The Weight of a Crown
Olivia hesitated in front of the study door, her hand hovering over the handle. She had done this several times already.
She should have been prepared. She had to tell him eventually.
Theodore was a man she could trust, someone who had remained loyal to her until the very end. Objectively speaking, he was the first person she needed to recruit, not just for the sake of the Lutgarth family, but because she needed allies she could rely on.
Yet, she could not bring herself to open the door. Seeing her own hand trembling as it gripped the brass handle, she realized she wasn't just hesitating—she was afraid.
Was it because she didn't want to see him and the Lutgarths make sacrifices? Was it because she wanted to wait until she was a true, undisputed princess before facing him?
If those were the reasons, she might feel regret, but she shouldn't feel fear. Olivia already knew that Theodore would willingly cooperate.
The truth was, she simply didn't want to show him the face of "Laila." Laila was the kind of person he despised most in this world.
"Haa..."
She let out a long, shaky breath. Gathering her resolve, she turned the handle.
"...Via."
The study was lit by candles, but it remained dim. Theodore, who had been standing before a bookshelf, turned his head to look at her. His jet-black hair and dark suit seemed to melt into the shadows.
Olivia desperately wished her own expression would be swallowed by that same darkness.
Silence swirled between them like dust motes. She kept her eyes lowered, staring only at the deep, polished shine of his shoes, yet she could feel his gaze fixed intently on her face, as if nailed in place.
"I've never seen you wear makeup before."
"How did you know I was here?"
They spoke almost simultaneously. Neither had intended to say those words, but the compulsion to break the silence forced them to speak.
Olivia lifted her head. Theodore walked toward the sofa with restless, long strides and sank into it. He likely felt that remaining standing would make him seem too threatening to her.
"Count Zeppelin gave me the invitation. I'm the one who wants to know the reason."
"..."
"What are you doing here? Running away like that... have you become Ezekiel Schwaben's mistress?"
Theodore spat out each word as if grinding them between his teeth. Olivia’s face turned pale.
No, Theodore already suspected that wasn't the case.
Count Zeppelin had given him this invitation when asked if Duke Klaus had an heir. That meant this salon was far more deeply connected to the Duke than merely providing a venue, and Olivia was the owner of that salon.
It was more accurate to assume she had become an operative for the Klaus faction to seduce Ezekiel Schwaben.
He couldn't believe Olivia would do such a thing. At the same time, he felt a sense of self-loathing, wondering what he had ever actually known about her.
When had she become a person of Duke Klaus? Since his father was still alive? Had Klaus been monitoring the Lutgarths all this time?
Was that night just "work" to her? Was it easier to play the role of an adopted daughter to his father and approach him as a woman?
Such suspicions and the desperate desire to disbelieve them swirled within Theodore. He was disgusted by his own foolishness. Even after witnessing it with his own eyes, a small part of his heart still clung to the hope that he had been different to her. He tried to rationalize it with every excuse he could find, even as he let out a bitter, hollow laugh.
Olivia’s large turquoise eyes shimmered with moisture. But instead of crying, she shook her head to clear it.
She could guess what he was misunderstanding, but she didn't bother to correct him. That night... it had simply been the result of an impulsive heart. That wasn't what mattered. What mattered was surviving and winning.
She walked quickly toward the desk. Theodore’s gaze followed her silently. She opened a locked drawer, pulled out a large, sealed envelope, and approached him.
"I want you to look at this."
"..."
Theodore took the envelope without a word. The candlelight slid over Olivia’s black hair, and a sweet scent drifted into his lungs. It was beautiful, but it was a different color and a different scent than the woman he had loved.
He tore the envelope open. He had expected a message from Duke Klaus, but the envelope inside was familiar.
To my beloved Olivia.
From Pavel.
It was his father’s letter, the one that had been kept in the same box as the will. Theodore knew it well, as he had received a letter in an identical envelope.
It seemed Olivia hadn't opened it. The wax seal, pressed firmly over the glued flap, remained intact.
Olivia handed him a letter opener. He broke the wax seal and opened the envelope. He began to read the letter inside.
His eyes, scanning the lines, suddenly stopped.
Having read the letter countless times in the past, Olivia could guess exactly where he had frozen. It was likely the part revealing who she truly was.
His gaze wavered, touching Olivia for a brief moment before returning to the letter.
The story written in the letter was not short. It detailed everything: from the moment Pavel Lutgarth met a young maid named Giselle fleeing alone with the princess on the day of the Empress's assassination, to how Pavel had hidden her and brought her to Lutgarth Castle, and how he had forged her identity to keep her safe.
Theodore recalled the words in the letter he had received from his father.
I am still bound by my oath. If only I could have told you all of this!
But please, believe me.
I never betrayed your mother. I merely swore an oath as a knight to protect Lady Peril, and Olivia was a child I was bound to protect as well.
He hadn't believed those words. No one would have.
If it wasn't out of love, why would one go to such lengths to care for a woman of unclear origin? Even when his mother died, his father had offered no explanation. Everyone assumed it was because there was no room for one.
But if this were true, his father had kept his oath while bearing the weight of disgrace.
And Olivia...
His mind went blank as he looked at her. Her face was devoid of expression.
Theodore felt suffocated and tugged at his tie, but he couldn't bring himself to loosen it. He couldn't deny this letter. There was no basis to suspect it was a forgery; everything from the handwriting to the seal was unmistakably his father’s.
If all of this was true, even standing here facing her was an act of insolence.
"Did you... know the contents of this letter?"
He asked in a voice that barely held together. No, there was no need to ask. If she hadn't known, she wouldn't have handed it to him now.
Nevertheless, it took immense courage to utter those words.
"Your Imperial Highness."
That night, she must have already known who she was.
She had reached out, knowing; she had asked him to kiss her, knowing... and she had let herself be held in his arms, knowing.
But from the moment he read this letter, those things didn't matter in the slightest. No matter how he had thought of her, how desperately he had wanted her, or what he had felt—there was only one thing he could do now.
He placed his right hand over his left chest and slowly knelt on one knee.
"Please, forgive my insolence until now."
Olivia shuddered as if struck.
She had known Theodore would do this. It had been the same in her previous life. From the moment he read the letter and learned who she was, he had treated her as the Princess.
But she had wanted to be just Olivia to him. She had wished for that all along.
That was why she had run away without telling him. Whether it was because she didn't want to drag the Lutgarths into her mess, or because she had to avoid the Schwabens, there were many reasons—but no matter what excuse she gave, that was the most important one.
She had coveted the feelings he had only glimpsed at the very end. Even while thinking she shouldn't waste her energy on such things, she had wanted to hold onto him. Even knowing she had no time to waste, she had wanted to be greedy for just one day.
She swallowed her tears.
She had to accept this loyalty. Because she was the Princess.
She resolved to become a being who could protect him, not a helpless woman clinging to him for salvation. Her emotions were no longer the issue.