Back home that night, before I slept, I began to think through what came next.
The most pressing thing was resolving the misunderstanding with Axel.
But to do that, I need to actually encounter him…
I couldn’t think of a natural way to run into him. Going to find him on the pretense of a coincidence, the way I had before, would only make things worse.
I was turning it over when an idea struck me like lightning.
“Oh!”
Right — there was that.
The National Founding Day party held at the imperial palace!
In the days I had spent crying, I had completely forgotten that the Founding Day celebration was nearly upon us.
Imperial parties, barring extraordinary circumstances, required the attendance of all nobles.
Which meant Axel would be there, without question.
This might be the only opening I had.
He had said he sincerely hoped we would never have to meet again — but I couldn’t honor that wish. Not this time.
The memory of that day came back involuntarily.
And in thinking about it, one thing still felt unresolved.
How did Axel know I had met the Crown Prince? Was he actually there?
And thinking further — the Crown Prince’s behavior that morning had been odd too.
When I had asked him to help things work out between Axel and me, he had said:
“You really don’t appreciate how sincerely I’ve been working to help. I have a feeling you’ll be thanking me one day.”
Even at the time, something about it had felt off.
Unless…
The pointed remarks that could easily be misinterpreted. The way his gaze kept sliding away from me toward the garden.
Every clue pointed to the same conclusion.
Was the Crown Prince aware that Axel was there the whole time?
The suspicion became certainty almost immediately.
So he had known — and still, he had said all those things that could be taken entirely the wrong way. On purpose?
“The Crown Prince—!”
I had thought we had built a real rapport through our shared interests. How could he do this to me?
Everything about his behavior now read as deliberate.
But I made myself think it through clearly.
It was hard to explain why someone who had been consistently warm toward me would suddenly choose to act against my interests so completely. What reason would he have?
My mind couldn’t untangle it.
Was it really just a joke to him?
It seemed too cruel to be a joke — and yet, knowing it was the Crown Prince who had done it, somehow it also seemed entirely plausible.
He was not a normal person. There was nothing behind that pleasant surface that resembled a functioning moral compass — it was the smile of someone who played by entirely his own rules.
Right. The Crown Prince was absolutely capable of pulling something like this purely for amusement.
Still — I wasn’t satisfied with guessing. It wasn’t in my nature to sit and speculate when I could simply ask.
When in doubt, just ask directly.
I sat down at my desk and began writing a letter to the Crown Prince.
My hand moved at a ferocious pace, anger channeled clean into every word. I wrote it end to end without pause, filling every inch of space like a punishment essay, leaving not a single blank.
I had wanted to ask for an audience and speak to him face to face, but given everything, I couldn’t risk creating further misunderstandings by being seen near the Crown Prince again.
The letter began with what exactly happened and continued at length.
The handwriting was not what anyone would call elegant — it trembled with barely contained fury.
I cannot believe you, Crown Prince—!
The letter went out to him that evening, and the reply arrived the following morning.
The content was breezy to the point of insult. My hand clenched around the paper hard enough to crumple it.
Ninety percent of the letter was pleasantries — the weather, how I was getting on, whether I was in good spirits. The kind of thing one writes when one has nothing of consequence to say.
The handwriting was neat, unhurried, carrying with it the ease of someone who felt no particular urgency. I could practically hear his voice in it, and that made it twice as infuriating.
I skipped through the fluff at speed and found the core.
“…Don’t rush, he says. Wait for the right moment…?”
I stared at the words as though they belonged to someone who had completely lost touch with reality.
Not a word acknowledging what he’d done. Not an explanation. Not even an apology.
And in the very last postscript — patience is rewarded.
I was convinced the man had lost his mind entirely.
Easy for you to say, I thought. You’re not the one who caused all of this.
My relationship with Axel was already in ruins, careening straight toward something worse. And all he had to say was wait?
I had asked in the letter whether he could explain things to Axel on my behalf — no response to that either. It wasn’t there anywhere.
A completely self-centered reply in every possible way.
Whether to trust what he’d said or not — I had no idea. I had hoped that asking would make the tangled mess in my head easier to sort through. Instead, it had gotten worse.
…What else can I do.
Even if I didn’t trust him, there was nothing I could do about it right now.
All I could do was wait, as he’d said.
I squared my sagging shoulders and made up my mind.
“Right. No matter what anyone says — I will clear things up with Axel. I will.”
This was not something I was going to let defeat me.
I would prepare everything I could and go in ready.
I got up from my chair and started planning at once.
Time moved quickly, and before long the day of the Founding Day party arrived.
In the meantime, I had kept myself occupied every single day, too busy to let the darker thoughts settle. I went out shopping, visited the well-known cafés and restaurants scattered across the capital, and spent the time wholly for myself.
The long rest had, apparently, been effective — I had emerged from it with what felt like a nearly indestructible steadiness. No matter what anyone said to me now, I was not going to freeze up and stumble over my words the way I had before.
This time, I’ll clear it up. I’ll do it right.
Of course, the time I’d spent alone had been enjoyable in its own way — but underneath it, there had been a growing hollowness that I couldn’t stop. The longer the days passed, the more I missed Axel.
Thinking of Axel, I was reminded of something that had happened at the orphanage recently.
Oh — he said he’d come there, didn’t he.
During the time I had taken to recover, I had of course visited the orphanage as usual.
And there, the director had shared something that left me genuinely surprised.
Even after everything that had happened, Axel had continued to visit the orphanage.
When I heard that, I couldn’t help but feel something stir in me all over again.
