The funeral of Marcel Belmartier, officiated by the imperial family, was grand. However, it resembled more of a banquet than a funeral. While there was a pretense of honoring the hero who nobly sacrificed his life for the crown prince, everyone knew that the imperial family did not truly value Marcel Belmartier’s sacrifice. The scene of fireworks and flowers reminded Marcel of the prince’s birthday procession, where Marcel was sacrificed. For the imperial family, Captain Marcel Belmartier’s funeral was merely another victory banquet celebrating Prince Henri’s safety.

Among the attendees, 14-year-old 2nd Prince Leonard Antoine de Charleroi felt a deep sense of contempt and skepticism towards the spectacle.

Of course, he couldn’t reveal his true feelings. King Antoine XIII, his father, had an extremely authoritative temperament. Anyone who challenged his decisions or spoke out of turn would face his wrath and punishment. Furthermore, Leonard’s older brother, the prince, was arrogant, hot-tempered, and selfish. If someone said something against him, Leonard would feel frustrated because he couldn’t retaliate. In such circumstances, Leonard grew up as a passive, rebellious boy, choosing to tolerate or whisper his thoughts rather than express his opinions boldly. Nevertheless, he was acutely aware that something was amiss. In Leonard’s view, the imperial family should have felt ashamed of Marcel Belmartier’s death and mourned his loss with genuine gratitude.

With this thought in mind, Leonard attended Marcel Belmartier’s funeral.

Knowing that he had a strained relationship with his elder brother and that his own desires were disregarded when choosing a replacement, Leonard didn’t thank Marcel. Instead, he felt a deep sense of shame and guilt that his own bloodline had led to Marcel’s death. Unlike other members of the royal family, Leonard genuinely wanted to mourn Marcel Belmartier’s death. That’s why he decided to donate flowers—an act of rebellion against family members who merely held their esteemed positions without considering making offerings to others.

As Leonard made his way towards the place where he intended to lay the wreath, he noticed a silver-haired girl standing by the coffin, dressed in a black gown like a doll. She appeared delicate, resembling a lily of the valley. Leonard recalled hearing that Captain Belmartier had a sister about ten years younger. From her position next to the coffin, it seemed likely that the girl was indeed Marcel’s younger sister.

However, Leonard soon noticed that the girl’s face was devoid of expression, though her eyes were strangely moist. He had a keen eye and observed the girl biting her lip, struggling to hold back her emotions. He watched her mysterious behavior for some time before understanding the reason. It was because of King Antoine XIII’s statement regarding Captain Belmartier’s death.

“He died on behalf of the country’s crown prince. If this is not the glory of the family, what is it?”

Leonard was struck with shock, as if someone had hit him hard on the back of his head. They were incapable of showing sorrow because the imperial family had not designated Captain Belmartier’s death as a somber occasion.

Oh my god. Isn’t this funeral completely misguided? Leonard was overwhelmed with an immediate urge to rise and restore everything to its rightful place. However, instead of acting on that impulse, the prince, who understood the reality, slowly rose from his seat and approached the place of honor. In one hand, he held a white flower for the wreath, and in the other, a white handkerchief as pure as snow.

With determination, Leonard walked towards the girl and stood before her. Carefully, he offered her the handkerchief. The girl accepted it, though unaware of its significance. Leonard looked past the hurried formalities of recognition from Frédéric Belmartier and the girl’s curtsey in response to her father’s babbling. He had something important he wanted to say.

“You can cry.”

“… Yes?”

“I’ve come here to tell you that.”

Leonard Antoine de Charleroi wished to provide an outlet for the girl’s tears.

? ? ?

Initially, his curiosity drove him to check on the girl’s well-being.

After the funeral, he learned her name was Anais—Anais Belmartier. He thought it sounded beautiful.

Leonard desired to see Anais once more, to witness her blue eyes shimmer like the sky on a clear day and her silver hair glistening like moonlight at dawn. He couldn’t forget the tear that rolled down her cheek when he said, “I’ve come here to tell you that.” It began as curiosity, perhaps even infatuation. If such a feeling could be called love at first sight, Leonard felt it fitting to use that romantic expression.

Thus, he left the imperial palace. Being a curious and adventurous prince, he had already mastered the secret passages throughout the palace several years ago, making his departure easy.

However, fifteen-year-old Leonard, dressed differently and equipped with sufficient funds, exited the palace through an underground waterway connected to the nearest city area where the Belmartier family resided. That day, he didn’t encounter Anais again.

The reason was that to reach the downtown area where the Belmartier family lived, he had to pass through Orden, one of the most notorious slums in Seine.

For Leonard, who had spent his short life within the imperial palace, tales of starving people and daily uprisings were nothing more than reports delivered by nobles and officials to his father. Admittedly, during the charity season, the royal palace’s budget was allocated to charitable projects, and they lived as frugally as possible. Nonetheless, Leonard had contemplated whether Le Ang was truly a suitable country for its commoners to reside in.

However, the reality he encountered outside the imperial palace surpassed his vague imaginings.

The Le Ang Leonard witnessed was far more miserable and gloomy than the expression “not a very good country to live in” could encapsulate. The filth and destitution were so severe that one might question if it was even habitable.

To be honest, Leonard Antoine de Charleroi experienced fear for the first time in his life. It wasn’t the fear of being harmed by someone in the rough and desolate slums. What gripped his heart was a deeper fear—a fear of witnessing the collapse of the land he believed to be stable and the faith that had sustained his existence.

Leonard couldn’t discern whether he was stepping over the bodies of the living or the dead. When he saw a small child clutching a piece of moldy blue bread, he wanted to tell the child not to eat it. Yet, his mind went blank when a grown man suddenly appeared, violently snatched the bread from the child, and threw it to the ground. Leonard, standing right there, couldn’t bring himself to intervene.

Even though he wore modest attire suitable for the occasion, Leonard’s appearance still resembled that of a young nobleman. At first, he feared that a hungry person might lose control, threatening or robbing him, and he resolved to understand if it occurred. However, the impoverished people of Orden avoided him, their eyes filled with fear, and no one dared to approach him.

It was as if they possessed enough reason to be concerned about the repercussions of touching their precious bodies. Witnessing their rationality, Leonard felt a profound sense of disgust for a brief moment. But soon, an overwhelming shame washed over him. Regardless of the wicked deeds they committed to survive, he alone had no right to despise them.

A colossal absurdity, surpassing his vague and somewhat naive imagination, engulfed him. It was blatantly wrong, but he was overwhelmed by a crushing sense of helplessness. Even if he were to scream softly that this was all incorrect, no one would listen. The fact that a starving child was right before his eyes, and he could do nothing but helplessly watch, filled him with a deep sorrow.

In the end, Leonard turned back before reaching the halfway point of Orden and returned to the imperial palace.

Each step he took after reversing his path felt impossibly heavy and burdensome, as if an iron ball were shackled to his ankle. He looked back multiple times but never wavered in his course.

He hadn’t given up on seeing Anais, of course.

Nor had he given up on passing through Orden.