1.
“……This isn’t the time for this. I must go to Father.”
Philomel wiped away her tears and quickened her pace. It was Eustis who held the leash to her life, not them.
‘So, I won’t let myself be hurt.’
Philomel walked slowly, keeping an eye on her surroundings. It was fortunate that, being still young, she hadn’t been granted a separate palace and resided within the Imperial Palace instead.
Furthermore, for some reason, the number of people in the palace had been dwindling for some time.
Dodging the few palace staff, she arrived in front of the Emperor’s office.
Because of Eustis’s personality—he kept no personal guards inside the palace—there was no one near the office.
Philomel very cautiously pushed the door open just a crack.
“……You are persistent, Polan.”
The scene inside the office came into view through the narrow gap.
The room, which felt desolate despite its opulent decorations, held both Eustis and Count Polan.
The Count was in the middle of submitting a proposal to the Emperor, who sat at his desk.
“However, Your Majesty. Since the Princess is ill, wouldn’t it be best to pay her a visit?”
As it happened, their topic of conversation was Philomel.
Better this way. She wouldn’t have to probe Eustis’s intentions herself; she would know exactly what he thought of her.
Philomel listened quietly.
The Emperor scowled and spoke.
“Why do you concern yourself so much with that thing? Does it stir some pity in you because it’s ill? It’s likely just feigned sickness again.”
“According to the palace physician, she has indeed caught a severe cold this time.”
“So?”
“If Your Majesty were to visit, it would be a great strength to the Princess…….”
“What is a mere cold to make such a fuss about?”
Count Polan closed his mouth for a moment.
He was a loyal subject who had served Eustis since he was but a prince. Thus, he was able to ask personal questions with relative ease.
“Your Majesty, why are you so heartless toward your daughter? Is she not your only flesh and blood?”
Philomel’s chest tightened.
That was something she, too, had always wondered.
Why wouldn’t he give his affection to Philomel?
And the Emperor’s response was shocking.
“I have never once felt that thing to be my own child.”
It felt as though something heavy had struck her head.
“Do you perhaps believe that the reason Lady Isabella passed away was because of the Princess? Is that why…….”
“Shut your mouth.”
“……My apologies.”
At the sharp, murderous aura radiating from Eustis, Polan immediately lowered his head. In his presence, the mention of his late wife was a taboo of sorts.
The Emperor said gloomily.
“At one time, I did think so. I resented her deeply. To the point where I wanted to end her life with these very hands.”
“…….”
“But that is old news. Now, I feel nothing at all.”
“Why…….”
“Because I expect nothing from it. I never hoped it would fill Isabella’s void. I would have been satisfied had it performed even the bare minimum as a successor.”
Eustis, rubbing his furrowed brow with a weary face, continued.
“Yet, what is the result? It is insincere in its studies and produces only paltry achievements. Yesterday, it even made a scene in front of many people.”
“……Princess Philomel is trying her best, too. Surely, it is only natural to stumble at times.”
“If causing trouble counts as effort, then I suppose you are right.”
Eustis pulled one corner of his mouth into a mocking smile.
“You are too strict. The Princess is only nine years old. It is only natural for her to be immature in some areas.”
“At that age, I was locked in a power struggle with my own blood siblings.”
“That was because of the circumstances, and Your Majesty was exceptional from a young age…….”
“That thing resembles neither Isabella nor me in the slightest.”
“Even if it does not resemble you, she is still your daughter.”
“That is enough. You may go.”
He rose from his seat and approached a cabinet lined with bottles of spirits set up in one corner of the room. The back he turned to the Count, as he poured the amber liquid into a glass, showed no intention of continuing the conversation.
To push the matter further would only incur the Emperor’s irritation. Eustis was slightly more lenient with Polan than with others, but only slightly.
Count Polan hesitated before leaving, then looked back at the Emperor one last time.
“……Do you truly feel no affection at all for the Princess?”
Philomel needed to leave before Count Polan came out of the room.
But her feet would not move. She had to hear Eustis’s answer. Philomel’s fate rested on that reply.
Eustis slowly opened his mouth.
“Indeed. Now, there is only one thing I desire from that thing.”
Philomel drew in a sharp breath.
“To live like a mouse. To be unnoticed, so that I need not pay it any mind.”
They were cold, solid words. As if they would never, ever change.
***
By the time she regained her senses, she was already back in her room.
