YWPWYLFDM 39

Chapter 39

No one knew why Ophelia had suddenly collapsed, nor why changes followed afterward.

Not Ophelia herself, not even the physicians. They had even summoned a famous magician to hear his opinion, but in the end, the cause remained unknown.

Rodrick, deeply worried, was met with Ophelia’s gentle shake of the head.

“Let’s just consider it the will of heaven. After all, it gave us a precious child.”

She guided Rodrick’s hand down to her lower belly.

It hadn’t been easy for her to accept things that way from the very beginning.

For she had lost something she had cherished her entire life.

She had spent days upon days weeping, drowning in her grief.

And then she learned she was with child. A child born as the price for what she had lost.

So, she chose to accept it. To believe that this was God’s will.

“…I understand, Ophelia,” Rodrick answered. If it was the will of the woman he loved, then no matter how hard it was, all he could do was accept it.

Her belly had yet to show, no movements stirred within her, and yet Rodrick’s palm tingled faintly against it.

The ducal estate of Weisshafen in the capital was bustling with activity all day long.

They cleared snow from the carriage paths, polished and swept the already spotless halls. Two very distinguished guests were expected.

One was Crown Prince Winfred, who would be visiting the estate for the first time in a long while.
The other was Candice Eposha, the Duchess’s longtime friend and the head of Tamora’s National Academy of Magic.

Since Tamora was called the “Land of Magicians,” the head of its most prestigious academy rarely visited foreign soil. That alone was enough to stir not only the ducal household but the entire Pelles Empire into excitement.

“The Crown Prince’s carriage is arriving any moment!”

“What? We’re not done preparing yet!”

Candice would arrive days later, but the Crown Prince was due any moment, and so the servants rushed about in a flurry.

Winfred had often visited the estate in the past, but this was his first visit since becoming Crown Prince, so everyone was tense.

And before long—

Winfred’s carriage, laden with gifts, rolled through the gates.

“Welcome, Your Highness.”

“Duke!”

As Winfred stepped down, Rodrick greeted his former pupil with kind eyes.

Though Winfred had long since abandoned the sword—lacking both talent and interest—Rodrick could still only see him as that young boy he had once taught.

“There was no need for you to come out yourself.”

“Since Your Highness graced us with a visit, it is only proper that I greet you. My wife cannot come out just yet—she must be careful—so please forgive her absence.”

“Forgive? Nonsense! That is only natural.”

The reunion between teacher and pupil was warm and affectionate, a scene so heartening it could make any onlooker smile.

“This herb only grows atop Mount Primus, and they say it’s especially good for expectant mothers. And this is a herbal tea from the kingdom of Inselkopf—very effective for morning sickness. And this…”

Excitedly, Winfred went through each of the many gifts he had brought, explaining them in detail. Though the explanations were long, the Duke and Duchess thanked him repeatedly with cheerful faces.

“And this—this is the highlight.”

He lifted a lavishly decorated box, its lid inlaid with jewels, and spoke with a gleaming voice.

Though she was the one receiving the gift, even Ophelia couldn’t help but feel uplifted, seeing how happy he was to give it.

“I’m curious, Your Highness. What could it be?”

Winfred had been her greatest comfort when she had fallen into despair over losing Ayla, so Ophelia’s smile as she opened the box was warmer than words could capture.

“This is…”

Inside lay a baby’s rattle. A small leather ball with bells inside that jingled when shaken. Its handle was adorned with luxurious tassels woven of colorful threads.

“It was made by a family of craftsmen who’ve been making rattles for generations.”

In the Pelles Empire, there was a tradition: when someone expected a child, gifting a rattle was said to ensure a healthy birth.

Even an ordinary one could cost as much as a carriage. This one, commissioned by the Emperor himself, was beyond price.

“His Majesty insisted I make it very clear that he personally ordered it for you.”

“Haha, that does sound like His Majesty. Thank you.”

