Chapter 19 - Prince Red Riding Hood

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Chapter 19

 

 

Having left the watchtower and passed back through the boundary, Lil did not return to the castle. Instead, he made for the farthest edge of the northern forest.

 

He walked along the side of the carriage road, taking frequent breaks, determined to visit the former royal chef.

 

As a gift, he carried wine, along with a small but precious amount of saffron and rock salt.

 

Because of the lingering ache in his waist—left by Klaus's probing fingers—and the time that had slipped away from him, Lil had not been able to learn the biscuit recipe as planned.

 

Apologizing for the sudden request, he asked the former chef to bake the Queen's favorite biscuits instead.

 

Originally, he had hoped to make them together, learning step by step at the chef's side. Even if they didn't turn out perfectly, he believed the flavor would still delight his grandmother. He had imagined her surprise when he said, "I kneaded and baked these myself." Her eyes would surely widen in astonishment.

 

That was what I wanted… to surprise Grandmother. But now, I need to get back quickly and talk to her. She'll still be pleased to receive the biscuits, and I can try making them by hand another time.

 

Thanking the former head chef, Lil asked gently, "When you have some free time, would you teach me the recipe?"

 

The man, except when concentrating on his craft, wore a cheerful expression the entire time. He accepted Lil's sudden request without a hint of displeasure and said, "I'm just a man of leisure these days—you're welcome anytime."

 

Lil wanted to believe in that smile, wanted to trust those words came from the heart. But he couldn't. What saddened him most was noticing the chef never once met his eyes.

 

Older people tend to conceal things more skillfully. They avert their gaze with such practiced ease.

 

Trying not to dwell on it, Lil packed the fragrant biscuits into his basket and began the long walk back.

 

He was fine for most of the return journey thanks to the rest he'd gotten earlier, but the latter half proved difficult.

 

He wanted badly to stop and rest, but feared he wouldn't be able to start walking again. So he pressed on, mentally rehearsing what he would say to his grandmother.

 

When he finally exited the northern forest and reached the outskirts of the castle town, Lil looked up at the castle with deep emotion.

 

Though eager to see his grandmother, his gaze was inevitably drawn to the tower where his mother lived.

 

He knew it was unfair to hope for much from someone suffering from a fragile heart and mind. Still, he couldn't help but wish that she had remembered his birthday, had thought of him, even just a little.

 

Mother… Yesterday, I turned sixteen. If you've held me in your thoughts, even for a moment, please watch over what I'm about to do. I pray I'll be able to share with Grandmother the harsh truths I've learned—without revealing that I was attacked by the woodcutters or that I crossed the border. May she understand, and may I gain the support of the bishops and ministers, starting with the High Archbishop, so I might help guide our country toward a better path. Please… watch over me.

 

Ashamed by his forbidden feelings of love, Lil could no longer lift his head in prayer to God. Yet, standing beneath his mother's tower, he prayed.

 

The ten-day respite granted to him as a birthday gift had revealed many hidden truths—and brought Klaus into his life, a figure who had prompted his own growth. It all felt like divine providence. But falling in love with another man like Klaus… that could never have been part of Heaven's plan.

 

I've betrayed God. And if I pray now, I might only anger Him further. My prayers may go unanswered. To think… I once prayed so easily. Now I fear judgment too much to even whisper my hopes aloud.

 

Swishing the hem of his red cloak, Lil pulled his hood low over his eyes and passed through the castle gate. The guards and soldiers greeted him with bows.

 

"Welcome back, Your Highness."

 

Normally, Lil would have returned their smiles. But tension stiffened his expression, and he couldn't smile properly.

 

Aware that his face had frozen, he lowered his hood and ascended the castle's grand central staircase. A handful of maids rushed down to greet him and escorted him to his chambers.

 

He wanted to wash away the remains of the act—only wiped with cloth—so he wouldn't find his grandmother's eyes or nose looming too large in his thoughts.

 

He intended to face her with a modest, guiltless expression, pretending he had done nothing to offend God.

 

Lil sent a message through a maid, inviting the Queen to the salon. When she arrived and tea had been prepared, he gently asked, "Grandmother… may I speak with you alone?"

 

The salon overlooked the courtyard bathed in candlelight and was one of the Queen's favorite places.

 

Before dinner, she often enjoyed a pre-meal drink here, sometimes while listening to Lil sing, other times having a poetry collection read aloud by an attendant, or playing chess with a minister—whatever suited her mood.

 

Lil knew the room well himself, and once they were alone together, some of the tension eased.

 

"Grandmother… yesterday, while I was in the city, I overheard something…" he began, handing her the hazelnut and apple biscuits as thanks for the summer cloak she'd given him. As soon as the mood had warmed between them, he moved straight to the heart of the matter.

 

With more passion than he had ever summoned before, Lil recounted what he had learned: that those chosen by lot to be sacrificial offerings—those who declined their fate—were being persecuted. Not only they themselves, but even their families had been targeted. The cruelty they endured was severe. His voice wavered more than once as he spoke.

 

Though raised with care and dignity as a prince, Lil could well imagine what might have become of him had he not been shielded by privilege.

 

He would've been feared and reviled for his crimson eyes, cursed, perhaps even pelted with stones or had his home set ablaze. More likely, he would've been cast out beyond the boundary by his own parents and left to die, never surviving to see sixteen.

 

"To grant those chosen as sacrifices the right to decline… that, I think, was just. But if their refusal becomes public and they are punished for it, then that right means nothing. That's why I believe the sacrificial system must first become voluntary. The lottery should only be held among those who step forward willingly."

 

The Queen nibbled on one of the biscuits—just two bites—then turned a solemn gaze on Lil and listened in silence.

 

In public, she was always regal, the very image of a monarch. But in private, she often showed Lil the tenderness of a grandmother.

 

Now, she was neither of those things. She was simply a human being, in pain.

 

Her face shifted—at times shocked, at times sorrowful. Once, she closed her eyes and covered her mouth with her fan as if to hold in a cry. There were moments when she pressed a hand to her chest as though she physically felt the suffering of the persecuted.

 

"This idea… of a voluntary system—was it your own?"

 

 

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