Episode 70: Normalisation of depressing romance fantasy
After Rudella left, Francia shared the details of their conversation.
“…That’s how it happened.”
“I see…”
Yohan nodded slowly. Rudella had exactly what he and Francia needed the most right now.
“It’s no wonder Lady Bismarck was so confident she could persuade you.”
If all she had was a ledger, it would’ve been difficult to hold him accountable. However, the evidence Rudella had gathered included items like a “mana canvas,” which captured moments in real-time, and a magical artifact that recorded voices.
Even so, it didn’t mean the crown prince had no escape routes—it would only delay him. Completely avoiding repercussions was impossible.
“There’s no way all this evidence just appeared out of nowhere… It seems she’s been preparing for a moment like this for a long time.”
Francia rubbed her chin with a perplexed expression. She couldn’t help but feel puzzled. Before her regression, there had been no sign of such preparations.
“…I don’t know the exact reason, but I think she was planning it to keep him in check.” Yohan murmured.
Francia tilted her head.
“Keep him in check?”
“Yes.”
Yohan continued, meeting Francia’s crimson eyes.
“He’s the future sun of the empire, but also someone unpredictable. To truly control someone like that, you need to hold plenty of leverage.”
Although the crown prince had built a flawless public image, it couldn’t have deceived Rudella.
If anyone could see through Fedelian’s true nature, it was her. That’s likely why she had been quietly gathering evidence, preparing for an unforeseen moment.
“…Hmm.”
However, unlike Yohan, Francia was still unconvinced. Why hadn’t Rudella used those weaknesses before the regression?
‘There’s no way to know now—it’s a time that no longer exists…’
Rudella Bismarck remained an enigmatic figure to Francia, both before and after Francia’s regression, making it difficult to even speculate.
If she had to guess…
‘Was it a political issue?’
Back then, when Fedelian had begun to act boldly and make moves, he was already a firmly established emperor.
Exploiting his weaknesses would’ve carried significant political risks and could have backfired.
‘That must be it… right?’
Of course, there was also the possibility that Rudella had developed feelings for him, becoming emotionally entangled. Despite her cold and lofty demeanor, she had a surprisingly romantic side.
But Francia didn’t think that was likely. To her, the idea of feeling affection for Fedelian was absurd.
“Is something bothering you?”
Yohan tilted his head as he watched Francia deep in thought. He had been observing her since earlier.
“Oh… no, it’s nothing. Just something on my mind.”
Francia smiled awkwardly, unable to reveal the truth.
“In that case, it’s best to wait and see for now. We need to proceed cautiously with this matter.”
“You’re right. Acting quickly would be ideal, but since there’s a risk of failure, it’s better to be as careful as possible.”
It wasn’t that they doubted Rudella’s abilities, but they couldn’t let their guard down. After all, they were trying to bring down the crown prince of an empire.
And when this was all over, the rewards would be significant. Rudella would offer much more than just a way to eliminate the crown prince who stood in their path.
“By the way, Yohan, there’s something I’m curious about.”
As Yohan organized his thoughts, Francia called out to him with a chilly smile.
“…What is it?”
Sensing the faint hostility in her tone, Yohan flinched but didn’t show it outwardly.
“Did you have a good chat with Lady Bismarck?”
Her bright smile seemed oddly displeased. Yohan was certain—Francia was extremely irritated. His instincts, honed through countless encounters with noble ladies, told him so.
“It was just an ordinary conversation.”
“Ordinary…? Really? That’s not what I saw.”
Her voice, low and heavy, crept up his spine.
“You had such a cozy chat in front of the mansion. I even saw her kiss you on the cheek. Her smile didn’t leave her face for a second.”
Had she witnessed everything? Yohan felt his body stiffen in real time.
“Do you like Lady Bismarck that much, Yohan?”
“Well, that’s…”
“When you’re with me, you seem so formal, but with her, you’re all sweet and romantic.”
Francia smiled brightly as she spoke, but Yohan felt a chill run down his spine. Though it was a smile, why did it feel so threatening?
“…To me, Francia is always first.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
“Hmm…”
She squinted her eyes and gazed intently at Yohan. After a moment, she lowered her gaze and pressed her lips together.
“I’m worried.”
“Worried? About what?”
“That she might take you away from me.”
Francia’s red eyes quivered. Her gaze was fixed on the floor, her emotions of unease and fear clearly visible.
“Lady Bismarck is a beautiful and captivating woman, even in my eyes. If someone like her shows such blind devotion to you, how could you not be swayed?”
Her voice was soft, almost trembling.
“Of course, I know better than anyone that you wouldn’t do such a thing… but sometimes, just sometimes, my heart feels like it’s sinking.”
The gentle curve of Francia’s eyes, which usually held a friendly look, now drooped sorrowfully.
“I shouldn’t be saying things like this. It’ll only make you uncomfortable… I’m sorry. I accepted this arrangement for my own benefit, after all…”
Francia disliked her indecisiveness.
She understood Yohan’s ambitions. After all, she had also been driven by her own desires when she chose him.
But her dislike for this situation felt instinctive, something she couldn’t control.
