“No! I won’t allow it!”
The Queen screamed.
“Sherilia! Stop playing the victim! Get off the floor! You’re the reason my son is being slandered like this!”
Known for her quick temper, the Queen rushed toward me, grabbing my arm to pull me upright. In the novel, Sherilia had lost her balance and fallen with the Queen, the latter collapsing on top of her.
But unlike the novel’s Sherilia, I had something in my hands.
The severed hair—and the silver hairpin.
A collective gasp tore through the hall as screams erupted from the noblewomen.
“Sherilia!!”
My father’s voice rang out in anguish.
The Queen froze, stunned and pale.
The soft flesh of my abdomen was pierced by the hairpin, and crimson began to stain my dress. As I moved to pull the pin out, Ludovice leaped forward from the crowd.
“Stop! Removing it could cause excessive bleeding!”
“I’m a physician! I’ll take her!” Ludovice declared, scooping me into his arms with authority that brooked no argument.
Surrounded by my guard, Ludovice rushed me out of the hall.
“Hurry to the carriage!”
“Why not treat her here in the palace?!”
“I can’t trust a place filled with royals who have done nothing but harm her! Besides, the wound is shallow—it can be managed with first aid until we reach my estate. I have the proper equipment there, and it will be much safer!”
Like an arrow piercing the night, Ludovice carried me to his estate, bringing an end to my harrowing 36 hours.
Five hours later, after handling the aftermath at the palace, my father arrived at Ludovice’s home, his voice weary with exhaustion.
“Tomorrow—no, it’s already today—a morning council will convene. It’s nearly decided: the Third Prince will be stripped of his royal status, and the Queen will be placed under house arrest. The announcement will be more of a formality.”
“And Sherilia’s engagement?”
“It’s been annulled, entirely due to the Third Prince’s fault.”
I, perfectly healthy, flung my arms around my father.
“Thank you, Father. We’ve achieved total victory!”
“I thought my heart would stop,” he muttered. “Even knowing it was all staged, seeing that blood…”
“Isn’t it clever? Fake blood and all!”
The silver hairpin had been modified using a theatrical trick—a collapsible blade that retracted upon impact, making it appear as though I’d been stabbed. With some fake blood for effect, it was a flawless illusion.
Victory was ours.
Having remembered the novel, I knew the Queen’s every move. That’s why, at the perfect moment when she collapsed, I staged the stabbing.
In the novel, the Queen resented Sherilia’s happiness. On the day of Sherilia and Ludovice’s wedding, the Queen orchestrated Ludovice’s assassination.
Ludovice, who had been my favorite character in my past life.
Ludovice, who was my first love in this life.
The one I couldn’t forgive was the Queen.
But now, I could finally rest easy.
The Queen had been eliminated, and Ludovice would live. I wouldn’t allow him to die. To save Ludovice, I was willing to trample on any notion of morality or purity.
“Father, Ludovice and I have discussed this, and we think it’s best to say that the wound was shallow,” I explained, glancing at Ludovice with a knowing smile.
“We’ll maintain the pretense of a recovery period for a while, but for the sake of avoiding complications or lingering issues in the future, it’s better to frame it this way,” Ludovice added.
Father nodded in agreement. “That’s wise. Making it overly tragic would only complicate your future actions.”
Ludovice’s expression softened as he reached for my hand. I took his hand in return, my heart fluttering as I looked into his translucent blue eyes.
“It feels like a dream,” he said. “To think I can talk about the future with you again.”
“But Ludovice, my hair is so short now,” I murmured, lowering my gaze.
“And? I fell in love with you as a child. Back then, your hair was short, and you were a mischievous little girl covered in mud, laughing like a sunflower. You’ve always been my sun, Sherilia.”
“No, Ludovice,” I replied, smiling warmly. “You’re my sun.”
While we basked in the glow of our affection, surrounded by an imaginary field of blooming flowers, my father chuckled wryly.
“The royal family was foolish,” he muttered. “This incident will likely force the King to abdicate. Even if the young First Prince ascends the throne, it will be near impossible to suppress the influence of the powerful Prince Regent. The nobility’s voice will grow louder, their strength surging. The future is uncertain, but one thing is clear: meddling in matters of the heart is always a mistake.”
His words hung in the air, a quiet acknowledgment of the storm that had passed and the unpredictable winds yet to come.
[The End]
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