Chapter 3 - Sleeping King

Translator's Note:

Hello, I hope you've all been doing well

Here you go, and I wish you a good read.

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"What? But they haven't even bowed or begged for your presence! You don't owe them anything!"

 

"I think it must be a mistake. And if I don't go, it might come off as rude… I heard the Queen struggled to bear a child. I truly believe this is a joyous occasion. There may not be anything I can do, but… I want to offer my blessings so that the child may live surrounded by roses and grace, always."

 

There was not a single false note in his words. He had learned that when you yourself are happy, you can wish happiness upon others, too.

 

He had once whispered a quiet prayer—May the Queen be blessed with a child… But never before had he felt this kind of affection rise so naturally, so deeply from within.

 

Even on the day of the celebration, no invitation arrived. No envoy came to escort him.

 

Still, Fisé donned ceremonial attire befitting a Rose King and made his way to Twydal Castle before sunset.

 

He traveled in a simple public carriage from the nearest village, dressed in robes that no human could replicate—a gown layered from countless folds of translucent silk, as pale and delicate as white rose petals. The fabric shimmered faintly, each fold radiating a soft glow like golden dust.

 

When he stepped down in the town below the castle and began walking on his own, his dress seemed to float and dance with a life of its own, even though there was no breeze.

 

Some layers spread and lifted around his shoulders and back, giving him the appearance of bearing wings like a small fairy.

 

He arrived in full regalia—radiating the majesty, magical power, and beauty befitting the Rose King—and the guards at the gate were stunned into silence.

 

At first, they were speechless. Then they all began to say the same things.

 

"Rose King! Why are you here on foot?" two of them cried.

 

"Rose King, where is your carriage?" two others asked in a panic.

 

Knights appeared, flustered, followed by a minister who rushed over—all of them echoing similar questions.

 

After all, the Rose King supported the country more surely than even the King himself—of course his sudden arrival would be cause for astonishment.

 

Naturally, even without an invitation, he was welcomed with reverence and escorted to the great hall.

 

Fisé had entered the castle only twice before, both times alongside his predecessor. But he had always remained quietly in the background. Only now did it dawn on him—this was his first visit as Rose King.

 

That thought stirred a flicker of nerves, but even so, he was glad he came.

 

Everyone around him seemed to assume, quite naturally, that the Rose King had been invited. The missing invitation must simply have been a clerical error.

 

Though he was somewhat curious about the reason, he said nothing of it.

Had he confessed, "I didn't receive an invitation. I came by hired cart," someone would surely be held responsible.

 

So Fisé remained silent even when the knights and ministers asked about his carriage. He merely smiled and let the matter pass. There had been no harm done—and as long as he reached the grand hall, there was no reason to cause a fuss.

 

"His Grace, Rose King Fisé, has arrived!"

 

At the threshold of the great hall, his name was announced in a clear, ringing voice.

 

The orchestra paused their current tune and shifted into a composition written specifically to honor the Rose King.

 

But even that music was momentarily drowned out by the thunderous applause that followed. The glamorous crowd parted to either side, forming a path.

 

Though they had been mingling freely only moments before, now they divided down the center with perfect symmetry, giving way to him.

 

The throne was farther than Fisé had expected. Upon it sat the King and Queen of Twydal, a golden cradle placed between them.

 

As every eye turned toward him, Fisé felt the quickened beat of his own heart.

 

Sunlight streamed in through the windows, so bright it was almost blinding.

 

As he walked toward the dais, the people to either side bowed deeply.

 

The hall fell quiet again, save for the music—until the sound of voices began to rise once more.

 

All of them praising him.

 

"How lovely the new Rose King is…"

 

"To think we'd see His Grace so closely—what an honor."

 

"He looks just like an angel…"

 

"That fairy dress suits him perfectly…"

 

There were too many voices to take them all in.

 

Naturally, being praised made him happy. But beauty was expected of a rose fairy.

 

And especially of the Rose King—the most powerful of all—being called lovely or beautiful held little weight.

 

And yet, in that moment, Fisé understood something.

 

The worth of a word is not in the word itself, but in the person who speaks it.

 

When Spencer said them, they made his heart tremble with joy.

 

Whether it was after he had praised Fisé in earnest, or when he let slip a casual "You're adorable" in a quiet moment—it never failed to send a rush of warmth through him.

 

So when the crowd praised him now, it only made Spencer's words feel all the more precious by comparison.

 

"Well, welcome to Twydal Castle. I'm so honored you could come," came the bright, cheerful voice of the Queen as Fisé approached the throne.

 

She was a daughter of the ruling empire—the largest dominion on the continent. A true princess by birth, famed for her beauty and even more for her graciousness.

