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<Side Story 1>

Side Story 1. The Journey

About half a year after Tiren ascended the throne—

“You may go now.”

She had more or less forced a vacation upon Rianell and Asil.

“You must have wanted some time alone, just the two of you.”

They were the sort of newlyweds who looked happy just by gazing at each other, who broke into smiles at the mere brush of a hand.

Truth be told, she had wanted to send them off sooner, but circumstances had made it impossible.

The regime was still in its infancy, and they had to pour their efforts into stabilising the empire. On top of that, the former emperor had been so notoriously lazy that mountains of backlogged work demanded their attention.

Since the couple had raised no particular complaints about showing up for work during what should have been their honeymoon period, and since their glances at each other remained remarkably subdued, others began to wonder whether they were truly in love.

[Does the Duchess of Novantium not treat her lord with a certain chill? Are you telling me theirs was not a political match?]

[Haven’t you heard? They say that’s one of the empire’s three great unsolved mysteries.]

But Tiren never doubted their feelings.

[There you are.] — they tended to stay close to each other whenever possible.

[Were you looking for me?]

[I wanted us to leave work together. The evening air is chilly—please, at least drape my coat over yourself.] — they were always mindful of the little things.

[…]

Beyond that, she had witnessed them holding hands beneath the conference table on multiple occasions, and had also caught them stealing kisses in an empty inner chamber, away from prying eyes.

‘This is love.’

What else could it be?

Tiren was more sensitive to affection than anyone.

Having lost her parents young, she had been raised by her nursemaids and ladies-in-waiting. Thanks to the Empress Dowager’s patronage, the princess’s palace received a generous budget each year, so materially she had never wanted for anything—but the thirst within her had gone unquenched.

The one who had quenched it was Rianell.

And it was only natural to wish for that person’s happiness.

“Enjoy your time away. Or—surely you don’t mean to refuse my urging yet again and put me to shame?”

Even the Special Taxation Bureau lent their cooperation.

“Just because the two of you won’t be here doesn’t mean our office is dead.”

“We’ll manage to keep busy for a while.”

And so, the extraordinary arrangement was made: two high-ranking officials were granted a simultaneous one-hundred-day leave.

In the early days of their vacation, they travelled busily.

Who knew when they might ever get such a long break again?

They visited the coastal district where Asil owned a villa, and poked around famous tourist spots—but then—

“Oh, good heavens! To meet the two of you in a place like this—what a coincidence!”

“We observed you emerging from beneath that bench just now. That does not strike us as a meeting born of coincidence.”

Everywhere they went, people recognised them and flocked around.

“That can’t be! It’s a coincidence! A coincidence!”

“…If you say so.”

“To encounter such distinguished persons here—this is surely a heaven-sent opportunity. You see, last month our house received a notice of arrears. There must be some misunderstanding—”

“There is no misunderstanding.”

“Still, if you would only take a look—hey! Wait! Where are you going?”

Even covering their faces made no difference.

“Are you not the Duchess of Novantium?”

“I am not.”

Rianell answered curtly, pulled down the brim of her hat, and walked briskly—but the other party pursued her relentlessly.

“But your voice is exactly hers!”

“It is a prejudice to think that a voice alone can identify a person—”

“It is you! The way you dodge confirms it! Am I right?”

“…”

Some people whined that their taxes were too heavy and begged for leniency, while others simply approached hoping to make Rianell’s and Asil’s acquaintance and forge a connection.

They could have shaken off the clingers by travelling with an armed escort—but then,

‘How would that be any different from walking around with a nameplate stuck to my forehead?’

That would strip the journey of its very essence, leaving behind only the spectacle of exalted nobles slumming it among commoners.

‘Going abroad might solve the problem…’

But for two high-ranking aristocrats to cross into another nation without extensive preparation was no simple matter.

‘Besides, when we did go abroad, it turned out to be nothing special.’

So, after the fiftieth day—

“Are you going to lie around again today?”

“This is a posture that minimises unnecessary expenditure of energy.”

They ended up holed up at home.

The Novantium mansion was vast, but the spaces the duke and duchess actually used were limited.

Usually they stayed in their own chambers or the study, but today they had come out to the garden—a rare occurrence.

Rianell had spread a blanket in the middle of the rose maze and was lying down, resting.

In her own words, she was “absorbing vitamin D.”

At first, the maids had let their behaviour slide.

‘They haven’t been back from their travels long.’

‘They must still be recovering from the fatigue of the journey.’

But when that pattern continued for a full month, the servants began hovering around them, observing their state—wondering if they were depressed or unwell.

Rianell, in particular, was the main focus of concern.

Her expression was perpetually dry and unreadable, making it hard to gauge her feelings.

Yet even while lazing about, Rianell kept up her usual reading, and she finished her household duties without fail.

Eventually, the maids came to a realisation:

‘Ah, she simply has nothing to do.’

‘She must be killing time out of boredom, since she can’t go outside…’

‘Those wretched tax delinquents—why won’t they pay their dues and stop tormenting her ladyship?’

