Chapter 167: The Secret of Birth
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 167: The Secret of Birth
It was because of what Loik had said earlier that day.
He’d claimed he couldn’t last a single day without me.
He’s as big as a mountain, yet he acts like a total puppy.
“Please, be sure to convey my gratitude to the Grand Duke as well...!”
The Countess stopped mid-sentence, seemingly startled by the goofy grin on my face.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just thinking about something else for a moment...”
I hurriedly wiped the smile off my face.
Realizing who I had been thinking of, the Countess’s expression brightened.
“I feel terrible, as if I’ve unintentionally separated a pair of newlyweds. It would have been wonderful if His Highness the Grand Duke could have come along.”
When I replied that I would invite the Count and Countess to the castle next time, the couple was overjoyed.
The warm, friendly dinner continued until quite late.
After finishing the meal and returning to my room, I took a moment to rest instead of changing my clothes immediately.
“Your Highness, shall I prepare your bath?”
“No, could you prepare some light tea instead? I think I might have a guest.”
“A guest?”
Though Cecilia looked puzzled, she followed my instructions and had a maid prepare the tea.
Before long, there was a soft knock at the door.
It was the Countess.
“May I come in for a moment?”
“Aunt, please, come in.”
The Countess, looking a bit shy at being called 'Aunt,' stepped into the room but paused when she saw the tea set out on the table.
“Please, sit. I prepared this to share with you.”
“Did you know I was coming?”
“I had a feeling you had something you wanted to say to me.”
The Countess’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.
“My goodness, you’re the spitting image of Olli in that regard as well.”
“Was my mother good at making predictions too?”
I meant it as a joke, but the Countess gave a somewhat sorrowful smile.
“She was incredibly bright and very quick-witted.”
Her gaze drifted toward her teacup, as if she were lost in childhood memories.
“Every year when I bought her a birthday present, she never failed to figure out what it was beforehand.”
A moment of awkward laughter passed between us.
The Countess moistened her throat with a sip of tea and hesitated for a long time before finally speaking.
“Actually, Your Highness... you were born in this very room.”
Seeing Annette, who knew nothing, the Countess’s expression hardened as if she had expected this. She took a calm, steady breath.
“Your Highness, aren't you curious about who your real father is?”
With that, the Countess began to pour out her sister’s story.
Elian Selvanis, the Countess of Selvanis, closed her eyes for a moment as she recalled that day.
It was twenty years ago, on the last day of December.
Just as a raging blizzard had begun to subside, an urgent message arrived from Pogen Temple.
The message said that Olli was at the temple and that her labor was about to begin, so they needed to come and get her immediately.
Elian had been baffled. She had assumed her sister was at the Marquis’s estate preparing for the birth, yet here she was, right nearby.
To make matters worse, the Count was away from the castle at the time.
Elian had rushed to the temple with a midwife and maids, but the roads were so frozen that the journey took much longer than expected.
“When we finally reached the temple...”
Elian’s voice choked up, and she paused.
It was because the image she had tried so hard to erase from her mind was resurfacing.
“If it’s too difficult to talk about, you can take your time,” Annette said softly.
“No. I have waited a long time to tell you this, Your Highness.”
Elian forced herself to sit up straight.
The front of the temple was a wreck, as if a typhoon had torn through it.
The small statues decorating the area were smashed to pieces, and the ground was littered with the debris of shattered wood.
The thick trees were covered in deep gouges, the marks of massive claws from some great beast.
And in the center of it all sat a hideously mangled carriage.
Olli had been inside.
Outside the carriage, a man lay collapsed, still clutching Olli’s hand.
He was dressed in the attire of a Holy Knight.
The Selvanis knights rushed over, but the man had already drawn his last breath long ago.
Olli was in the throes of labor, still holding the man’s hand.
She was weeping tears of blood.
I can’t tell her that part.
Elian suppressed the misery of that memory.
Instead, she explained as plainly as possible that Olli had been attacked by someone at the temple and that the Holy Knight with her had been killed.
“Who did such a thing?” Annette asked, her expression turning unreadable.
“It was likely... a dragon.”
“Likely?”
“It wasn't the work of a human. But they said there was no way a Holy Knight would have fallen to a few mere monsters.”
