Chapter 47: A Good Story

That fateful conversation began twelve years ago, on a spring day when gentle breezes wafted through the palace.

"Don't run, Letitia. You'll hurt yourself."

"I won't get hurt, Father. I'm a proper lady now - I won't misstep." Sёarch* The NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

"Such a handful. No wonder there's not a single suitor willing to take you yet."

King Ronan Baskhill of the Kingdom of Baskhill gently chided his daughter. But Letitia Baskhill, who never listened to her father, continued to bounce along with childlike innocence.

"Who cares if no one wants me? If I have no spouse or children, I can stay with you and Mother forever."

"Ah, you certainly have a knack for saying just the right things to soften me up."

"It's my most outstanding trait among my many excellent qualities."

Letitia Baskhill.

She was a woman with a vivacious personality that was her charm, and would later become the mother of Glen Baskhill.

"Besides, Mother is always so frail. A lively daughter like me is just what she needs, right?"

"Perhaps you're right."

Ronan reluctantly agreed. While her energetic nature was certainly innate, Letitia wasn't so thick-skinned as to smile brightly in the face of her mother's grave illness.

"Father, I absolutely won't marry until Mother gets better."

"Why do you say such things? Both your mother Lunia and I dream of seeing you happily wed."

Lunia was the queen's name - Letitia's mother and Glen's future grandmother.

Letitia crossed her arms and declared boldly after hearing her father's words:

"Then tell her to hurry up and get well. If she wants to see her spirited daughter married off soon."

"...Yes, that's what we must hope for."

Ronan replied with a bitter smile.

Ever since Queen Lunia fell ill with an unidentified disease, he had rejected countless proposals. Most frequently, he turned down demands to take on a Royal Mistress.

Royal Mistress - a term referring to the king's favorite concubine, a position that fulfilled the role of hostess in the royal court when there was no high-ranking lady present.

In other words, she was a mistress, but one whose position no one dared challenge lightly. That's why many noble families repeatedly pleaded to have their daughters installed as Royal Mistress.

'The proposal to take a Royal Mistress... has some merit.'

It was true that the queen's inability to fulfill her duties was causing numerous issues with state functions. Who would dare criticize taking a consort under these circumstances? Even Queen Lunia herself might agree.

And yet, Ronan felt sick at the mere sight of the words "Royal Mistress."

'But it's still... still too soon. It's not too late to wait until Lunia recovers. There are no major problems in running the nation yet...'

Ronan loved Lunia. As a rare love match among royalty, their relationship was all the more precious. If he could split his lifespan in half to give to her, he would gladly do so.

"Father?"

Seeing Ronan's furrowed brow, Letitia called out to him with concern. Ronan relaxed his facial muscles and said softly:

"It's nothing. Nothing at all."

Yes, it was nothing. Nothing had happened, and nothing should happen.

A wish that might seem trivial to some, but unbearably weighty to others. The answer to that wish comes not from the heavens, but from humans.

For the heavens treat humans like dogs made of straw.

All trials were burdens that humans alone must bear.

---

---

As the gentle spring gave way to sweltering summer, and autumn scattered falling leaves as the heat finally subsided.

Queen Lunia's condition deteriorated rapidly.

It became rare to see her out of bed, and the pallor of death seemed to lurk, eager to color her complexion. Ronan and Letitia kept a somber vigil by Lunia's side as her body and spirit wasted away.

"Ronan."

"Yes, Lunia?"

"I'm sorry. You were never one for such gloomy expressions before..."

"Gloomy? Coming from the woman who married me for my handsome face."

"Ah, that was a lie."

"What?"

Ronan's eyes widened at this sudden revelation. Lunia smiled faintly and teased him:

"I'll admit you're handsome, but not my type. My personal preference was for frail pretty boys. Not strapping men like you with muscles plastered all over."

"I-I can't believe it."

"If I could turn into a man right now, I'd be just my type... What a shame."

Lunia tossed out a joke that was half-serious, even as she lay neatly in bed. Ronan, caught between laughter and tears at the ill-timed quip, closed his mouth with a troubled expression.

"Don't worry. Everything but your face was to my liking. That's why I married you and bore Letitia."

"...I'm relieved to hear it."

Lunia then turned her gaze to Letitia, bringing up a topic she had deliberately avoided until now.

"Letitia. Make sure you marry a man who's entirely to your taste. I've given you enough good looks to deserve that much. You'll see when you look in the mirror."

