My outward expression was a smile, of course, but inside, I couldn't help feeling bitter and hollow. Sir Léon noticed the forced smile on my face and, with a gentle tone, said, "The sky is blue, but there are no birds." Then he turned to my sister, asking kindly, "Your Highness, will you please allow me to tell you a story?" I couldn't help but smile genuinely at his attempt to help me—it was the first time someone had shown such concern for my feelings.
Inside the palace, the maids appeared exhausted, their faces strained after a harsh day. A stern voice echoed from the upper floor, prompting my sister to run toward the stairs, trying to listen more closely. The maids hurried down, urging her to stay away. She asked what was happening, and a maid answered, "The princess has given birth today." Confused, my sister asked, "Then why are there sad sounds and cries?" The maid replied softly, "The baby died." My sister repeated, "Died?" Sir Léon, hearing this, asked to go upstairs and check on the baby, revealing that he was a doctor. They allowed him to go, but I had to stay behind, watching closely to ensure nothing went wrong.
We proceeded upstairs to the baby's room, where Sir Léon moved closer and placed his hand on the infant's chest, examining carefully. Without hesitation, he then went to the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and returned, placing it over the baby's nose as he said sharply, "Someone killed the baby." The room gasped in shock at his words. Princess Maria immediately shouted, "Why would someone kill my child? I don't even have enemies." Her reaction was pure spoiled child behavior; her indifference to the baby was evident in her cold, dismissive tone. When she finished her dramatic scene, Sir Léon had already departed with the infant, explaining that he would study the body, bury it, and that there was no need to worry. I expected her to cry out, run after the baby's body, or at least show some remorse, but instead, she simply sat down and said quietly, "Good then." The room fell silent, everyone was stunned—everyone's mind raced to understand her calm acceptance, as all signs pointed to her being responsible for the child's death.