Immediately following Eustis’s final words, Polan had stayed in the office to argue, allowing Philomel to slip away unnoticed.
She collapsed onto her bed.
“What do I do now?”
Her father—no, the Emperor—not only didn’t consider her his daughter, he didn’t harbor a shred of affection for her.
If Ellensia appeared in the future and it was revealed that Philomel was a fake, he would surely show no mercy.
What if she lived like a good person, unlike the ‘Philomel’ in the book who acted out so wickedly?
‘Wouldn’t I at least be able to save my life?’
It didn’t seem like a completely impossible scenario.
In the novel, she wasn’t killed the moment it was revealed she was a fake. That was because Ellensia, who pitied Philomel, had pleaded with Eustis for forgiveness.
Though the ‘wicked’ Philomel ended up repaying that kindness with evil because she was jealous of Ellensia, and was eventually executed.
If she understood her station well and acted accordingly, perhaps she could avoid death, unlike in the book……
“But…….”
That alone was not enough.
She did not want to stake her life on such a thin hope.
It was a precarious life where she might die at any moment if she irked the Emperor in the slightest.
The maids and guards she had seen today naturally came to mind. They harbored clear hostility toward Philomel.
If they were merely gossiping now, what would happen if it were revealed she wasn’t actually a Princess?
“……They won’t leave me be.”
The scary part was that they might not be the only ones who hated her.
What if they spread malicious rumors about Philomel or framed her?
‘Could I guarantee my survival even then?’
This wasn’t the way. Philomel wanted a more certain path to survival. She didn’t want to die, ever.
Then, a thought suddenly flashed through her mind.
Run away. Even if it was impossible right now, she would leave this place before Ellensia arrived.
It was the moment the young fake Princess’s life plan was decided.
***
From then until she went to bed, Philomel was engrossed in refining the escape plan she had conceived during the day.
Even though she had gone to bed early, her mind was so cluttered that it was quite late before she finally drifted off.
Thus, late in the night, she didn’t even notice someone entering her room.
“Um, Your Highness. His Majesty is…….”
Eustis gestured for the nurse, who was trying to wake the sleeping child, to leave.
‘What am I doing?’
The Emperor mocked himself as he looked down at Philomel’s pale, round face.
Count Polan had not backed down easily, repeatedly bringing up the topic of the Princess and pressing Eustis.
He could have simply ignored it, but with the Count mentioning her so often, he somehow felt he should confirm his daughter’s condition just once.
Was it because those yellow eyes that stared straight at him in the rain yesterday had seemed somehow determined and desperate?
Of course, it must be his imagination. What desperation could someone growing up pampered as the Emperor’s only daughter possibly have?
But even to the naked eye, she looked gaunt; Polan’s claim that the child was quite ill seemed true.
“……z.”
Suddenly, a tiny sound emerged from the child’s lips.
“……Father.”
He thought she had woken up, but Philomel was merely tossing and turning with her eyes still shut. It was just simple sleep-talking.
“I’ll…… be a good child. So…… please don’t…… kill me.”
A vibration so fragile it felt as though a puff of air would extinguish it.
A few more words were uttered, but they were mostly mumbles, and that was all Eustis could discern.
Then, for some reason, she began to shed tears in her sleep as if something were truly sorrowful.
For some reason, Eustis could not take his eyes off Philomel’s face.
A dim memory brushed past him. As Eustis pondered what it could be, he soon recalled a memory from an incredibly distant past.
A small child, trembling in fear every night that they might die, barely managing to drift off to sleep. It was his own childhood.
It was startlingly similar to the Philomel of now.
It was the moment he felt, for the first time in his life, that he and his daughter had something in common.
He had been so busy piling up blood and sin to survive and reach the pinnacle that he had completely forgotten that such a period had even existed.
Impulsively, the Emperor reached out and wiped the tears flowing down the child’s cheek. The emotions and longings of that time, however faintly, came rushing back.
Back then, he had wanted someone to reach out to him just like this.
Squeeze.
“……”
A small, chubby hand grasped Eustis’s fingertips. It, too, was an action the child had taken while deep in sleep, but he was somewhat surprised.
The sensation of skin other than his late wife’s touching his was very unfamiliar, yet not unpleasant.
The child’s hand was much smaller and warmer than he had imagined. He felt the small warmth for a long while before turning to leave.