If you don’t love me, I will die.

Even after returning to the mansion, I spent several days unable to escape the throbbing pain in my head.

Even though the pain would subside after feeling like my head was about to split open, I found myself wishing it would continue hurting instead.

I wondered if, by suddenly dying, I could return to the original world.

I thought I could erase people like Ania Bronte from my mind and return to where my family awaited.

Of course, I knew that was a gamble. I was terrified of dying.

But even more frightening was being unable to forget Ania Bronte and constantly thinking about her.

Since the inauguration celebration for Aria, Ania Bronte’s face kept popping up in my mind.

Her wet hair and sad-looking eyes.
The tears she shed as she promised to wait for me when I last saw her at the mansion two years ago.

None of it felt like the Ania Bronte I knew.

How deeply rooted was the hatred within me to think of that woman even amid my headache?

“Milord.”

As I lay back in my chair, trying to alleviate the pain, I heard a knock on the door.

“Do not come in.”
“It’s not about company matters. The new physician you hired wishes to see you, milord.”

A new physician.

Come to think of it, I had dismissed the previous physician.

I had asked for medicine to relieve the headache, but all I got was a useless concoction that only worsened it.

“Come in.”

Hopefully, this new physician can help ease this dreadful pain.

So that I can forget about that woman now.

However, the thought that it wouldn’t happen kept creeping in.
I couldn’t imagine a world where that woman would leave my mind.

***

The news of Emperor Eleanor Lionheart falling ill had spread among the Empire’s people about three days after Aria’s inauguration celebration, which had taken place a week ago.

While it should have been sorrowful for the emperor to fall seriously ill, the people silently cheered inside.

If the emperor were to die and Prince Eldrigan ascended to the throne, then perhaps this turbulent time would pass.

Unlike those who harbored such simple concerns, Eldrigan’s heart was uneasy.

It was especially so when he saw his father, who always seemed like a towering tree, lying like a dying old man.

Despite gaining the moniker of a tyrant in his final years, he was still his father.
He was once a man known as the guiding light of the Empire.

And… he was Eldrigan’s role model.

Someone he always wanted to resemble and surpass.

That person was now breathing roughly as if he were slowly suffocating.

Eldrigan had summoned the Empire’s finest physicians, yet they all shook their heads.

They couldn’t even properly diagnose his illness, let alone provide treatment.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness.”
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

Eldrigan pushed the physicians aside and sat near his father’s bedside.

Spring had suddenly arrived; the world sparkled, birds chirped, and verdant leaves flaunted their brilliance.

On a day when everything was blooming,
His father’s vitality was slowly dimming.

How mercilessly time flowed.

It was cruel, yet it was the natural order.

Despite being locked away in solitary confinement occasionally and constantly belittled as incompetent, Eldrigan still respected his father.

He wasn’t an incompetent ruler.

However, he had brutally destroyed Edward Radner’s life.
The antiquated shackles of feudalism had ensnared Edward’s ankles.
Despite relentless efforts to break free from those chains, he ultimately couldn’t escape their grasp.

Love intertwined with hatred.
These two emotions swirled within his heart.

It would be sad if my father were to leave this world.
But if my father were to return, I could change the Empire with my hands.

I could dismantle the outdated system and restore the lives of the starving citizens of the Empire.
And Edward’s life…
The life that collapsed due to my own incompetence…

“I cannot let that happen.”

Eldrigan gazed out the window tinted with a hue of green.
The warm spring breeze blew across the Empire.

Although winter had passed and spring had come, Eldrigan sighed at the realization that there wasn’t much he could undo.

Edward and Ania’s divorce.
Although everyone hushed about it, the fact that it was a result of Johann Radner’s drug trafficking was widely known in society.

Valentine Bronte, worried about her daughter, had abandoned Edward, leading to the shameful necessity of their divorce.

The news had reached Eldrigan’s ears six months later when Edward had invented the internal combustion engine and started his small company.

“I should have said something back then.”

He worried that Edward might harbor ill feelings towards the Bronte family and come to resent Ania.

So Eldrigan had refrained from telling Edward the truth.
How arrogant was he?

In just six months, Edward’s company had grown to the point of being called a corporation,
while the Bronte family and the royal family gradually crumbled.

Now, Edward was no longer beneath his feet.
He had long become a figure standing at the center of the Empire.

So, no matter what I say now, it will only sound like simple flattery to Edward’s ears.

‘Since feelings are something you can’t know unless you express them.’

