Chapter 28: Imperial Bloodline [2]
"...This is crazy."
Liselotte Aenne Bismarck hurried back into her chambers before shutting the door behind her.
She had never intended to eavesdrop, yet the voices echoing through the palace corridors were clear enough that there had been no mistaking the words.
The Crown Prince was dead.
As one of the Empire’s Three Flowers, the three imperial princesses of House Bismarck, Liselotte had spent her entire life under the expectations placed upon the Imperial Family.
Yet no title nor any years of noble upbringing could prepare her for the news that her only brother had died.
"...Brother Sieg."
Slowly, she lowered herself onto the edge of her bed, her eyes remaining fixed upon the floor as memories she had long taken for granted resurfaced one after another.
Among all of her siblings, he had been the only one who had never treated her as an inconvenience, the only one who continued smiling at her even after the others had learned to look down on her.
The other princesses had never hidden their contempt.
Whether through cutting remarks or cold indifference, they had made it abundantly clear where Liselotte belonged within the Imperial Family.
Through it all, however, Siegfried had remained the one constant presence at her side, and she had only realized much later how often he had been protecting her.
"How could this have—"
"It was obviously Sister Marianne."
Upon the sudden interruption, Liselotte immediately looked toward the balcony, where the curtains swayed in the evening breeze. Leaning against the stone railing was her elder sister, Dorothea.
She had clearly been there long before Liselotte had entered the room.
"S-Sister Dorothea..."
Dorothea crossed her arms. "Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten. Sister Marianne never accepted Siegfried becoming the Crown Prince. She was the eldest child, yet Father passed over her and handed the title to our little brother instead."
She let out a scoff.
"She never forgave him. To her, Brother Siegfried wasn’t her younger brother. He was the one person standing between her and the throne."
"...You think she had something to do with this?"
Liselotte shook her head.
"I-I mean... they may have been at each other’s throats, but... we’re still family... There’s no way Sister Marianne would orchestrate Brother Sieg’s death... would she?"
Dorothea looked at her and sighed.
"...Have you already forgotten how Father came to sit upon the throne?"
"...."
Of course she remembered.
House Bismarck had never been a family that inherited the throne peacefully. Their father, Sieghart Philipp Bismarck, had been the youngest prince, a son with almost no claim to the Imperial Crown, yet by the end of the Race for the Crown, every one of his siblings had fallen by his hand.
The reigning Emperor, his own elder brother, had been executed within the Imperial Palace itself, and from that sea of blood, the Bloodied Emperor, Sieghart, had ascended the throne.
"In this family, blood has never been enough to stop someone from reaching for the throne."
* * *
After the incident on the mountain, Ilya had little choice but to return to the estate.
The Academy had suspended all examinations indefinitely while the Imperial Court conducted its investigation, and every surviving student had been ordered to remain under observation until further notice.
Considering the condition in which Ilya had been discovered, even the Academy’s physicians had agreed that sending him home to recover was the only reasonable course of action.
"Say ahh~"
"...Mother, I’m sixteen."
"And?"
Mariya tilted her head as though she genuinely failed to understand his objection, the spoon still held in front of his mouth.
"A patient in your condition deserves proper care and attention after everything you’ve been through. Besides, you’re still my son."
"...I’m fully healed. You’re underestimating modern medicine," Ilya replied with a sigh. "With the injuries I sustained, any wizard trained in medical thaumaturgy would’ve been able to—"
"Tsk, tsk."
Mariya softly pressed a finger against his lips, silencing him before he could finish.
"No more excuses. My Ilya is a good boy, isn’t he? Then you’ll open your mouth and let Mother take care of you."
She gave the spoon another tiny nudge toward him.
"So... ahh~"
"...."
Subjected to Mariya’s unwavering affection, Ilya had little choice but to relent. If she insisted on taking care of him despite there being practically nothing left to nurse back to health, then he could only indulge her.
In the end, allowing her to fuss over him was far easier than trying to argue her out of it.
She gently drew him closer until his head rested against her chest. Her fingers absentmindedly combed through his hair.
"Hmm~ Hm~"
There was no particular reason for it, nor did she seem to think one was necessary, simply humming to herself while slowly stroking his hair.
"You’ve been neglecting yourself."
Her voice remained as gentle as ever.
"I finally allowed you to study in the Capital, believing you’d take proper care of yourself while you were away. Yet you’ve returned looking like this."
Her fingers brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead before she sighed.
"You haven’t even had your hair cut."
"I’ll get it cut soon. I promise."
"Mm." Mariya smiled. "I know you won’t lie to me."
Silence settled between them.
She continued running her fingers through his hair slowly, as though savoring the simple act itself, before eventually letting her hand lower down to gently cup his cheek.
"I heard from your sister."
"...."
"She told me how you’ve been treated at the Academy."
"...."
"It broke my heart."
Her thumb slowly brushed across his cheek.
"To think the child I’ve spent so many years raising with such care... would be forced to endure something so cruel. Those children simply don’t understand how precious you are."
"...Mother."
"Tell me," she whispered. "Do you want to make Mother cry?"
"...No. I would never."
"I know."
Mariya gently lifted his chin until he had no choice but to meet her gaze.
"My Ilya has always been a good boy. So tell me... what are you going to do?"
"...I’m transferring to the Magic Department."
"...."
"I’ve realized... my talent was never with the sword, but with magic. There... I promise you, Mother... no one will ever look down on me again."
Mariya smiled, a beautiful one. A smile so warm and affectionate that anyone else would have mistaken it for nothing more than a mother rejoicing over her son’s resolve.
"...That’s right. You were never meant to chase after those crude little knights. They made you suffer because they couldn’t understand you. Poor things... they mistook a gemstone for an ordinary pebble."
She leaned just a little closer.
"You don’t have to earn their approval anymore."
Her voice became almost hypnotic.
"You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone. Let them laugh. Let them despise you. One day... they’ll be the ones lowering their heads while they beg for your attention..."
Her fingers slowly combed through his hair once again.
"And when that day comes... don’t hate them."
She tilted her head.
"They’re simply too small to understand someone like my Ilya."
"...."
Meanwhile, just beyond the bedroom door, another figure stood with a bitter smile.
Anastasiya had been there long enough to hear more than she should have, yet she made no attempt to interrupt as she tightened her fists.
Then, slowly, she turned away from the door.
"...It’s always like this."
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