IWAPUF 24

“Could you please get to the point? I’m feeling quite weary,” I said to Anasha, my voice tinged
with the day’s exhaustion.
I massaged my temples with my fingers, trying to soothe the relentless throbbing in my head. All
at once, the world around me seemed to wither, its colors fading into a dull haze. Today had been
undeniably grueling. The meeting with the emperor and the crown prince had drained me, as had
the tangled matters involving Evan Li and Anasha herself. I was beyond tired—my fatigue
teetered on the edge of madness.
Anasha paused, her chest rising and falling as she steadied her breath. From everything I’d
observed over time, she wasn’t the sort to flare up easily. And sure enough, she soon regained her
composure, her expression smoothing into its usual calm.
“Aren’t you going to ask why I’m here?” she ventured, her tone probing yet restrained.
I met her gaze. “Is that something I should be asking?”
Anasha’s teeth grazed her lower lip, a familiar tic when she was unsettled, before she let out a
deep, weary sigh.
“This is exactly why I can’t stand you, Beonne,” she said, her voice sharp with frustration. “You
act as if you’ve transcended everything, utterly indifferent to the world around you. You don’t
even care how society sees you, do you?”
I gave a slight shrug. “Why should I bother with opinions that were never kind to begin with?”
The gesture was casual, but it masked a truth I’d long accepted. The rumors about me—then and
now—had never been generous. Most were born of jealousy, though I couldn’t deny I’d given
people some ammunition along the way.
I’d always lived without regard for others’ stares. There was barely enough time to chase what I
wanted—why waste it bending to their expectations or measuring myself by their standards?
Living unobtrusively, fitting neatly into the mold of the ordinary—that was a life I’d already
endured as Ijia, and I’d had my fill of it.
I wasn’t reckless like Beonne Rossa Eliont had been in those days, charging headlong into chaos,
but I intended to live as freely as I could within my reach, pursuing what mattered to me.
“Do you even realize how much your grandfather worried about you because of that?” Anasha’s
words cut through my thoughts.
Her voice jolted me upright from where I’d been slouched across the sofa, limbs heavy with
fatigue. The Marquess Eliont—my grandfather—worried about me? I couldn’t grasp what part of
my life could have troubled him so.
*Have I been too selfish, too unrestrained?* I wondered silently.
I mulled it over, searching for an answer, but nothing came to mind.
Yes, I’d followed my whims these past years, but if I stepped back and judged myself fairly, I’d
been rather tame. Most of my time was spent within the walls of the Eliont estate, alongside Lant.
My rare ventures outside were uneventful—no scandals, no disruptions. Perplexed, I tilted my
head slightly, brow furrowing.
“You look like you don’t understand,” Anasha observed, her voice soft but pointed.
I nodded, conceding the truth without hesitation. She let out a faint sigh in response, and for some
reason I couldn’t name, it irritated me, a quiet prickle under my skin.
“Why did you agree to El’s claim as heir?” she asked suddenly, shifting the conversation like a
gust of wind changing course.
I frowned, caught off guard by the abrupt turn. Why bring up Elriel’s succession out of nowhere?
Her intentions felt opaque, and suspicion stirred within me.
“That’s quite an unexpected question,” I replied, my tone edged with wariness.
“El, that child…” Anasha began, but her voice faltered, as if the words had lodged in her throat.
She paused, visibly gathering herself. Elriel—El—was a wound that never healed for her, a tender
spot she couldn’t shield. Born frail, his body a fragile vessel, he was also fated to live in darkness,
blind from the cradle. The vast blue sky, the lush green of trees, the vivid splash of flowers—these
were not realities for him but fleeting dreams woven from imagination.
Anasha cleared her throat and pressed on. “Beonne, you know as well as I do that El has his
condition. By all rights, he shouldn’t even be eligible to inherit…”
Her words hung heavy, echoing the rigid traditions we both understood. “A child with a disability
is denied the right to succeed. It’s seen as a burden, something that hinders rather than strengthens
the family’s legacy. Even if they’re the firstborn, the legitimate heir, a disability bars them from
even being considered.”
“There’s only one exception,” she continued, “when no other heir remains, direct or distant. But
with you here, Beonne, El’s claim was all but impossible. And then there’s the matter of your
middle name—the founder’s name. Bearing it means you hold priority over the title. Even if El
were a son, the right would still fall to you.”
