The Dream of the Dead
It was only natural.
A family she had regained by turning back her life, finally having them this time around. Treasured people who loved and cherished one another. Trade the safety of every single one of those people for my own life? Unthinkable. I couldn't let that happen, nor would I ever.
"...Wouldn't it? Or maybe, Sister, if you got married a little earlier..."
"No."
"Wh-Why? My eldest brother is still..."
"Absolutely not."
"If you come to the Castrein Duchy, we can protect you for sure!"
"Who gets married just for protection?! Getting a divorce isn't easy either!"
"Brother will say yes, too!"
That is the whole problem...
A heavy sigh tore from my lips. Good grief, your brother looked at the old me—who was jealous of you, threw tantrums, clung desperately, and caused accident after accident—with sheer, utter contempt! He was the kind of man who said things like:
"I am only glad that you have finally realized why I looked upon you as nothing more than vermin all this time."
He was that kind of person! A man so pigheaded that when his fiancée sobbed and threw a fit because he had abandoned her to dance at another woman's Debutante ball, he refused to utter a single comforting word, even out of basic courtesy!
Right at that moment—
"What is it that I would say yes to?"
...Raymon strode abruptly into the room. Shocked, I turned my gaze toward Bibi's maid, the former assassin, who had opened the door without a whisper of sound.
Yet with her characteristically impassive face, she simply looked back at Bibi as though she had merely carried out her solemn duty.
Bibi beamed triumphantly, seizing the opportune moment.
"Perfect timing, Brother!"
"Bibi?"
"Guess what! I told Sister I'd take her side no matter what, and she said no!"
"..."
The man parted his lips, seemingly about to recite his usual refrain about respecting the other party's wishes, before snapping them shut again. Then, with a faintly contemplative expression, he looked back and forth between Bibi and me.
Wait, what is there to ponder right now?
"Because if she does, someone might use her as bait and put the Castrein Duchy in danger! So I said—!"
Wait, are you seriously tattling to Raymon word for word?!
Framed like that, it made me look like some noble, pure-hearted benefactor genuinely worried about the Castrein Duchy! Stunned, I stared at Bibi in utter disbelief.
"Bibi! Th-that wasn't what I meant at all!"
"So I told her we could just move up your wedding!"
Good grief, what kind of younger sister sells out her own brother's marriage just to repay a debt?! Bibi, you weren't this kind of character, were you?! Besides, we still have years left before we even come of age!
Whether I stood there with my jaw unhinged or not, Raymon narrowed his eyes at Bibi's suggestion.
"...That could indeed be one way to solve it."
"What do you mean, 'one way'?! Have you lost your mind?!"
"The pact with the Imperial Family poses a minor obstacle, but... the Emperor will likely agree."
"Could you listen to me first?! I said no! I said it's out of the question! And even if we married, the Emperor could still manipulate—"
"House Castrein is not so incompetent that it cannot protect its own Duchess."
No, listen to me, people... I don't have anything that warrants taking that kind of risk for me...!
Words failed me at the sheer absurdity of it all.
Protect me? Me? If I became the Duchess?
In that single moment, I understood the plight of the original Titania all too painfully well.
Right. She had threatened Bibi's life, so she had been crushed... ruined completely to the bedrock. He had ignored her like an annoying gnat before, but once she tried to poison his precious Bibi, that was the end.
So now that I had saved that precious Bibi's life, my situation had flipped a full one hundred and eighty degrees.
It was just... a little laughable, and a little heartbreaking.
So I raised my head. Facing Raymon, who watched me with those uncharacteristically vivid golden eyes, and Bibi, whose gaze sparkled with eager anticipation.
"I'm sorry, but I cannot bring myself to trust House Castrein."
I smiled.
Even if I had saved Bibi, it was thanks to their goodwill that I had enjoyed fine food, lavish clothing, and undeserved comforts, and had even been able to punish those maids.
Saying such words was probably pure arrogance on my part. To win even a shred of favor, to strike some pathetic bargain just to cling to life, to flee the Imperial Palace and live with no ties to them—the past me who had thought that way would surely laugh at who I was now.
Forgiving Prince Adrian had been comparatively easy. It hadn't even been difficult. But...
