Cecilia’s warmth pressed against Lita’s back. Even through the layers of thick clothing, Lita could feel it clearly.
But her whisper left Lita uncertain how to react—how to avoid aggravating Cecilia’s sensitive nerves while still conveying comfort.
Lita was no good at consolation. She only knew clichés like “It’s okay” or “I’m here.” If she had been better at this, maybe she wouldn’t have been caught off guard by Cecilia and ended up here.
Whether this was a blessing in disguise, Lita couldn’t yet say. But after asking that question, Cecilia fell silent, giving Lita more time to think.
What could she come up with now? The same useless words? Or some ambiguous action that maintained distance?
For some reason, Lita recalled that evening not long ago when the king had invited her to dine alone.
Slightly drunk, the king raised his glass, his words already slurred, though it didn’t seem to affect his thinking or speech.
“As a father, I shouldn’t speak for my daughter. It’s your relationship—I, as her father… should let you two handle it yourselves.”
Whenever someone said that, it meant they were about to meddle directly. It was like saying, “There’s something I’m not sure I should say” or “Just a thought, don’t take it to heart.” The moment those words left his mouth, you knew he was definitely going to say something.
“But—” Sure enough, there it was.
“But Cecilia hasn’t had it easy.” The king set down his glass, and the base met the table with a dull thud.
Behind those perpetually squinting eyes, beyond the reflection of greasy food and swaying wine, something heavier settled deep in his murky gaze.
“When she was little, she wasn’t like she is now. Back then, Cecilia was lively—so lively she easily got into trouble.” The king’s voice turned unusually cautious, as if afraid to disturb the small figure in his memories. “Her mother—yes, my third wife—was still alive then. Cecilia was quite willful.”
Lita couldn’t fathom what lay hidden in the king’s memories, but she had heard Rosalia talk about Cecilia’s past. Even if it was only part of the real Cecilia, it blended with the king’s words, making the image Lita had pieced together in her mind clearer.
“Back then, Eliya was still young. Cecilia was the most favored daughter. Whatever she wanted, she had to have. Whatever she wanted to do, she had to succeed. At that time, her mother doted on her, and so did I. Lilia always felt that because of Cecilia, we gave her less, so for all these years, she’s held a grudge against Cecilia.”
The past recklessness and willfulness, the present restraint and caution, the detachment and indifference beyond her years—all these pieces together made up the full picture of Cecilia.
But then came the turning point.
“Later, I imagine her mother was the first to know what kind of thing Cecilia carried. She said her health was getting worse, forbade me from seeing Cecilia, and locked herself away. I even had several fierce arguments with her mother, but she never gave in once.”
The king sighed, staring into empty space. His gaze pierced through the ornate walls of the candlelit dining hall, as if seeing scenes from years ago.
It was wrong to speak ill of the king, but some people did it anyway. Rosalia was no exception. By the campfire outside the Everfrost Wasteland, she had said, “Father isn’t a good king, nor a good father. In his youth, he may have loved a few people and crowned several queens, but he always quickly cast them aside to focus on his so-called state affairs, neglecting his family. Later, when his queens passed away and his ministers died one by one, he sank into debauchery, trying to make up for the lost affection with his daughters, indulging them excessively. At that time, he became dissolute. But fortunately, he wasn’t stupid in his youth, so now his eyes aren’t fully blind. In short, the way Father turned out—though there’s a pattern to it—is indeed… not quite right, is it?”
For some reason, Lita suddenly recalled Rosalia’s words. Those “many arguments,” that “never giving in”—in truth, perhaps the king just hadn’t persisted.
Of course, that was only Lita’s guess. The king, still buzzing with wine, continued.
“I think—just my guess—her mother already knew she didn’t have much time left. So she took Cecilia and left. She wouldn’t let anyone near Cecilia. Just the two of them, they traveled to every corner of the kingdom. Hah.”
Lita asked softly, “Your Majesty means… because of Lady Cecilia’s curse?”
The king nodded, the fat on his face trembling.
“That’s what everyone says now. But back then, there was no such term. Only rumors kept spreading, saying something was wrong with Cecilia, that this princess had died young. Later, when Cecilia appeared before people, those rumors died on their own. Cecilia probably didn’t understand at the time. She only felt her mother spent less time with her and always seemed worried. In that period, she became even more obedient and careful, as if afraid that doing something wrong would make her mother unhappier. Who knows why? Maybe her mother told her something?”
The king took a deep breath and rinsed his mouth with a large gulp of wine.
“The day her mother left—not died, just left. No one knows where she went. Everyone said she died, but she didn’t. I don’t know where she went. She just vanished, never seen again in over a decade. Where was I? Oh yes, that day. That day, a maid hurriedly told me Cecilia’s mother was gone. By then, she was no longer queen. I didn’t think much of it. I sent people to look for her, but they never found her. Never. After that, Cecilia asked me if it was because she hadn’t done well enough that her mother abandoned her. What could I say? Something like ‘It’s not your fault’ or ‘I’ve sent people to search,’ I suppose.”
“Then, well, after that, Cecilia started keeping to herself. She didn’t play with her other sisters. She avoided crowds. But strange things would happen around her—a little bird suddenly died, a maid tripped by accident. Many said it was a curse. I didn’t believe it. What curse could fall on my daughter? So I had people check. And what did they find? They confirmed it. A curse. A terrible curse. One no one could lift.”
The king cursed, then cursed again, as if vomiting every swear word he’d ever learned. Finally, he took another drink, washing down the words stuck in his throat.
“After that, the rumors about the ‘Cursed Princess’ spread. The more they spread, the more real they seemed. I couldn’t stop them. Not at all. The harder I tried, the worse it got. Damned mercenaries, damned bards.” The king couldn’t help but curse again, this time with just a few short swear words. “Anyway, it spread. They said her mother’s death was because of her curse. Everyone’s eyes changed when they looked at her.”
“Does Lady Cecilia believe she caused her mother’s death?” Lita asked.
“She’s certain. She firmly believes it! Since then, she’s always been alone. She doesn’t let anyone get close. She’s brilliant—at least more brilliant than my useless daughter. She knows what she should do, what she can do—and she knows there are things she shouldn’t get involved in, like fighting for what a princess deserves.”
The king was getting drunk and muddled, but his gaze sharpened like an old lion.
“I’m the king, and also a father. But many things can’t be solved just by the king moving his lips. Like those damn Demon Race, those damn Alien Ghosts. Or, for instance, people’s mouths. I can protect Cecilia’s position, but I can’t stop everyone’s prejudice. And so, year after year, she became what she is now—not fighting for anything, not wanting anything.”
The king let out a long, wine-laden breath. Even across the table, Lita could faintly smell the sour alcohol.
“So when she asked for you, I was very surprised. I had to thoroughly vet you. I had to make sure you would be loyal to her. Understand?”
That banquet had been the night before her investiture as a Crest Knight. By then, she had already earned the king’s trust, so he had rambled on to her under the influence of alcohol.
Lita’s heart had been heavy, but when she returned to Cecilia’s room that time, within minutes they were rolling on the carpet. Those strange thoughts had dissipated with Cecilia’s passion.
Now, Cecilia’s words brought them all back.
“Is my very existence truly a mistake?”
Cecilia asked this like a snowflake, yet carrying the weight to trigger an avalanche.
Clumsily, Lita lifted her hand and placed her warm palm over Cecilia’s cold hand.
“Lady Cecilia,” Lita replied softly.
Cecilia’s head, resting behind Lita’s, trembled.
“Perhaps… you’re right?”
Before Lita could finish, Cecilia raised her fist and punched Lita on the head.
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