Episode 123
Year XXX, Month X, Day X
Four years have passed.
Perhaps because both Artius and Chelon were exceptionally strong, the war dragged on.
No, Chelon was deliberately prolonging it, for some reason.
Next year, she would come of age. And then it would be too late. Artius would die.
I had to bring Chelon back before my husband killed my daughter, or my daughter killed my husband.
I’ll tell him how I feel during the upcoming ceasefire.
Year XXX, Month X, Day X
I’m pregnant.
Chelon’s new body is finally ready.
Nine months.
Year XXX, Month X, Day X
I told Artius the name I chose for Chelon.
Elonia. It means oak tree, and beloved child.
I insisted that the baby’s name had to be Elonia.
He looked at me cautiously and said it might be a boy.
But I was certain it would be a girl, and Artius, with a smile, finally agreed.
He said he wouldn’t have been able to come up with such a beautiful name, his smile warm and gentle.
I always feel loved in his presence.
He had been reluctant to let me go, to let me bring Chelon back. That was why it had taken so long.
This second pregnancy is just as difficult as the first. The constant nausea, the heavy body. Childbirth will be agonizing.
But I won’t die.
I’m not weak.
Once the baby is born, everything will be resolved.
I’m so happy.
Too happy, perhaps.
It’s almost over.
If I give birth before the war ends, Artius and Chelon won’t have to kill each other.
Oh, Elonia.
I can’t wait to see you again.
Year XXX, Month X, Day X
This can’t be happening.
The Calamity God’s curse.
I hadn’t heard of this.
I have to return to his embrace after Elonia is born? There was no mention of this.
Even if Chelon returns, I won’t be able to hold her.
I won’t be able to comfort her, to ease her pain.
Then what was the point? I brought her to Ravanta for her happiness, to create a perfect family. And now, one of us would be missing.
And what about Artius?
I would be triggering his trauma again. He might never love again.
The Calamity God, ignoring my pleas, said that I would never have agreed if he had told me beforehand.
He was right.
I had come here for Chelon.
And I had already received so much in Ravanta.
A loving family, true friends, a respectable title and wealth, and a devoted husband.
I had been surrounded by kind and loving people, showered with affection, blessed with a life beyond my wildest dreams.
But I didn’t want to leave yet.
I didn’t want to die.
Year XXX, Month X, Day X
I’ve finally made up my mind.
I’m content now.
Even without me, Artius will love Chelon, Elonia, as his daughter.
I felt a pang of guilt towards him.
He didn’t know my past.
He didn’t know I was Alexia of Heilan, that I married him to bring Chelon back, that Chelon would become his daughter. I had deceived him.
But I wouldn’t change my mind now. I would do anything to bring Chelon back.
I would use him, the Emperor, if I had to.
…But I still felt uneasy.
I wanted to see his smile when he returned. I didn’t want to hurt him.
I had tried to deny it, but I had fallen in love with him.
With his kindness and warmth.
I regretted realizing it so late.
Year XXX, Month X, Day X
My due date is approaching.
I know, instinctively,
Tomorrow is the day I return to the Calamity God’s embrace.
Tomorrow, Elonia will be born, and Chelon and I will die. Artius will win the war without killing Chelon, and he’ll return to find my lifeless body and Elonia, my newborn daughter.
I’m not afraid of death.
But I have one wish.
I want to hold Chelon, Elonia, even if it’s just for a moment.
I want to hold her with Artius.
I want to hold my crying baby, my daughter who has been dragged back into this world so soon after escaping hell, and tell her that I’m grateful for her birth.
I want to tell her everything I couldn’t say before.
I want to be called “Mother” again, even if she hates me.
Elonia stared at the last sentence, unable to tear her eyes away.
Philemon had been Alexia. She had known she would die, and yet, she had chosen to become Elonia’s mother, twice.
“Ah…”
A sob escaped her lips, her throat constricting, her vision blurring with tears. She clutched the diary tightly, her body trembling.
She hadn’t realized.
But the people around her had known.
Artius had always said she had the same habits as Philemon.
Sarah had always said she had the same preferences as Philemon.
Elonia had dismissed it, thinking it was just a coincidence, that they resembled each other because they looked alike.
