NTWBR 14

Chapter 14

“It can’t be.”

“…….”

“It may seem like a lie, but it’s the truth, Nephew.”

The Duke of Wellbrun’s expression as he looked at the letter in Irene’s hand was stoic.

Seeing the Duke of Wellbrun’s expression and gaze made it feel real. That this situation was indeed fact.

Which made it even harder to believe.

Could this truly be the action of someone who called herself a mother?

What kind of mother in this world could stab her own child in the back not once, but twice?

But the signature at the bottom of the letter and the seal stamped on the wax were undeniably Empress Laila’s.

“…….”

“I know it’s hard to believe, Nephew.”

“…….”

“The handwriting and the seal. They’re all Laila’s.”

“…What exactly is your intention in showing me this, Uncle? No, Duke?”

Irene’s words were like blades of ice.

At Irene’s words, the Duke of Wellbrun simply smiled.

The smile reflected in Irene’s eyes seemed to chide her, as if asking, ‘Did you not even anticipate this?’

She had anticipated it, but she hadn’t anticipated being confronted with it like this. She hadn’t anticipated Empress Laila striking so boldly.

The contents of Empress Laila’s letter that the Duke of Wellbrun presented were as follows:

—

[To Lord Caleton,

Lord Caleton, this is Laila. I will be blunt and ask for your help. While I did not give birth to her with my own body, I raised Irene with my own hands. The very notion that she would ascend the throne is simply unacceptable to me. How dare a woman become Emperor? Especially when we have Arkiel, who is next in line for the succession.

I intend to adopt Arkiel as my own child and make him Emperor. Though Arkiel does not share my blood or that of the Wellbrun family, I intend to raise him as if he did. So please, help me.

I also ask for your assistance regarding the First Princess Irene’s royal marriage. As a Princess, it is sufficient that her marriage brings benefit to the nation. That is her purpose.

Laila.]

—

To summarize Empress Laila’s letter in one sentence:

—Help me adopt Arkiel.

It was a letter that laid bare exactly what kind of person Laila was. Her thoughts were instantly legible.

However, one thing was certain: Laila had no intention of siding with Irene.

The thought crossed her mind—was this the woman she had clung to so desperately in her past life?

“There’s definitely something Laila didn’t put in the letter, Nephew.”

“…….”

“There’s something there, Madam.”

The Duke of Wellbrun was right.

It was a letter that seemed to hint at something unwritten.

Irene felt certain there was a secret pact with Fern V and Chabi Hartra.

Knowing the contents of that pact would undoubtedly aid in making a more definitive judgment.

She was convinced that such a pact was the reason for this letter.

Without a pact, there was no way a mother would betray her daughter like this.

In that sense, she wondered if the Duke of Wellbrun, having received this letter, might know more.

“What exactly am I to make of your intention in showing this to me?”

“How can I know where to stand without knowing my own position, Nephew?”

“Didn’t you already place your bet on me?”

“I placed a bet, yes. But it’s not quite enough for an all-in yet, is it?”

“…….”

Her mouth tasted bitter.

It was a clear statement that she wasn’t worthy of the Duke of Wellbrun’s full support.

Irene could only offer a bitter smile.

She was the most legitimate heir!

Irene felt stifled by the reality of the treatment she was receiving.

Even so, she couldn’t reveal the secrets she knew.

The secret about Arkiel and the future events that Irene knew of.

That was, above all else, her greatest asset in any circumstance.

“So. What do I need to show you for you to go all-in on me?”

“Anything.”

“The Temple is on my side.”

“Is that official support, Nephew?”

If there was official support, it meant the Wellbrun family would also stake everything on Irene.

It was regrettable that she hadn’t secured the official support of the Temple and the High Priest.

‘Should I have tried harder to persuade the High Priest…?’

“One priest visiting from the Temple isn’t enough.”

“And if that priest was the High Priest?”

“…That can’t be.”

The Duke of Wellbrun’s expression shifted.

It was true that every eye and ear in the palace was fixed on Irene’s every move.

And Irene was striving to use that attention focused on her to her advantage.

“That young priest is the High Priest?”

“No one knows who the High Priest is, do they?”

“So you’re saying you do know, Nephew?”

“I won’t answer that.”

“So you do know.”

At the Duke’s words, Irene simply smiled.

The memories of her past life were a tremendous weapon for Irene.

She couldn’t reveal them carelessly to anyone, but they were her asset.

Watching Irene smile without betraying a hint of this, the Duke of Wellbrun’s gaze calmly settled.

“Seeing those eyes, I suppose I can afford to go a little further.”

“Is that so.”

“Because I can sense there’s something in those eyes.”

“That’s a generous assessment.”

Irene’s words were not exactly sweet.

But the Duke of Wellbrun seemed unbothered.

Irene sensed there was a reason for the Duke’s reaction.

“At the very least, it doesn’t look like you’ll lose, Nephew.”

“There’s no way I would lose, of course.”

“By the way. Is Franz still coming by these days?”

“Yes. He comes every day, pestering me.”

It was exactly as she said.

For days on end.

Irene had been receiving visits from Crown Prince Franz.

Crown Prince Franz came to Irene every day and proposed.

Then he would say things like, wouldn’t it be helpful if she agreed to marry him—or at least get engaged—and leave.

Irene was beginning to grow tired of Franz’s behavior.

In her memories of her past life, Crown Prince Franz had never acted this way towards her.