Eldrigan chuckled wryly as he recalled the past from three years ago when he first met Edward.

Since feelings are something you can’t know unless you express them.
He used to think that way, but he was wrong.

If you don’t express your feelings on time, they will not be conveyed properly.

“If only I had known that fact a little earlier…”

Eldrigan lightly brushed his father’s hair, who lay still as if dead.

Many things would change.
Many things needed to be done.

Eldrigan Lionheart was no longer the naive prince.
He was now faced with the heavy burden of the Empire’s future.

The young child who had only followed behind his father’s back now realized how heavy the responsibility of leading the Empire was, only in the face of his father’s imminent death.

***

“……Thank you for providing the daily sustenance today as well.”

Bronte mansion’s dining room.

Only two people sat at the long table reminiscent of a grand banquet hall.

Duke Valentine Bronte, the mansion’s master, and his daughter, Ania Bronte.

Usually, one would hear Duke Valentine’s cheerful voice more than the sounds of eating,
but in the dining room, only the quiet clinking of utensils against plates echoed.

It had been over a year since the atmosphere at the dining table became as cold as ice.

It started after the Duke’s silk trade and perfume production were paralyzed.

The two’s thoughts were intertwined in a complex mess.

The father, who had tried to protect the family for the sake of his daughter,
and the daughter was disappointed in her suddenly changed father.

That was their story.
And it had been going on for over a year.

But in the midst of the ongoing meal, Ania slowly broke the silence.

“Father.”

For a brief moment, a small smile appeared on Valentine Bronte’s face as he looked at his daughter, who had suddenly spoken, but then his expression returned to a calm demeanor.

“What is it?”

He asked, but there was no response for a while.

Valentine Bronte looked at his daughter, who quietly continued eating with an uneasy expression. Ania’s gaze shifted towards her father as she set down her fork.

Valentine Bronte felt the small and silent anger contained in that gaze.
And soon, he realized,
Ania had found out everything.

“The letters…”

But before Valentine Bronte could offer his excuse, Ania’s voice came first.

“Did you block them, father?”

Valentine’s eyes quivered.
He released a startled breath and stood up from his seat, his voice quavering.

“Ania, my daugh–”
“Did you… do that, father?”
“Listen to me for a moment.”
“Please answer.”

Valentine had vaguely thought that it might come to this someday.
He did it for the sake of his daughter, but the guilt of deceiving his child remained.
Nevertheless, he believed he could explain.

He thought his daughter, wise and clever as she was, could understand that his actions were for her sake.

“Please.”

However, in the moment Ania’s tears flowed down her face, Valentine Bronte realized.
All the actions he had thought he had done for his daughter were not actually for her.

“Ania. Everything was for you…”
“For me?
“……”

Ania’s face flushed red.
Transparent droplets fell heavily amidst her roughened breaths.

“Was that for me?”

Ania shouted abruptly.

“I never asked for that… I never wanted that…”
“Ania.”
“I did everything father wanted. Maintained my dignity, posture, demeanor, and mindset of a noble… I remained a perfect and exemplary daughter! Why did you impose things on me that I never wanted!”

Along with Ania’s screaming outcry, the sound of the table being struck filled the dining room.

Valentine stared at his daughter with a gaping mouth and sad eyes.

His daughter, who had never lost her composure before him, was crying and shouting as if in sorrow.

There was so much to say, but any words now would only seem like excuses.

Valentine Bronte buried all the prepared words in his heart.

“I’m sorry.”

That one sentence was all he allowed himself to say.

Author’s Notes (From an announcement)

Hello dear readers.

It’s not a big announcement and some content change announcements.

I’m changing the title from to

I’m sure you’re thinking why all of a sudden… but I’ve thinking of changing it for a while.

On December 27th, one of my favorite actors died, making me think more about the title. I realized the negative connotations it could have for some people.

However, I couldn’t think of a better title to express the character of Ania Bronte, and it wasn’t easy to change because it was the original title I conceived and envisioned.

I have changed some of Ania’s lines, but most of the chapters are relatively untouched.

That’s how it happened. Thank you for understanding.

Translator’s Corner

I hope you enjoyed the chapter. As you have read, I changed the title of the novel. I don’t read Novelpia announcements at all, so I missed this one from February 2nd.

Also, there is a new cover, so let me know if I should use it. It shouldn’t be a spoiler for newer readers either, so it’s your call whether I should use it. (Already using it.)

-Ruminas