Episode 4
The king was silent for a while in response to that request.
Unlike the lively atmosphere of the banquet hall that had been stirred by a public proposal, the silence that enveloped the king was unnervingly quiet.
— …Are you serious?
Only when the commotion of the hall had settled did the king mutter in a displeased voice.
With a sharp motion, his hand pointed toward me seated at the end of the table.
Only then did people seem to realize where I was sitting and flinched in surprise.
— You want that?*
The way he spoke made it sound like he didn’t even consider me human, let alone his daughter.
He nodded, indifferent.
— Yes.
— Why?
His gaze, cold and composed, scanned me.
— If she takes after her mother, she must be good at something.
A snicker broke out at the blunt remark.
Had the king not glared sharply in that direction, it might’ve escalated.
It was a hypocritical display.
Silencing the murmurs with his eyes, the king looked back at him.
It felt as though the two were exchanging a silent understanding only they knew.
— Everything is just a fleeting pleasure.
In that ambiguous exchange, it seemed the king had lost.
Before long, he spoke with disgust.
— Once it passes, it’s meaningless. All that remains after a brief moment of happiness is a wound. I speak from experience, so take it as advice.
His disapproval was evident.
— If you wish, I will give you my sister instead.
To the beloved Crown Prince, he offered a real princess—one he would never dare offer to someone like me.
It was a bold offer.
— She’s only about five years older than you, and she happens to be unmarried. I think you’d make a fine pair.
A veiled suggestion to marry the youngest princess, widowed and returned to the kingdom.
But he was firm.
— I want the Western Princess.
— …Seriously?
The king looked genuinely baffled.
— Do you have a particular reason?
— I’m simply curious.
His eyes briefly rested on me.
In that fleeting glance, something unspoken passed between us. At least, that’s how it felt to me.
— What is it like to see the world through the language of the gods, something we cannot understand?
— And so?
The king scoffed in disbelief.
— You think you’ll understand just by being with that thing?
— It may not be clear, but perhaps we’ll find the answer in time.
He smiled, calm and unwavering.
— So I shall start slowly, from now on.
Perhaps sensing the unbreakable will in him, the king stared at him for a long time.
— You’d take that as your first spouse in life for such a reason?
That was all he could finally say.
He went on, as though trying to persuade him.
— I guarantee it. My sister’s bloodline is impeccable, unlike hers.
The king’s disdain and contempt were so familiar that they no longer hurt.
Yet to treat me with such coldness before a foreigner he’d only just met, while showering him with such deep, warm affection…
— Blood doesn’t lie. It cannot be ignored.
His stark contrast in treatment stirred strange emotions in me.
— She is of Your Majesty’s blood.
— You know better than anyone that being of my blood doesn’t make one perfect.
At that, the queen let out a troubled cough.
She stared daggers at the king, her face twisted, but he, as always, paid her no mind.
— If she weren’t a ‘Reader,’ she’d likely have ended up a drifter selling herself to anyone. You cannot discount that.
— That’s far too cruel. She is the Western Princess of this realm.
— She only tarnishes your reputation.
The king again tried to dissuade him.
It was laughable, really.
Despite sharing his blood, it was his reputation the king worried for, not mine.
I found myself having strange thoughts.
In a normal family, wouldn’t the reaction be the opposite?
Yet despite the king’s endless dissuasion, his attitude never changed.
— If a reputation can crumble from one scandal, then it was never real to begin with.
His resolute answer made me let out a soft, quiet smile.
Something about it had struck me deeply.
But perhaps sensing a smile he couldn’t possibly have heard, he turned his head toward me and stared for a while.
That trivial encounter left me wondering throughout our time together:
In that moment, what had you been thinking as you looked at me?
Did you have the same thought I did? Or something different?
Was I giving too much meaning to something so small?
— …There’s no stopping you, is there? No stopping you at all.
Muttering like a lament, the king rose from his seat.
He slowly walked to the end of the table and placed a hand on my shoulder.
For some reason, the way he looked at me seemed more complicated than usual.
— If that is your will, then so be it. I grant you the Western Princess.
And so, our engagement was sealed.
Without so much as a word from me, the person involved.
— Do you have no intention of refusing?
On a sweltering summer night, the king summoned me in private and asked.
I had no choice in the matter, and thus only one answer to give.
— I have no such right.
— …
The king let out a long, heavy sigh, rubbing at his temples as though his head ached.
Then, with a cold gaze, he studied my face.
— Do you know what you remind me of?
— Pardon?
— Whenever I look at you… I think of a past I want to erase, memories I wish I could forget.
It was probably the first and last time the king ever spoke honestly to me.
— You must have wondered about my attitude toward you. But I hold no real grudge against you as a person.
— …
— You are simply a mistake of mine. A shadow, a past I can’t undo. The greatest scar and wound in my life.
My mother’s face, who had always spoken kindly of the king, came to mind.
They had shared the same moments and memories, but what remained for each was entirely different.
To my mother, her time with the king had been a happy memory and a source of hope.
But to the king, it was nothing more than a dreadful mistake.
— I wish that time, like a curse, had never existed. But you make that impossible. Your existence is a brand that keeps it alive.
He spoke so calmly, I couldn’t even breathe.
I simply listened as he poured his emotions onto me.
— I tried to erase it, to undo it, to eliminate it… but it would not vanish. I tried so hard to discard my past, only for it to come back—under the name of “Reader.”
Just as he said, perhaps the king truly held no feelings for me as a person.
— But you—
What he couldn’t bear was having loved a lowly woman from a brothel.
— You know your place too well, so there’s no room for pity. If only you’d cried and begged, I might have felt some sympathy.
He clicked his tongue.
Those eyes, inherited from him, which I never wanted to admit were like mine, stared at me.
— Remember this.
— Remember what?
— Enduring silently is not always a virtue.
From my mother and the king, I had learned only to be quiet.
To stay still, be silent, and escape from reality—then the pain would eventually pass.
— You must know: people comfort crying children and give them sweets, but they give nothing to those who do nothing.
His advice didn’t suit him.
I could only stare blankly, not understanding.
The king averted his gaze and murmured in a low voice.
— If you had cried, demanded anything—even just shown that you hated it—I might have reconsidered this whole matter.
So he’d refused all along, thinking of me.
I wanted to ask him if that was true, but the disappointment I had built up over the years kept my lips shut.
He nodded slowly and continued.
— …Yes, as much as I hate to admit it, you were right. Even I couldn’t break the Crown Prince’s will—what right would someone like you have?
Even at the end, he never hid his affection for him.
— He is far too precious a man to give to someone like you. That is the only pity.
And that was that.
From that day on, the king no longer expressed opposition.
Everything unfolded smoothly, according to your will.
But throughout the formal process, all I felt from you was coldness.
Even our wedding night, conducted before countless witnesses, was no exception.