Rianell was perfectly content just lying where the clouds were visible and basking in the sunlight—but the maids, growing anxious, kept hovering nearby.

“Instead of this, why not visit a nearby lake? The weather is lovely today.”

“Close contact with crowds is predicted to cause a respiratory infection outbreak.”

“Th-then how about going out at night when no one is around—”

“The large daily temperature difference makes it highly likely we would catch seasonal flu.”

“…”

Today, too, the assault of irrefutable logic was formidable.

After Maid 1 was repelled,

Maid 2, unable to watch her comrade’s defeat, stepped forward.

“There are so many famous places you haven’t visited in the country. Isn’t there anywhere you’d like to go? Just say the word, and we’ll arrange everything.”

“The word ‘famous place’ denotes a site where large numbers of tourists gather, so it presumably carries the same problems as those we just mentioned.”

“That may be so, but…”

No—she could not back down here!

Maid 2 attempted a counterattack.

“But at the start of your vacation, you did say you would travel for all one hundred days.”

“Which is precisely why I have ‘roughly’ selected our home as this trip’s destination.”

Isn’t that a bit too rough?

With that word, all sincerity had clearly flown out the window.

Stepping over the deflated Maid 2, Maid 3 came forward.

“But a honeymoon isn’t just about leisure, is it?”

Unlike the others, she tried an emotional approach.

“Does a honeymoon carry some implied meaning I am unaware of?”

“It’s not so much that… but in unfamiliar places, people naturally lean on each other. Going through hardships together deepens the bond and lets you reaffirm your affection—that’s why a honeymoon becomes such a special memory.”

Besides, wasn’t the early stage of marriage precisely the time when couples were busy expressing their love, confirming it, and being swept up in happiness?

“Confirming, you say.”

Did one really need to go to such lengths?

Rianell was sceptical, but—

“Are you not thirsty?”

Just then, Asil appeared with a drink. She took it from him and posed a question.

“Asil. Do you love me?”

Asil’s feet halted for only a moment.

Then he lightly kissed the corner of Rianell’s eye and smiled.

“Of course I do.”

“He says so.”

Rianell turned to look at the maids.

They were dumbfounded.

“Ah, no…”

“Well, of course he would say that.”

Among the mansion’s servants, there was not a single person unaware that Asil loved Rianell.

‘He shows it every single day—if you didn’t know, you’d either be a spy from another house or blind.’

“But love is an intangible emotion.”

People who conversed with Rianell often found their vocabulary and reasoning skills improving, whether they liked it or not.

It was a side effect of talking with someone whose correct logic made your chest burst.

“Don’t you ever wish to confirm that formless feeling? Or worry that the other party might change their mind?”

Since Rianell appreciated proof and verification, the maid had tailored her explanation with analogies she might favour.

To Asil, who had joined the conversation late, it must have sounded utterly out of the blue.

“Wait—what are you talking about?”

“The same thing as earlier. Asil, is there any possibility that your feelings for me might change in the future?”

“Why would you ask that? Have I made you uneasy?”

“Pure curiosity.”

“There is no such possibility, of course.”

By now, the maids had lost their patience. They stopped speaking cautiously and minding their mistress’s mood.

“Of course you can’t know that for sure now!”

How long had they even been married to speak of changing hearts?

They were still in the phase where their feelings for each other burned brightest.

While the maids fumed inwardly, Rianell remained utterly composed.

“If that is the case, then there seems to be no reason to confirm that fact at present.”

“Well, that’s… that’s true, but…”

“The future cannot be predicted, and human emotions are not fixed variables. Worrying about them in advance is inefficient.”

Few people applied the notion of efficiency to the emotion of love, but the maids could not rebut her and simply faltered.

‘But isn’t it normal for love to bring a great deal of anxiety?’

Most of the lovers they had observed were exactly that way. The happier they were in the present, the more they fretted over an uncertain future—wasn’t that what love was, to be terrified of losing what you held?

Rianell and Asil, on the other hand, sat side by side as always, exchanging their usual trivial chatter.

“Does the drink suit your taste?”

“Yes. I believe it is nutritionally well-balanced.”

Should this be called indifference? Or utter compatibility?

After pondering, the maids recalled one thing and came to a conclusion:

‘Come to think of it, they were like this even at the wedding, weren’t they?’

This was simply who they were.

‘I should have expected what was worth expecting.’

Their humble ambition to live vicariously through the love of Rianell and Asil came to a quiet end that day.

“Now that I think about it, did we empty the rubbish in the west wing?”

“I’ll take care of that.”

“Then I’ll sweep the corridor.”

Having accepted reality, the maids dispersed to attend to their own duties.

Rianell watched them leave, then noticed a letter in Asil’s hand. The wax seal had already been broken, suggesting he had read it.

“What is that?”

Asil turned the letter over, revealing the imperial seal.

“Our vacation is nearly over, is it not?”

At present, only two members of the imperial family could use that seal.

The Empress Dowager and Emperor Tiren.

And of the two, only one would send a letter to Asil.

“It seems we must pay His Majesty a visit before long.”

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