"There is no one who does not know the relationship between the current Imperial Family and the Duchy, nor is there anyone ignorant of Princess Titania's notorious reputation—vicious, ignorant, and obsessively clinging to her fiancé. What gives you the confidence to speak so lightly of bringing me into the heart of House Castrein and making me your future Duchess?"
Bibi cast her darkened eyes down at the floor. I felt a twinge of guilt toward Bibi.
Yet to Raymon—yes, to Raymon, who spoke of marrying me with such flippant ease—this was something that had to be said, at least once.
'—...Why doesn't Raymon like me the best?'
Ever since waking up from the brink of death, the memories of what young Titania had endured surged vividly, piercing my heart.
The clearest memory among them was this:
Titania, who had never even had a Debutante ball, with no ties outside the Imperial Palace to ever receive an invitation—a pathetic creature like a bird locked inside a golden cage.
Unable to step anywhere unless it was a banquet hosted within the palace walls, yet changing dresses every day, caking her face with white powder so thick not an inch of skin showed through, endlessly styling and re-styling her hair.
Like a potted plant withering away. Waiting, and waiting, and waiting for a single line in a letter that never, ever received a reply.
She was endlessly foolish, full of stubborn pride, clumsy, and blind, but Titania had truly loved Raymon.
Unlike her, he was acknowledged by everyone, and she was proud of him. He seemed to shine so brightly. He was the very first 'fiancé' granted to a girl who had no real family to speak of.
Such a handsome gentleman and such a pretty lady betrothed to become a pair—they truly make a lovely match.
When was it that she had heard those words? At their very first meeting?
Hearing that, she thought she must always remain pretty to be worthy of Raymon. She believed that if she wasn't pretty, she would lose the right to be his fiancée.
Even if it was an infinitely foolish and blind unrequited crush, it was still love. Even if it blossomed into a distorted mess because she had never known the proper shape or color of love, it was unquestionably love.
'...'
No matter how foolish someone might be, they could never be completely blind to the true feelings of the one they loved.
Perhaps that was why, on that day, when she saw her fiancé dancing the first dance at a Debutante ball with some other lady, Titania had fallen into utter despair.
'Why did Raymon...'
None of it mattered.
When she saw his frigid, indifferent gaze fall upon her, offering not even a word of explanation, she had realized it with agonizing clarity.
'I... like Raymon... best of all...'
Everything she had done until then had been utterly meaningless.
Titania had nothing, so even if it was such a foolish love, it was nearly all she possessed in the world.
To deny that love was tantamount to denying her entire existence.
Though she changed into hundreds of dresses and touched up her cosmetics hundreds of times, though she adorned herself with seasonal flowers over and over, she could never purchase even a single smile from him.
If so, wasn't the meaning painfully clear?
There was nothing wrong with the clothes, the makeup, or the flowers.
She was the problem.
And so, she had sobbed aloud without caring that her makeup was being ruined.
It didn't matter.
Raymon—her fiancé, the one she loved—whether she was pretty or not...
He didn't care in the slightest.
In all likelihood, that was why she had finally lingered on the second-floor balcony in a desperate bid to catch her mother's attention.
Even while clinging to Raymon and craving his love, deep down in the darkest corner of her heart, she had already resigned herself to despair.
She had lived her whole life as a pretty, foolish doll, a girl destined only to be the next mistress of House Castrein, so she simply continued along the only path she knew...
Yet having abandoned hope in the single person she had believed might give her affection, she had turned her eyes toward her biological mother with a desperate, faint hope—maybe, just maybe.
Back then, when she had wept and pleaded before reaching that point, he had brushed her off so callously.
And when the princess, having returned from the brink of death, recited information of unknown origin over tea, he had threatened her at swordpoint.
"You ought to remain on your guard."
Raymon's expression wavered.
Though it seemed impossible, he appeared visibly shaken. Perhaps... even regretful.
Regret? How ridiculous. That was merely the dead Titania's wishful dream.
Just once, I wish my fiancé would lose me and regret it to the bone. I wish he'd regret it when it's too late, wishing he had taken my hand, wishing he had loved me back then.
A childish dream. An endlessly selfish, blind, and foolish dream. And like most dreams of the dead, a dream that would never come true.