I’m Done With Unrequited Love - Chapter 27

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 27
The Pope’s eyes locked with mine, and his lips curled into a broad smile.
An unsettling one.
I turned my head away, pretending not to notice.
‘Does he know me?’
Had I met the Pope before, at some point?
His gaze was different from the curious stares of the others around us—the unmistakable look of someone who recognized their companion.
Surely I hadn’t crossed paths with him before.
I searched my memory, long and hard.
Dong—
The bell tolled.
Ten o’clock sharp.
“Let Bruno von Corbalue, who shall become the new majesty of the great Empire of Corbalue, come before the Pope and receive the Imperial Crown.”
The Coronation Ceremony had begun.
* * *
The Church’s power in the Empire of Corbalue was formidable.
They formed a collective and wielded authority under the guise of serving God.
Whether the Divine Being lived or died remained unknowable, but they carried the “fact” of its existence like a shield, interfering in the nation’s affairs at every turn.
Even the most absurd claims would gain purchase if wrapped in “It is the will of the Divine Being.”

The tradition of the Church presiding over Imperial Succession had developed from exactly such logic.
‘Which is precisely why Bruno is doing this now.’
The moment the Pope finished speaking his command to receive the crown, the massive arched doors that had been sealed shut swung open, and Bruno walked through.
He descended to the lowest step of the dais and knelt on one knee, bowing his head.
The previous emperor had already departed for another continent and was not present. It was the Pope who would place the Imperial Crown directly upon Bruno’s head.
The Pope received the crown from the Velvet Cushion and approached him, settling it upon his head.
‘Was it not Leo the Third who crowned Charlemagne in just such a manner, there on Earth?’
Yet our Pope was barely into his mid-teens.
While it was one thing for the Church to preside over a coronation, there was something decidedly strange about a child Pope placing a crown upon the head of an emperor well past thirty.
But it was unavoidable—this papal succession had not been an election, but rather an inheritance.
By what means?
By blood.
‘I found myself deeply curious about Syren’s view that he despises every kind of kinship.’
In any case, Bruno had become emperor in this fashion.
“I look forward to the Corbalue that Your Majesty shall lead.”
The Pope, having fulfilled his role, departed through a side door, and the new emperor ascended the steps to take his seat upon the throne.
A momentous occasion.
“The seat isn’t particularly comfortable, is it?”
“Your Majesty, please.”
Watching the emperor quarrel with his advisor the moment he took office, I found myself seriously considering exile.
Did I really have to live in a country ruled by someone like that?
“Our sovereign lord has declared that the ascension of Emperor Bruno is a joy to us, a blessing upon Corbalue, and a cause for celebration across the entire Continent.”
“We receive this honor with gratitude.”
What followed were the ceremonial proceedings—gifts from foreign delegations and the like—and once all of that concluded, the formal banquet began in earnest.
“Marina, my love.”
The emperor descended to the center of the hall and, while still seated, extended his hand to the empress for the opening dance.
“Your Majesty.”
The empress was beautiful.
It was easy to understand why the theory circulated that Bruno had accepted the Political Marriage because of her appearance.
‘It doesn’t seem entirely unfounded, either.’
And seated near the throne were those who bore a striking resemblance to that beautiful empress.
‘The young prince and princess.’
The prince in particular bore features that seemed to split the difference evenly between the empress and the emperor, quite unlike the princess, who was virtually a copy of her mother.
‘They can’t be more than around ten years old.’
Hmm.
I sensed something.
The scent of a secondary male lead!
‘Since the true male lead connected to Rene is a duke’s son, Xavier the prince can’t possibly be the one.’
I couldn’t quite recall whether Prince Xavier was actually a secondary male lead in the original story, but with that appearance and his station, the potential—no, the likelihood—was overwhelming.
‘About the same age as Kiara and Rene, it seems.’
Even if he weren’t a secondary male lead, he had exactly the sort of specs that would naturally appear in the original work.
That meant, depending on the original’s narrative thrust, he could end up entangled with me one way or another.
I filed away that observation and turned back to Syren.
“Syren. Would you like to dance?”
The Emperor and Empress had already finished their opening dance and returned to their seats.
