Sigrid

“Come back safely.”

Morris couldn’t help but smile at those words, spoken as if this were her own home.

In the bathroom, Morris undressed. As he removed his cloak and outer garments, he realized just how heavy they had been.

‘I’m exhausted.’

After taking off his wet boots and clothes and sinking into the hot bath, an involuntary groan escaped his lips.

‘I’m dying.’

Morris washed his face with the hot water several times. His entire body felt like it was screaming in protest. Leaning back in the tub, Morris stared blankly into space.

He didn’t want to think about anything.

Or rather, there wasn’t much he could think about.

‘Being chased is incredibly draining.’

His mind was foggy from accumulated fatigue. While his body ached, the mental pressure was even more intense. Above all, the fact that it was his own father trying to kill him was truly…

Should he say it felt unreal yet all too real at the same time?

It felt like the ground beneath his feet had crumbled away. The affection he had received until now seemed like a lie, yet it was precisely because it wasn’t a lie that things had come to this.

‘No, if it had been true affection, would he have understood?’

Parents who love in their own way, and hate in their own way.

‘I wonder if Mother agreed. No, Father wouldn’t have listened to Mother’s opinion.’

Slowly, his body slid deeper into the tub. An unbearable wave of drowsiness washed over him.

‘At the end, when they set the hounds on me, I really thought I was going to die… Being torn apart by dogs is not how I want to go…’

That’s when it really hit him.

These people truly intended to kill him.

Father wished for his death.

It became real.

‘Was it kindness or conscience that made him not ask me to commit suicide, like he told my brother to give up his title?’

As these thoughts swirled in his mind, Morris dozed off, only to wake up the next moment coughing and sputtering water.

“Cough, hack—”

His nose and throat burned. Sleep vanished in an instant.

‘To survive that only to drown in a bathtub—that would make the gossip columns.’

Coughing repeatedly, Morris climbed out of the tub. After shaving, his jawline appeared sharper, as if he had lost weight.

Entering the dressing room, there was a musty smell, but his discarded clothes seemed to have been taken away. Instead, new clothes had been laid out. As he changed into them, it finally sank in that he had truly made it back alive. Morris took a deep breath and headed for his room.

As soon as he entered, he found himself sniffing the air unconsciously. A delicious aroma filled the room.

“Morris, come eat.”

Sigrid, sitting on the sofa, beckoned to him. With her coat off, she was in her Imperial Guard uniform.

A navy blue jacket with gold buttons.

Hot bread and vegetable soup were laid out on the coffee table. Morris sat down and quickly drained the soup. It felt like ages since he’d had proper vegetables. He slathered the hot bread with butter, letting it melt in generously before adding jam and devouring it in the blink of an eye.

A servant brought a fresh bread basket and ladled more vegetable soup into a large plate. It was the perfect meal for a stomach that hadn’t eaten properly in a long time.

While Morris ate heartily, Sigrid nibbled just enough to stave off hunger.

When his eating pace finally slowed, Sigrid spoke up.

“Lowengrin and Marie-Chez said the Viscount had passed away.”

“I think so too. The pursuit stopped halfway.”

Sigrid frowned at the word ‘pursuit’, then asked:

“What exactly happened?”

Realizing her mistake, she quickly added:

“Tell me if you can. If it’s difficult, you don’t have to say anything.”

Morris paused briefly at her words, then resumed eating as he replied:

“I just made my opinion clear to Father.”

‘Clear, as in…’

“Oh?” Sigrid inquired.

“You mean about not inheriting the title? Hadn’t you already said that several times?”

“Yes, but—I’d never stated it as firmly as this time. To Father, who was on his deathbed, it must have felt like betrayal from the son he trusted.”

Morris laughed.

Why was that? He couldn’t stop laughing. He knew it wasn’t something to laugh about. In fact, deep down, this situation wasn’t funny at all. But Morris’s facial muscles seemed to have a mind of their own, displaying a smile.

“So Father thought, ‘For the eldest to properly inherit the family, the second son who’s a strong candidate is an obstacle. Let’s kill him.'”

Sigrid raised her voice.

“That’s absurd! There’s no way Morris would do that! What on earth is your father thinking about you?”

At those words, Morris stared blankly at Sigrid. He had never considered it from that angle. Morris twisted his lips slightly and said:

“I suppose he thought of me as a son who would carry on his will.”

“That’s different from this!”

Sigrid crossed her arms.

“It’s strange, so strange. He may be Morris’s father, but he doesn’t know Morris at all.”