But it wasn’t a coincidence. She resembled them because she was Alexia’s daughter, and Philemon had been Alexia.
‘Why didn’t I realize it sooner…?’
Why had she ignored the signs?
She should have talked to Alexia.
Her mother was in Heilan now, with Lucius. She had willingly returned to that hellhole, sacrificing herself, twice, to protect Elonia!
Elonia’s mind went blank.
‘I still remember the coordinates of the Heilan Royal Palace. I can go there and bring Lucius back—’
But then she stopped herself.
What could she even do?
Tristan was too powerful, and her mother and Lucius had sacrificed themselves to prevent her from becoming a sacrifice.
If she left now, their sacrifices would be in vain.
Elonia reread the last sentence of the diary, the words echoing in her mind.
She had wanted to be called “Mother” again, even if Elonia hated her.
Alexia, Philemon, had already been her mother. She didn’t have to sacrifice herself again and again.
“Sob… Mother…”
Tears streamed down her face. Why was she so weak? Why couldn’t she protect the ones she loved?
Her throat constricted, and a sob escaped her lips, a raw, heart-wrenching sound.
The diary, stained with her tears, crinkled in her hands. Elonia clutched it tightly, her body wracked with sobs.
“Your Highness, I brought you some snacks… Your Highness?!”
Sarah, who had come to cheer her up, rushed towards her, dropping the tray in shock.
“Your Highness, what’s wrong?!”
Crash!
Sarah, dropping the tray, rushed to Elonia’s side and held her tightly, stroking her hair and patting her back. But Elonia’s sobs didn’t subside. They only intensified.
“Sob… Mother…!”
Sarah was confused.
Elonia had never cried for her mother before.
Could it be…?
She noticed the open box and the diary in Elonia’s arms.
Sarah was speechless.
All she could do was hold her goddaughter, her own clothes stained with Elonia’s tears and snot.
Artius, alerted by the commotion, rushed in.
He was startled by Elonia’s distraught state, and Elonia, seeing him, burst into tears again.
“Elonia, why are you crying?”
Elonia couldn’t answer. She could only sob.
She clutched the diary tightly, her cries echoing through the Imperial Princess’s Palace, until she finally cried herself to sleep.
The same cries that had filled the Empress’s Palace when she was born now filled her own palace.
“My son, my son has been chosen as an apostle…!”
“House Allen will prosper!”
Lucius, his mind still hazy, heard voices.
He remembered hearing those words before.
Right after he was chosen as an apostle, when he returned home.
His parents had been strangers to him then.
Were they the same people who had screamed and cried when he was kidnapped by the Connet Kingdom? The confusion and fear he had felt back then hadn’t faded from his memory.
Apostles lived miserable lives and died tragic deaths. That was what history had taught him.
And yet, Duke and Duchess Allen had praised him, their faces beaming with pride.
He had instantly understood why apostles were destined for unhappiness.
In Heilan, an apostle wasn’t a person.
They were a slave, chosen by God.
The inevitable loss of their family was just the beginning.
He couldn’t afford to be unhappy, not yet.
Just as he was trying to steel his resolve, a bucket of cold water was dumped over his head.
“Cough! Hack, cough!”
Lucius coughed, his eyes snapping open.
He looked around, water dripping from his hair.
‘Where…?’
He was in a dark prayer room, chained to the wall, his hands and feet bound by shackles.
It was the same as his last memory.
‘…I must have lost consciousness.’
They hadn’t resorted to violence, perhaps because he was an apostle.
‘No, maybe violence would have been better…’
His body trembled, his lips pale and bloodless. His clothes, soaked in cold water, offered no warmth.
He looked at Felix, who was sitting across from him. Felix, meeting his gaze, raised his hand, and the cleric who had dumped the water stepped back.
Felix, a sneer on his face, repeated Lucius’s earlier words,
“You were discovered in Ravanta. You disobeyed Tristan’s orders and made us bring you back because you were afraid of being executed?”
“…Yes, Your Highness.”
Lucius replied, his voice hoarse.
A vein throbbed on Felix’s forehead. He exploded.
“I thought you were intelligent! How could you be so foolish?!”