READING GUIDANCE
" This is a direct sentence in the present time."
" This is a direct sentence in the past time."
' This is a character's inner thought in the present time.'
' This is a character's inner thought in the past time.'
[ This is a direct sentence in sign language in the present time.]
[ This is a direct sentence in sign language in the past time.]
HAPPY READING!
.
The palace, once known as a place of chaos, misfortune, and 'calamity,' has transformed into a peaceful haven that no one had ever imagined. People have started to notice that for several months now, there have been no disasters within this extravagant palace. There are no chaotic sibling disputes, no dramatic and dreadful 'stress-release' traditions, or horrifying ' aura.' There is nothing but peace, especially in the Dragon Palace, where all state matters are handled. This main palace serves as the headquarters of the Empire of Malum.
Several changes are evident here. One noticeable change is the atmosphere, which has shifted from being heavy and oppressive to becoming much more comforting. The tension that once plagued everyone is gradually dissipating, creating a conducive work environment that no one had ever imagined.
[Please sign here and here,] said the woman with her well-known sign language. She was now conversing with the notorious prince, who was seated at his desk in his office, signing documents without hesitation.
Even those who work closely with him—his attendants, knights, and lady-in-waiting—are still adjusting to the new daily life in this place. Although the crown prince never acted as wildly as the other imperial children, he was still known for his wickedness, often surpassing even his younger siblings in this regard. His threats were either silent and deadly or loud and brutish. While he might be the most rational leader, the dragon's blood flowing in his veins made him unpredictable. He would listen attentively to valuable information but would not hesitate to take drastic action if he heard something he deemed nonsensical. This reputation defined him and explained why everyone who worked closely with him had to undergo grueling training. This training wasn't solely focused on matters of the crown prince's safety and responsibilities but also on their own well-being, given the prince's formidable nature.
Thus, seeing him now so peaceful is something they are still getting used to.
"This project is ongoing, right?" he asked, his deep voice gravelly but calm. "Are you supervising this project?" he inquired while using sign language to communicate.
Irisha nodded. [Yes, Your Grace.] Her confident demeanor and efficiency at work made her appear charismatic to those around her. [I will provide you with a report each week.]
The crown prince nodded in acknowledgment. "Okay," he said, watching her as she tidied up the documents on his table. He took a moment to enjoy the sight of her brunette hair falling gently and her hand brushing it behind her ear. He wondered if she was even aware of what he was doing. "Arisha mentioned something to me," he said.
[What is it?] Irisha asked, glancing at his hand.
"She said she's friends with a young man in your neighborhood," he replied.
Irisha paused for a moment before nodding. [Yes. He's a pastry maker.] She smiled. [Arisha is quite fond of him. She always goes to his bakery to visit.]
The crown prince stared at her for a while, contemplating something, his expression a lifeless smile that only those who were curious about them would understand. "...Really? What's his name?"
[Mr. Larry.] She signaled for him to wait while she consulted with his assistant. They talked briefly as the assistant helped her find some documents. Irisha, as usual, gave her warm smile to anyone she interacted with, causing them to reciprocate with their best smiles.
"What is she searching for?" the crown prince asked the assistant, who stiffened as the prince approached them. He wasn't using sign language, and Irisha wasn't looking their way.
"...It's about the daily report, Your Grace," the assistant replied. The assistant's previously bright smile faded into a more neutral expression under the crown prince's intense gaze. It was intimidating to face him like this, but after years of working as his close attendant, it was manageable. Especially knowing that despite his deadly stare, it would eventually change.
[Why are you standing here?] Irisha asked, frowning.
The crown prince smiled as before, acting as though nothing had happened. "When does Arisha get out of school?"
She tilted her head. [In three hours... Maybe. Is something wrong?] Her dark brown eyes looked directly at him.
"No, I'll come to see her when she arrives."
[Why?] she asked, puzzled.
"I want to play with her."
She became grumpy. [You're not trying to steal my sister from me, are you?]
He always enjoyed her reactions. "Why not? She might like me more than you," he teased. He loved to see her sulk and walk away without a word, just as she had before. He laughed pleasantly, not caring about the curious stares from those around him. He followed her down the hallway, enjoying the view of her back. He watched as people greeted her with bright smiles, and she responded with her own lovely smile. Sometimes he wondered why she was so friendly to everyone when it would be better if she reserved such warmth just for him.
Then he stopped, noticing her turning back with a sulky and grumpy face.
[...please go first,] she said.
He looked at her for a moment, his smile widening. "Where are you going?"
[Working.]
"What's this work about?"
[Something.]
He chuckled as he approached her and stood closer. "Don't be mad."
[I'm not,] she replied, turning away from him to address someone who had poked her and wanted to talk after greeting him.
She was always surrounded by people, immersing herself in conversations. Her calmness, knowledge, and confidence charmed everyone who looked at her. He couldn't deny that he might be one of the few who saw her intelligence beyond what others could. Her stubbornness, problem-solving skills, and strength stood out in a place where people often underestimated her.
