Chapter 013. The 21-Year-Old Princess (2)

“What year is it in the Imperial calendar?”

“It’s the year 714. When is the last year you remember, Your Grace?”

Rosalyn muttered the number 714 a few times before lifting her face to respond.

“707.”

“…Your Grace, I’m afraid you’ve lost some of your memories due to the head injury,” the doctor, secretly brought in by Meriwood, diagnosed calmly.

“So you’re telling me I’ve lost about seven years of my memories.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“And during those seven years, I lost the imperial succession battle, participated in the Feitan conquest, and recently returned victorious as the Grand Duchess of Anata?”

“You are indeed perceptive.”

The phrase “perceptive” was one Rosalyn had heard her entire life, but it had never sounded as sarcastic as it did now.

She looked at her nurse, Meriwood, standing by her side, her gaze asking, “Is this true?” Meriwood wiped away her tears and nodded, confirming that this absurd story was indeed the truth.

“Hah! Even a nightmare packed with seven years of horror would be better than this.”

Rosalyn couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh. It felt surreal, as though the worst possible outcomes had all converged into this bizarre reality.

“Ugh.”

“Your Grace!”

But no matter how much she wanted to escape into the idea that it was all a dream, she couldn’t. The splitting headache that followed was far too real.

“Does your head hurt? Are you alright?”

“If the headache is severe, I’ll prepare some pain relief medication.”

“It’s not that bad. I’m fine, Nurse.”

She wasn’t fine, but the words tumbled out automatically, a habit she’d developed over time.

“Sigh.”

Once the pain subsided, Rosalyn exhaled, blowing a strand of her red hair that had fallen over her face.

“!”

She noticed that her hair had grown significantly shorter. Grabbing a handful of it, she held it in front of her eyes.

“This really is a ridiculous sight.”

Lowering her hand, she ran it down her neck, where she felt raised scars where there should have been smooth skin.

“What is this…?”

Rosalyn was at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the changes these seven years had brought.

She sat in silence for a moment, then tried to shake off the emotions. Being depressed over things beyond her control didn’t suit her nature.

“Looks like my seven years weren’t exactly kind to me, huh?”

The light-hearted joke only made the atmosphere in the room grow heavier. It wasn’t the reaction she had been hoping for.

“Forget it. I’ll get a full update from Gilbert. Summon him for me.”

Rosalyn felt she needed Gilbert to help her come to terms with the situation. He would undoubtedly laugh off her jokes, no matter how grim the situation.

“……”

But her request was met with an eerie silence, the kind that stirred unsettling thoughts.

“…What is it? Is there something else I need to know?”

The repeated awkward silences around the mention of Gilbert made Rosalyn feel uneasy.

“Why does everyone freeze when I bring up Gilbert…?”

“Your Grace.”

Meriwood gently took Rosalyn’s hand, soothing her. Her lips quivered as if trying to find the right words.

“Sir Blanchet… passed away on the battlefield four years ago.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Dead…? Who?”

It wasn’t just her appearance that had changed. The passage of seven years had stolen away even the people she had once taken for granted.

“Gilbert Blanchet?”

She had been irritated that he hadn’t shown his face yet. She had planned to scold him, as usual, when he returned with that smile on his face.

Dead?

It felt absurd. The small sense of reality she had been piecing together suddenly vanished.

Rosalyn didn’t cry or deny the truth. The only sound that filled the room was the faint gulp as she swallowed hard, trying to control her emotions.

“…How did Gilbert die? Was I by his side?”

“Yes, of course.”

Meriwood had hidden the fact that Gilbert had died protecting Rosalyn. It was an act of kindness for someone who was already dealing with enough confusion.

“I see…”

Rosalyn ran her hands over her face in a dry wash, trying to hide her trembling expression.

“I understand, so everyone, leave me.”

“Your Grace…”

Meriwood’s voice wavered as she called out to Rosalyn. She couldn’t shake the feeling that leaving Rosalyn alone right now would be a mistake.

“I’ll stay by your side.”

She couldn’t count how many sleepless nights she had spent, worrying while Rosalyn lay there, pale and still. Meriwood wanted to be by her side for a little longer.

“You must still be very confused. It might be better if I stayed with you…”

“No. I need some time alone to think right now.”

“But…”

“Nurse.”

Meriwood looked into Rosalyn’s eyes and finally gave in.

