Side Story: The Melancholy of the First Prince

As soon as I entered my office, I caught sight of the piles stacked up on my desk. My feet ground to a halt. I immediately wanted to turn around and return to my room, but that wouldn’t do...

I had a tremendous amount of work to finish.

Reluctantly, I approached my work desk. Something new was perched atop of the usual piles; I plucked the object and ran my eyes across it.

Apparently, my expectation had been correct. “He’s done it again.” I was sick of this, and my feelings had crept into my voice.

“What’s the matter?”

I looked over my shoulder at the man who’d called out to me, then shoved the object into his hands.

It was a portrait.

My guard—Leonhart, the royal guard captain—took the painting from me, seeming a little confused. He saw the pretty girl smiling inside of the extravagantly decorated picture frame, and appeared to surmise what this represented.

“I see,” he muttered.

“I wish he’d stop having portraits of suitors delivered to my office,” I snarled, before heaving a sigh. I wasn’t even attempting to hide my displeasure anymore.

Working at my desk was suddenly unappealing to me. I snatched a bundle of documents from the desk’s surface and sat on the sofa that I usually reserved for visitors. As I was messily flicking through the documents, I could hear Leonhart’s stifled laughter from behind me.

“It’s not funny. This is a serious problem that’s sapping my motivation,” I said, turning around to protest his amusement.

“Forgive me,” Leonhart apologized, but I couldn’t sense any remorse in either his tone or his expression. His relaxed attitude made any further protestation seem pointless, so I returned my gaze to the documents. “Should I request that they be sent to your personal chambers from now on?”

“No, don’t bother. You wouldn’t get anywhere.” I waved my hand to reject his proposal without raising my head from the heap of documents. “They’re being sent to my office on my father’s orders, I expect. Any complaint from me would only serve to torment the poor messenger.”

My father had probably anticipated that I’d use my hectic work schedule as an excuse to store the portraits away without looking at them. That was why he’d been sending them to my office. The choice to pile them on my desk instead of placing them on an easel was most likely by my father’s instruction as well. That placement sent a very clear message—selecting a suitor to marry was also a part of my work.

All of it got on my nerves.

I understood that taking a wife and having children was one of the duties to be fulfilled by the heir to the throne. And I was willing to marry if need be. But my honest thoughts were that I’d prefer, if at all possible, to postpone the discussion for just a little while longer.

“I don’t think I’m ready to become a husband yet,” I whispered quietly.

Leonhart looked shocked. My whining must have reached his ears.

“Is it unusual for me to say something like that?” I asked. I dropped the documents onto the table and leaned into the backrest. Looking up into Leonhart’s eyes, I saw that he was wearing a slightly troubled smile.

“To be honest, it is rather unusual.”

“Don’t be too honest.” I relaxed my posture and sank into the sofa. A smirk was beginning to bloom on my face as well. “I have no particular desire to get married—my sympathies go instead to the poor woman who’d have to be my bride.”

Leonhart asked “Why?” with his eyes rather than his words. I thought for a moment while his gaze prompted me to continue.

The reason that sprang to mind first and foremost was this: I lacked the confidence that I could love my bride. Love wasn’t a necessary prerequisite for royal marriages, which my parents could well attest to. However, my prospective wife would likely be a member of another country’s royal family. That meant that she’d have been pressed into leaving her homeland to live in an unfamiliar country, and I didn’t want to devolve into the sort of scum who could be inhospitable to a woman in that situation.

I’d want to treat her well. I’d want to be loyal to her. But emotions can’t be controlled at will.

“I don’t think that I could ever love somebody more than I do my brother and sister.”

“Your Highness, really...” After hearing my frank statement, Leonhart trailed off into silence, looking slightly disturbed.

I knew that my words sounded silly, but I had no intention of rephrasing them. They were my true, unadulterated feelings. If I were free to abandon my responsibilities as a prince, I’d eschew marriage altogether and spend my days watching Rose and Johan grow up. If I could closely observe both of them—finding a partner, marrying, being blessed with children, and becoming happy—that’d be more than enough happiness for me too.

“After all,” I said, “Rose’s children would be cuter than any child that takes after me.”

I broke into a smile when I pictured my adorable little sister. Rose and I were both occupied with work; the number of days since I’d last gotten to see her face was increasing, with no end in sight.

Is she doing all right? She’s smart, but can also be too stubborn and overly serious. She doesn’t change her mind once it’s made up, and she has a habit of forcing herself past her limits, so it’s difficult not to worry about her.

Recently, she’d been taking Leonhart to guard her more frequently. I had wondered what they were up to, but I didn’t pry too deeply. She seemed adamant about keeping those details to herself.

“Leonhart, is Rose all right?”

He paused for a moment.

His brows deeply furrowed, and he made a face like he’d mistakenly swallowed something disgusting. Leonhart could look relaxed in the most daunting of situations, so it was rare for him to show negative emotions this clearly.

Hmm, so something has happened, I thought.

The palace would be in an uproar if an injury had befallen our princess, so she mustn’t have suffered any physical harm. However, emotional harm was another matter. She must’ve pushed herself too hard again, as always, and proactively inflicted trauma upon her own heart. It was just like during the sorcerer abduction plot; she was foolish enough to plunge herself onward without turning back, even knowing that the path she traveled was laden with thorns.

“Jeez,” I groaned. I crossed my arms above my lap and lowered my eyes. “She can be frustrating,” I muttered bitterly.

Both Johan and I wished, from the bottoms of our hearts, for Rose to be content; we were prepared to do anything it took to ensure her happiness. And yet, Rose herself would plunge ever further forward on her own feet as though she didn’t need our help. However much I begged her to rely on me more, she’d smile and deflect and insist that she already relied on me plenty.

Her newfound tendency to ask Leonhart for help could be called an improvement, but I wanted to be the one she relied on first. However, I resolved to put my pride as a brother to one side for the time being. What was most important was for Rose to be healthy and happy.

“Rose always pushes herself too hard, so I don’t want you to let her out of your sight.”

Leonhart nodded meekly in reply. “Understood.”

“I want you to do my share of protecting her and, if necessary, setting her straight.”

“Understood.”

“Also...”

I almost appended one last request, but I stopped myself.

“Your Highness?” Leonhart said, prompting me to continue my sentence.

I just shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

Leonhart looked unconvinced, but I turned away from him and picked up the papers that I’d thrown onto the table. I began to thumb through the documents, signaling that the conversation was over, and he didn’t press me any further.

It’s too early to say, “Don’t make her cry.”

Rose was in love with Leonhart. That meant there were probably plenty of tears in store for her going forward. I was sure that she would shed many tears about a romance that failed to progress in the direction that she wanted it to. But that wasn’t Leonhart’s fault. Nor was it appropriate for me to intervene in that matter. Those words would only be effective once both Rose and Leonhart understood the other’s feelings.

I won’t forgive you if you make my sister cry.

I wanted to say that... But not yet.

My heart flooded with a complicated mess of emotions, and I heaved a sigh. Although making my little sister cry was something I’d rather not do, I wanted to delay saying those words for as long as possible.

Maybe that makes me a bad older brother...