***
Franz couldn’t bring himself to refuse Judith’s earnest plea.
Considering the nobles’ general lack of generosity towards foreigners and Judith’s precarious position within the palace, her anxiety was understandable.
After some deliberation, Franz summoned a servant to bring him several books.
While Astel Palace’s library was undeniably small for the heir apparent, it held enough books to cover the topics Judith needed to understand.
“…So, in the south, several small kingdoms are constantly embroiled in war.
They maintain a superficial alliance with the neighboring grand duchy of Melgon and the duchy of Catania.
However, if the grand duchy declares that it will no longer cede portions of its territory, hostilities are likely to escalate into a full-fledged confrontation.”
Franz’s explanations, accompanied by maps and books spread out before them, were easy to understand and detailed.
Most of it was already familiar to Judith, but some parts were entirely new to her.
These mainly pertained to the Lotheir Kingdom’s involvement in foreign politics and the intricate power struggles between the various nations.
Judith thought to herself that, with this level of knowledge, passing the entrance exam would be a breeze for Franz.
Considering the average age of students applying to the Academy, the professors and scholars wouldn’t expect anything extraordinary.
Given that he hadn’t received a proper education from the scholars of the royal court—except during his early years—it was remarkable that he possessed such a grasp of these topics.
Judith was determined to get Franz to Delaca no matter what.
His competence could sway not only Duke Berzi, but also the other nobles who pitied his plight.
“Let’s call it a day for now,” Franz said, breaking her train of thought.
He easily noticed that her focus had slipped as she indulged in her own thoughts.
Judith quickly adopted a sheepish expression, fiddling with the corner of the book.
“It’s more complicated than I thought,” she admitted.”
“If this is your first time hearing such things, you’re bound to feel that way.
Don’t worry—you’ll get the hang of it,” Franz said, offering a reassuring smile.
No sooner had they finished that a servant arrived with tea.
It was a thoughtful gesture, but unexpected, leaving both of them momentarily bewildered.
Thus, an awkward tea time commenced.
While Judith hesitated, Franz silently poured her a cup of tea.
Then, opening the lid of a white porcelain sugar bowl, he picked up a pair of small sugar tongs.
He began to sift through the sugar, shaking the bowl back and forth, as though searching for something.
Judith’s expression grew curious.
“Your Highness, what are you doing?”
Click.
With a soft click, something caught on the tip of the tongs.
He carefully extracted something from inside the bowl.
Judith had come across rose petal sugar in the Astel Palace during her previous life, but only once or twice.
Freshly bloomed, early summer roses were harvested whole and the petals were carefully separated, one by one, to prevent them from withering.
Then, they were coated repeatedly with sugar.
These were no ordinary roses—they were thorny roses, unique to Duke Berzi’s estate, with fuller petals and smaller blooms.
Astel Palace was the only place in all of Lotheir where you could find rose petal sugar.
Even Queen Gilsis didn’t have the privilege of using this luxurious sugar.
Franz selected the most beautiful one from the sugar bowl, the one with the most perfect shape and color, and placed it in her teacup.
The petal, which had momentarily sunk due to the sugar’s weight, floated up like a little boat when the sugar dissolved.
The beautiful curves of the petals and their vibrant color drew an involuntary exclamation from Judith.
“It’s so pretty.”
Even if the rose sugar was beautiful, it would inevitably get chipped or deformed as it bumped around in a bag or jar.
But the one Franz put in Judith’s cup was flawless.
He had gone out of his way to find one that wasn’t damaged.
As Judith happily gazed at her teacup, a faint smile appeared at the corner of Franz’s mouth.
“When I was young, my father always used to find unbroken sugar petals for my mother’s teacup.”
Judith looked at him as she blew lightly on the petal and took a sip of tea.
It was the first time he had brought up such a thing in both of their lives.
King Jedekair, who was bedridden and had been unconscious for a long time, loved and cherished Franz’s mother dearly.
She remembered shedding tears and sighing with sorrow for Franz and for the late queen when she heard that he had contracted a heart ailment because of his grief.
What would it be like to be loved so much by your only husband?
Even when she was near Franz, she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye, and it was a struggle even to exchange a few words with him.
It was a dream she couldn’t even dare to dream.
And she couldn’t help but sigh when she thought about how Franz—if his parents had been alive and well and had loved each other so deeply—might have lived a life of unblemished glory as a noble crown prince.
“What was the late queen like?”