“Even if the Marquess changed his mind and wanted to pass it to El, it wouldn’t matter,” I added
silently to myself, recalling the weight of that rule. Everything favored the one who carried the
founder’s name. Giving it was no small matter, a choice made with utmost care, for once it was
etched into the family records, it was irrevocable.
Anasha’s voice softened, almost resigned. “It was a will that couldn’t stand if you opposed it.”
“The Marquess did grant the title to El in the end,” I mused aloud. “But in that other time, when El
wasn’t there, it went to Evan Li. It made sense. I was already the crown prince’s fiancée, set to
become empress barring some twist of fate. The Count Pison’s line needed an heir, and
Grandfather made the practical choice.”
“Back then, or even now, I could’ve stopped it if I’d pushed, wielding the founder’s name,” I
reflected. “But the count’s title held no weight for me then, and today, I feel no urge to wrest it
from El.”
Anasha tilted her head slightly. “Your half-brother received a middle name too, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Lant was granted the Eliont name and a middle name the moment he arrived at
the estate.”
I remembered how that news had hit me—too late, after the fact. Fury had surged through me, raw
and uncontainable. Even if I didn’t need it, the idea that Lant had taken something that might’ve
been mine set me ablaze. The Nanny’s sly whispers hadn’t helped, stoking my anger like dry
wood on a fire. Too timid to storm up to the Marquess and demand answers, I’d turned on Lant
instead, my fists a poor substitute for courage.
“The Count Pison’s house and the Eliont marquessate were alike in that way—scarce in sons,” I
said, half to myself. “There were a few far-flung relatives, but hardly any carried the Eliont name.
Lant was the youngest boy among them. Now, I find myself assuming it’s only natural he’d inherit
the marquessate.”
Anasha’s words pulled me back. “What do Lant and El have to do with any of this?”
I stared at her, utterly lost. What was she driving at with this tangled thread of topics? She met my
gaze and smiled—a smile steeped in wistfulness, shadowed with sorrow.
“Beonne, do you not possess any desires?” she asked, her voice gentle yet piercing.
“How could that be?” I countered, a faint edge in my tone.
Who among us, short of a saint, was free of want? Her question struck me as absurd, and a dry
laugh escaped me. What had she seen in me to think I lacked ambition? I began to doubt her
judgment.
“Then why haven’t you pursued the titles?” she pressed. “You’re in a position to claim not just the
county but the marquessate too.”
I raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement cutting through my weariness. “Perhaps you’ve
overlooked something, Anasha. I’m the crown prince’s fiancée.”
“Are you talking about the position I’ve been delaying, even to the point of not having my
coming-of-age ceremony?”
I frowned at Anasha, my brow furrowing in confusion. The fact that I wouldn’t be holding my
coming-of-age ceremony was a secret known only to the emperor and the crown prince—and even
they had only learned of it today, during my visit to the palace.
*How does Anasha know about this?*
I straightened from my relaxed posture, my gaze sharpening as I studied her.
“You don’t need to be so tense,” she said, her voice calm but laced with something I couldn’t quite
place. “That’s not what’s important here.”
It might not be important to her, but to me, it was a matter of great significance. Her words
implied that she had eyes and ears around me—perhaps even within the palace. I didn’t bother
hiding my displeasure, letting it show plainly on my face. Anasha sighed, shaking her head as if
exasperated by my reaction.
“Beonne, I’m not spying on you,” she insisted. “It’s just that the palace has many listening ears,
and I happen to be connected to one of them.”
She didn’t seem to be lying, but as the saying goes, you can know the depth of water but never
truly know a person’s heart. I remained wary, my guard still up. Sensing my lingering suspicion,
she pressed on.
“I swear on El,” she said solemnly.
With the Marquess Eliont gone, El was everything to her. That oath carried weight, and I decided
to believe her.
“So, you’ve got ears in the palace,” I remarked, my tone dry. “Impressive.”
“To run a trading company this large, it’s essential,” she replied matter-of-factly.
Indeed, information was the lifeblood of any successful enterprise, especially one as vast as hers.