Now it was truly the nobility’s time.
“It wouldn’t do to come to a place like this and spend the whole evening merely sipping wine, would it?”
Given my constitution, the problem was that my dance partner would inevitably have to wrap an arm around my waist.
But still.
‘As long as skin doesn’t actually touch, it’s fine.’
That was how I’d managed it with Ernan at the earlier banquet.
At my words, Syren hesitated, studying my face, then seeming to steel himself, he extended his hand toward me.
“…Then I would be honored to dance one song with you.”
Unnecessarily solemn. I laughed softly.
“Two songs would be fine as well, if you’d like.”
That was when it happened.
“Syren!”
Someone called out Syren’s name and approached.
I turned toward the source of the voice naturally.
There was…
“Ah, Your Highness the Crown Prince.”
The Crown Prince.
‘What on earth…?’
What?
I couldn’t muster any response to the shocking revelation that Syren and the Crown Prince knew each other.
Was Syren actually royalty or something?
‘Now that I think about it, his silver hair…’
But reality proved different from my idle speculation.
“…You’re my Swordsmanship instructor?”
“That’s correct!”
Syren revealed that he served as the Crown Prince’s Swordsmanship instructor.
What kind of coincidence was this?
‘Should I have figured it out when they mentioned the Marco Family was a martial house?’
Syren was the eldest son and heir of the Marco Family.
When you thought about it, it was only natural that the heir of a house that had risen to prominence through martial prowess would inherit that legacy. Even with the Peace Accord signed and the world at peace, even with the heir pursuing graduate studies…those three things could coexist perfectly well.
My partner, whom I’d taken for just another graduate student rolling through life, turned out to be far more influential than I’d realized.
“…”
And worse, that problem Crown Prince had been staring down at me this whole time with bright, eager eyes boring into my face.
“You must be Lady Fidellia.”
“It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness.”
“I have wished to meet you for some time.”
“…Might I ask why?”
“Everyone around me has spoken of Lady Fidellia.”
‘What on earth have they all been saying in front of the boy?’
How could people possibly talk enough about me for a hothouse flower like the Crown Prince to learn of my existence?
My resentment toward the imperial family sprouted with vigor.
“You are quite beautiful.”
The young Crown Prince suddenly said this.
“I have never seen your photograph, so I was quite curious.”
His transparent golden eyes, composed entirely of innocence, made me hesitate before answering.
“…You do me too much honor.”
I thought to myself that at least the Emperor had shown some restraint by not displaying my photograph.
But the Crown Prince’s sudden compliment had an ulterior motive.
“If you don’t mind, might I borrow Syren for a moment?”
“I have no objection, but I would like to know the reason.”
“My father wishes to speak with Syren…”
Hmm?
I glanced over at the Emperor, who was laughing merrily with Sarubia in the distance.
‘Why would the Emperor want to speak with Syren?’
A flicker of doubt crossed my mind, but I brushed it away with the thought that it wasn’t my concern, and smiled faintly.
“I see. Then I suppose I’ll have to send Syren off with regret.”
Summoned by the Emperor—Syren, in no position to refuse, turned to me with an awkward expression.
“I’ll return quickly.”
“Take your time. I don’t mind being alone, so it’s fine.”
I sent Syren and the Prince off, then moved myself deeper into the corner.
* * *
In my new spot, I happened to run into someone I knew.
“…Don’t misunderstand. It’s just a coincidence.”
“….”
It was Ernan.
He’d been hidden in a blind spot; I hadn’t noticed him earlier.
‘If I’d known, I wouldn’t have come anywhere near here.’
Ernan stood in the shadow of a pillar, leaning against it and removed from the crowd’s attention.
I positioned myself in the open space beside him and turned my gaze away from him.
He remained in shadow.
I stood in bright light.
We stood at an angle to each other.
Like the railway platforms of trains heading in different directions—the sort of example he’d once given me.
‘Parallel lines,’ I thought.
My redirected gaze found Sarubia.
She’d caught sight of me from across the room, and when our eyes met, she gave a light wave of acknowledgment. I returned the gesture with a wave of my own.
And then, casually, I posed a question. To Ernan.
“Has Sarubia abandoned you?”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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