He brushed her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear from behind. She glanced at him briefly before returning to her conversation, surprising some but causing them to try to ignore his presence. He didn't care about their reactions; he simply tied her hair back and left her to continue her work.
Their interactions had become a daily routine, yet people found it hard to believe. The wicked crown prince, once known for his terrifying glare and agonizing aura, now appeared so playful, silly, and kind to a deaf and mute commoner.
Even Lady Cordelia, standing at a distance while holding her husband's hand tightly, was both surprised and shocked. Her eyes couldn't look away from the scene, slowly sparkling with amazement.
"...Do you want me to greet her first?" asked the first commander of the elite Holy Knights, who had just returned home a few weeks ago.
Lady Cordelia shook her head, not looking at him. He gazed at her with excitement, noticing how his usually emotionless wife was now so expectant. "I will," she said as she slowly loosened her grip and walked away, approaching Irisha, who was engaged in a serious and intense conversation that even she struggled to understand. The way people listened to and looked at Irisha was astonishing. In a world dominated by hierarchy and patriarchy, seeing this woman stand confidently among men made Lady Cordelia admire her greatly.
"...Then I will proceed with this, Ms. Irisha," said one of them.
Irisha nodded, and they excused themselves. As Lady Cordelia waited patiently to approach her, she saw Irisha turn towards her.
Irisha smiled as she walked over. [Is there something I can do for you?] she signed, her hand language still challenging for Cordelia to understand despite having hired someone to teach her.
Shocked and a bit panicked, Cordelia tried to sign back, "Pleased to meet you, Ms. Irisha. I am Cordelia Farguso. I want to—" She stumbled, her nervousness evident as she struggled to recall the words she had learned. Irisha handed her a note and a pen, waiting patiently with a gentle smile. Cordelia smiled in return, taking her time to write. [Pleased to meet you, Ms. Irisha. I am Cordelia Farguso. I apologize for this sudden visit. I have been trying to arrange a meeting with you for some time through letters, but have received no response. I decided to visit you in person without prior notice. Please forgive my rudeness.]
Realizing she had written a lengthy message in one go, she felt embarrassed. However, Irisha remained calm, as if it were no problem at all.
Irisha then handed her another note. [I have some time to talk. If it's okay with you, my interpreter can join us. If not, we can continue manually like this.]
After reading the note, Cordelia pondered for a moment before nodding in agreement. Irisha then guided the Farguso couple to her office, where they settled onto a comfortable sofa. A maid busied herself preparing tea, and the other women took their places beside Irisha.
As Lady Cordelia observed her surroundings, she was struck by the distinct and welcoming atmosphere of this place—so different from her previous experiences of the palace. There was an intangible quality here, something she struggled to articulate but felt deeply. She sensed a genuine satisfaction among the staff; it was as though their work brought them a sense of fulfillment and pride.
What stood out most to her was the way women here carried themselves with an unshakable confidence, standing shoulder to shoulder with their male colleagues. It wasn't just about equality for its own sake; there was a profound respect that transcended gender. This balance did not give rise to unhealthy competition or resentment, but rather fostered a harmonious environment where everyone's contributions were valued and acknowledged. The mutual respect and camaraderie among the workers were palpable, creating a supportive and inclusive atmosphere that was both refreshing and deeply moving to witness.
[Thank you. I am so sorry for bothering you.] Irisha said to the maid.
The maid responded with a bright smile, a rare and genuine display of joy. "Please call me again if you need anything," she said warmly. She glanced at the Farguso couple and added, "Please enjoy yourselves. I will excuse myself now." Lady Cordelia couldn't recall the last time a maid had smiled so sincerely. In her experience, such genuine warmth was often concealed behind carefully maintained facades or absent altogether.
"... It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir and Lady Farguso. My name is Tara; I am Ms. Irisha's personal interpreter. Please feel free to speak comfortably, and I will interpret for Ms. Irisha," she said. "If my presence is at all uncomfortable, please let me know."
Cordelia nodded, noting Irisha's encouraging glance. Tara continued, "...I'm also learning sign language, but I'm not yet proficient enough to rely solely on it. Please forgive me if there are any mistakes."
Irisha's face lit up with a genuine smile. [I am truly grateful to know that there are more people willing to learn sign language. For someone like me, it is incredibly reassuring and makes it so much easier to communicate with others.] She paused, then added, [...Have we met before, Lady Cordelia?]
Cordelia's gaze softened. "Yes, quite some time ago. It was in front of the palace gates, during a busy day in the first district," she said, a faint, melancholic smile touching her lips. "I saw you there, caught in a confrontation with another woman and a man. They were arguing about why the woman had hired someone like you, questioning your worth because of your deafness and muteness."
Cordelia's blunt recounting made Tara and her husband shift uncomfortably, but Irisha remained patient, waiting for Cordelia to continue. "I intervened, offering you refuge in my carriage and confronting the woman for her actions. Although I understood her frustration, I felt her actions were misguided and unfair. The woman was angry and asked me to leave, and that was the last time we spoke."
