# 2
Princess Helan Beztin, fourth princess of Emperor Roman, had a political marriage to Marquis Revan Rata.
Revan inherited the title of Marquis at an early age after his father's death, and was a loyal family man.
The following year, their daughter Shivaline, whom he adored, was born.
Their family life, built on the bond of Chevillines' parentage and mutual trust, was satisfactory to Hélène, although it was not a love affair.
...until that accident happened.
Three months ago.
Drop by drop…
A light rainy afternoon.
Helen turned her gaze to the sound of the increasing rain outside the window.
Maybe it was the end of spring. The rain continued for days.
Although the rain usually made her feel good, she was worried about her daughter being alone.
Although the rain usually made her feel good, she was worried about her daughter being alone.
“Shevlin hates the rain...what should I do?”
At that moment,
“Madam”
When Helen turned towards the voice, the butler was standing there.
“What's wrong?”
He was carrying a pile of documents.
“I have brought the budget expenditure report for the second half of this year.”
The butler bowed to Helen.
“I will review and approve it later.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Where's Shevlin?”
Helen asked the butler as she took the report.
“Little Miss is painting in the playroom.”
She was worried about her daughter, who was afraid of the rain, so she did not understand the words of the report well.
One stormy day, Shevlin had an epileptic seizure, which added to her anxiety.
She couldn't concentrate, so she got up from her chair and walked straight to the playroom.
On her way, she noticed that Revan's cart had disappeared.
“Revan never leaves without telling me...”
“Butler, has Revan come out?”
“Ah… yes.”
"To where?"
“…I'm not sure.”
The butler's evasive answer seemed suspicious.
“Why is he like this?”
It was strange, but she didn't push it.
She was in a hurry to see Chieflin, and she could ask Revan about it later.
She entered the playroom and saw little Chevlin holding a crayon.
'What a wonderful child!'
Just looking at her removed all her accumulated fatigue.
" flexible!"
Helen called her daughter by her nickname happily as she approached.
"… My mom?"
Chevlin, who had been staring absently at her drawing, raised her head.
"Lynn, have you been drawing? Can I see what you've drawn?"
Helen knelt next to Chevlin.
“Here she is...”
Shevaline hesitantly showed her the sketchbook.
A tree with many rings, a shining sun, and a family of three holding hands.
“Hmm?”
She smiled at the cute drawing, but a fleeting smile.
“Shevlyn, why did you dye your hair brown instead of pink?”
Helen pointed out Shevlin's brown hair in the drawing.
Shevlin quickly hid her pink hair, which was tied into two braids.
“Shivlin?”
Helen was surprised by her daughter's behavior, so she called her name again.
“Mom, because my hair color is different from my father’s hair color...don’t I look like his daughter?”
Shevlin fidgeted, as if she was about to cry.
She looked very worried.
‘Why are you asking this suddenly? Did anyone say anything to her?'
Helen couldn't answer right away.
Her silence might hurt her daughter more.
“Well, you see...”
Helen herself did not know why Shivalin was born with pink hair, neither silver like hers nor brown like Revan's.
Even the genealogies of the Royal House of Betstein and the Marquisate of Rata do not show anyone with a similar hair color.
However, Shivalin was undoubtedly Revan's daughter, born of Helen's womb.
“There are many similarities between you and your father...”
Helen gently touched Shivalin's eyes, which were drooping like Revan's.
“No matter what you look like, you are our daughter.”
“So, mom, don’t you hate me?”
“I hate...? Why do I hate my child?”
Helen was surprised by Shivalin's question, and she was astonished.
“But... everyone says that if mom and dad get separated because of me... mom will hate me...”
From Shevelin's mutterings, Helen understood why her daughter was wondering what color her hair was.
“Shevelin, who told you this?”
"……"
"flexible."
Shivalin closed her mouth and shook her head firmly, refusing to speak.
There was only one way for such words to reach Shivalin's ears in this palace.
Servants intrude on others and speak rudely.
“How dare they...”
While Helen frowned, Shevelin pressed her hands to her mother's forehead to smooth out the wrinkles.
"As long as my mom doesn't hate me, that's all that matters. Really."
Shivalin hugged Helen's waist first.
‘She must think the servants will be punished for this.’
This was uncharacteristically deep thought from a little girl.
“Mom, don’t be angry.”
As Shevlyn held her, her warm, soft scent filled Helen's nose.
Her small hands clinging to her filled Helan's eyes with tears.
“You've grown so much.”
“Hmm?”
When Shevlin was an infant, she once had a high fever in the middle of the night.
Her life was hanging by a thread, and all Helen could do was comfort her and stay by her side.
Feeling completely helpless at not being able to do anything for her daughter.
That night, Helen called upon a God she had long ignored.
“Freya, please save my daughter. If you keep her alive... I will do anything. Please...”
Thanks to this, Shevelin, who was not expected to survive that night, miraculously survived.
Since then, the little girl has grown up without any problems, and has become Helen's happiness and everything to her.
Now that Sheveline is five years old, she has become more affectionate.
How could Helen not love a child who knows how to give love?
In a choked voice, Helen barely spoke.
“...Shivlin.”
She ran her nose over Shevelin's soft cheek.
“I love you. Your mother loves you very much.”
“Cherry loves you too. Since she was in your womb.”
Shevelin said with a wide smile.
“…Really? Thank you.”
“Haha…”
As she lay in Helen's arms, Shevelin felt tired, and her face was clearly drowsy.
“Shivlin, are you very sleepy?”
“Cherry...want to sleep...”
Shevlin rubbed her eyes and fell asleep on Helen's lap, breathing calmly.
Helen covered her daughter with a blanket and caressed her crayon-stained hands.
“They're still so small, your hands.”
She clearly remembered the moment when those little hands held her finger for the first time.
“Hmm...”
She patted Shevlyn's stomach as she tossed and turned in her sleep.
“Good night, my beloved daughter.”
After Shevlin fell asleep, Helen looked at the waiting butler.
“Ma’am...? Do you need anything?”
The butler shuddered at Helen's serious look.
“How exactly do you train servants?”
"Sorry?" The butler replied with a puzzled look.
“When they say that Shivalin’s hair is not brown and therefore she is not of the Rata lineage, do they mean that she is not my husband’s daughter?” Helen scolded him severely, in a sharp tone.
The butler's face turned pale as he quickly bowed.
“...I apologize, ma’am. It is entirely my fault. I assure you, this will not happen again.”
Helen was going to ignore the matter this time because Cheveline did not want to punish the servants.
“Servants who speak recklessly are not welcome here. I will not tolerate it again.”
“Thank you for your mercy, ma’am.”
At that moment, Revan returned home.
“Revan?”
He was shaking the water off his face, apparently failing to avoid the rain.
“Revan should know what happened today.”
While Helan took out a handkerchief to wipe the water off his cheek.
At that moment, Helen took out a handkerchief to wipe the water off his cheek.
While Helan took out a tissue to wipe the water off his cheek.
“Listen, I want to talk about Shivalin. Earlier…”
"It's okay. I'm not too wet."
“Ah…” Revan, exuding a strange, strong scent of perfume, rejected Helen’s touch.
“Plus, I want to take a shower.”
He seemed to be hinting that he wanted her to step aside.
No, it felt like he was avoiding her.
Helen felt a sudden shiver.
'Why do I feel this strange feeling...?'
Was it because of the strong smell of perfume?
She was confused.
This was a situation that had never happened before, and Revan was the last person she would expect this from, which made it even scarier.
The worry made her shiver a little.
“Revan, have you visited a perfume store?”