Keeping a finger on the pulse of the palace’s affairs was likely a necessity. I nodded,
acknowledging the logic behind her words.
“Beonne, let me ask you something,” Anasha said, her voice softening. “Why are you trying to let
go of everything?”
“The titles, you mean?”
“Not just the titles,” she corrected. “You’re indifferent to everything—people, possessions,
everything. The titles are just a part of it. What does family even mean to you?”
*Family…*
Since I’d come to terms with who I was, I hadn’t placed much importance on the concept of
family. But what did that have to do with the current situation? I couldn’t fathom why she was
asking these questions, one after another.
“When people look at you, it’s like you’re always on the verge of leaving,” Anasha continued, her
voice trembling slightly. “Do you have any idea how maddening that is for those around you?”
Her eyes, the same chocolate brown as El’s, welled up with tears that spilled over, falling in clear
drops onto her lap. Her hands, clasped tightly together, shook uncontrollably.
“You’ve received all of his attention, all of his love, and yet you remain so indifferent,” she said,
her voice breaking. “I hate that about you. I hate that you don’t even try to understand everything
he did for you.”
Her tears streamed down her cheeks, wetting her hands and knees, but she kept her gaze fixed on
me, unwavering despite her sobs.
“And yet, you look so much like him that it drives me mad with affection,” she choked out. “I
want to hate you, but I can’t. I’m so grateful to you for giving me El… so grateful…”
Her words dissolved into sobs, and she finally broke down, crying openly. Behind her, Evan Li
stood like a silent sentinel, offering no comfort, his face set in a hard, unreadable expression. He
didn’t seem to pity her or share in her grief; his demeanor was one of detachment. I couldn’t help
but wonder about the nature of their relationship.
One thing was clear: Anasha had loved the Marquess Eliont deeply. Her current state made that
undeniable. It was hard to believe she could have been unfaithful to him. Moreover, El’s red hair
was a trait he’d inherited from the late Marchioness Eliont, a feature I hadn’t shared. No one could
dispute that El was the Marquess’s true blood.
So, what was the connection between Anasha and Evan? They didn’t resemble each other enough
to be blood relatives. As if sensing my curiosity, Evan turned to meet my gaze.
“Anasha, too, is one of the people the Marquess saved,” he said, his voice low and steady.
He took a step toward me.
“To us, he was a savior,” Evan continued. “A light in the abyss of despair.”
Another step closer.
“Do you know how wretched and painful it is to live when you wish you were dead?”
With each step, the distance between us shrank.
“His outstretched hand was like divine salvation to us.”
Now, only a single step remained between us.
“Do you know why he saved us?” Evan asked, his voice almost a whisper.
He slowly bent down, his eyes locking onto mine.
“It was all for you.”
His knee touched the floor, bringing our gazes to the same level.
“The Marquess traveled the world, gathering children,” Evan explained. “Some of them had
special talents.”
He glanced back at Anasha.
“Anasha was among the most exceptional.”
A child of remarkable talent—even among the gifted. Her prowess in business was indeed
astonishing. The Marquess had an eye for potential, and his boldness in placing a woman like her
at the helm of the trading company was something few could have dared.
“He spared no expense in educating us,” Evan continued. “If he saw potential, he supported it
without hesitation.”
He turned back to me, his gaze piercing.
“All for you.”
I struggled to comprehend his words. How could supporting these children’s talents be for my
sake? If anything, I could understand if he’d done it out of guilt for neglecting me and the
Marchioness, perhaps as a form of atonement. Some people did charitable acts to ease their
conscience. But to say it was all for me—that made no sense.
“This trading company isn’t mine,” Evan said, his gray-blue eyes reflecting my face clearly. “Nor
is it Anasha’s.”
A pause, heavy with meaning.
“It’s all yours.”
“He left everything for you,” Anasha added, her voice steadier now that her tears had subsided.
I felt a wave of confusion wash over me. The Marquess had left everything to me? Why?
“Why?” The question slipped from my lips before I could stop it.
Anasha rose from her seat and approached me, her steps deliberate.
“He knew he wouldn’t live long,” she said softly.
I’d always thought the Marquess had fallen ill from the shock of losing the Marchioness. But as if
reading my thoughts, Anasha reached out and took my hand in hers.
“He needed someone to protect you in his place.”