TDSWM Chapter 87

Chapter 87

“You should smile, Crown Prince.”

“…”

“Crown Prince?”

Alfred couldn’t bear to meet the Empress’s persistent gaze any longer. He lowered his head.
His chest burned.

He had to endure it.
He had to endure it…

The jolting of the carriage kept shaking up his emotions.

“What happened earlier must never be revealed. Didn’t the Dowager Empress order the same?”

Outwardly, the Imperial Palace had to appear peaceful. Both Bodrina and the Dowager had commanded everyone to behave as usual.

So, as soon as he was released from the North Tower, he washed up and got dressed. There was a meeting scheduled today.

And his mother’s expression said it all—
what had just happened was nothing more than a passing incident.

But… Alfred’s hands, resting on his knees, clenched tightly. His eyes fixed on the floor.

Tap. Tap.

Dark brown circles, tinged with salt, formed on the carriage floor. Drops of Alfred’s tears fell straight down, like droplets hanging from the tip of an icicle.

“Alfred!”

“Hhk…”

At his mother Kenneth’s sharp rebuke, Alfred’s eyes flew open. The cold, emotionless tone stabbed him right in the chest.

It didn’t hurt.
He wasn’t wounded.

So he had to stop.

No more. I am the Crown Prince.

Even the Empire’s chronicles tell it—

Job, the second king of the old Franzé Kingdom—the Empire’s predecessor—once made his princes and princesses assassinate one another for the throne. The final survivor would inherit the crown.

The tenth king of Franzé declared that whoever killed him would become the next ruler—
and ended up murdering all his own children, only to be slain in the end by his illegitimate daughter.

So… things like this were nothing.

Alfred forced the emotions back down his throat and blinked rapidly. The tears that had welled up slid back down into his chest.

There.

He exhaled slowly and lifted his chin—exactly thirty degrees.

For all people should be beneath his gaze.

He curved his eyes slightly, then formed his lips into the shapes his etiquette tutor had taught: ah, eh, ee, oh, oo. After finishing the mouth exercises, he closed his lips again.

Surely this was the kind and noble image of a Crown Prince his tutor had praised.

“Yes. That’s how the Crown Prince should look. You’re meeting those who will one day serve Your Majesty, aren’t you? Don’t lose composure.”

…Ah.

His chest tightened again.

He had to show command. He must come first.
This was a setting where he had to prove both his dignity and excellence as Crown Prince—
he couldn’t let his guard slip.

[Numitor Study Group]

Including the Crown Prince, five children studied and debated together:

Bookworm Rotis, fighter Daphne, loud Beatrice, and agreeable Cordelia. Except for Rotis, they were all girls.

Today, his mother said, she would choose his future Crown Princess.

It was necessary, she said—to gain the power to keep his father in check.

“As I said before, observe carefully. There’ll be a play after dinner as well.”

“What could I possibly know, Mother? Whoever pleases you will be fine.”

At his reply, Kenneth looked satisfied and turned to gaze out the window. The sun dragged long red-orange shadows as it sank beyond the western hills.

Alfred quietly looked at her profile.

Today, his mother was simpler than usual—yet still beautiful.

Her wavy golden hair shone like sunlight, and her light brown eyes gleamed like polished acorns.

His mother—like the afternoon sun.

Softly glowing, swallowing sorrow.

That very woman had knelt before his father today—
to protect herself.

He knew his mother would die. And, in the end, so would he.

The Emperor, wrapped in bandages soaked with blood and pus, was more monstrous than the cruel, volatile figure Alfred remembered.

He was terrified.

Not of his own death—but of failing to protect his mother.

If he took a Crown Princess, would his position grow stronger—would that make them safer?

He didn’t know.

Through the carriage window, a grove of jabuticaba trees came into view.

Their bark and branches glistened with tear-like fruits. The common folk called them “Tear Trees.”

His ecology tutor had told him even turtles could eat their fruit. The trees bore fruit along every inch of trunk and limb, feeding every small creature that crawled beneath them.

Tears welled up again inside Alfred’s chest, rattling like stones. The kind that could never truly cry out, even in the dead of night.

His tears would help no one—so they must never be seen.

Not by the maids who served briefly,
nor the knights who guarded him through the night.

As the carriage slowed, the Tear Trees drew closer.

Alfred reached his hand out the window, wanting to pluck one of the tear-like fruits—

for it was a tear of life, not of sorrow.