“…Understood, Your Grace. But please, call me if you change your mind.”

“Thank you.”

After reassuring Meriwood, Rosalyn turned toward the doctor.

“Keep everything you’ve seen and heard today to yourself.”

It was obvious that news of her memory loss couldn’t be allowed to leak. It would only give her rivals the ammunition they needed to attack her.

“Sooner or later, my half-brother will send someone. When he does, pretend to hesitate, and then leak only what the palace doctors know.”

“Yes, understood.”

“I’ll reward you generously for keeping this secret, but if even a word of my memory loss gets out, you’ll pay for it with your life.”

Despite the severity of her threat, the doctor from the outskirts of the capital bowed his head calmly, as if he had heard similar warnings many times before.

“Good. You can all leave now.”

After bowing respectfully, Meriwood and the doctor exited the room.

“……”

In the quiet stillness, Rosalyn clutched her head in frustration. She tried to recall her last moments with Gilbert.

Damn it.

But it was no use. She remembered nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Gilbert Blanchet. He had been her swordsmanship tutor when she was just 11 years old.

But even though he was her teacher, they were only 13 years apart. That narrow age gap had allowed them to grow closer than most master and student pairs.

He had naturally become her confidant and closest companion.

And now, the fact that she couldn’t remember a single moment of his death tormented her. The more she had relied on him, the heavier the burden became.

What kind of face did he have in his final moments? What were his last words?

The more she tried to recall, the more suffocating the frustration became. It felt like running through an endless fog.

How could I forget his dying words!

Just as her anger at herself was about to boil over, something surfaced in her mind.

It wasn’t his final moments, but it was their last conversation from seven years ago. A conversation that felt as recent as a few days ago to her.

‘Gilbert, I’m fine. Really. So why don’t you stop hovering around me all the time?’

‘I refuse.’

‘Are you saying you’ll defy my orders?’

‘Yes, I will disobey you.’

‘Sigh… Why do you keep getting bolder as time goes on?’

‘It’s a problem for me as well, Your Grace. But I swore to always stay by your side, and I intend to keep that oath.’

In her memory, Gilbert had worried about Rosalyn, who had remained calm even after her mother’s death. No matter how much she assured him she was fine, he hadn’t believed her.

‘I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything, so feel free to cry. Bottling things up will only make it worse in the end.’

Gilbert hadn’t been one for affectionate words, but he had his own way of offering comfort.

‘Do you think I’m just like everyone else?’

At the time, she hadn’t taken his words as comfort. Instead, she’d been irritated and sarcastic.

After all, she wasn’t just anyone—she was a member of the royal family. And a strong contender for the throne at that.

She couldn’t afford to show weakness. She always had to remain rational and composed.

She had to be different from the common people. Different from the ordinary nobility.

That’s what she had been taught, and that’s what she had always strived for.

It was ironic.

Striving to be different inherently acknowledged that she was just like everyone else. The more effort she put in, the more it proved she wasn’t all that different.

“You promised to always stay by my side.”

But that promise had not been kept.

Gilbert Blanchet was gone.

Suddenly, the weight of that reality hit her like a tidal wave. Her body seemed to understand it before her mind did.

“Sigh…”

Rosalyn, in a moment of pure vulnerability, finally let her tears fall. Just as Gilbert had warned, suppressing it for too long had taken its toll.

* * *

The next day, Rosalyn returned to her duties, her face as cold and composed as ever. In just two days, she had managed to deal with all the urgent matters that had piled up.

On the third day after Rosalyn woke up, she finally decided it was time to uncover the truth behind the “incident.”

“Handle him with care.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The guards in front of the solitary cell where Sionne was held stirred as they prepared to bring him out. His eyes, deep in thought, shifted toward the sound of the door.

After a few clicks, the door creaked open.

“Her Grace is ready to determine the truth of the incident. Come with us.”

Meriwood, who looked worn from the past few days, called to him. Behind her stood the soldiers waiting to escort him.

One, two, three… only three soldiers.

If he wanted to, it would be easy to overpower them.

“Yes.”

But Sionne stepped forward without resistance. He had no choice but to comply, not with the hostage the “Red Witch” had taken from him.

His time in the cell had solidified his purpose.

He wasn’t trying to protect his pride or his fragile honor. And it certainly wasn’t for some empty revenge.

He only cared about one thing: protecting Merilyn and Anna.

By any means necessary. No matter what I have to do.