I Refuse This Life, Your Highness! - Chapter 96

“Well, you see once upon a time, there was a poor prince.”

“Stop spouting nonsense. Just get to the point.”

Reia was cold. Lyol widened his eyes for a moment, then burst out laughing.

“Haha, you two really are alike.”

“Alike?”

I reflexively asked and glanced at Reia. She was also glaring at Lyol with a face full of disbelief. I had never thought Reia and I shared any similarities whether in appearance or personality.

“What part of us is alike?”

“In quite a few ways.”

Which ways, exactly? I looked toward the Duke as if seeking his opinion. Narrowing his eyes, he muttered softly, “It doesn’t seem entirely untrue.”

…It was an unusually vague remark for him. What’s more, it was almost an agreement. Reia and I exchanged glances. She, too, looked as though she had no idea, but if others around us, especially the Duke, saw it that way, there might be some truth to it. Cutting off Lyol’s “once upon a time” introduction like it was straight out of a fairy tale was one example.

“It’s no joke; this really happened. A long time ago, about 20 years ago, there was a poor prince in Hassein.”

Reia’s expression shifted slightly. It seemed she realized Lyol wasn’t joking around this time.

“His mother’s origins were unclear, so even though he was the third prince, he lived a life far removed from the throne, treated as insignificant.”

From that point, Lyol began a long story.

“My mother’s name was Artis. She was a Lamia. Born in the Empire, she lived a relatively cherished life until her younger brother’s obsession became excessive, forcing her to flee the imperial palace and take refuge in Hassein.”

The first imperial prince, Artis, fled to Hassein when his younger brother’s obsession went too far. Hiding in the royal palace, rather than some remote location, seemed to be due to some sort of agreement between the former Emperor and the King of Hassein.

However, even in Hassein, Artis’s situation didn’t improve. Though he was young, the King of Hassein fell for him at first sight and relentlessly pursued him. Eventually, a child was born from their union—that child was Lyol.

The fact that Artis was a Lamia and the Empire’s first prince was, of course, kept hidden. Artis lived as an obscure concubine, rarely appearing before others. Consequently, the prince’s status was never guaranteed. In Hassein, a mother’s social position was a crucial determinant of her child’s treatment. Thus, Artis and Lyol were always mistreated, especially after the King of Hassein lost interest in Artis following Lyol’s birth.

“However, I didn’t have a bad relationship with my older brothers. My origins and other factors made me so far removed from the throne that they didn’t see me as a threat. Plus, the second brother had no interest in the crown at all.”

Once, Lyol had shown a strong aversion to the idea of siblings, but he clarified that it wasn’t about himself but about his mother—Artis—and the Emperor.

“I’ve mentioned this to Your Highness and the Duke before, and while it’s not a pleasant story…”

Lyol nonchalantly recounted how the Emperor had come after Artis, ultimately leading to his gruesome demise. He described the moment a merciless sword pierced a person’s body as though it were someone else’s story. Reia’s expression grew harder and harder as she listened. It was natural. Even for me, hearing it again was horrifying, making me pity young Lyol all over again. The Duke’s face was also clouded with discomfort.

Seeing our reactions, Lyol let out an exaggerated sigh and winked with one eye.

“…So, it’s a common enough tale, but that’s why I can’t wield a sword. I’m afraid of it. Watching someone swing one or holding it myself—it’s all terrifying. I used to be told I had some talent for it, but after that, I couldn’t even go near a training ground.”

He shrugged as he continued, mentioning how much gossip he’d been the subject of because of that incident.

“My father may be a despicable man, but at least he didn’t force me, someone who witnessed his mother being stabbed to death, to pick up a sword. It wasn’t necessary anyway. Even if swordsmanship is considered a basic skill, there are always those who simply lack talent for it.”

That was true. Not all royalty or nobility excelled at swordsmanship; only those closest to power did.

“I tried other martial skills, but anything involving the ability to kill someone was psychologically impossible for me. I’m also afraid of fire. Though, I can manage a fireplace—I’ve overcome that much. Haha.”

He added a laugh as if making a joke, but no one else laughed.

Uncomfortable with the mood, Lyol steered the conversation in a different direction.

“My mother was an ordinary person.”

Artis, the imperial prince. I recalled the memory of when I had seen his remains. His voice, which once stood in defiance of the Emperor, had seemed resolute and firm. That’s likely why he could face his pursuer with such composure.

“She lived hiding the fact that she was a Lamia, but she knew well how other Lamias lived. When I heard her stories as a child, I always found it strange. What do you think about the way Lamias are treated?”

The two Lamias present—Reia and I—locked eyes.

“Lamias are always treated as neither this nor that in terms of gender. They can bear children, their stature is small, but other than that, they’re just ordinary people. Yet they’re expected to live as women, as someone’s wife. Men see Lamias as convenient, and women view them as unpleasant. Why are Lamias treated as such strange beings? The ability to bear children should be seen as an additional strength, shouldn’t it?”

“That’s why,” Reia said, breaking her silence.

“Why?” Lyol asked.

“Because they have an additional strength. But can Lamias, in reality, overpower others in terms of strength or anything else? There’s a fine line between a strength and a weakness. If a strength doesn’t help protect oneself, it’s just another vulnerability. Ultimately, it’s just a difference, and differences justify discrimination.”

