Echoes of Philomel

Nassar's Burden and the Prophetic Book's Curse

Time flew by and Philomel was ten years old. She was spending time with Nassar, who visited her as usual.

Nassar asked at once.

"Does Her Highness hate me by any chance?"

Philomel, who was reading a book, looked in amazement at Nassar, who was sitting on the side opposite her.

"Pardon? No way. I don't hate you."

However, the boy's dark expression did not ease.

"...Did you hear the conversation I had with my father that day?"

The time Nassar was talking about was the day he came to visit with his father. And it was the day Philomel decided to let go of her heart for him.

As Philomel fell silent, Nassar rose from his chair and knelt on her floor.

"I apologize."

"Nassar! Get up!"

Philomel, startled by his sudden action, stretched out her hand.

"No. I will ask for your forgiveness until Her Highness feels better."

But Nassar resolutely did not lift his bowed head, so Philomel said cautiously.

"It's not for Nassar to ask me for forgiveness. It's okay because he didn't curse at me behind my back, and I was not trying to listen to it on purpose. I just happened to hear it."

"...Having that kind of heart is itself a problem."

'It was embarrassing.'

It wasn't that Philomel hated Nassar. Well, she, of course, was resentful of him at that time. However, as time passed, her resentment dissipated.

"How is it? It's not like I can do what I want with my heart."

Philomel sincerely thought so. His love wasn't something she could have because she desperately wanted it, and if he couldn't love her, it wasn't his fault either.

But Nassar did not agree.

"I have to control even my heart. So, it is my fault for harbouring evil intentions."

Philomel felt a little bit sad for Nassa

'I wonder how strict the Duke is with his son.'

The Duchy of Avridon was famous for educating his sons very harshly. If it's academic, it's academic, if it's swordsmanship, it's swordsmanship. It seemed that the Duke was even more enthusiastic because he was Nassar, who could do anything if he was asked to do so.

As Philomel herself took the successor training in earnest, she came to understand, at least a little, what Nassar's struggles were.

The shoulders of Nassar, who was kneeling in front of her, seemed unusually small to her.

The crying boy begged.

Philomel couldn't hold back any longer.

"Why was Nassar born to serve me? Nassar is just Nasar!"

"But my father says I must always serve Her Highness with that mindset..."

Apparently, that young boy had been trained to be the princess' mate from a very long time ago. Even at the level of brainwashing.

'

' Duke what have you done to your son!'

Philomel held her forehead.