“Oh, yes, Countess. Fortunately, she regained consciousness, but she’s sleeping now. I don’t know the reason, but she seems to have received a shock. Many people have grown weak from the hot weather these days.”

“I see. I’m relieved she regained consciousness. Please prepare some medicinal herbs to restore Ann’s health. She’s such a delicate child, so this hot weather must have been hard on her.”

Countess Hervonne sent away the physician, who seemed lost before the Queen Dowager, then turned to face her. She was glaring fiercely at her son beyond the thick door, who wouldn’t allow her entry. Her mouth went dry.

She didn’t know how to calm her down. Ingrid was a lenient mother to her son, but to Ann, she was merely a mistress and the King’s mother. 

Of course, now that Ann had transferred to a different household, her official master would be the King, but Ann had followed Ingrid for a long time. She would never be a comfortable presence for Ann.

“Your Majesty, let’s return to the salon for a moment.”

Countess Hervonne suggested with a gentle expression. The Queen Dowager turned around irritably. She seemed more bothered by her son’s attitude than by Ann’s collapse. 

She stared intently at the closed door before following the Queen Dowager, who was walking briskly, and left the King’s chambers.

* * *

Lennox stroked the woman’s slender jawline. Sweat beaded on her face, pale enough to shatter. His mouth went dry. He bit down hard on his chapped lips, then removed the hair stuck to her cheek. Her closed eyelids trembled faintly.

“Ann…”

A weak whisper scattered between his lips. He recalled the woman staggering and collapsing. 

Was that night… so terrible that merely mentioning it turned her face blue? Did she hate it that much? No, that couldn’t be it.

Lennox tried to think that way. No, he had been thinking that way. What they did together couldn’t have been that terrible. What tormented Ann was simply what happened afterward.

“…Your Majesty?”

A voice like falling leaves scattered in his ear as he glared at the air with furrowed brows. Lennox quickly looked down at Ann.

“Ann, are you all right? How do you feel?”

“I’m fine. But your meeting with the Lord President of the Privy Council…”

“I postponed it to this evening.”

Lennox cut her off. Ann looked at him with a dark expression. He reached out his long hand and grasped her haggard face. Fortunately, Ann didn’t avoid his hand. Lennox spoke.

“…I’m sorry.”

He had decided never to speak of that incident again. But… just once, they had talked about it. Ann had wanted to dismiss everything that happened.

“…Let’s just think of it as an accident.”

“An accident?”

“Yes.”

How could that be an accident? How could they pretend it never happened? He couldn’t understand. But Ann wanted that. 

Ann had been ill for a long time after that incident. Lennox couldn’t do anything while Ann was sick. He couldn’t understand why Ann wanted to leave him either.

Nevertheless, Lennox accepted Ann’s decision. Because he feared he might never see Ann again. Because he feared Ann wouldn’t want to see him. He understood when she left for recuperation under the pretext of nursing Countess Hervonne’s sick great-aunt.

“She’ll come back once she recovers her health. That child likes Your Majesty.”

Those were Duchess Valenska’s words to Lennox, who missed Ann. Lennox resented Ann for not even writing letters after leaving the palace. They had promised to stay together no matter what. But…

Ann returned around his birthday after leaving the palace. Ann had regained her composure. Lennox looked at the woman smiling at him with a face that showed nothing had happened. 

Her clear face was still lovely. Lennox, who had been recalling that time, looked at her again. He spoke slowly.

“I was wrong.”

“…I’m fine. Please don’t apologize anymore, Your Majesty. You’re no longer a private individual.”

Ann moved her dry lips. Lennox twisted his eyes. She seemed to be pointing out that he was the King. His insides felt twisted. He bit his lip hard. 

After suppressing the rising anger, he grasped her pale, limp hand. Ann flinched slightly. He didn’t care.

He knew she didn’t like this kind of contact. She had been that way even before that incident. When she was very young, even when he hugged her and kissed her, she only blushed.

“I didn’t know you’d be so shocked.”