Lyol looked at Reia for a moment. His expression seemed deep in thought before returning to his usual playful demeanor.

“That’s exactly what my mother used to say. She hated being a Lamia. Well, back then, who could’ve liked being one? Either way, living like that must have been uncomfortable, don’t you think? It still is for most.”

He shrugged again.

“Well… let’s stop with this kind of talk. With two Lamias here, it’s not like I can fully grasp the issue as someone who isn’t one.”

“…That’s not entirely true.”

I spoke. What Lyol said was something I had occasionally pondered myself. Besides, it wasn’t just his thoughts but likely those of Prince Artis as well.

Uncomfortable. That’s how Lamias were taught to live. My parents had emphasized it over and over for as long as I could remember. Lamias wore glamorous and beautiful dresses because their future was destined to be “someone’s wife.” To captivate “someone’s” gaze, Lamias had to hide any trace of masculinity, adorning themselves to be suitable brides—acceptable enough to marry.

Though the current emperor had improved the treatment of Lamias, it wasn’t because of policies or goodwill. It was because of his obsession with Lamias, bordering on fixation. It was no different than how people become cautious around dogs when a ruler adores them.

“There might be families that cherish their children regardless of them being Lamias, but the two of you aren’t part of such families, are you?”

I laughed bitterly. My family certainly wasn’t, nor was Reia’s.

“All of this wouldn’t have happened if Lamias weren’t discriminated against in the first place. My mother, for the sole reason of being a Lamia, was never allowed to ascend to the position of crown prince. And then he came for her… which is why I—”

Lyol lifted his head. His face had shed its usual playfulness and frivolity, replaced by a resolute seriousness.

“When I become emperor, I want to change all of it.”

The emperor… If he emerged victorious from this war and rebellion, he would dethrone the current emperor and take his place.

“So that people aren’t forced to live lives against their will, or have their rights stripped away simply for being Lamias.”

As Reia had said, society naturally sought to reduce competitors. The peculiarities of Lamias made them ideal scapegoats for exclusion. The notion that Lamias were part of a “witch’s lineage” was convenient too. By defining Lamias as sinister beings, others benefited in various ways from their exclusion.

Just like my brothers, who ended up sharing what would have been three people’s fortunes between the two of them.

Honestly, I felt no particular emotion toward Lyol’s words. What even was being a Lamia?

It made my head spin. It was such a given that I had never truly considered it. Living as an ordinary person seemed so natural. For 20 years, my parents had always told me, “You must live as a woman.” And yet, they dressed me in male clothing and called me “young master.”

I was clearly aware of myself as a man, but at the same time, I was expected to live as someone’s wife, don women’s clothes, and eventually become a mother… That future seemed inevitable.

I didn’t think living that way was inherently bad. There were many men who married women of rank and lived lives similar to mine. But in my case, it was confusing. If I had been dressed as a girl and raised as one from the start, I might have been fine with it.

I knew why my parents had raised me as though I were caught between being male and female. The confusion I felt was the same as the discomfort and aversion others felt. It was why Lamias were seen as unpleasant—neither fully male nor female, an ambiguous existence.

At the very least, thanks to the current emperor’s obsession, Lamias had been able to step into the light. They could become the wives of high-ranking nobles and even empresses. Before that, even if Lamias married, they rarely found “good matches.” And all of this was the result of one emperor’s influence. Yet, his intentions had never been kind toward Lamias.

If Lyol became emperor, would more things change?

I looked at Lyol. He met my gaze and winked with one eye. It seemed he couldn’t break that habit.

Still, I decided to believe in him.

* * *

Once everyone had left, I finally had some time to rest. I lay with my head on the Duke’s firm thigh, groaning softly.

“Why don’t you try closing your eyes for a bit?”

The Duke, who had been stroking my hair, spoke. I shook my head.

“I can’t sleep. My whole body aches…”

At that, the Duke’s face turned serious as he began gently massaging different parts of my body.

“Should we step outside for some fresh air? No, I suppose you’re sick of horses by now.”

“It’s not the horses—it’s the carriages. I’m just so tired of the constant jolting… but for now, I just want to stay here. This spot feels nice.”

“Then let’s go to the bath.”

“I already bathed earlier.”

“The bath isn’t for washing.”

What else could one do in the bath? I found it puzzling, but the Duke ordered the preparations. Servants and attendants bustled about, and soon after, the Duke lifted me from where I was lying.

The bathroom was filled with steam the moment we entered. It felt even more humid than usual, and the air was scented with something sweet. A silver tray stood on legs, holding a selection of cold teas, winter apricots, and frozen fruits.

Beside it, an array of ornate bottles of scented oils was neatly arranged. The warm water in the bathtub rippled gently, shallow but inviting, with flower petals floating on the surface. After the long, uncomfortable journey in the carriage, it looked like paradise.

“Lie down over here.”

“Here…?”

A cushion made of towels was placed on the edge of the bathtub, clearly intended for someone to rest on. The Duke gestured to it again.

“Lie down.”

At his urging, I hesitantly tightened my robe and glanced at him. The Duke smirked faintly.

“It’s fine, just lie down. I promise I won’t do anything.”

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