Even so, prioritizing her feelings brought pangs of guilt.
After all, she had essentially forced Yohan by getting him drunk and spending the night with him, leaving him with no choice but to take responsibility…
“…I understand what you mean.”
Yohan’s expression hardened as he placed his hands gently on Francia’s shoulders. His touch was soft.
“You don’t need to apologize to me. What you’re feeling is completely natural for a lover. If anything, it’s because I’ve been too greedy.”
While polygamy was allowed in this era, human emotions didn’t change so easily. Yohan knew Francia was still struggling, questioning if this path was the right one.
That’s why Yohan smiled warmly and said,
“I promise. My feelings for you will never change.”
He wasn’t lying. His words weren’t just to comfort her—they were sincere.
Balancing love equally between two women might seem troublesome, but it wasn’t impossible. It was simply a matter of facing them both with honesty.
“…Really?”
“Of course.”
Yohan caressed Francia’s trembling cheek. Her skin was soft, so much so that he felt an urge to keep touching it.
“Sorry for being so needy…”
“No, I should be the one apologizing. For being too greedy.”
“No… It’s not greed.”
Francia swallowed her words and carefully leaned into Yohan’s embrace. His warmth enveloped her, melting the coldness in her heart.
She hesitantly lifted her head to meet Yohan’s gaze.
“I act this way because I really care about you. You know that, right?”
“I do. How could I not?”
Yohan stroked Francia’s hair as she rested her face against his chest. He felt nothing but gratitude for her willingness to accept him despite her turmoil.
***
Amidst the peak of winter.
As time passed, the days grew colder, and the air sharper.
Even the estate of the second prince, Descartes, located on the empire’s outskirts, was no exception.
In fact, the harshness of winter was even more severe there.
A world of unending snow and ice.
The plains were blanketed in white silence, with frigid winds swirling the snowflakes.
Frozen rivers turned into transparent sheets of ice, while tree branches, now bare, resembled black skeletal remains.
“This cursed land becomes even more insufferable every winter.”
Second Prince Descartes clicked his tongue with a displeased expression as he muttered.
Having lost in the battle for the throne, he had been effectively exiled to the empire’s outer reaches.
The only reason Descartes still lived was due to the arrogance and mercy of his rival, Fedelian.
“Even so, this land has greatly improved since Your Highness’s arrival. Look, despite the harsh winters and difficult living conditions, the people’s faces are bright, aren’t they?”
Dante, his aide standing nearby, flattered him with a smile. But it wasn’t entirely a lie.
Indeed, since Descartes began managing the territory, this remote region had become more livable.
At the village outskirts, the faces of the residents were filled with signs of hardship, but they weren’t entirely gloomy.
“What does it matter? This land is already barren, and the number of beasts is surging. There’s no support whatsoever, meanwhile, the population to feed keeps growing, and I can barely manage. It’s maddening.”
Despite Dante’s flattery, Descartes furrowed his brows and rubbed his temples, his head aching.
In truth, he had no intention of properly managing the territory. It was essentially a death sentence, being exiled to this remote land after losing the imperial succession struggle.
But…
But the people here placed their hopes on him.
The Second Prince himself had come to aid the residents, and they believed things would finally change for the better.
Descartes couldn’t bring himself to shatter those hopes. He didn’t want to disappoint the people who looked to him and hadn’t given up hope.
Of course, being pushed out of the succession race and the accompanying bitterness of defeat were frustrating, but…
What did any of that have to do with the starving people right before him?
“Did we get any response to the request for supplies and knights?”
“There was no reply from the Imperial family, but a letter addressed to Your Highness did arrive.”
“To me?”
Descartes furrowed his brows, tilting his head in confusion. There weren’t many people who would write him a letter…
“Here it is. The sender was anonymous, but the only information we received is that it came from someone of high status.”
Dante handed him a letter. It bore a red seal, but its origins were unclear.
“They went out of their way to hide where it came from?”
A suspicious letter.
Descartes felt a strong sense of curiosity. A letter like this, which normally would not have reached him, had now come through Dante’s hands.
“Let’s see what this is about.”
Unable to suppress his curiosity, Descartes opened the letter and read its contents.
“…Hah.”
A short laugh escaped him. It was clear that the sender was someone important—the letter bore the seal of the Rozino Imperial family.
And the contents were even more telling.
“The brightest star often becomes the ruler of the heavens without needing to announce itself. I wonder if Your Highness harbors no desire for such glory, or is this merely my overthinking?”
“The fruits that ripen on high branches await only those who are worthy to pluck them. Many seem to anticipate the day those fruits find their way into Your Highness’s hands.”
Though flowery and verbose, the meaning of the letter boiled down to a single message:
“Are you interested in the throne? I can help you.”
Descartes chuckled.
“They’re asking me to join a rebellion—or more accurately, to become its leader.”
He exhaled, and his breath came out in a cloud of white. He didn’t know who had sent this letter, but there was no way Descartes would refuse such an offer.
“Did they say they’re waiting for a response?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s send one immediately.”
Descartes’ golden eyes gleamed coldly.
“It’s time for the true sun to rise.”
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