CHAPTER 13
Terius spoke up loudly, as if making sure someone in particular heard him.
“I am deeply moved by your compassionate intention to embrace everyone. Where else could you find someone who so truly serves the people of Robea? Isn’t that right? The bourgeois—always preaching noble morality, yet only thinking of themselves. There are plenty of them. It seems that to run a massive place like Silentium, one must have a truly generous heart.”
It was all phrased indirectly, but it basically meant: “She’s perfect for being a crown princess!”
Leonhardt shot his friend a sideways glare, as if telling him to stop his disgusting behavior. However, aside from Rosnelli—the oblivious one here—even Leonhardt was essentially being sidelined.
“His Highness Terius has observed correctly.”
“Indeed. What a benevolent spirit, giving everyone a chance to be healthy.”
“She has more than enough qualities of a queen.”
The last comment was a bit too obvious, so one of the ministers quickly nudged the speaker in the side.
“Ah—what I mean is, Lady Rosnelli is truly the representative of the bourgeois!”
“Yes, exactly!”
Leonhardt looked at the elderly ministers trying so hard to act like cupids and sighed with both pity and annoyance. They had no regard for the Crown Prince’s feelings whatsoever. They were clearly trying to win Rosnelli’s favor. Whose retainers were they supposed to be, anyway?
Fortunately, Rosnelli was not the perceptive type.
She simply focused on her duty as guide and continued speaking.
“The annex normally operates by reservation only, but since His Highness the Crown Prince and the royal couple from Pantreon are visiting, we have suspended reservations for the time being to focus on management. However, the main bath facilities remain open to the public, so please keep that in mind.”
After finishing her explanation, Rosnelli began walking toward the annex.
Leonhardt walked beside her again, which made Rosnelli slightly confused.
Why does he keep walking right next to me?
She glanced back briefly and accidentally made eye contact with the Queen of Pantreon. The queen quickly linked arms with her husband and stepped slightly away, and the ministers behind them also increased their distance.
Why is everyone suddenly walking so far apart?
Should she slow down and let them follow? When she slowed down, they slowed down too. When she sped up, they sped up too. Eventually, she gave up and just walked side by side with Leonhardt.
An unbearable silence filled the air.
“Tell me,” Leonhardt said suddenly, “what exactly is a hot spring?”
As soon as he asked, Rosnelli responded as if reading from a script.
“It is a natural spring where groundwater is heated by geothermal activity. At Silentium, we connect those springs to our water system so that hot water flows directly here from underground.”
“Geothermal activity? How is the ground hot? If it is that hot, should one’s feet not burn?”
She had no idea how to answer that. Why was he asking so many questions? Still, since it was the Crown Prince asking, she answered properly.
“There are various causes of geothermal heat, but in this region it is likely due to magma from past volcanic activity in Voltamir.”
“…I see.”
Leonhardt nodded, though he didn’t really understand. He glanced at Rosnelli again.
She still seemed to be doing well. Too well, in fact.
Does she really feel nothing seeing me?
He hadn’t originally intended to come here for rest. He had far too much work. But his aides and ministers had practically begged him to take a break.
His body was already at its limit, but he had resisted—fearing he would become like his father, or be seen as an idle emperor.
However, if he had to choose between stubbornly refusing and revealing his condition to everyone, he would rather choose the former. In the end, he arrived at Silentium half by choice, half by pressure.
Which meant—he had also ended up facing Rosnelli again.
And that was the reason he hadn’t been able to sleep the night before.
Three years.
His former wife—the former crown princess—had become an entirely different person in those three years. Her appearance, her eyes, her tone, even the way she looked at him.
Three years, and not even a word.
It wasn’t that he wanted to talk, but seeing her treat him purely as a guest made something unpleasant twist in his chest.
Does she really not care at all?
She must have known he went to war.
Unless she had no conscience at all, how could she look at him so calmly after three years of marriage and divorce?
It wasn’t that he was upset. It was just… a matter of human decency.
Leonhardt narrowed his eyes slightly and looked at her.
“The next facility I will explain is the annex’s first bath, the saltwater spring. The nearby sea—”
Rosnelli continued her explanation without acknowledging him, listing salt springs, carbonated springs, sulfur springs, their benefits, and precautions.
Before long, they arrived at Room 7—the accommodation assigned to Leonhardt.
“This will be Your Highness’s room. It faces my own quarters, so I chose it accordingly. There is an artificial lake between them, with a bridge for easy access, so movement will not be inconvenient.”
The ministers had made a special request: that Leonhardt’s room be placed near Rosnelli’s.
When asked why, they had given a reasonable-sounding answer—it was to ensure proper care during his recovery.
It felt like a justification that could be hung on either a hook or an ear, but what could they do? They had already accepted the enormous payment.
While inspecting the room, the ministers quietly began stirring things up again.
“Your Highness, is this not a wonderfully serene view?”
The elderly ministers who had done prior inspection began romantically describing how the lake reflected the moon at night, creating a deeply sentimental atmosphere.
And it wasn’t just talk about scenery.
They turned to Rosnelli with pleading eyes.
If His Highness shows even slight improvement—or miraculously recovers—we will fully fund all future projects from the Robea Empire. Anything you want, anywhere you want.
She still remembered their faces.
They clung to her as if Leonhardt’s illness determined the fate of the empire—whether it would fall under a greedy empress, an incompetent emperor, or a child prince and his faction.
Don’t worry. I will take good care of him. He will recover here.
What she meant was simply “as a guest and patient.”
But the ministers had looked delighted, nudging each other excitedly.
Their expressions then—and now, while praising the place to Leonhardt—were exactly the same.
After exchanging looks, they deliberately asked Rosnelli,
“Lady Rosnelli, we heard Room 7 is the closest to your quarters in the annex?”
“Yes, that is correct. The annex is for long-term VIP stays, so it is directly managed by me rather than staff.”
“Oh, is that so?”
“If there are any issues, it is faster to contact me directly rather than the staff.”
The annex required Rosnelli’s direct oversight since it housed VIP guests. And Leonhardt, being the highest-level VIP, required care even at the expense of her personal feelings.
At that moment, King Terius—who had been listening from behind—laughed loudly without reading the room.
“Direct management, you say? That sounds rather… interesting. Especially considering you used to be married! Ahahaha!”
Leonhardt turned and glared at him. He said nothing, but his eyes clearly warned: Shut up, or I’ll sew your mouth shut.
Terius quickly closed his mouth.
Meanwhile, Rosnelli, unfazed, simply continued.
“Now, I will guide you to where the King and Queen of Pantreon will be staying.”
