Chapter 269 Is there still love in my heart? ...
It's hard to describe how it felt to see Bernard again.
He has aged, aged a lot, and the handsome young man of yesteryear is gone forever.
He is still handsome; wrinkles have crept onto his face, but they cannot hide the exquisite features he had in his youth.
His eyes changed from light blue to a deep blue. A pure, unblemished blue, a water-washed blue, a crystal-clear blue, remaining unchanged.
But the corners of his eyes, the corners of his lips, and his forehead are all etched with the marks of time.
I don't know if there is still love in my heart.
He looked much more handsome than his father had when he was just as old, without that greasy and frivolous air, but rather deep, reserved, and unfathomable.
This feeling can make you lose your sense of control.
A sense of control over the person and the relationship.
You might feel that you depend on others, which makes you feel like you're floating on air, and you're afraid of falling down.
We were once close in age, but now we've grown so far apart, as if we're worlds apart.
I still love him in my heart, even though we were once together.
He is a stranger to me now.
I don't know how to face this.
"Do you think I'm too old?" he suddenly asked me in the hallway.
Having already eaten breakfast, I walked down the corridor to my room, with him following behind me.
"Yes." I turned around and admitted frankly.
"Does he look more like his father or his grandfather?" he asked me jokingly.
“Father,” I replied. Grandpa was exaggerating a bit.
He smiled, strode towards me, and draped his cloak over my shoulders. "I really like this age gap; it makes you feel less anxious."
"Why would I feel panicked?" I sneered.
“You used to be so anxious, afraid you wouldn’t be able to hold onto me,” he smiled. “Now it’s all good, you’re so much younger than me, you have an overwhelming advantage.”
I turned away from him and continued walking forward, and he followed beside me.
“Back in that desolate place, I confessed my feelings to you, but you refused to accept them and ran back to your room, locking yourself away. I was heartbroken for you,” he said. “I tried to scare you by saying that if you missed this chance, you would never have another one. I was hoping you would be brave, that even if it was just a short-lived relationship, as long as you could face it bravely, you would be filled with endless hope. But you were always timid, running away, and unwilling to face it. I didn’t know how to persuade you, so I chose to avoid it as well.”
He hugged me, and suddenly, I couldn't move forward.
"This is the first time I've ever been rejected. It's the first time I've ever confessed my feelings to a girl and been rejected. That girl is you."
He hugged me tightly. "You've seen the love letters written to me, from both men and women, and I've discarded them all. I don't care about those people at all; I only care about the person who rescued me from the Black Tower—that's you. I'm still being rejected by you, but I don't care anymore, as long as you're by my side."
The snow fell heavily on us, but he held me tightly, so I didn't even have a chance to shiver.
Half an hour later, we were sitting by the fireplace in my room. I took a hot bath, and he sat obediently beside me, drying my long hair.
I refused, but he forced me. I glared at him, and he withdrew his hand.
I dried my long, damp hair with a towel. "You should go now. Aren't you busy every day?"
“I’m busy every day, but right now the most important thing to me is you,” he said.
"But I'm a bit busy, I can't get anything done if you stay here."
"What do you need to do? I'll help you."
"I don't need your help."
“I’m very capable,” he said with a fawning smile. “I really want to help you.”
“I know you are very capable, much more capable than me, but there are some things I can only handle myself.”
"Can I know what it is?" he asked me, blinking. That's just how he is; he's afraid I'll slip away and doesn't want anything to affect our relationship.
I sighed, afraid of him. "I want to write to the Elf King and ask if I can meet with some of the children."
“I’ll write it for you,” he said immediately.
“I am the child’s mother, so I’m better suited to write this,” I said.
"No," he insisted.
“This is my business, you don’t need to interfere.”
“Then I’ll have to watch you write,” he said.
"Why?"
He didn't answer, and I realized something. I sneered, "You think I'm afraid I'll write him love letters?"
He actually nodded. "Yes. You don't know your limits. You're afraid that what you write will give him the wrong idea and make him think that there's still hope between you two."
"You're overthinking it." I turned my back to him, not wanting to look at him. "If you don't leave, I'll sneak out one day and you'll never find me again."
This had an effect; he reluctantly stood up and had no choice but to leave.
I was finally able to calm down. I spaced out for half an hour before starting to write to the Elf King. It was very simple: a few greetings, my request, and then it was finished.
He wrote another letter to Mamboy, first offering his greetings, then blaming him—for failing in his responsibilities as a father, causing Yasmin immense suffering, even sending her to a slave camp to do hard labor, and finally getting him to obtain Yasmin's divorce papers and send them to us.
After finishing writing, hand it to the head maid and ask her to send it out.
A quarter of an hour later, the two letters landed in the hands of King Benot, who was reviewing official documents. The head maid knelt respectfully on the ground, her body trembling slightly.
