Chapter 014. The 21-Year-Old Princess (3)

Rosalyn was reading through a report about Sionne Feitan as she waited for him.

“Feitan.”

She circled the word ‘Feitan’ with her pen, muttering quietly to herself, ‘What were you thinking?’

The report detailed the atrocities Rosalyn had committed to acquire Sionne during her triumphant return.

‘She even resorted to self-harm?’

Though the account had been softened, it was still enough to astonish Rosalyn. It seemed so absurd, like something her enemies had concocted to slander her.

On top of that, living together in the same room, gifting him luxury items—it was clear Sionne wasn’t just a war prize; he had practically become a lover.

‘To think I would bring a lover into my life.’

For 21 years, she had despised courtesans, mistresses, and illegitimate offspring.

Maybe that’s why the notion of her having a lover was so hard to accept. She felt uneasy even thinking about facing Sionne.

That was why she had delayed addressing the situation, even though it was something that should have been dealt with long ago.

‘Sigh…’

A sigh escaped her lips just as there was a knock at the door.

‘Knock, knock.’

“Your Grace, we’ve brought him.”

“Come in.”

At her command, the door opened.

Rosalyn narrowed her eyes as she looked at the man being escorted in.

Black hair. Tall. Broad shoulders. A typical Feitanian physique.

‘His skin is pale for someone from Feitan.’

His right arm was more muscular than his left, indicating he was right-handed with the sword. He bore a few scars, but for someone who had been through war, he was surprisingly well-kept.

He was certainly someone who caught the eye.

But that was all. She didn’t feel any particular emotions as she looked at him.

“Sionne Feitan.”

Rosalyn called his name, and his long eyelashes fluttered like a butterfly as he lifted his gaze. His teal eyes, previously hidden, now met hers.

‘Ah.’

A sudden sense of déjà vu hit Rosalyn, and she leaned forward in her chair. An old, buried memory stirred at the edges of her mind.

The royal palace, crumbling wherever the invaders stepped. Screams and sobs filled the air, and the acrid smell of burning overwhelmed her senses.

Amidst the devastation, one man had stood out.

‘Ugh.’

She tried to focus on the man’s face in her memory, but that was as far as she got. The fragmented memory brought only a dull ache before slipping away again.

“Are you alright, Your Grace?”

Meriwood hurried to Rosalyn’s side and asked.

“I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

Rosalyn answered, closing her eyes briefly before opening them again. One thing was clear: there was a connection between her and the man standing before her.

“Let’s begin, Lady Mason.”

Straightening her posture, Rosalyn gave the order. Meriwood, after a brief bow, unrolled a yellowed parchment and began to read.

“We will now begin the interrogation regarding the attempted assassination of the Grand Duke of Anata.”

Meriwood directed her first question at Sionne.

“Sionne Feitan, report everything you know about the incident five days ago.”

“Are you referring to the accident where the Grand Duke hit her head?”

Kneeling between the guards, Sionne asked cautiously, unsure of the direction this interrogation was taking.

“As you know, the ornament on top of the wardrobe fell and struck the Grand Duke on the head.”

His answer was intentionally vague.

“And the events leading up to that?”

Meriwood wasn’t about to let him get away with a non-answer.

Several rounds of probing questions followed, and the truth began to unfold in bits and pieces. With each revelation, Rosalyn’s expression hardened.

Through Sionne’s account, Rosalyn came to understand that, in this narrative, she was portrayed as a crazed lover, obsessed with her consort.

‘All of this because she was jealous of a maid speaking to her lover?’

Rosalyn wanted to stop the interrogation right then and there. She didn’t want to hear another word.

So, deviating from her original plan, she interrupted.

“This interrogation is over.”

At that, Sionne’s gaze shifted from Meriwood to Rosalyn.

“Sionne Feitan has confessed to his crime.”

“But it was an accident! I didn’t…”

“Yes, I suppose you could call it an accident, given that my head injury is largely my own fault,” Rosalyn said, brushing her bangs back as she spoke.

“But that doesn’t absolve you of pushing me, does it?”