Morris laughed weakly at her words. Seeing his reaction, Sigrid quickly added:

“I… I didn’t mean to speak ill of Morris’s father. But given the situation… Of course, he must have been a good father to you…”

“Well… To be honest, I’m not so sure anymore.”

Morris muttered absently. Sigrid tore her bread into tiny pieces as she asked quietly:

“So you fled from the estate because your father tried to kill you?”

“Yes, leaving without a word was hellish. Plus, he even sent messengers to other territories, so I really thought I was going to be caught and killed. Even after reaching the capital, I was still anxious. Even when I got home, I couldn’t calm down. You saved my life by coming.”

Morris smiled at Sigrid. She stuffed all the torn bread pieces into her mouth at once, swallowed, and said:

“I’ll stand guard for you tonight.”

“Guard?”

“Yes, so you can sleep soundly without worry.”

As she thumped her chest while speaking, Morris waved his hands, feeling awkward.

“No, you coming here is enough.”

Sigrid shook her head at his words. She had unintentionally experienced being chased before. Dragging an injured Beramund out of enemy territory was far from pleasant. She had spent several sleepless nights after returning. Even though she knew she was back, her body remained in a state of tension. Morris was surely feeling the same way.

Of course, this was the capital and his own home, but there were no properly armed forces here.

“Leave it to me,” Sigrid said firmly.

Despite Morris’s repeated attempts to persuade her to go home, Sigrid remained adamant. After finishing their meal and freshening up, she planted herself firmly in front of the bedroom door.

“Please sleep in the guest room,” Morris said, adding a “Please” for emphasis.

“Am I making you that uncomfortable…?” Sigrid finally asked, deflated.

Morris nodded. The idea of having Sigrid stand guard outside his bedroom while he slept was simply inconceivable.

“Alright. Then I’ll stand in the hallway. Sleep well, Morris.”

With a grin, Sigrid opened the door and left. Morris thought he should stop her.

Despite thinking that, he felt relieved on one hand. And he felt pathetic for feeling relieved.

‘I’ll accept her help just for today.’

With that thought, Morris threw himself onto the bed. The smooth touch of the bedding was pure bliss. The cool, fine fabric against his skin and the soft mattress. Even the scent was pleasant. It felt as if the bed was sucking him in.

The moment his head hit the pillow, Morris fell into a deep sleep.

Without a trace of tension or wariness.

⊰⋆⋅⭑⋅⋆⊱⊰⋆⋅⭑⋅⋆⊱⊰⋆⋅⭑⋅⋆⊱⊰⋆⋅⭑⋅⋆⊱⊰⋆⋅⭑⋅⋆⊱⊰⋆⋅⭑⋅⋆⊱⊰⋆⋅⭑⋅⋆⊱⊰⋆⋅⭑⋅⋆⊱⊰⋆⋅⭑⋅⋆⊱⊰⋆⋅⭑⋅⋆⊱

When Sigrid returned home, refusing the offer to stay for lunch after waking Morris up at noon, a blue invitation was waiting for her.

Blue with delicate silver embossed borders.

And a red seal with a double-headed eagle—the imperial seal.

She thought her mind was foggy from staying up all night, but seeing this made it go completely blank. She couldn’t think at all.

“Lady Sigrid?”

At Seria’s worried call, Sigrid jumped. Seria’s eyes widened.

“What’s wrong? Are you alright? Is it bad news?”

“No, it’s fine.”

Sigrid replied, tucking the invitation away. Her fingertips were trembling.

“I… I need to be alone for a while.”

At Sigrid’s words, Seria hurriedly bowed and left the room. Sigrid looked at the invitation again.

The imperial seal.

This was an invitation from His Majesty. She carefully opened the letter with a paper knife. Inside was high-quality, weighty paper. At the top was the imperial family crest, and below it, in concise handwriting, was the time for an audience.

This wasn’t an invitation from nobles begging her to grace them with her presence. When summoned, she was expected to come running without question.

To command her like this through a letter, without even sending a person…

Sigrid wanted to laugh. But laughter wouldn’t come.

‘Why is he calling for me?’

The question arose first.

‘Is it to commend me for the western incident?’

She hadn’t received any official recognition for that yet.

‘Then would Beramund be going too?’

She felt relieved. If she went with him, she wouldn’t have to be nervous. If not that, there didn’t seem to be any other reason to summon her.

‘Should I ask Beramund?’

Since this had never happened before, it would be good to ask in advance and find out how to handle it. With that in mind, Sigrid changed her clothes. Just then, a loud rumbling sound echoed from her stomach.