Ophelia laughed, recalling the Emperor’s playful nature. Winfred laughed with her, though for some reason, he kept stealing glances at Rodrick.

“…Is something troubling you, Your Highness?”

“N-no, nothing at all.”

Rodrick had noticed and asked, but Winfred evasively denied it, too suspiciously.

“So he has something he wants to say to Ophelia in private.”

They had shared little secrets since childhood, so Rodrick quickly understood.

Were it anyone else, he would never yield his wife’s time. But Winfred was different.

When Ophelia had lost Ayla and with her, her smile, it was Winfred who helped bring that smile back. To Rodrick, Winfred was a benefactor.

“…I have urgent matters to attend to, so I’ll take my leave.”

At times like this, it was best to excuse oneself tactfully. As Rodrick left the drawing room with a convenient excuse, Winfred let out a deep sigh.

“What troubles you, Your Highness?”

Now alone, Ophelia tilted her eyes wide with gentle curiosity.

“…The truth is, I have something to apologize for.”

Winfred looked pained, as though guilt were eating him alive, and spoke with effort.

“Apologize… to me?”

Not having the faintest idea what he meant, Ophelia blinked her violet eyes slowly. That expression, so like Ayla’s, stirred a warmth of courage in Winfred’s chest.

“Do you remember the magical box you gave me as a present on my tenth birthday?”

“Of course. I remember it well.”

“…I gave that gift to someone else. I’m sorry.”

He had given away something Ophelia had gifted him, without her permission. Naturally, he felt he owed her an apology.

But Ophelia only smiled serenely.

“That was a gift to Your Highness. Whatever you chose to do with it was entirely up to you. You don’t owe me the slightest apology.”

Indeed, when she had given it, she had even taught him the incantation for transferring its ownership, just in case he ever wanted to pass it on. What was the problem?

“…Even so…”

Despite her reassurance, guilt lingered on Winfred’s face. Ophelia gazed at him kindly.

“I am a little curious about whom you gave it to, though. Considering how much you adored it at the time.”

Back then, he had sworn it was their secret, hooking his pinky with hers, insisting, ‘Not a word to my parents, or to anyone else!’

He had loved the gift so much that giving it away now was a surprise.

“…That, I cannot say.”

Winfred’s cheeks flushed scarlet, and seeing that, Ophelia realized.

Ah… he’s fallen in love.

She had watched him grow since he was a little boy, and now here he was, so grown.

Her eyes grew hot, and she turned to the window, blinking hard to hold back tears. The cold, snow-blanketed view outside was her only comfort.

She had watched Winfred grow up, yet had never been able to watch her own daughter, Ayla, do the same.

The thought pierced her freshly steadied heart once again.

As Ophelia wrestled with her emotions, pretending distraction, Winfred too was lost in thought—remembering the day he had received that box from her.

How thrilled he had been that he could hide away things from his parents—nothing serious, just diaries and such—safe from anyone’s eyes.

He had linked his little finger with hers and shouted, ‘It’s a secret! Not to my parents, not to anyone!’

The memory was still vivid.

Ophelia had smiled so brightly then, holding his hand as she declared solemnly:

‘I, Ophelia Hyling Weisshafen, hereby transfer ownership of this box to Winfred Ulysses Vito Pelles.’

Wait—Hyling?

Winfred froze, as though struck on the back of the head, staring at Ophelia in shock.

At last he remembered where he had heard that elusive name Hyling.

‘…It was the Duchess’s maiden name!’

No wonder he could never find it in the imperial noble registers—she had not been born of the Pelles Empire.

Ayla’s claim that she was from the Empire was strange… but now Winfred had drawn closer to uncovering her true identity, and his face lit with excitement.

‘Then… is Ayla related to the Duchess?’

Now that he thought of it, their resemblance was striking—the fine silver hair, the petite face with delicate, neatly arranged features.

How had he not noticed from the start?