King Bernard frowned as he finished reading, "Isn't that too kind?"
"Just use bleach to remove all the greetings," he said casually.
"yes."
Fifteen minutes later, the two letters landed in Queen Aurora's hands. She frowned as she read them, "These are written far too rudely. Sigh, they've offended all the men."
He found the maid who was best at imitating handwriting, added a short greeting, and then sent the letter out.
Ten days later, I received replies. I had received replies from both men. The Elf King said it was fine and he would arrange it immediately; Mamboa sent me a divorce letter, along with the words, "Her husband has been severely punished. Are you now able to accept my invitation to visit?"
I replied, "Of course."
Then she sent invitations to both men—let's have an "ex-husbands' get-together." It just so happens that Bernard is also there, except that Bernard was her former lover, while the other two men are her "ex-husbands."
During this time, I didn't pay much attention to Bernard. Apart from meeting him for breakfast and dinner, he usually didn't have lunch with us, as that was the time when he was processing newly arrived documents.
He wanted to ask me to go for a walk in the afternoon, but I refused several times before giving up. He asked me to go for a walk again after breakfast, but I refused again. However, I kept running into him whenever I went for a walk alone after that, so he clearly knew my schedule. After randomly changing the time and place a few times and still running into him, I gave up on the possibility of not walking with him.
"I heard you're thinking of starting a newspaper. Is it from your area?" he asked cautiously.
I just mentioned it to Aurora last night, and it's already reached his ears. It's only early morning, and I'm on my way to the dining room.
"Newspapers are obsolete where I am, but here they're considered the newest thing," I said.
I carefully considered several paths in this other world: politics and military force are no longer viable; commerce is monopolized by wealthy merchants, supported by powerful nobles, making this path impossible for me; as for schools, education is also monopolized by the nobles, who are reluctant to allow commoners to receive education, only those they permit can. Of course, I could rebel against this unfair system, but the commoners are not yet intellectually developed, and even if I succeeded, they might not appreciate it. In short, a backward economy cannot support advanced education; only when the economic level improves and the commoners have a demand can this path be opened.
So, what other path could I take? That would be cultural entertainment. Cultural entertainment is scarce here; apart from balls, plays, and aristocratic salons, the nobles have almost no other entertainment, let alone entertainment with a cultural element. That's when I thought of starting a newspaper.
Since they possess the ability to summon birds, why not utilize this resource to spread information throughout the land? A newspaper contains both serious and entertainment news, ensuring that both men and women can find what they're looking for. They can also submit articles, fully showcasing their talents and giving others the opportunity to get to know them—a form of social interaction as well.
If we start a newspaper, the people here definitely won't resist.
“I’m curious, why do you want to do this?” Bernard asked after I finished telling him about the newspaper.
"Why do you ask that?" I countered.
“You’re not short of money,” Bernard laughed. “Even if your daughter doesn’t have money, I do. You’re definitely not after money, so I’m curious, what are you after?”
"Is it okay to be bored?"
“Alright,” he laughed. “You can do whatever you want, even take back the Western Kingdom’s capital.”
I was once driven out of the capital city by the nobles like a stray dog. It is said that the nobles are now preparing for war to prevent me from fighting back.
“Oh, why do you say that?” I asked.
“You know what I mean, I will support whatever you do, including revenge,” he said.
I stood at the pinnacle of power in the Western Kingdom twice. Once after Deyar died, I became the powerful figure behind the scenes; the other time was after Beatrice died, when I once again ascended to the pinnacle of power.
But how long can I stand? — I can never stand for long, I'm already tired.
Bloodline is something I can't change, so I might as well let it be.
“I have no enemies,” I said. “I only have stories from the past.”
It is said that this statement quickly spread and reached the ears of the nobles in the capital city. They breathed a sigh of relief, and although they did not completely believe it, they were much more at ease.
There's no point in dwelling on the past; I'm focused on a better life.
Besides, they were only trying to protect their pure-blood throne; they had no personal grudge against me. If I were them, having grown up here with this deeply ingrained mindset, I might have done the same—driven an outsider off the throne.
In this continent with its low productivity and still somewhat primitive nature, some things require a long time to change. Forced intervention will only result in disastrous consequences.
And so, I began my intensive work of publishing the newspaper.
I personally wrote the proposal, handling everything from the header to the layout, designing from start to finish. The paper here is very expensive, and I racked my brains trying to remember where the newspaper got its cheap paper. I had interned at the newspaper for a while, worked in a printing plant and a paper mill, and read some professional books, so I knew a little bit about it.
I ventured into the nearest great forest and searched for a long time before finally finding two kinds of trees that looked very similar to the paper mulberry and the mulberry tree. I had the guards scrape off the bark, put it in sacks, and brought it back to the capital.
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