‘I should eat some bread before leaving.’

Sigrid thought, rubbing her belly.

She called Seria to prepare a meal, and in the meantime, Sigrid redid her hair. She tried braiding it on both sides and pinning it up intricately, but somehow it didn’t turn out as well as Marie-Chez’s. Finally, Sigrid gave up and thought, ‘I’ll redo it after eating,’ tying her hair up in a simple ponytail.

Seria had now firmly established herself as a senior among the maids. For one, her employer Sigrid was pushing for her to be a cook, which was a high-ranking position. Moreover, Seria’s cooking skills were remarkable, and she wasn’t disrespectful to the other maids. The maids had come to see her as something of a personal attendant to Sigrid.

Seria carefully watched Sigrid’s face as she served her specialty onion soup. She had been worried when Sigrid’s face hardened upon receiving the invitation, but fortunately, her complexion looked better now.

“This is delicious!”

Sigrid exclaimed, and Seria smiled contentedly, saying, “I’ll bring out the rest,” before withdrawing.

Sigrid’s mood quickly improved as she ate the delicious food.

‘Good food really does make people happy easily.’

Sigrid pondered various things anew. The places she had gone with Marie-Chez and Lowengrin all sold delicious food too. Perhaps that’s why it was more enjoyable.

As she was eating and thinking this, Seria approached with a troubled expression.

“Lady Sigrid, a guest has arrived.”

“A guest?”

What kind of guest at this hour? Sigrid tilted her head.

“Yes, Lord Beramund Lunatil has come.”

“Ah!”

Sigrid felt relieved, thinking, ‘So Beramund received a letter too!’ It seemed he had come to discuss how to handle the invitation. Despite appearing careless, he was surprisingly attentive to the details of his subordinates’ needs.

“Alright, tell him to wait a moment.”

“Yes.”

Sigrid hurriedly stuffed the remaining scrambled eggs and pancakes into her mouth, washed them down with tea, and rose from her seat.

As Sigrid rushed to the reception room, she found Beramund sitting on the sofa. He was looking at the decorative cabinet, seemingly unaware of her arrival. His expressionless face looked somewhat tired, prompting Sigrid to ask without thinking:

“Are you alright?”

At her words, Beramund noticed Sigrid’s entrance and flashed a smile.

“Siri, you’re here?”

“Yes.”

“I’m fine~ Are you okay, Siri?”

“Huh? Yes.”

“Hmm— I thought you might be sick since you suddenly took half the day off.”

“Ah, it wasn’t me, it was because of a friend— I’m fine.”

“I see.”

Beramund stretched his legs out, assuming a comfortable position as he replied. Sigrid, noticing his attire, asked:

“You’re in casual clothes, is it not a work day for you?”

“I changed to come see you, Siri.”

“Why?”

“Why indeed?”

Beramund grinned and asked back. Answering a question with a question—a style Sigrid didn’t appreciate—made her frown. Beramund continued:

“I’m glad you’re healthy. I thought something might have happened.”

“Nothing in particular has happened, but…”

Sigrid glanced at Beramund. While she couldn’t exactly call His Majesty’s invitation ‘something,’ it was certainly something.

“Why?”

Beramund, who couldn’t have missed that hesitation, asked. Sigrid inquired:

“Didn’t you come because of that?”

“Because of what?”

“The invitation from His Majesty—”

At those words, Beramund’s posture changed in an instant. The relaxed stance vanished as he sat up straight on the sofa and leaned his upper body towards her.

“What did it say?”

“It just said to come for an audience.”

“Ha.”

Uttering what might have been a laugh or not, Beramund fell into thought. Sigrid hesitantly asked:

“You didn’t receive one?”

“No.”

“I thought we were being called to be commended for what happened in the west.”

“That’s probably the bait.”

Beramund grinned, showing his teeth.

“Then why would he summon me?”

“You’re asking because you don’t know?”

Sigrid pondered for a moment before asking:

“Is he… trying to make me his ally?”

“That’s a blunt way of putting it, but yes.”

Beramund tapped his knee with his finger. Sigrid suddenly felt her throat go dry. She asked:

“Would you like some tea or something else?”

“Anything is fine.”

“Understood.”

Sigrid rang the bell to order tea. Even after that, she still couldn’t calm down. Seeing her fidget visibly, Beramund called out to her quietly.

“Sigrid.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Are you okay?”

Sigrid nodded. Beramund frowned and said.