He truly didn’t know. That she would react that way… Ann looked at him and bit her rolled lip. Lennox hated the woman who maintained such a stubborn expression even while in pain. 

Why? Why did she find it so terrible to speak of that incident? At least Lennox didn’t fear that incident.

It wasn’t even taboo. Was it so wrong for the King to ‘sleep with’ a royal maid? Was it so inappropriate to try to mourn their ‘dead child’? Why? They had a child. Lennox didn’t deny that.

“But I don’t understand. I really don’t.”

He muttered quietly. His cruelly twisted face was cold. Ann, who had been watching him, hardened her expression again. Lennox couldn’t bring himself to resent Ann, who was turning pale again, so he turned his gaze away. 

He rubbed his dry eyes. Not once had he talked with Ann about that child. The same went for the child’s death. Just an accident…

‘Do you think your pregnancy, carrying my child, was an “accident”?’

His lips twisted. He couldn’t understand that attitude. 

How could she… how could she say his child never existed from the beginning? How could she treat the King’s child that way? Could the existence of a child who had been conceived disappear just because of a miscarriage? 

No. 

That couldn’t be. Lennox didn’t want that.

Ann had once carried his child. If she hadn’t miscarried, that child would be toddling before him now.

So…

“Ann.”

“Stop. Please.”

He carefully turned his gaze. Ann was crying.

* * *

When Ann opened her eyes at Paula’s house, she did the same work she had done at Rosie and Dora’s houses. 

She bathed, fed, and put to bed her aunt’s two infants, and cleaned and tidied the house until she returned from work. Fortunately, her youngest aunt and her husband didn’t lay hands on Ann.

Paula especially never hit Ann, even when she made mistakes or did something wrong—she would scold her sternly, but that was all. If it hadn’t been for the nights. No, if it hadn’t been for her uncle, her house might have been reasonably peaceful.

“…Pretty thing.”

Ann still remembered that slithering voice. His hands were quite long and white. Those white fingers, which didn’t seem like a laborer’s at all, were longer and more beautiful than his wife Paula’s. She suddenly remembered his profession was musician.

“Prettier than your aunt.”

It was midnight. Ann saw the man looking at her and licking his lips. Reptilian eyes. Ann trembled without even being able to scream.

But he came the next night too. Ann couldn’t stand those greedy eyes that seemed to grope everywhere. She had endured all kinds of violence and ab*se, but she couldn’t bear that.

“Haa. Haa…”

Before the rising morning sun, she bent at the waist and gasped for breath. Nausea rose. Ann retched with an “urk.” Her empty stomach churned frantically.

Ann clung to a tree, panting, then blankly faced the wind. The season approaching summer. The cool morning breeze ruffled her hair. Her eyes trembled finely. After a while, she moved her feet. 

Where her feet stopped wasn’t her aunt’s house.

After that day, Ann became an orphan wandering the streets. During the day, she sold flowers, and in the evening, she laid her body beneath piles of waste.

There were many days when she couldn’t eat even one meal a day because she had nothing, but her mind was at ease. 

Street life meant no watching adults’ moods, no squeezing her eyes shut at unavoidable beatings. Even if she died living like this, it was better than going from relative to relative.

But no life could be completely satisfactory. No. Actually, it was terrible. How could anyone say living on the streets was good? But Ann had nowhere to return to.

“Hey.”

Ann opened her eyes because of a foot that kicked her. It was familiar. 

In her bleary vision, she caught sight of worn shoe tips. It was the boy David, who dragged his shoes with the heels falling off.

She looked up at him blankly. The boy, two years older than Ann, was the right-hand man of ‘Oliver Maluk,’ the leader of the ‘Oliver Gang.’

“Collection day today.”

“I’ll give it to you this evening.”

He stretched out his hand like someone coming to collect deposited money—the very picture of a thug. Ann was frightened by his delinquent appearance. 

She didn’t know on what grounds the Oliver Gang collected money, but she couldn’t go against them.

Their logic was that since this area was their territory, all orphans passing through had to pay. It made no sense. They weren’t even the kings of Bluebilt… 

But even though she harbored such complaints, no children could resist.