For several days now, Lee-Jae had been deeply absorbed in reading a stack of diaries in the study.
To her right sat a small plate of neatly cut fruit and a cup of bitter tea.
But she hadn’t spared them a single glance. She was completely focused.
Hailey’s childhood diary wasn’t all that different from the ones she wrote as an adult.
After developing her foresight, keeping records must have become a burden—but in her younger years, writing was likely the extent of her expressive ability.
Maybe it was simply a habit.
Still, maybe because she was becoming more familiar with Hailey, the entries didn’t feel as dull or frustrating as they used to.
In fact, some were even cute.
She’d always thought Hailey had a gentle nature, but it was even more pronounced in her childhood.
Lee-Jae took a sip of the now-cold tea, then turned back to the diary.
「October 4th, 491
Father drank a lot today.
He said, “Why must I suffer this humiliation?” and cursed His Majesty the King.
Mother told me never to speak of this to anyone.
I won’t tell a soul.」
「October 5th, 491
Father called my brother and me in.
He said the Duncan family has always stood at the center of history.
What does that mean? I don’t understand hard things.
I just want to play with my friends.」
The tension between the Royal family and House Duncan wasn’t just a matter of the past ten or twenty years.
Still…
What kind of person lectures a child like that?
Was this just how all noble families with power acted?
But just as Lee-Jae was shaking her head, she suddenly furrowed her brow.
She quietly set down her teacup.
There was something strange about the next sentence in the diary.
「The Duncan family doesn’t stand at the center of history.
We can’t change history.
We do not play a major role in the balance of power.
Duncan simply follows the flow.」
Reading it as if under a trance, Lee-Jae paused for a long moment, then nodded slowly.
This… was written on a different day.
She was sure it had been added later—not just because of the ominous content, but because the handwriting was neater and more refined than a child’s.
It resembled the writing from shortly before Hailey’s death.
Did Hailey re-read her old diaries before she died…?
It wasn’t hard to imagine.
When people approach the end of their lives, they often try to make sense of the path they walked.
Still, Lee-Jae tilted her head, unconvinced.
There was something that didn’t sit right.
She repeated the same phrase to herself several times.
“Balance of power…”
It was a phrase all too familiar to her—because it appeared in the will of the 5th King, Noel Provicio Blake.
If the balance of power still existed, history would inevitably repeat itself.
That was what he had said.
Lee-Jae could understand Hailey’s statement that history couldn’t be changed.
Even if you saw the future, it didn’t mean you could rewrite it.
Then what, exactly, was this balance of power?
After pondering for a while, Lee-Jae turned to the next page.
Meanwhile, the King and his nobles were discussing state affairs in the council chamber.
Roderick rested his chin on one hand, simply listening to their reports.
It was after the Marquis Meyer—whose son was currently stationed as a border commander in the south—finished speaking.
Roderick, who had been mulling something over, finally spoke.
“We’re going to put the southern expansion policy on hold.”
All eyes—royalist and anti-royalist alike—turned to the King.
He met their gazes with a calm demeanor, having anticipated this reaction to some extent.
He continued.
“Didn’t the Bodore side propose a peace treaty before? Let’s try to move forward with that quickly.”
The influential nobles seated nearby began murmuring among themselves.
And of course, there was always one person too bold—or too tactless—for their own good.
“Your Majesty… does this mean… the Royal marriage they proposed…”
Jade squeezed his eyes shut and groaned.
Roderick, who had kept a neutral expression until now, furrowed his brow slightly.
He swept his gaze across the nobles, then fixed a dry stare on the commander of the 3rd Division.
The commander flinched and avoided eye contact, wearing the exact look of a married man who clearly had a lot to say—but dared not.
The King turned his gaze back to the nobles.
“What did I say I’d do if someone brought that up in front of me again?”
There were plenty of empty cells in the dungeons, but he was holding back because the Queen told him not to act like a tyrant in public.
Roderick let out a sigh and raked a hand through his hair.
“It’s your job to come up with other negotiation terms. Focus on trade exchanges instead.”
“………”
“And we’ll be reallocating some of the southern forces to the west. For now, we’ll concentrate on eradicating the remnants of the Daemon Restoration Movement.”
The King briefly looked over each of the nobles.
He needed someone to take responsibility for the operation.
As he considered his options, his blue eyes inevitably landed on the Duke of Duncan.
The Duke, too, was silently watching the King.
When the King and the de facto leader of the anti-royalist faction met eyes, a brief but palpable tension filled the chamber.
But Roderick soon curved one corner of his mouth into a dry smirk.
“The southern commander will be in charge of selecting the troops. Command over the deployed soldiers will be handed to the western division’s vice-commander.”
In short, there would be no changes to the southern command structure—and no concessions to House Duncan.
It was a clear signal that the King had no intention of accommodating their demands going forward.
But Roderick’s thoughts weren’t quite aligned with what the others were assuming.
He had been closely watching the Duke.
The Duke, who once challenged everything at every meeting, had gone oddly quiet.
On the surface, his expression seemed calm.
But to Roderick, it felt like the man was anxious.
The Duke had requested audiences only with the Queen, probing her relentlessly, as if everything he had depended on her.
Why?
Suddenly, Roderick’s blue eyes gleamed.
He remembered something his wife had said not long ago:
“You know that old warning not to trust Duncan. People who see the future don’t always act in the name of some noble cause. No one wants to walk into a thorny path if they know it’s coming.”
