came Terian’s request—for her to become the nanny of a child born out of wedlock.

“Sigh…”

At first, she was furious. A noblewoman of her status—was he mocking her?

But soon after, she made her decision. Terian had proven himself, unlike his predecessor.

Besides, another legitimate heir would surely come. Terian was still quite young.

And with that thought, she found herself feeling compassion for the nameless child. A life that might one day be branded illegitimate or silently cast aside, never able to claim the title of crown prince—such a fate was too cruel.

What’s more, Larie, who had become the Empress, was around the same age as her own youngest daughter.

The Marchioness, who had raised four children herself, found it impossible not to pity Larie. Unlike her own unruly youngest, Larie always looked so timid, so withdrawn.

As she recalled Larie’s pale, frightened face, the Marchioness finally made up her mind.

“Your Majesty. The Marchioness of Incarze wishes an audience with you.”

From the very entrance to the imperial office, the security was unusually tight. The number of knights stationed there rivaled that of the Empress’s palace.

The strictness of it all, more intense than usual, made her feel intimidated.

“…The Marchioness? Let her in.”

Thankfully, the Emperor granted permission at once.

“I offer my greetings to Your Majesty.”

“What brings the Crown Prince’s nanny here?”

“I dared come because I have something urgent to tell you.”

Swallowing dryly, the nanny tried to calm herself.

Terian raised a brow, curious, and motioned with his hand.

“Clear the office.”

At his command, the attendants and everyone else left the room.

With tension mounting, the nanny bowed and began to speak.

“When I first came to serve His Highness the Crown Prince, Your Majesty asked me something. I’ve come today remembering that question, though it may be impertinent of me.”

“When I first brought the Prince here…”

At her sudden visit and words, Terian frowned. For a moment, he was alarmed, wondering if something had happened to Rui.

Especially since she was one of the few who knew the truth about Rui, his guard went up instinctively.

“…His Highness the Crown Prince has grown significantly.”

“It seems you’ve been taking good care of him.”

“Your Majesty… His Highness has grown remarkably.”

“What do you mean by that?”

But her following words were unexpected.

Had something gone wrong with Rui, who had appeared to be developing well?

“His growth is not normal. I asked the palace physician, but he says there’s nothing wrong with His Highness’s health.”

“…”

“It’s just that… his current height seems more in line with what it should be for his actual age. I thought I ought to bring it to your attention…”

Relief flooded him when he heard there was nothing wrong with the boy’s health.

But through that easing tension, doubt quickly crept in. He recalled the moments he had wondered how Rui had grown so fast.

A strange feeling stirred within him, pressing him toward something unspoken.

“If you had to guess, how old would you say the prince appears now?”

Only after swallowing hard a few times did the Marchioness of Incarze respond.

“From appearances alone… he seems well over a year old, Your Majesty.”

“…”

Terian was at a loss for words.

The age the nanny had just stated was the very one he had once desperately hoped Rui might be.

His lips went dry, and without realizing it, he ran a hand down his face. Then suspicion flared—he began to question the nanny’s motive for suddenly bringing this up.

“What are you aiming for, coming here with lies?”

At his accusation, the Marchioness’s face stiffened in offense.

“It is no lie, Your Majesty! Anyone who has raised a child would know this at a glance—there is no way to deceive something so obvious!”

“…”

She had a point. How could one possibly fake an infant’s visible rate of growth?

After opening and closing his mouth a few times, Terian gave a measured instruction.

“Have the palace physician thoroughly reexamine the prince’s health.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I will tell him to do so at once. …Also, in my personal opinion, His Highness’s rate of growth seems to have returned to normal recently.”

Her words made Terian’s heart lurch. For a fleeting moment, countless “what ifs” flooded his mind.

“Is it possible that what we’re seeing now reflects his true age…?”

The thought that this could be Rui’s actual age chilled him to the core.

He hated himself for daring to hold onto such presumptuous hope.

“…You would do well to watch your words, Marchioness.”

“I deeply apologize, Your Majesty. Please forgive me.”

“You may go. Continue to care for the prince, just as you have.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The nanny quickly exited the office. The Chamberlain, entering just then, watched her retreat with puzzled eyes.

“…”

Left alone in silence, Terian once again dragged his hand across his face. The soft leather of his glove now felt harsh, almost like sandpaper against his skin.

It was truly shameless of him. Rui had likely just adjusted to a better environment after growing up in such poor conditions.

And yet, no matter how hard he tried to dismiss it, the nanny’s words lingered with Terian throughout the entire day.

❖ ❖ ❖

“…Therefore, there are still no signs in this section of the Great Mountains… Your Majesty?”

The Chamberlain, mid-report while pointing at the continental map, suddenly stopped. The Emperor was silent—distracted, it seemed.

The Chamberlain was startled by his own impudent thought and quickly raised his head.

“Continue.”

But he paused, now even more surprised as he saw Terian’s expression. The Emperor was clearly not focused at all.

For someone so sharply attentive during briefings, this was rare. Remembering how much the Emperor had been strained lately, the Chamberlain quietly closed the documents.

“Perhaps you should rest a bit.”

Terian frowned at the suggestion. Reflexively, he was about to decline—but then closed his mouth.

Leaning back into the throne, he instinctively rubbed at the crease between his brows. The sudden wave of fatigue told him he probably did need rest after all.

“Shall I escort you to the palace chambers?”

“Yes. Let’s do that.”

Reading the atmosphere keenly, the Chamberlain asked softly. Terian nodded without hesitation and rose from his seat.

It was well past lunchtime. He intended to head to his private quarters, sip some tea, and rest his eyes for a while.

But the moment he stepped into the imperial gardens, he thought of her—of Larie.

And of that suffocating lunch from the day before.

“…”

His desire to rest evaporated as if it had been a lie.

She truly didn’t seem to have any intention of speaking to him about anything. That alone made a foolish ache take root inside him. Even though, in truth, he had no right to feel that way.

How… how could he possibly reach her?

“Ah, it seems His Highness the Prince is out for a walk again today.”

The Chamberlain walking ahead glanced forward and spoke.

Turning his gaze to follow, Terian spotted Rui playing in the distance near the lake.

Though still too far for the child’s voice to carry clearly, his silvery hair shimmered brightly under the sunlight—strikingly visible even from afar.

“Chamberlain.”

And once again, the thoughts that had plagued Terian all day surged up, impossible to suppress.

“How old would you say the prince looks?”

The chamberlain had children of his own. Perhaps the nanny’s words—about it being obvious to any parent—weren’t entirely wrong. He turned his gaze back toward the lake, scrutinizing the boy.

“…Now that you mention it, His Highness has grown quite a bit.”

“…”

“He doesn’t look like he’s around seven months anymore. Honestly, I’d believe it if you told me he was well over a year old.”

Only then did the chamberlain seem to notice the abnormal pace of Rui’s development. He tilted his head, puzzled.

But then he seemed to catch himself, bowing deeply as if afraid he’d overstepped—worried that his observation might be seen as criticism of the prince.

“Of course, children do tend to grow when you’re not looking. Your Majesty is truly… perceptive.”

The chamberlain had a vague idea of Rui’s situation. Still, he pretended to know nothing and simply followed Terian’s lead.

He was an old noble who had endured the incompetence of the former emperor. Now, he simply hoped that Terian would continue to rule wisely.

“I see.”

That response only deepened Terian’s unease.