Furthermore, she judged that there must be some underlying reason for Franz’s persistent pursuit.

And Irene became convinced of this.

Because the very next day, at the same time, Crown Prince Franz arrived.

Carrying the same red rose bouquet he brought every day.

“Irene, I’m here.”

“Again today.”

“‘Again today’? Here, take it.”

The bouquet of roses offered to Irene was quite large.

It couldn’t have been made from roses plucked from the greenhouse, so he must have bought it somewhere.

Irene felt sorry for the roses that would be discarded in a few hours.

“I don’t want to take it.”

“It’s a gesture of sincerity, you know?”

“Not really.”

She simply didn’t want to take it.

Irene felt the money spent on that bouquet was a waste.

Wasteful to the point of seeming like frivolous spending.

This was the sixth day.

Crown Prince Franz had started coming with a rose bouquet.

Irene just lamented the waste of flower money over the past five days.

She thought that money could have bought a cartload of wheat to distribute to the commoners.

“So. Are you here today to say the same thing as yesterday?”

“If it’s the same thing, then yes. Marry me, Irene.”

“No.”

“What’s your reason for refusing?”

“Does there need to be a reason for not wanting to?”

“Then, do you have an alternative?”

She was at a loss for words.

Because she understood the implication of Crown Prince Franz’s words.

That today.

By today, she had to present a politically flawless reason for refusing marriage to Franz Mestia to Fern V.

And she still hadn’t come up with a suitable alternative.

Irene stared at Crown Prince Franz, who had pointed this out.

As Irene looked at him, Crown Prince Franz smiled meaningfully.

“So let’s at least get engaged. Wouldn’t that be good for both of us?”

“It would ‘only be good for Your Highness, the Crown Prince.'”

“That can’t be.”

“Otherwise, you wouldn’t be doing this every single day.”

If her past life memories were correct, Franz should have had no feelings for Irene whatsoever.

He should be clinging to Irene solely to protect his own succession rights to the throne.

That was the Franz she knew. And indeed, his expression hardened, confirming she was right.

“It benefits you too. If you marry me, you’ll at least secure the position of Crown Princess of a nation.”

“And what about my succession rights?”

“What does that matter?”

“What are you trying to say?”

“You know what I mean. Compared to Mestia, Istana is the setting sun.”

“…….”

“I’m suggesting that the position of Crown Princess of Mestia, the rising sun, is far better.”

‘So this is what you came to say, Franz Mestia!’

‘How persistent you are! Just how high are you trying to raise the stakes?’

Their gazes clashed in the air.

“And besides, marrying me doesn’t mean you lose your succession rights.”

What he said wasn’t wrong.

Even if she got engaged and married Franz, it wouldn’t abolish her succession rights.

It would just make things less favorable.

No matter how lacking a legitimate heir, the throne would never pass to a princess married to the successor of another nation’s throne.

Irene recalled this and looked at Franz.

“Same old story today. If you have nothing else to say, I’d like you to leave now?”

“Why? So you can go hang out with that lowborn noble brat?”

“Quite a crude mouth for a Crown Prince of a nation, isn’t it?”

“I don’t care, as long as I get you, Irene.”

Irene wondered if Franz had always been this kind of person.

According to her memories, Crown Prince Franz shouldn’t have been interested in her.

To Franz, Irene was less than a passerby on the street.

That was how he had treated her.

But now?

The Franz who had been like that was now clinging to Irene.

If in her past life Irene had clung to Franz, begging for his attention, now the roles were reversed.

In any sense, it meant that he needed her now.

As this realization dawned on her, a faint thrill washed over her.

Along with it came a wave of bitterness.

She even wondered if it could be this simple to make Franz cling to her.

“Are you saying Your Highness could even love me?”

“Of course.”

“Sincerely?”

“Sincerely.”

“Then say it.”

“Say what?”

Franz looked at Irene with a dumbfounded expression, his own unchanged.

Rather, his expression seemed to ask why she was stating the obvious. Irene felt a surge of defiance.

She wanted to hear the words she had so desperately longed to hear from that mouth in her past life.

Whether real or fake, it didn’t matter.

She just wanted to hear it, even just once.

She even felt a curiosity—what would it feel like to hear ‘those words’ from that mouth?

Yes.

Pure curiosity.

That was it.

Irene, her amethyst eyes filled with coldness, stared at Franz.

She straightened her shoulders and chest proudly, her gaze slowly sweeping from his head to toe, looking down at him.

Very, very slowly.

Her red lips parted.

“Say you love me.”

‘There’s no way you will, Franz Mestia.’

Knowing Franz’s proud nature, Irene knew this was an impossible demand.

And upon hearing it, Franz showed no reaction at all.

A brief silence followed.

Irene interpreted this silence as a refusal and was about to turn away.

“I love you, Irene.”

“…….”

The words she had longed to hear so much.

Words she wanted to hear, even if not tenderly, Franz uttered them casually.

And Irene’s amethyst eyes, looking at Franz, were cold.

Franz’s blue eyes, looking back at Irene, were not particularly warm either.

‘He actually said it!’

‘For this much. To get you and become Emperor! I’ll do this much, Irene de Istana!’

“I love you, Irene. I need you.”

“…….”

“I love you, Irene. Be my woman.”

“…….”

“Irene. I can even kneel for you.”

At Franz’s words, Irene paused for a moment in thought.

‘Can you… can you really do this too?’

“…Then kneel.”

“…….”