Until The Real One Shows Up​

After Duke Barantes left, Anastasia went to check on Louis. Although he had been staying in the Empress’s Palace for some time to recover from his fever, even after getting better, Louis showed no interest in returning to the Imperial Palace or seeing Olivia. Meanwhile, Anastasia carefully evaluated the new nannies and maids who would be part of the Imperial Palace staff.

‘It seems like he’s opening up more after spending time here,’ she thought. His demeanor had noticeably softened. Where he once harbored deep resentment, he now responded without hostility, even if he didn’t engage warmly. He didn’t defy her or avoid her questions anymore, which, she noted, might be a low bar but felt like progress nonetheless.

Living in the Empress’s Palace seemed to have contributed to a more balanced routine. Instead of being consumed by study, Louis now had a mix of learning, play, and rest—no more late nights of study, as Anastasia had firmly put an end to that.

Anastasia finally arrived at Louis’s room.  

“Lou—”  

She had just started to call his name as she entered, but upon seeing the scene inside, Anastasia fell silent.

She quickly turned to leave, but—

“Your Majesty the Empress?”

It was too late. Anastasia gave a sheepish smile and relaxed, staying where she was.

“Oh, sorry—I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s fine,” Louis replied, setting down his brush. He had been painting with such concentration that Anastasia couldn’t help but step back and give him space.

“I was just trying to relax a bit.”

“Isn’t it a lot of work, though?”

“No, not really. I haven’t painted in a while.” Louis replied with a hint of bluntness, then cautiously asked, “…Would you like to see it?”

“I’d love to!” Anastasia walked over to the easel with a big smile, and soon enough, she let out a gasp. “Oh, my goodness. Did you really draw this, Louis?”

“Yes! Of course!” Louis replied proudly, though he soon asked hesitantly, “Is something wrong with it?”

Something wrong with it? Quite the opposite. His skill was astonishing, nothing like what one would expect from a six-year-old. She remembered seeing a Picasso painting when she was young and feeling awe at such raw talent. Louis’s painting was just as remarkable—she could hardly believe it was done by someone so young.

“Our Louis, could you be a genius?” she asked, trying to contain her excitement. “What did you draw?”

“The carrot cake I had yesterday.”

How had he managed to capture the texture of the cake and cream so vividly? It felt almost tangible, as if she could reach out and touch it. She was so absorbed in admiration that she didn’t say a word, prompting an anxious Louis to ask, “Did I do something wrong?”

“Not at all. You did amazingly well!” Anastasia quickly assured him, her expression glowing. “Really! How… How are you this good at drawing? You must be a genius.”

“Genius? Me? No way.”

“Yes, really. To paint like this at six…you must be,” she said, unable to look away from his work, beaming with pride. “You did a fantastic job. Could I have it as a gift?”

“What? I can’t do that!” Louis refused, looking horrified, and Anastasia laughed awkwardly.

‘Maybe we’re still not close enough to give each other gifts just yet…’

“I drew this just for practice, so I’m not keeping it. I’m going to throw it away.” Louis’s unexpected reply took her by surprise. Did he dislike it because it was a practice piece?

“I can’t believe you’d throw it away… It looks too good for that.”

“No, it’s not that good,” he insisted. Despite Anastasia’s continued praise, Louis remained unconvinced, and his harsh self-critique left Anastasia a little dissatisfied. The piece was truly wonderful…

“If you want one, I’ll make you something better,” he offered.

“Anything from Louis, I’d love it no matter what it is,” she replied warmly.

“Still…”

“Alright, we’ll go with whatever you decide.” She eventually smiled, conceding with a nod.

“I heard you enjoy painting, but I had no idea you were this talented! Did you paint often on Schweig Island?”

Unexpectedly, Louis shook his head. “Why not? You love it.”

“Olivia didn’t like painting.”

“…Olivia? Why?”

“She said painting was for lazy people.”

“…”

Just how high was Olivia’s standard for considering someone lazy?

Anastasia tried not to show her distaste and replied softly, “Painting is wonderful. It’s good for emotional growth, brain development… it’s just very important.”

“Really? Then can I keep painting?”

“Absolutely. Draw as much as you like.” Her words made Louis smile, and she couldn’t help but think how cute he looked.

‘He seems brighter since moving to the Empress’ Palace,’ she noted. The entire atmosphere around him appeared different from when he was solely focused on studying.

He seemed more lively and energetic. Of course, it could simply be her impression.

“You resemble your uncle, Louis.”

Louis blinked, looking at her in confusion, and she quickly explained. “Before he became Emperor, he used to be a painter.”

…Although he hadn’t picked up a brush in ages. Back then, he was known to wander freely, painting landscapes wherever his heart led him.

‘…Of course,’ Anastasia thought, forcing a small smile as she looked at Louis. ‘There must have been strong political motives behind it.’ 

The moment he reached adulthood, he left the Imperial Palace and became independent—a move that was far from customary. Typically, unmarried royals would continue living in the palace, but he understood his very presence posed a political threat to Alexander. So, after leaving, he kept his distance and devoted himself to painting.

“That was the happiest time. I felt truly free,” he had once told her.

Though her heart ached at the memory, he had quickly added, “But now, nothing brings me more happiness than being with you.”

“This is the first time I’ve heard of it. “ Louis’s unfamiliar voice interrupted her thoughts. “No one ever told me that…”

“… Yes, that must be true,” she murmured softly, then found herself asking, “Would you like to see your uncle?”

Seeing the confusion on Louis’s face, Anastasia immediately regretted her question. Perhaps it was too soon.

“… I’m scared.” His response hit her like a stone sinking in her chest. Masking her sadness, she joked lightly, “Why are you afraid of your uncle? Anyone hearing that would think he’s a monster.”

Louis remained silent, and in that brief exchange, she understood everything. This was what Wilhelm had feared most.

‘This poor child believes his uncle killed his parents,’ she thought bitterly. It was all too clear who had planted this idea in his mind. The realization brought on a headache.

Those outside the family, claiming to “sincerely” care for Louis, were surely behind this. They wanted Louis to be hostile toward Wilhelm for their own purposes. The thought enraged her. The one who truly loved Louis, someone who feared violence even in his heart and carried guilt he couldn’t express—that was Wilhelm.

“But your uncle isn’t a frightening person,” Anastasia said softly. “He loves you very much, Louis.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She gave him a warm smile. “You might not see it now, but one day, you’ll understand his feelings… I believe that.”

Louis looked at her, clearly puzzled, as if he couldn’t quite grasp her words. Anastasia recalled the grief-stricken Wilhelm when he learned of Louis’ death before the regression.

“I’m so cursed…” he had sobbed, collapsing under the weight of guilt. “I never should have left him on Schweig Island. Every time I look at my brother, I feel like dying, but I should have kept Louis close, loved him…”

“Wilhelm…”

“This is all my fault,” he had said bitterly. “It’s like I killed him.” 

“…”

“How much did he hate me? He must have thought I abandoned him.”

Was Louis really blaming Wilhelm, thinking he had abandoned him on Schweig Island? There was no way to confirm that now, but it was heartbreaking to imagine.

“Your Majesty?”

At the sound of Louis’ voice, Anastasia was pulled from her thoughts.

“Would you like me to draw a portrait for you?”  

“A portrait?”  

“Yes, I’ve been practicing lately,” Louis replied with a slightly bashful expression.  

“Once I get a bit more practice, I’ll draw Her Majesty’s portrait and give it to you as a gift.”  

“Really?”  

Anastasia beamed and nodded.  

“Alright. I’ll look forward to it.”  

For now, she decided to dedicate herself fully to this relationship.