The Duke had endlessly demanded his eldest son’s reinstatement and constantly hounded the King with complaints—about health, hunting, and other trivial things.
At times it wasn’t just irritating; it was exhausting.
But now, the Duke had gone quiet, almost too easily.
And Roderick realized why.
You just don’t have any certainty left.
You know this is a critical moment.
You’re pretty sure your daughter is the Seer…but she’s not telling you what side to choose.
Because the version of her who could tell you that… doesn’t exist anymore.
You’re hesitating because the Queen refuses to give you a clear answer—and she consistently sides with me.
You’re afraid your choices and your political alignment were wrong.
You’re lost.
Am I wrong?
But in truth, the Queen didn’t support him because she believed he’d win.
She did it because she didn’t want to see him ruined.
That’s why she stands firm, even when she’s trembling from a lack of certainty.
She still finds the courage to act.
You, on the other hand—someone like you will never understand that, not even in a lifetime.
Roderick sneered silently at the Duke for a while, then finally addressed the nobles.
“This time, we’ll strike decisively. I intend to ensure the name ‘Daemon’ is never spoken of again in future generations. Organize your tasks and report back individually.”
With that, the King rose from his seat.
The anti-royalist nobles glanced at the Duke.
Throughout the meeting, the King had repeatedly trampled their faction.
But in that moment of crisis, their leader—who had the final say—remained silent.
Roderick strode away with long, purposeful steps.
Naturally, everyone knew exactly where he was headed.
The Queen’s study.
It had become something of a second office for Lee-Jae, who was poring over the diaries with the intensity of a scholar.
But when the King arrived at the study, he was greeted by visibly uncomfortable maids.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, puzzled.
Deborah stepped forward to explain.
“Well… Her Majesty asked not to be disturbed if possible. Even when we tried calling from outside, she didn’t respond.”
Roderick clicked his tongue.
“Call her again.”
Deborah bowed her head and raised her voice once more, knocking gently on the door.
“Your Majesty the Queen, His Majesty is here.”
Still, there was no reply from within.
Normally, Roderick would have gone in without even waiting for an announcement, but this time he simply stood there.
She’d said not to be disturbed, and he didn’t want to barge in recklessly.
Yet, as he leaned against the wall, his expression suddenly turned grave.
A dark thought crossed his mind—what if something had happened inside?
He immediately stepped toward the door.
“Step aside.”
“………”
“Move.”
The King’s sudden scowl startled the others.
Without paying them any mind, Roderick pushed through the group and flung the door open.
But the scene inside left him completely deflated.
Lee-Jae was slumped over the desk, using her arm as a pillow, fast asleep.
As the knights rushed in behind him, Roderick raised a finger to his lips.
The knights, who had their hands on their swords just moments ago, looked sheepish as they saw the sleeping Queen.
With a tilt of his chin, Roderick sent them all away.
Scratching their heads, the knights tiptoed out of the room.
Once they were gone, Roderick approached Lee-Jae.
She was breathing softly, her expression perfectly serene.
Just to be sure, he placed the back of his hand against her skin to check her temperature.
Finding nothing unusual, he finally let out a deep sigh of relief.
“…You really do have all sorts of ways to give someone a scare.”
He looked at her with a slightly exasperated expression—but then let out a quiet chuckle.
He’d never seen her fall asleep like this before.
Her pale, soft cheek was squished against her arm. It was… adorable.
Must’ve been exhausted, he thought, and sat on the edge of the desk.
Then, he began quietly watching her sleep.
Even under his steady gaze, Lee-Jae didn’t wake for quite some time.
Eventually, though, Roderick noticed how awkwardly she was positioned.
“She’s gonna wake up sore… Should I move her?” he muttered.
After hesitating, he took off his navy jacket and gently draped it over her back.
Then paused.
A lock of her apricot-colored hair had fallen over her face, fluttering with every breath.
In the end, he couldn’t resist.
He reached out and carefully tucked the strands behind her ear.
Just then, Lee-Jae’s brows furrowed.
Roderick held his breath.
She stirred—and finally opened her eyes.
“Sorry. Did I wake you?”
“…You’re here?”
“Well, this is rare. You wouldn’t budge even when someone was wailing outside, but the moment I touch one little hair, you wake right up.”
“Wailing?”
Deborah had only called out twice in a refined and composed tone.
Lee-Jae frowned, clearly confused, and sat up.
She curled her fingers to rub her eyes, but Roderick gently pushed her hand away.
“Not good. Your eyes are red.”
“They are?”
“Yeah. I told you, you’ve been reading way too late lately.”
He clicked his tongue, glancing at the towering stack of diaries.
Then he looked over at the untouched plate of fruit and shook his head.
He picked up a fork, stabbed a piece of fruit, and brought it to her lips.
As she nibbled at it, he asked,
“Want more?”
Lee-Jae shook her head.
Though Roderick was a little disappointed, he set the fork down.
“Then go sleep in your room.”
With that, he scooped her up effortlessly.
His navy jacket slipped off her back and fell to the floor.
He tried to walk off without it, but Lee-Jae leaned over to pick it up.
In the end, he picked it up himself.
Supporting her with one arm, he gave the jacket a rough shake,
then tossed it over her head like a blanket and let out a quiet laugh.
The apricot-colored fox in his arms was, as always, small—and precious.