 

Even now, just two weeks after giving birth, she rose swiftly from her seat, arms outstretched as she walked toward him, beaming with joy.

 

One might even say she looked giddy.

 

"I heard from the King that no matter how many times we invited you, you always declined!" she laughed.

 

Invited many times? But I… I was never invited even once.

 

A chill of confusion crept over him. This wasn't some minor oversight—something had gone seriously amiss.

 

Though he was being warmly welcomed, the notion that he had refused felt unsettling. It wasn't just a misunderstanding—it was a quiet rewriting of truth.

 

And that frightened him.

 

If he hadn't come today, might people have said, "The Rose King, unmoved even by the birth of a prince beloved by the entire kingdom. How coldhearted he must be…"

 

Had such rumors begun to take root, Fisé would have betrayed not only himself, but the legacy of the Rose King before him.

 

That previous Rose King had cherished his bonds with people—and was deeply loved by all.

 

"I'm so glad your schedule allowed it. I thought it would be so sad if a prince born in the Rose Kingdom of Twydal could not receive the blessing of the Rose King," the Queen said brightly, seeming untroubled by any of Fisé's hidden concerns.

 

She nearly linked arms with him in her eagerness, urging, "Come, come—look upon his little face."

 

There wasn't even time to greet the King properly. Gently ushered forward, Fisé found himself standing before the cradle.

 

It was breathtaking even from afar, but up close it was a marvel. Clearly the work of years—adorned with delicate gold leaf and rare pearls on the outside, while its interior was lined with embroidery spun from golden thread.

 

Even to fairy eyes, it dazzled with beauty—yet not even that could compare to the light within.

 

The light of the sleeping prince.

 

"Ah…"

 

A soft gasp escaped him before he could stop it. And though his mind whispered you mustn't, he couldn't hide the awe in his voice.

 

Was this a trick of the gods? A blessing? Or some heavenly mistake—had an angel found its way into the Queen's womb?

 

No mere human child could glow so radiantly.

 

His hair shimmered like sun-spun gold, his skin a soft milk-white, faintly flushed at the cheeks like peaches from a warm country. His lips were plump as jellybeans, and even his breath seemed sweet and fragrant.

 

Despite being barely half a month old, his features were already exquisitely formed. His eyebrows—light flaxen strokes—framed his face with a grace that hinted at the noble, striking youth he would one day become.

 

"What… what a beautiful prince…"

 

The words fell from Fisé's lips without artifice, without thought. They were simply true.

 

He was astonished not only by the child's beauty, but by his serenity. To sleep so peacefully amidst such a crowd—his expression was divine, as if he existed in a world apart.

 

"Thank you. For the Rose King to say such a thing… our son is truly blessed," the Queen said with a teary smile.

 

"I would like to offer him a gift," Fisé replied softly. "A humble blessing, filled with all the hope in my heart. Please… may I know the prince's name?"

 

His eyes never left the child's face as he spoke. It wasn't intentional—he simply couldn't look away. He was mesmerized, drawn in by the child's light.

 

The thought of being able to watch this shining soul grow filled him with quiet joy.

 

"Thank you, Rose King. I'm so grateful you came. His name is Aurelian Samuel Twydal. Please, bestow your grace upon him."

 

With emotion trembling in her voice, the Queen stood beside him. Fisé reached out for the first time and touched the child.

 

Until now, the only human warmth he had known was Spencer's. Yet this child was even warmer. That warmth seeped into Fisé's fingers, through his arm, and into his chest—and it was blissful.

 

"May His Highness Aurelian Samuel Twydal, born in the Kingdom of Roses, live his life surrounded by blossoms. May he be cherished by all, his days full of joy, and one day… may he find true love."

 

More wishes poured forth than he had originally intended, each one woven with threads of fairy magic. A single word couldn't determine a human life—but a blessing given with sincerity was never meaningless.

 

From Fisé's body shone golden light, and the fairy-spun dress billowed around him like living flame.

 

Applause and joyous cheers filled the great hall, and Fisé smiled gently at the sleeping prince.

 

Then, as if in answer, the prince's eyes opened.

 

Blue… the blue of the sky…

 

Ah, what a crystal-clear gaze. So pure it felt like it pierced right through the soul.

 

Even without his blessing, Fisé knew—this child would live a life of roses and grace.

 

He would be loved. He would be joyful. And one day, he would find love—true and everlasting.

 

Everything Fisé had wished for… it already felt written in his stars.

 

"…It's an honor to meet you, Your Highness," he whispered. "I am Fisé, a fairy of the roses."

 

 

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