And it wasn’t just Richard who thought Rosalia was being a hypocrite.
That evening, when Richard’s father learned that they had once again gone to visit Teresa, he raised his voice at his wife.
The man, yelling abruptly, suddenly seemed to realize his son was nearby and turned to look at Richard.
Wearing a face that screamed annoyance, he gave a subtle jerk of his chin toward the door.
Not particularly eager to spend time with his mother anyway, Richard quietly did as he was told and stepped into the hallway.
But instead of leaving entirely, he leaned against the door, pressing his ear to it.
The maid who had followed him out shifted from foot to foot in distress, clearly unsure what to do, but in the end, she didn’t dare make a sound loud enough to alert her masters.
“Didn’t I tell you not to go see Teresa? What part of my warning didn’t you understand?”
His father’s voice thundered, though tightly reined in.
He was clearly trying to sound composed, but his agitation made that effort futile.
Richard could picture his father’s furious face, finger pointing at his mother.
“What are you even hoping to achieve by visiting her? Does seeing her miserable make you feel better somehow?”
“I only went to check on Teresa’s condition.”
“And that—! That makes no sense!”
Rosalia’s calm, detached excuse only fueled her husband’s anger further.
A soft sigh followed from Rosalia.
Then came her cool, measured tone, as if chiding him:
“Try thinking rationally instead of emotionally. Have you considered that it’s because I’ve been so attentive to your sister that we’ve managed to avoid suspicion so far?”
His warning came sharp and uneasy—like a man already feeling exposed.
He must’ve feared someone might be eavesdropping.
And rightly so—Richard was doing just that on the other side of the door.
“Ashamed, are you? You can’t bear to face her because you feel guilty for what happened? What do you plan to do when the princess comes back into the public eye? How will you look her in the face then?”
“Don’t twist things around and lay the blame on me. You were the one who brought that scum into her life and convinced me it was a good idea.”
It had been Rosalia who introduced that worthless man into Teresa’s once peaceful world, dragging her into misery.
From her brother’s point of view, Rosalia’s frequent visits could easily be seen as mockery rather than concern.
The irony, though, was that he had no right to act like the victim.
Rosalia coldly pointed that out.
“Yes, I was the one who proposed it.”
Sadly, Teresa had suffered more than they’d ever anticipated when they first hatched their plan.
That was the root of all this bitterness.
They’d ended up with a burden far heavier than they were willing to bear.
Wishing for a “lesser” tragedy didn’t erase the sin—but her husband wanted to believe his motives had been purer. That way, he could forgive himself.
Unlike Rosalia, who chose to face the consequences of their actions, her husband took the easier route—denial.
By avoiding the outcome and shifting the blame, he could live guilt-free.
And so, he had come to resent his wife’s continued visits to Teresa.
Even though he knew all too well that if Rosalia stopped going, Teresa would lose her last connection to the outside world.
“You just don’t want to hear anything about your sister anymore. You can’t stand being reminded that Teresa ended up because of you. Tell me—am I wrong?”
From that point on, the two of them began to fight openly, with no hesitation.
It wasn’t anything new.
Rosalia visited Teresa frequently, and her husband could never stand to see it.
It was only natural, then, that Richard had come to understand everything that had happened.
He walked quietly down the hallway and exited the crown prince’s quarters.
It was disheartening to think someone like that was his father—
and oddly comforting to realize that soon, everyone in the empire would have to call the man Father too.
To Richard, his parents were a kind of unshakable shame.
And if he couldn’t throw that shame away, maybe it was better if everyone had to carry it too.
Wandering outside along the path, Richard eventually found himself heading toward one place in particular.
The palace where Teresa lived.
Truth be told, he much preferred spending time alone with Teresa than being around his mother.
Though it was originally Rosalia who opened the doors for him to visit her, his age afforded him certain liberties.
Richard easily bypassed the tight security with a simple excuse—he had left something behind.
Fortunately, it didn’t take long to find Teresa.
She was in the back garden, and her eyes widened in surprise the moment she saw him.
At his bold greeting, Teresa reflexively moved her lips in a soft murmur.
As Teresa rummaged through the pocket of her skirt, a troubled expression flickered across her face.
She had clearly forgotten to bring something to write with.
Lowering herself to her knees so she was eye-level with Richard, she carefully mouthed the words:
‘Why are you here again?’
‘The guards don’t even bother catching you anymore, huh?’ Official source ıs 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵·𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖·𝙣𝙚𝙩
“I mean, I’m going to be the master of this palace someday anyway.”
At Richard’s bold reply, Teresa blinked in surprise.
He’d meant it seriously, but she seemed to take it as a rare, cheeky joke—and let out a quiet, rare laugh.
Richard knew exactly why the knights hesitated and glanced nervously whenever he showed up.
Just as Rosalia had said, a generational shift in the royal family was approaching.
If Richard’s father ascended the throne, the title of crown prince would naturally fall to him.
And Teresa, who held no such claim to authority, had been confined to this secluded palace—drifting through the days.
‘Should I call for one of the palace maids?’
“I’ll go when I feel like it.”
With that blunt answer, Richard brushed past her and headed for the chair she had just been sitting in.
Teresa hesitated a moment before quietly sitting beside him.
It was almost like she felt some sort of aunt-like duty to keep him company.
“I just finished a book before coming.”
‘You’re really good at reading lips… But seriously, why did you come here?’
Teresa tilted her head curiously as she mouthed the question.
Once again, Richard understood her well enough—but this time, he pretended not to and kept silent.
Sensing his lack of response, Teresa glanced back toward the building, a faint trace of frustration on her face.
Maybe it was because people so often misunderstood her intent when she spoke without writing.
She usually avoided conversation altogether if she didn’t have a notebook and pen on hand.
But Richard preferred it this way—talking face-to-face, reading her lips, watching her expressions.
When they communicated by writing, the words stole all the focus.
But , he could study her face in detail.
Looking into Teresa’s eyes, Richard found himself thinking again about why he had come here.
There was something he had wanted to tell her for a long time.
Something he’d never said out loud.
In his mind, he poured out the words:
You’re being deceived. The reason you’re trapped here… it’s all because of my parents.
My father wants to forget you. My mother only visits to ease her guilt—even though she’s never confessed to anything.
Of course, Teresa didn’t respond.
And unless Richard said those words out loud, he knew he would never get an answer.
-- End Of The Chapter --
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