Epilogue: The Story of Shishi — Extra Chapter

"The True Daughter Has Returned, So I Have Decided to Vanish — Volume One: A Happy Past and the Virgin of the Barrier"

"Volume Two: First Love and the Debutante" — Now available on all platforms

"The True Daughter Has Returned, So I Have Decided to Vanish — Volume Three: A New Family and the Beginning of Tragedy"

Released in advance on June 25th by Comic Seemore.

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"Does my mother disdain me?"

So spoke the first prince, his voice laced with quiet sorrow, still bearing the lingering traces of youth.

His crimson eyes—deeply marked by royal lineage—seemed to pierce through truth itself, fixing upon me.

"Prince, what has come over you all at once? I do not disdain you in the slightest."

I meet the prince’s gaze with deliberate composure, offering him the most refined smile of nobility, as if to conceal the tremor within my heart.

The prince’s confidence wavers at my smile, his lips parting hesitantly.

“Then why does Mother not embrace me as she does my brothers? Why are you so stern with me alone, and never touch me?!”

His voice trembled slightly at the end. Children see more than parents believe.

“Because you are the future emperor. It is only natural that you be treated differently from your brothers, and that you be held to a higher standard. You will carry this nation alone.”

I deliver the answer I have long prepared.

The prince stares at the floor, as though his joy at being expected has turned to loneliness.

Yes… thank you… but I wish to play as well, and I wish to be held by Mother. Will I not become a proper emperor, like Father… if I do not…?

The young prince, struggling desperately to form words, appeared so painfully pitiful that I could not help but extend my hands toward him.

I thought you had grown quite a bit, but it seems you are still a child. That is not true, so come here.

The prince hesitated, yet stepped forward, saying, “Is this truly acceptable…?”

I truly love this child. His soft silver hair and crimson eyes are identical to the Emperor, my husband—my dear son… not born of my own womb… the cherished remnant of my beloved….

Mother, I am not the child of your brother and yourself, am I?

Her son asks, tears gathering in his arms.

Ah, I understand now—how foolish of me to have spoken such unnecessary words.

“Yes, certainly. You are without doubt the son of His Majesty, your father.”

Yes, you are the undeniable proof of the love between the Emperor and my beloved Catherine. I whispered those unspoken words within my heart.

From the moment of my birth, I had a cousin—Catherine—who grew up beside me as a sister. Born in the same month, our mothers were sisters. From two remarkably similar girls, we inherited the same distinctive hair and eye color, so much so that we were often mistaken for true sisters.

From childhood, wherever we went, whatever we did, we were together—truly like sisters.

And we were the favorites of the current Empress Dowager.

From childhood, I played and conversed with Your Highness, our closeness deepening with each passing day, until it became something like love. Catherine felt the same. Our bond was so intimate that even without words, it was unmistakable.

We once made a vow: *If we are both chosen, there will be no resentment between us.*

That promise held within it my envy and my calculations, though I do not know whether Catherine perceived it.

She was slightly more refined than I. A height just a little greater, a nose just a bit more elegant, a mind just a shade sharper—comparisons that, when measured, seemed negligible, yet to me were bitter and unbearable.

I have often feared that Catherine might take the seat beside Your Highness, if things continued as they were. Yet there was one decisive difference between us—our family rank. She belonged to a viscount’s house; I to a marquess’s. In due course, I believed, I should be chosen first, and so I held that thought in silence.

It was a bitter burden that what set me above her was not the result of my own striving, but only the fortune of my birth.

Still, I wished to stand beside Your Highness, and by fortune, my wish was granted. Naturally, I had made the effort to deserve it. Catherine, too, walked the path of a lady-in-waiting, supporting me. After my marriage to Your Highness, she was the one who stood closest to me, who worked beside me, who sustained me.

After our marriage, Your Highness treated me with great kindness, having come to know me as a trusted companion.

It was only because of these two that I was able to endure the unfamiliar life of the imperial court.

The stress of living under constant scrutiny—of unfamiliar customs, rigid rituals, every gesture and movement exposed to the eyes of others—eroded not only my mind but my body as well.

The moon’s course had ceased.

If this continued, the matter of succession would become dire. I would be branded unfit to bear an heir… this dread intensified the strain, and I endured long months of imbalance.

I tried every remedy—medicines, healing magic, acupuncture from the Eastern lands—but my exhausted body felt no relief.

Amid growing desperation, the one who stood closest, who showed me the greatest care, was Catherine. When she heard of a tea known to ease women’s ailments, she arranged for it under her own name and brought it to me herself. Each night before sleep, she would knead my limbs, massage my muscles, press the acupressure points with gentle precision.