As Judith cautiously brought up the topic, she noticed the sugar petal in Franz’s teacup.
It was much smaller than the one in her own, and its shape was slightly deformed.
It was a small detail, yet it made her heart ache unexpectedly.
She realized that he had been cast aside for so long that he no longer knew how to care for himself, even in the smallest ways.
Franz, his lips touching his teacup, remained silent for a while, and his expression changed just enough for her to notice.
His thick eyebrows furrowed slightly, and his golden eyes, like drops of glistening honey, trembled slightly.
The faint sadness and melancholy etched on his maturing, handsome face, quietly shook Judith’s heart.
“She was gentle and composed.
She was so kindhearted that she couldn’t even kill a bug.”
“Your Highness… it seems like you inherited your kind heart from the late queen.”
Franz turned his head and looked intently at her, before lowering his eyes with a quiet smile.
“I’m not a kind person.”
“You showed me compassion.
To me, you’re a kind person,” she said.
Franz quietly assessed the weight of her words.
Was kindness something so personal?
Though he had never received a crown prince’s formal education, he knew what virtues a king should embody.
Kindness was certainly among them, but Franz couldn’t bring himself to believe he was a good person.
“Why don’t you think of yourself as a kind person, Your Highness?”
A heavy silence fell over the room.
Franz, idly tracing the handle of his teacup, finally muttered with a sneer, “Because I can’t forgive.”
When he was alone in Astel Palace, where no one ever visited, hatred would creep in, slithering up to coil around his ankles.
It was so deep, so dark, that it blended with the darkness of the night and was difficult to discern.
Franz had given much of himself to that abyss of hatred.
He had tried to avoid being swept away by it, but that was a long time ago.
The overwhelming powerlessness that had consumed him at some point slowly gnawed at his sanity.
He had thought more than once that he might go mad.
There weren’t many outlets to alleviate the violent impulses that occasionally surged within him.
He could swing his sword or ride his horse out of the palace and run as far as he could.
But even those options were dangerous, for he couldn’t risk being seen.
He knew that many people knew he had a talent for swordsmanship and horsemanship, and it was inevitable that Queen Gilsis would hear about it.
So Franz hid his abilities.
He pretended to be inept, silently enduring the queen’s mockery and criticism.
His anger and despair layered upon itself, compacting into a massive, unmanageable weight.
When it finally grew too large, it became uncontrollable.
“I despise myself most for giving myself over to hatred—without the courage or the will to change my fate.”
“That’s not your fault, Your Highness.
You know that.” Judith replied softly.
“It’s not like blaming others will change the situation.
It will only make my dark desires grow stronger.”
“Even so, you shouldn’t let yourself go.
Don’t give up on yourself.”
“You said that before.”
Franz pushed his cup away and leaned back slightly in his chair.
Even though they were so close, the emotional distance between them felt insurmountable.
Perhaps if one of them just reached out, they could bridge the gap—but neither seemed ready to take that step just yet.
Even so, Judith wanted to hug him at that moment, just as she had when she saw him consumed with anger for the first time, not knowing what to do.
“I told you that letting myself go is the thing I fear most.”
“Yes, Your Highness.
That’s still true.
And it always will be.”
“Even if I retain my sanity, I won’t be able to give you the glory that befits your position.
Don’t lie to me and say that just me surviving and not going crazy will be a glorious thing.”
Judith smiled faintly and bowed her head.
If he hadn’t added that, she would have probably said those words to comfort him.
Even though she knew he wouldn’t believe her, she couldn’t help but say it.
“I understand.
I won’t lie to you.”
The days when she would be grateful for him just being sane were long gone.
She left it behind in the tower, along with her withered corpse, filled with nothing but cold, pain, and hunger.
The glory Judith envisioned was much higher and farther away.
It was her glory, but not entirely hers alone.
That glory would only become tangible when Franz, seated on Lotheir’s highest throne, bore the most resplendent crown upon his head.
“But Your Highness, hatred isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well-refined hatred can sometimes serve as a powerful driving force.”
There was no immediate reply.
Judith gathered her courage and lightly reached out to touch the tip of Franz’s hand, resting on the table.
He stared down at her hand, slender and with pale veins showing through her skin.
He gently moved his finger, intertwining it with hers.
Even with such a small touch, Judith felt her cheeks flush red.
She wanted to place anything in his hands—whether it be a razor-sharp sword, beautiful lace, or even the handle of a poisoned cup.