Chapter 21: I Possessed the Villain’s Daughter
“By a relationship… you mean…”
“Exactly what it sounds like.”
With the First Prince?
I studied his eyes. What was he trying to do by saying this?
The prince slowly sipped his tea.
“I apologize for being lukewarm toward you all this time. It may sound like an excuse, but I was torn between my role as a prince and my personal feelings.”
“…”
“But over the past few months, not receiving your letters made me think a lot.”
“…”
“And I realized… that these feelings aren’t fleeting curiosity or mere amusement.”
His burning golden eyes locked onto mine.
“I want a sincere relationship with you. Not something temporary, not indecisive—something real.”
“…”
“Say anything at all—just give me an answer.”
“…I…”
I hesitated to respond. What should I say?
His eyes, full of expectation, were fixed on me. What would happen if I rejected him? Suddenly, the storyline of the novel came back to me. Lady Rosahil gets engaged to the First Prince. That was the future. Perhaps the original Laila and the First Prince had exchanged words like these before reaching that engagement. My thoughts grew chaotic.
Should I accept a relationship with him?
“…”
The answer came slowly.
“I’m sorry.”
But it was firm.
My green eyes met his without wavering. My heart held no hesitation.
Even if it was Laila’s fate to be engaged to him—I had decided to change the future. And that meant there was no reason for us to be involved, now or ever.
The prince looked quite taken aback by my answer.
“May I ask why?”
“I’m sorry to say there’s no particular reason. But I’d like to approach this matter more cautiously. As you mentioned, both your position and mine make this a serious matter.”
“…”
The prince remained silent.
When he finally opened his mouth again, what he said was not at all what I expected.
“Are you very upset with me?”
“…What?”
“When you suddenly stopped writing, I was sorry I couldn’t visit you. But surely that doesn’t mean the feelings we shared have all vanished?”
I frowned subtly.
He was treating me like some girl sulking over not getting letters. I’ll be clear—I wasn’t playing some kind of push-and-pull game.
“That’s not it. As I said before, I have no intention of entering a relationship with you, so I’m simply being honest.”
“…”
That’s the second time I’ve rejected you—get the hint. To calm my frustrated heart, I took a sip of the tea. As expected, I didn’t like it. Not the prince. Not the taste of this tea.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
A brief silence passed between us.
“You’ve changed, Lady Rosahil.”
His calm voice echoed through the drawing room.
“I can’t quite put it into words, but you’ve changed a lot.”
I was surprised. So he noticed it too.
He was right—I wasn’t the same person anymore.
In the pile of letters I found on the vanity, I’d read the replies the prince had sent to Laila. They held no affection. Only formal, obligatory pleasantries. It made me doubt whether he’d ever truly cared about Laila.
And yet, Laila had cherished those letters more than anything. She had unfolded and reread them like precious love letters.
There was even one unsent draft—likely something she forgot to throw away. In that letter, she had rewritten the greeting several times, pressing each letter with utmost care. From those letters, I understood—Laila had truly loved the prince.
Yes.
I really had changed.
There was no longer a Laila who loved him.
So he shouldn’t treat me like she still existed.
“I’m not joking.”
“Neither am I.”
That was the end of the conversation. We tried to continue with casual talk, pretending all was well, but the mood didn’t last.
I left the Imperial Palace.
The drawing room Lady Rosahil had just left was now quiet. Inside the spacious room, Alteo stood once again by the window, gazing outside. This time, his knight knelt beside him—his trusted vassal, Sir Falcon.
With his head bowed, Falcon spoke.
“Lord Alteo, if I may ask a question…”
“You may.”
“Why did you specifically choose Lady Rosahil?”
Alteo remained silent for several minutes, simply looking down at the palace grounds.
He loved this view.
This drawing room, granted to him personally by his beloved father, had a broad view that opened up the entire garden and palace below when the windows were opened.
You could see the manicured central gardens, colorful carriages, even the city beyond.
Standing here, it felt like everyone coming and going through the palace was beneath him. Everyone—be it the esteemed Lord Rosahil or his daughter…
Alteo curled his lip.