There was a pause, and then Cordelia's voice wavered as she continued, "I once thought the woman's defense of you was pointless. I believed it was foolish, because I doubted people like you could ever live a life comparable to those deemed 'normal.'"
Tara's eyes reflected discomfort, but she remained silent as Cordelia spoke on. Cordelia's expression turned desperate as she laughed, her tears barely contained. "How could I not think that way when I've been told the same thing repeatedly? Even on the day my son was born—supposed to be a moment of joy—they looked at him as if he was a misfortune."
"I am so sorry, he is losing his hearing."
"I am so sorry about your baby, Lady Cordelia."
"You should treat your health better in the next pregnancy."
"It is truly a disaster for the Farguso family."
These words haunted her, lingering in her mind despite her attempts to move past them. She couldn't erase their sting, even though she knew she should. The truth was painfully clear to her: the harsh reality of her son's condition seemed to justify the cruel remarks she had heard. Each day was a torment as she watched her son grow up, always unable to turn his head when she desperately called him.
"Please look at me!" she would scream, but her baby never seemed to hear her.
"Please turn this way!" Yet, her pleas only met with silence and repeated disappointment.
The weight of her remorse was unbearable. The guilt she felt was so profound that it rendered her unable to face her son. She felt an overwhelming sense of sinfulness, as if she had failed him utterly.
"And I feel so sinful whenever I think about it," she said, her voice trembling. "I brought him into this world, but I gave him a life where people would only hurt him more. I hid him away, buried him in the mansion, so that no one would know about him." She looked at Irisha with a pained expression that only a mother could understand. "And I feel so guilty for harboring these dark feelings about him."
The room fell into a deep silence after Tara conveyed this to Irisha. Cordelia's hands trembled and her eyes were wet with unshed tears, but she looked at Irisha with a steady gaze, refusing to let her emotions fully surface. She fought to remain strong, believing that as a mother, she had to shield her child from weakness and pain. This stoicism was reminiscent of how Irisha's own parents had managed their lives, a painful parallel that highlighted the human struggle to protect and endure despite inner turmoil.
Irisha reflected on her own childhood, realizing the stark absence of affection she had endured. She could not recall a single instance of her parents showing her love or praise. Instead, they only imposed high expectations on her, their approval forever contingent on her meeting these demands. They never acknowledged her achievements, only pushing her to strive for more.
When her parents divorced, she felt as though her mother had discarded her, leaving her to be raised by her father. This abandonment fueled a belief that her mother had never loved her. Her feelings erupted one day, when she confronted her mother in a fit of anguish.
"Why did you even give birth to me? I never asked to be your daughter. It would be better if I had never existed with a mother like you!" Her words were an outpouring of the deep-seated pain she felt. Her mother's reaction was bewildering; she merely turned away with an expression of profound resignation. It was an emotionless gaze that Irisha had never seen before, yet at that moment, she was too consumed by her own fury to understand or care.
Her father's death came later, and she was not there to witness it. The distance between them had only grown, and by the time he died, she had become estranged from him too.
She knew their marriage was a contractual arrangement, devoid of love, and her mother had been forced into it. The knowledge did little to ease her suffering.
Someone once told her, "You're still a child; how could she leave you alone? Now that you're an adult, let her go. She's suffered enough." Those words only intensified her rage. How could she accept that her mother had endured hardship when she herself had suffered so much?
It was only after her death and reincarnation into this unknown fantasy world that she began to see things differently. Becoming deaf and mute in this new life, she was forced to confront her past from a new perspective. She realized that her parents had tried, in their flawed way, to prepare her for a harsh world. Their actions, though misguided, had been motivated by a desire to protect and provide for her.
She never faced hunger or deprivation. She never lacked for education or had to beg for survival. Despite the hardships of her past life, she had lived a relatively comfortable existence. It dawned on her that her parents, flawed though they were, had done their best. They had been only human, struggling to survive and make choices with the limited understanding they had.
In the end, they were simply people trying to navigate the complexities of life, and she, too, had been harsh and unforgiving. Her regret was deep, knowing that she had failed to bridge the gap of understanding while they were alive.
As she wrote down her thoughts to Lady Cordelia, she felt compelled to acknowledge the depth of her own understanding. [Thank you.] she wrote. [Thank you for sharing this with me. You are truly a good mother to your son.] This was no mere formality; Irisha genuinely saw Cordelia's strength and vulnerability.
Irisha knew firsthand how difficult it was to express one's inner pain and seek help. Cordelia had done so despite her trembling voice and the tears she held back. She stood strong for her son, even though it tore her apart inside. In the end, Cordelia was not the composed, distant noblewoman but a human being, grappling with immense pain and striving to protect her child.
Ultimately, they were all just human. And in this shared humanity, there was understanding and compassion.
***