Chapter 94: “Please Love Gloria”

Every breath gouged at her lungs, a sharp ache searing through her chest. The pain tightened around her whole body without pause, stabbing at her waist like a knife. Edelweiss clawed at the sheets, biting down hard on her lower lip.

“H-… ha-ah…”

Air rasped from her mouth in ragged bursts, as though she were drowning beneath deep water. Time dissolved; more than once she nearly blacked out, clinging to consciousness only in flickers. Sweat soaked her hair so it plastered against her cheeks.

She had never known agony like this.

With each contraction she feared something might be wrong with the baby. Outside, heavy clouds crouched low, threatening rain at any moment.

The royal physician had told her walking would help, so she’d gone for a short stroll. One mis-step on the path had twisted her ankle; had little Anemone not caught her arm, she might have fallen outright. The fright lingered in her mind as she napped—and when she woke, the copper smell of blood filled her senses: her waters were streaked red.

From that instant the pains had begun. The physician, summoned in haste, announced that the child would come now, weeks earlier than expected. All the careful preparations for a winter birth seemed to unravel in a heartbeat.

Guilt tore at Edelweiss—was it because she had once fallen into the sea before she even knew she was expecting? She whispered apology after apology to the child inside her.

“Your Highness, you must push—now! The baby…!”

The midwife’s words faltered, worry etched deep on her face. Edelweiss’s mouth went dry.

If anything happens to the baby because of me…

Panic gnawed at her weakening consciousness. The midwife’s urgent cries, servants’ anxious footsteps—everything blurred together. Her body was at its limit; her vision clouded, the world dissolving to white. Her eyelids drooped, impossibly heavy.

Still, somewhere inside, she told the little life she carried:

Hold on. Mama’s here. We’ll see the light together.

“Your Highness—!”

Even sound felt muffled now. Though no wind blew, it seemed as if a cold draft seeped in from somewhere beyond the window.

Then—

“Your Highness! If you lose consciousness, the baby could be in danger!”

The midwife’s firm voice flashed like lightning, anchoring Edelweiss’s fading awareness.

“Just a little more! Just a little more, Your Highness!”

Following the midwife’s command, Edelweiss drew in a deep breath and pushed with all her might.

“…Waaaah!”

A clear, ringing cry filled the room.

“She’s a beautiful daughter, Your Highness.”

And just like that, the crushing pain slowly began to ebb. Edelweiss collapsed, her body drained of every ounce of strength.

The midwife carefully cleaned the baby, wrapped her in a soft cloth, and laid her beside Edelweiss.

Through blurred vision, Edelweiss looked at her child for the first time. The newborn hadn’t yet opened her eyes but was curling her tiny fingers into fists. Gently, Edelweiss reached out.

The baby opened her hand and gripped her mother’s finger.

The moment that warm touch met her skin, a rush of emotion surged up in Edelweiss.

She couldn’t yet tell whom the baby resembled, but that didn’t matter anymore.

Just being born safely like this—she was already deeply, dearly loved.

“You said… it’s a girl?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Edelweiss remembered the words Princess Charlotte had spoken before she died.

‘That’s why, for the baby… instead of a flower name… how about Gloria? Gloria means ‘to shine brightly’. So the baby knows they don’t have to resemble someone to shine, that they’ll be loved not because they remind someone of another…’

If she had a daughter, Charlotte had said, she wanted to name her Gloria. Edelweiss had held onto those precious, tender words deep in her heart.

“Oh my, the baby opened her eyes!”

“They’re the color of a clear lake after the fog clears. She must take after her father, His Highness Damian. So sweet. And not even crying—how gentle she is.”

The baby locked eyes with her. Then, with a wide smile, her eyes curved into a crescent shape.

And in her cheeks, the same dimples as Edelweiss’s bloomed.

“…Gloria.”

The moment her name was spoken, Edelweiss felt her heart beat slowly—deeply.

Am I… dying now?

Drowsiness crept in, not something she could simply shake off.

She’d experienced death once before. She remembered how it had felt when every sense had faded while drifting into sleep she couldn’t wake from.

“Gloria, my baby…”

She kept repeating her daughter’s name. Perhaps now was the only time she could say it.

It hurt terribly to think she wouldn’t be there to watch Gloria crawl, speak, or grow up.

“Thank you… for being born safely… Gloria…”

If Gloria was born healthy, at least she could take comfort in that.

Maybe it was better to say goodbye now.

Even now, after all this time, Edelweiss couldn’t forget the day her own mother had passed.

The emptiness and grief of that day never faded with the passing years. In fact, the longing only grew heavier the more time passed.

So she thought—

‘If I leave even earlier than my mother did, maybe Gloria won’t remember me at all. Maybe the sorrow will be lighter. Maybe it’ll be okay. Maybe she won’t cry alone…’

But—

A ripping pain suddenly tore through her chest.

None of it was okay. Every thought of being “fine” was a lie.

‘Baby… I miss you.

I want to see you smile, watch you take your first steps, see you write your first letters.

I know you’ll grow up just fine without me, yet… I still want to stay by your side.’

Tears slid down her cheeks.

The idea that death wouldn’t be sad had been nothing but a helpless excuse.

Boom—

The door burst open, and the air in the room seemed to shudder.

Footsteps rushed toward the bed.

“…Edelweiss!”

She turned her head; Damian instantly filled her blurred vision.

Panic—no, terror—darkened his blue eyes.

His cravat was half-undone, cuff links hastily fastened; he had clearly run here.

At least he made it in time, she thought.

Now she could say what she needed to say.

“…Your Highness.”

Damian opened his mouth, then swallowed something back. Edelweiss used the last of her strength to move her lips.

She saw his gaze tremble.

She still resented him, yet… a part of her was glad to see him.

Once she was gone, Gloria would have only Damian left—and the same was true for him.

“I hope… she never grows up the way I did—”

“…”

“Please… love Gloria.”

If Damian loved their child, Gloria would surely return that love.

That thought alone eased her heart.

Her eyelids, heavy as lead, slowly drifted downward—as if she were sinking into a long sleep, the light retreating from her eyes.

Even breathing now felt impossible. The last thing she saw was Damian’s face, dissolving into a hazy silhouette.

***

In a faint darkness she heard tiny footsteps.

‘Why am I here?’

A long corridor, pale light spreading across the floor. Edelweiss quickly realized she was in the Imperial Palace.

Against a golden pillar stood a small silhouette.

Silver hair tied with a green ribbon shimmered in the sunlight.

Clear blue eyes—pure as dawn—looked up at the ceiling.

Pale cheeks were lightly flushed pink.

“Tch…”

Her puffed-out cheeks were so cute Edelweiss wanted to poke them.

She was so small her head barely reached Edelweiss’s waist.

Edelweiss knew at once.

“…Gloria, why are you here alone, hm?”

Yet when she approached and spoke, Gloria didn’t seem to hear.

Worry pricked Edelweiss—why was the child alone in this vast hall?

“Daddy’s busy again today. Guess he doesn’t want to play with Lara.”

Muttering with a sulky pout, Gloria crouched on the floor.

“Fine. Lara’s okay. I’m not sad at all. If Daddy doesn’t miss Lara, then Lara doesn’t have to miss Daddy.

If Daddy hates Lara, then Lara can hate Daddy too.”

Edelweiss’s breath caught.

“So Lara’s really… okay all by herself.”

Those words cut through her heart like a blade.

How…

How could I ever have thought of leaving you?

In the silent hall the ticking of an unseen clock echoed in her ears.