“If I gain her, I gain Rosahil. If I gain Rosahil, I gain the Central Region.”
“Rosahil is powerful. They’re not an easy opponent.”
“Do you think I’m weak?”
“…”
“I will use anything and everything.”
Falcon bowed deeper. Alteo looked straight ahead.
“To achieve my goal.”
Far off in the distance, a bell rang.
As if to signal a coming storm.
The Imperial Palace is boring and suffocating.
A boy with black hair gazed out the window. There was nothing beautiful, moving, or hopeful here. All those things existed outside the palace.
That’s why the Second Prince, Thearoha Ulysses, always felt like a bird trapped behind a glass wall.
He had just finished the mandatory imperial studies that every prince was required to attend.
The bell from the tower rang, marking the hour. A white bird flew across the blue sky beyond the window.
The sight made him envious. He reached out his hand.
But the bird flew further and further away, as if to emphasize the glass wall that confined him.
Footsteps echoed from above. Thearoha lowered his hand.
A man in red robes descended the stairs. Somewhere between boyhood and adulthood—he, too, was nearing the threshold of becoming a man.
Their eyes met.
The man called out with feigned warmth.
“Thearoha.”
It was his older brother, Alteo.
“Brother.”
Thearoha returned the smile, playing along.
“It’s been a while. Where are you coming from?”
Thearoha answered without hesitation.
“From my imperial studies class.”
“…”
Alteo’s face briefly contorted. Thearoha knew how invested his brother was in the throne. No, “invested” was too mild a word. It was closer to ambition—no, obsession.
Still, Alteo didn’t drop the act of a warm older brother.
“I see. Learned a lot today?”
“Yes. My tutor, Scholar Ogel, is renowned after all.”
“That’s good to hear.”
Brother and brother, smiling like figures in a painting.
But it was just a shadow play. A hollow performance.
“And you, brother? Where are you headed?”
“To the training grounds. I promised to train with the knights.”
Of course.
Lately, there had been rumors of him getting close to the palace knights. There were clear advantages to that. If he could sway them, he’d have a grip on the imperial military.
Wearing the face of a concerned younger brother, Thearoha said,
“Please be careful not to overexert yourself.”
“Thanks.”
Alteo finished descending the stairs.
As he passed by, he leaned in and whispered to Thearoha.
“Did you hear? My mother will soon be formally crowned as Empress.”
Thearoha lowered his eyes.
His own mother, the late Empress Arita, had died three years ago. It was sudden—she had been healthy, then fell ill and passed quickly. Whispers had spread, blaming the First Prince and his mother, the First Consort.
But if the First Consort became Empress now, those whispers would vanish. People would bite their tongues.
They couldn’t leave the position of Empress vacant forever. Even Thearoha hadn’t expected it to take three whole years. He could only guess that the nobles who supported him had tried to delay it.
“I see. It’s reassuring to know the lady of the nation’s household will finally take her rightful place.”
“Do you truly think that?”
Alteo’s eyes scanned him slyly. Thearoha smiled sweetly.
“Of course.”
The scan stopped. Alteo looked disappointed, as if it wasn’t worth probing further.
“Well then, I’ll be going.”
“Take care.”
Alteo walked past him with steady steps.
Even after he was gone, Thearoha stood there for a long while.
The Empress, huh…
Giving wings to a tiger, indeed.
He gave a bitter smile. Just how many forces would his brother gain through this? How much power would the soon-to-be Empress Consort Cardia gain?
And how much narrower would Thearoha’s own footing become?
None of it matters anyway.
Thearoha slowly turned toward his room.
His father, the Emperor, had always favored the First Consort and loved her son, the First Prince, as if he were his own heart. That had been the case even when Thearoha’s mother, the Empress, had still been alive.
Their marriage had been purely political. The Consort had been the one he truly loved.
And while political marriages weren’t unusual, the open favoritism and public disregard had eaten away at the Empress.
Thearoha arrived at his door.
There was one thing he’d never told anyone.
When his mother died—he hadn’t been sad.