"Oh, Mother...!"

"Stop using your mother as an excuse and start looking for a suitable husband. Even a foreign nobleman would do - if you see a good man, snatch him up as a son-in-law right away."

"Ugh..."

For all her spirited nature, Letitia was ultimately putty in her mother's hands.

It had always been that way. She easily brushed off others' words, but her mother's advice alone stubbornly clung to the back of her mind.

Lunia was a remarkable woman.

"Cough!"

Suddenly, Lunia let out a cough that sounded as if her lungs might burst. Ronan and Letitia leapt to their feet in alarm.

"Both of you, it's nothing. Just a cough. My nose was itchy."

"I-I see. We overreacted."

"Thank goodness..."

As the father and daughter sighed in relief, Lunia promptly dismissed them.

"I'd like to rest a bit. I'm feeling sleepy. It seems I might get a good night's sleep for once."

"Then we'll return later, Lunia."

"Rest well, Mother."

Neither Ronan nor Letitia could hide the reluctance overflowing from their expressions. However, opportunities for the constantly moaning Lunia to get proper sleep were rare, so they finally vacated their seats.

"Haa..."

The moment Lunia sensed their presence had completely faded, she probed her palate with her index finger. Then, as she withdrew her finger from her mouth, unmistakable traces of blood mingled with her saliva.

"I did want to see Letitia find her match..."

It seemed unlikely she would continue breathing until then.

Lunia shed tears she had secretly held back, overcome by a bitter premonition.

"Oh God..."

Please, look upon this crude life with mercy and allow it to continue even a little longer.

I will offer everything, so please...

---

---

Every day feels like the world is crumbling anew.

These days, the moments of clarity while roaming the palace are few and far between. What does it feel like to lose the woman you assumed would be by your side for life? An emotion he never wanted to know now constantly constricts his throat.

"Lunia..."

With every blink, memories of the past spring forth like fresh shoots.

The day he fell in love at first sight at her debutante ball.

That innocent summer, personally holding an umbrella for her on rainy walks.

The night he proposed, kneeling and offering a diamond ring.

Kissing her in her pure white wedding dress at their ceremony.

Making lemon tarts for his nauseated wife during her pregnancy.

Every moment spent with her was so precious that not a single part had faded. If only they could die together in a single moment, he would gladly give everything.

He wished he could suffer the mysterious illness in her place.

"Oh God... Oh God... My wife is in such pain. My beautiful, young wife is suffering. If I am this terrified, how frightened must she be? Please, grant Lunia just a little more time..."

There was still so much he wanted to do for her. He wanted to show her more, give her more. He had vowed to let her see and hear only the most precious things in the world. Yet all he could do now was inject false hope - a futile gesture.

He would rather die than be crushed by this sense of powerlessness. Truly.

"Oh God... Lunia..."

Ronan's prayers dissipated emptily into the air of the audience chamber where he sat alone. His anxious state caused the words of his prayer to slur at times. Still, Ronan steadfastly prayed for his wife's happiness.

Perhaps that pure heart called forth a miracle.

The will of God responded to his desperate prayer.

"Do you wish to save the queen?"

"Who goes there!"

Ronan reacted immediately.

Though aged, his body bore the unmistakable signs of rigorous training. As both king of a nation and a renowned knight, Ronan drew his keen blade and pointed it at the intruder.

The intruder was a woman cloaked entirely in a black robe. Though her appearance was thoroughly concealed, her delicate voice could not be masked.

Soon, the woman calmly introduced herself.

"Pleased to meet you, King of Baskhill. I am Mar, a servant of the Lord God, bestowed with a divine mission."

"Lord God...? Could you be from the temple?"

"Yes, that's correct. However..."

With a rustle, Mar lowered her hood.

Instantly, amethyst-hued hair cascaded over snow-white skin. Her fox-like, slanted eyes were alluring, and her jawline was pleasingly slender.

Up to that point, one might describe her as a woman of otherworldly beauty.

But her eyes stood in stark contrast to those of ordinary humans.

Blinking coquettishly, her inverse eyes lent her an inhuman allure. Only upon recognizing this did Ronan deduce Mar's true identity.

"As you can see, I hail from the temple of the demon realm."

"A demon... dares infiltrate the heart of the kingdom!"

"Now, now, don't be so hostile."

Mar brought her neck to the sword point aimed at her, forming an alluring curve with her lips.

"This is good news. I've simply come to tell you something wonderful."