Chapter 8

"Your Highness, I have brought the members of the Raspede family."

Upon arriving at the reception room, the attendant knocked on the door and called out. From inside, a clattering sound was heard. Then, footsteps approached, and the door was opened with a burst.

"Berthea!"

With a desperate voice, Berthea was startled, her eyes widening and her shoulders trembling. She recalled that something similar had happened at the Raspede family's residence.

The prince, who had inherited the royal family's characteristic of golden hair and blue eyes, and possessed a rare beauty, was as beautiful as ever. Ustache Justorne, Berthea's fiancé, confirmed Berthea with his blue eyes and smiled with genuine joy, as if no one else existed. He took Berthea's hand and spoke in a gentle voice.

"It's been a while. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes."

While giving a short and indifferent response, Berthea freed her hand from his grip. Ustache showed a hurt expression, but Berthea ignored it and stepped into the reception room, saying, "Excuse me." She glanced at the table.

(As expected.)

In a sense, it was as she had expected—only the things Minori liked were prepared. To him, these were the things Berthea liked.

"I greet you, Your Highness."

"Ah."

Ustache and her brothers were exchanging greetings. The fact that no attention was paid to Berthea indicated that they were reading the room. They all understood that it would be unwise to draw attention to her here.

Three sofas faced each other across the table. Not wanting to sit next to anyone, Berthea chose the larger single sofa that was placed alone.

Berthea's purpose for coming to the palace was to meet Ustache and Minori. However, the crucial other person was not present. She had assumed they would be waiting together, but her assumption was wrong.

Ustache and her brothers also sat on the sofas. The attendants seemed to be waiting outside. The brothers sat reluctantly in a row, and while Leander's expression was unreadable, the twins looked somewhat uncomfortable. This scene was quite rare.

"Where is the person from the other world?"

"…She should be here soon."

Ustache answered Berthea's question after a moment, with a somewhat awkward air.

"You were together until just now, right?"

"Not alone! Our parents and Duke Yuber were there too!"

"I know. Why are you so flustered?"

Berthea smiled gently, understanding Ustache's feelings, even though he was acting as if he were defending himself from accusations of infidelity. Ustache seemed to realize he had overreacted and looked away, mumbling, "Ah, no…"

As Berthea observed him, Tristan spoke up.

"Don't be so disrespectful to the prince."

"Disrespectful? Is this level of behavior considered disrespectful?"

Berthea looked at him with a meaning that questioned who was saying this, and Tristan was speechless.

"If you are going to be a nuisance, you might as well leave. You came here without being invited."

Tristan turned his face away, seemingly shocked by the rebuke. Observing this exchange, it became clear that Berthea was not friendly to anyone. The silence was broken by Ustache, who had a serious expression.

"Berthea, I heard you have regained your memories. It's understandable that you dislike me. I treated you terribly as your fiancé… no, as a person. It was unforgivable."

"Even though you were aware of it, when I lost my memory, all the inconvenient things disappeared, and you pretended to be a devoted and kind person. Ah, you only realized how terrible you were after you fell in love."

"…I'm sorry."

Ustache bowed his head in sincere acceptance of the criticism. It was a rare sight to see a prince bow his head, but it didn't make Berthea feel any better. She didn't think this apology had any value.

She wanted to hear it much earlier, before her heart was broken. She wanted him to repent.

There were other things she wanted him to realize.

"It's too late, everything is too late."

Berthea whispered softly. Ustache raised his head, as if he hadn't heard her. Their eyes met, and his blue eyes showed a hint of unease.

She had dreamed of seeing warmth in those eyes, of being looked at warmly. In the end, it never happened. Someone else had received that warmth, not her.

A knock echoed in the room, and everyone's attention turned to the door.

"Miss Minori has arrived."

"Let her in."

As Ustache gave permission, a woman entered the room. The woman, with dark brown hair and eyes, looked tense. She was wearing a dress from this country, which must have been prepared by Ustache or the queen. Despite her childlike appearance, she was a year older than Berthea.

When Minori's eyes met Berthea's, she slightly widened her eyes. Berthea, noticing this change, smiled.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Minori."

"…Nice to meet you."

From her reaction, Berthea was certain that Minori had the memories of the six months when she was Berthea. Yet, she hadn't told anyone.

"Please, have a seat."

Minori looked around and saw that only the sofa next to Ustache was available. She frowned in confusion.

"Um…"

"Let's bring a chair."

"It's not necessary. Please sit next to His Highness. I don't mind."

Minori, perhaps deciding that it would be more impolite to refuse, sat at the edge of the sofa. In her memories, she had been more confident, but in this situation, she was clearly nervous and anxious. After a moment of hesitation, Minori looked at Berthea directly.

"Berthea… Your Highness, you must have come because of the rumors. Although His Highness has been kind to me, I—"

"You didn't inherit my memories, did you?"

"…What?"

"But strangely, I still have your memories."

"!!"

Minori's eyes widened in shock.

"Being suddenly in an unknown world and becoming a different person must have been a great surprise. It's only natural. I think you did well in such a situation, considering how easily you won over those who were hostile to Berthea Raspede."

"Berthea, what are you talking about?"

The men, who were left out of the conversation, were all confused. Tristan, losing patience, interjected.

"For six months, I wasn't suffering from amnesia. It's more like I was asleep."

"…I don't understand."

"The 'amnesiac Berthea' is her."