TOPWL: 14

That birthday—Yudit remembered it too. He had eaten ravenously, indulging in delicious food for the first time in a long while. Instead of criticizing him, Lilia and Isiah had even packed some food for him to take home. Thanks to that, Yudit had been able to eat proper meals for several days.

“The gift Your Highness brought back then was a pressed flower bookmark made from these very flowers.”

“…I really don’t know much, do I?”

“You were a child. That little one said, ‘The youngest is family too, so I should protect him.’”

Lilia had kept her word. She had occasionally brought him food, invited him to meals, and even sung to him on nights when he had nightmares. Yudit had found her kindness both unfamiliar and comforting. Despite knowing that Isiah disapproved, he had continued seeking Lilia out.

Yudit had stopped visiting Lilia after she got a scar on her eyebrow. She had been injured while standing up to Hiore after witnessing him assault Yudit.

That should never have happened. Unlike the empress, Isiah had no powerful backing. Isia had been a famous opera singer, filling both the VIP and common seats whenever she performed. One day, the emperor had taken notice of her while attending an opera. Less than two years later, she had abandoned her career, entered nobility as an adopted daughter, and married the emperor.

The following year, Isiah gave birth to her daughter, Lilia. However, the emperor had visited her fewer than ten times in total. His love for her had already faded by the time she was pregnant. Isiah’s only remaining support came from the noble family that had once adopted her, but they were no match for the empress’s powerful family.

The red bird that had once sung so beautifully had lost her voice, left to raise her daughter while anxiously navigating the imperial palace. With her daughter constantly clashing with Hiore and Reginald over a mere maid’s son, how could she possibly view Yudit favorably? She had made it clear to him: if he had any conscience, he would stay away from her daughter. And so, Yudit had stopped seeking out Lilia.

However, Lilia, finding the situation strange, had come to Yudit first. When she learned the truth, she had fought fiercely with Isiah. Afterward, she had apologized to Yudit and gifted him a book he had long wanted. Yudit had never learned how to refuse Lilia. In the end, she was buried in the cold ground before he was.

“I’m sorry.”

Yudit lowered his head to Isiah. She gazed at him in silence before speaking.

“At the funeral… I was the one who wronged you.”

“No, there’s no need to apologize. Everything you said was true.”

“I knew you weren’t at fault. But I couldn’t direct my anger at them, so I lashed out at you, the weaker one.”

Her voice was heavy with guilt. Yudit didn’t know how to comfort her.

“The time I spent with Lilia was… a radiant part of my life, something I wouldn’t trade for anything. Thanks to her, I learned what it means to have pride. I’m grateful that you gave birth to her and raised her so well.”

At Yudit’s words, Isiah’s eyes welled up with tears. Yudit pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her. She took it and dabbed at her damp eyes.

“Thank you. I’ll return it after I wash it.”

“It’s fine. You can keep it.”

But instead of giving it back, Isiah tucked the handkerchief into her dress.

“I heard the competition has started.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“If there’s anything I can do to help, just tell me. Though I doubt you’ll need the assistance of an old woman left to rot in the back rooms.”

“Don’t say such things. Your words alone are already a great support.”

Isiah hesitated for a long while, her lips parting as if to say something.

“Your Highness… please don’t die so easily.”

Even here, where only the two of them stood, she had struggled to voice those words. Yudit knew the weight they carried—they were the words of a mother who had lost her daughter.

“Don’t worry. If there’s one thing I’ve been holding on to since childhood… it’s staying alive.”

At his reply, Isiah smiled faintly, like a flower wilting in the wind. Then she rose to her feet. Without a bustle, her frame appeared even more fragile. Was she eating properly? Yudit watched her with concern.

“…Lady Isiah.”

She stopped and turned around at his call. As she blinked at him, waiting for him to speak, Yudit hesitated before finally managing to say,

“If your offer to help still stands, I do have a favor to ask.”

…

By the time Yudit returned in the evening, he sank into a hot bath. Sitting out in the drafty cemetery for so long had left him feeling chilled, as though he might catch a fever. He submerged himself in the steaming water, his limbs turning pink, but it felt like the best way to drive out the cold.

After he had been soaking for a while, his nanny knocked on the bathroom door again.

“Your Highness, when are you coming out?”

“I’ll be out soon.”

Reluctantly, Yudit stood up and left the bath. He dried himself off and stepped outside, reaching for his clothes—when he noticed something placed on his bedside table.

“…What’s this?”

“It’s an invitation, isn’t it?” his nanny replied nonchalantly.

Yudit picked up the envelope and examined both sides.

“I meant—why has it already been opened?”

At Yudit’s remark, the nanny glanced at the letter. The wax seal had already been broken.

“Well, I wouldn’t know.”

“So, you’re saying you weren’t the one who did it?”

The nanny remained silent at Yudit’s question. He was already convinced she was the culprit. His earlier words had simply been a formality, as he intended to question the other servants anyway.

And the nanny was well aware of his underlying intent.

“I told you, I don’t know. The letter was already like that when it arrived. Maybe the seal wasn’t properly done in the first place.”

“Then, Nanny, how did you know it was an invitation?”

At Yudit’s sharp observation, the nanny stiffened, realizing her mistake. The flustered look on her face was all too telling.

“Did I say that?”

“You did. When I asked what this was, you immediately said it was an invitation. Just a moment ago.”

“Your Highness, are you suspecting me right now?”

“It’s not that—just that you called it an invitation a moment ago.”

“That is suspecting me! After all I’ve done to raise you, how could you doubt me?”

The nanny’s face turned red as she raised her voice at Yudit, practically scolding him.

“I just asked how you knew a sealed letter was an invitation.”

“You can’t do anything on your own! I prepared your meal today, your bath—I do everything for you! Do you even know how poor my living quarters are?”

Yudit furrowed his brows and pressed his temple as the nanny skillfully changed the subject.

“Fine, I get it. Just calm down.”

He had never once won against the nanny when she acted like this. The truth was, the servants’ quarters were in poor condition and hadn’t been properly repaired in decades. Because of this, Yudit had turned a blind eye whenever his attendants used his quarters as a space to converse or even dine. However, opening and reading his letters was an entirely different matter.

“I really am doing my best for you, Your Highness,” the nanny said, sounding a bit calmer as she steadied her breathing.

Yudit let out a quiet sigh.

“I know. But reading my letters is a separate issue.”

“I didn’t do it.”

“Nanny.”

Yudit’s cold voice cut her off.

“I won’t press the matter any further. But I don’t want this happening again.”

“…Fine.”

Though the nanny muttered her agreement, she made her displeasure clear by slamming down his dinner plate with a loud clatter.

“Enjoy your meal. I’ll be heading home now.”

“…Alright. Thank you.”

The nanny didn’t reply to Yudit’s gratitude. She simply left, shutting the door a little harder than usual and stomping down the hallway.

Listening to her footsteps fade, Yudit sighed.

“Haa…”

Instead of getting up to eat his now-cold meal, he sat on the bed and unfolded the letter.

Just as the nanny had said, it was an invitation.