“…I had no intention of attacking you. I couldn’t bear to watch a young girl dying in front of me,” Sionne responded, maintaining that he had no intention of harming her. He wanted to ensure that his actions wouldn’t lead to repercussions against Merilyn and Anna.

“You know better than anyone, don’t you? That I can’t bring myself to harm you.”

Rosalyn, with her fractured memories, misunderstood his words entirely.

“Why? Because you’re my lover?” she asked, her red eyes gleaming with contempt.

“Even in a world where families kill each other.”

Sionne clenched his teeth, trying to suppress the unpleasant memories her words stirred.

“In such a world, a few nights together wouldn’t stop you from killing me. Or are you trying to say that you loved me?”

It was fortunate he hadn’t said anything foolish. Any softer words might have slipped from his mouth.

‘…What exactly is my relationship with this woman? Could she really love me?’

He recalled hearing something similar recently, a question that had unsettled him just as much as it did now.

The Emperor hadn’t known the full extent of their relationship, so his question made sense. But for Rosalyn de Anata to ask such a thing was strange.

And beyond that, something about her felt off.

Her demeanor was unusually rational, her gaze clear and direct. This version of Rosalyn de Anata felt unfamiliar to him.

‘Could it be…’

Sionne glanced up at the bandages wrapped around her head. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps her head injury had caused some lasting effects, though he couldn’t be sure.

He remembered the people he had encountered on the battlefield—those who lost their memories due to physical or mental trauma.

‘Or is she just toying with me?’

With a woman like her, it was possible. Rosalyn had always been prone to unpredictable behavior.

Sionne began to consider ways to navigate this confusing situation.

“I’d rather ask you a question instead,” he said, opting for a counter-question. When unsure of an answer, he thought, the best response was to ask something in return.

“Did you keep me by your side because you loved me?”

It was a trap of a question, one that could be interpreted differently depending on whether she remembered or not.

Now that the bait was laid, it was time to see how she would react.

“…Me? Love you?”

“Yes.”

At his question, Rosalyn frowned silently. She didn’t laugh maniacally like she often did, nor did she scoff or deny his words.

“……”

She looked troubled, lost in thought. Though she had considered the possibility that Sionne might have loved her, she had never allowed herself to entertain the idea that she could have loved him in return.

From what she had gathered, in the seven years of war, all she had gained were “Anata” and the man standing before her.

“Anata” had been forcibly given to her by Lucas as part of his efforts to seize Hernia, which meant the only thing she had personally obtained at 28 years of age was Sionne Feitan.

But for the hardship she had endured, a fallen prince didn’t seem worth it.

‘Why? What for?’

Her thoughts led her to one unavoidable conclusion.

‘Did I… love a man who was of no use to me?’

Rosalyn unconsciously scrutinized Sionne’s face.

His black hair, reminiscent of the midnight sky. His sharp nose and crimson lips. His calm, steady eyelashes.

“……”

As Sionne felt her gaze lingering on him, he reached a conclusion.

‘She’s lost her memory of me.’

The moment their eyes met, he spoke.

“It seems that the words you whispered to me each night were all lies, considering you can’t answer me now.”

Sionne lowered his eyes, feigning sorrow. His voice had subtly shifted to a more respectful tone, an almost submissive politeness.

‘I can’t believe I have to act coy in front of an enemy princess.’

But this was no time to cling to his pride. His pride wouldn’t save Merilyn or Anna.

Luckily for Sionne, he had spent his entire life pretending to be the person others expected him to be—whether it was the dutiful eldest son supporting his family or the virtuous prince beloved by the people.

Of course, this was a far cry from being the shameless lover of a woman.

But it wasn’t too difficult.

He had plenty of examples to draw from: the courtesans his father kept, the prostitutes near the battlefields. He’d seen enough.

Before raising his gaze again, Sionne bit his tongue hard enough to make tears well up in his eyes from the pain.

“You know how much I gave up for you.”

As he looked up, a tear rolled down his cheek.

“How could you so easily cast me aside like this, Rosalyn?”

Sionne blinked, letting the tears fall, and called out her name.

‘Pretend to be obedient, but keep your teeth and claws hidden. That way, when the time comes, you can bite your master’s neck.’

He decided to follow the advice someone had whispered to him just a few days ago.