Tears that breathed life into fragile beings.

Just a little farther—he could almost touch it.

The moment his fingertips brushed the fruit—

Bang!

Kenneth flung open the small window connected to the coachman’s seat.

Alfred hastily drew his hand back inside.

“What’s going on?”

His mother’s voice was sharp with anger as she pushed open the carriage door to the coach seat.

Her knight, Gaestion, answered nervously.

“Y-yes, Your Majesty?”

“The Crown Prince is aboard. How dare another carriage ride ahead of us?”

“It’s… the late Emperor’s carriage, Your Majesty.”

“The late Emperor? And when did he die, pray tell? Pass them!”

“Pardon?”

“Would you like to lose your head?”

“Y-yes, Your Majesty!”

At the Empress’s command, Gaestion shut the window.

“Whip-crack! Whip-crack!”

“Hyah! Hyah!”

The coachman lashed the reins, urging the horses forward so sharply that the carriage swayed hard to one side.

“Are you all right?”

Alfred reached out to steady his mother as she tilted—

But Kenneth slapped his small hand away.

Startled, Alfred couldn’t withdraw fast enough; he slipped to the side and slammed into the wall of the carriage.

The impact stung, but not nearly as much as his heart did.

His mother wasn’t like his father.

She wasn’t warm, but she was never cold either.

She had never brushed him aside so harshly before.

How could she push him away without a moment’s hesitation—like flicking off a worm?

Hadn’t she done the same earlier?

When he was released from the North Tower and ran straight to embrace her—she had pried him off with icy hands.

“Tsk.”

He had been so confused. He thought she’d ask if he was all right. He had wanted to ask her the same.

But instead—

“You’re wrinkling my dress.”

That was when he first sensed something was wrong.

Was it because he failed to protect her?

Did his mother… doubt him too?

Kenneth avoided her son’s shocked gaze.

Are you all right?—how could she be?

The Emperor might have been sick with drugs and women, but she had believed her son—the Crown Prince—was her solid shield.

But today proved he was nothing but a glass one.

She could no longer bear children.

And now, her place as Empress would never be secure until Alfred became Emperor—or until Heraïs was dead.

Kenneth bit her lip.

Treason, without proof. Her son had been cast out as a scapegoat.

Foolish boy.

She had told him countless times—earn the Emperor’s favor.

But he was too upright.

Instead of currying favor, he trained through the nights in the training yard, striving to surpass his tutors’ expectations.

Ever since that day—when Roen, the Emperor’s chief instructor and Alfred’s mentor, had praised him too highly—
the Emperor had looked upon his son with warped suspicion.

[“How dare you covet my throne?”]

She’d thought it drunken nonsense. But now she knew—it was truth.

She’d once told Alfred to act like the Emperor’s tongue—
obedient, flattering, clever.

But he couldn’t.
And because of that, not only his mother, but her entire family had nearly been wiped out for treason.

Today, the Dowager Bodrina had saved them. But tomorrow? Who knew.

Her mouth filled with bitterness.

How humiliating.

Compared to the late Emperor Julius’s grand carriage, the Crown Prince’s was pitiful.

And no matter who sat inside that other carriage—wasn’t Alfred still the Crown Prince?

How dare any coachman allow another carriage to pass his?

There could be no greater insult.

“What are you waiting for? Hurry up!”

Kenneth shouted.

“Hyah!”

The coachman’s frantic whip cracked again, echoing through the carriage, splitting the air.

The speed jolted violently; the whole carriage tilted.

Alfred stared desperately at his mother’s averted face.

Why…

Why wouldn’t she look at him?

His heart was plummeting endlessly.

He’d almost been executed for treason by his father—and now, was even his mother abandoning him?

Then—

He saw Theodore grinning mischievously through the window, a large dog by his side.

And behind them stood Sinclair, her waist wrapped securely by the Grand Duke’s arm. He was smiling gently—warmly, radiantly—like he would give the world to her.

It was the first time Alfred had seen the Grand Duke and his heir smile like that—
so soft, so human.

So their display at the palace before hadn’t been an act.

Warmth.

How warm it looked.

That gentle glow drifted to him like a breeze, cooling his fevered chest and brow.

His falling heart seemed to steady, just a little.

Maybe… if he stayed near them, even his clattering tears would finally go quiet.

Alfred reached his hand toward their golden carriage—

At that moment—

Neigh!

Crash!

The carriage pitched forward.