If that were the case, the only thing left was a dragon.
“The snow was so heavy that it was difficult to find any tracks, though.”
The old priest who had been at the temple at the time had clearly witnessed what happened, but no matter how much they asked, he remained silent, refusing to reveal any details.
It was as if he were under a spell that prevented him from speaking the secret.
“We couldn't stay there, not knowing when another attack might come.”
Olli’s labor continued throughout the carriage ride back to the castle, with the midwife by her side.
And in this very room, Olli gave birth to Annette.
Annette, who had been listening quietly, asked, “That Holy Knight... was he my father?”
She really is as sharp as Olli.
Elian gave a hollow smile and nodded.
— “Sister, that man is Annette’s father.”
Her sister, hovering on the brink of death, had managed to whisper those words with what little voice she had left.
She didn't last another day before returning to the Goddess’s embrace.
Elian pulled a small locket from her bodice and handed it to Annette.
“This was Olli’s.”
Click. Annette opened the locket, her expression turning somber. “What was my father’s name?”
“That... I do not know.”
Elian shook her head, feeling a sense of guilt.
She had tried everything to find out even just the Holy Knight’s name, but in the end, he was buried at Pogen Temple without one.
“The grave I saw at Pogen Temple... that was my father’s.”
Annette remained silent for a long while after speaking, then offered a faint smile.
“Thank you for telling me this.”
She gently placed her hand over Elian’s, which was resting on the table.
“It must have been so hard for you, carrying this sorrow all by yourself.”
Seeing Annette comforting her instead, Elian’s eyes welled with tears.
She didn't know why her sister had fled all the way out here with the child’s father.
There had been an uproar at the Marquis’s estate when the Marchioness vanished right before her due date.
In the midst of that, the Marquis’s only concern was whether Annette had been born on the last day of the year, as the oracle predicted.
Fortunately, he never suspected his wife’s infidelity.
It felt like a sin, but for Annette’s sake, Elian had resolved to bury the existence of the Holy Knight in her heart forever.
After the Marquis sent his knights to take Annette away, he had ignored every single letter Elian sent asking about the child’s well-being.
She had hoped that Annette was at least happy.
Her heart had plummeted when rumors began to spread that Annette was illegitimate.
Before long, Annette was even branded a 'Fake Saint.'
How Olli’s heart would have broken if she were still alive.
Every time news of Annette reached her, Elian had lived with the guilt of knowing she could do nothing to help.
And she believed that Annette, who had grown up being pointed at as a bastard, deserved to know who her father was.
Annette had the right to know the truth.
“You must be overwhelmed hearing all of this, aren't you?”
To learn such a massive truth so suddenly must have been a shock.
It would have been better to bring it up after becoming closer to her niece, but with no way of knowing when they would meet again, she couldn't keep the secret buried any longer.
“How much you must have suffered... without a mother, and under a father like that...”
Having finally unburdened herself, Elian let out a stream of sorrowful tears.
“I should be the one comforting you, Your Highness, yet I’m being pathetic.”
As Elian hurriedly wiped her eyes, Annette spoke.
“It’s alright. I grew up well regardless.”
Annette handed her a handkerchief with a kind smile.
“And I’m happy now, so please don't be too sad.”
Annette beamed at the teary-eyed Elian.
“The Grand Duke gives me more than enough love to make up for what I didn't get from the Marquis. Even tonight, he’s probably so worried about me that he can’t even sleep.”
Elian let out a small laugh at the joke Annette used to comfort her.
She didn't know exactly how Annette had grown up, but it was clear she hadn't lost a bit of the cheerfulness she had inherited from her mother.
Elian and Annette continued their long-overdue conversation until the night grew deep.
*
The entrance to the villa in Evern Forest opened onto a wide terrace.
It was designed with several reclining benches so that one could enjoy the garden while feeling the cool breeze.
Loik, ignoring the perfectly good benches, had been pacing the terrace anxiously for thirty minutes, staring out toward the pass beyond the garden.
Unable to watch any longer, Perel suppressed a sigh and spoke.
“Your Highness, it isn't even noon yet.”
“And?”
“Her Highness the Consort likely hasn't even departed yet.”
At those words, Loik bit his lip and muttered under his breath.
“I miss her.”