I felt both gratitude for her efforts and a deep shame—for she had come to me as a bride, yet I had pushed her away. Understanding this, Catherine served as though nothing had happened, as if it were nothing at all.

That struggle and striving lasted for about half a year. One evening, Catherine was summoned by Her Majesty the Empress and did not return that night.

The next morning, when I saw Catherine return, I knew immediately. I knew what she had done with whom the night before.

A feeling like betrayal—by a loyal subject, by my beloved husband, by the mother I revered—filled me. A crushing emptiness, as if my very worth had been denied.

I remained shaken for some time. I understood, in reason, that I could not refuse Catherine under the command of the royal family. I accepted the explanation and apology from Your Highness—that You had not imagined another woman in the marital chamber besides myself—and You promised solemnly that such a thing would not occur again.

Royal promises are sacred covenants, and thus will be fulfilled.

Indeed, Catherine and I resemble one another closely. It is likely that Your Highness, misled by darkness and the influence of wine, was intentionally deceived into mistaking her for me. This time, it was a surprise attack; henceforth, I am to remain vigilant.

Yet no matter how many apologies I received, my heart remained shattered, broken beyond repair. I grew consumed by suspicion, fearing she would take even the position of Crown Princess from me, and I withdrew from her presence entirely. She offered no excuse, only bowed her head before me without cease.

Yet she had been supporting me all along…

After that, the order from my mother-in-law for conjugal bedding never came to pass; we never shared a bed.

But fate is so cruelly ironic.

Only once—just once—Caterina became pregnant.

I had longed for that more than anything, and she had obtained it without effort. I hated her for it—yet I envied her, I resented her—yet I was also deeply worried for her.

Publicly, my pregnancy was announced, and we were each sent to separate palaces.

If my name was declared to carry a child, Caterina would be stripped of her child… Thinking of that, I felt pity for her instead. I know it is terribly selfish of me.

Caterina was closer to me than family—my confidante, my sister, one of the few allies I trusted with my heart.

That is why I wished to rejoice for her… yet could not. I was tormented by that contradiction.

She must have suffered as well. The bitterness of loving the same emperor while being forced to walk the path that sustained me. The anguish of being embraced by one whom she longed for, yet only as a lie, commanded by another. And the guilt she bore toward me…

I cannot imagine it. I do not wish to imagine it. I never wished to carry such feelings… Yet now, facing the reality of Catherine, who must endure such thoughts, I could not help but feel both strength and sorrow for her. I truly did find her repulsive, I was jealous. Yet more than that, she was irreplaceable to me—someone precious beyond measure. I never wished for her to suffer. I longed for her to find true happiness deep within her heart…

The seasons turned, and Catherine bore the prince.

Silver hair, ruby eyes. Features like Catherine’s own…

She left this world without ever holding her child in her arms.

Only one night, her heart filled with longing for her beloved…

With loyalty to me…

Afterward, I raised the prince as my own child, as she had requested in her final words. Fortunately, I was granted a child of my own, and our family grew.

Not long after, the Second Consort entered the palace, backed by the Empress Dowager.

I felt anger—why had they not followed this procedure when Catherine was alive?

Because of this, I made my decision to oppose the Empress Dowager politically. It was the greatest resistance I could offer, a judgment made not as a mother, but as one who governs the realm.

The children bear no fault. Though I strove to treat them equally, some fracture must have formed. After all, it is a bitter truth—her child surpasses my own in ability, in the gift to lead others. And yet, I cannot accept it.

My own child, though in pain, is dear to me. Yet so too is the prince—my beloved husband’s heir, the cherished remnant of the one I hold most dear. I shall live with this contradiction, I suppose, for all my days.

To burden the prince with doubt—this is the failure of a mother’s duty.

Once more, I draw the child close within my arms.

There will be many choices forced upon me still. This child too has a fate he cannot escape. With that in mind, I hold within my heart the quiet hope that each of us may face our burdens with resolve.

Yet the Empress Mother is mistaken. I have no intention of discarding this child. It is true, she is burdensome—but she is also the child of someone dear to me. Though I might wish for a trueborn heir, that does not make her position absolute. Gavane is too impulsive to rule. Such a nature cannot sustain a nation. I have already found my answer as Empress. What frightens me more is the Third Prince...

Let this child instead guide the realm.

Then perhaps she will forgive me. For choosing to become Empress, even as she was cast aside...

I believe Catherine, who rests in the divine garden, will smile upon me.

"Prince, you are our irreplaceable treasure."

The boy offered his mother a smile befitting his age.

Thanks to your kindness, the third volume of the book has been released today.

This too is solely due to the grace of you all.

I offer my deepest gratitude.

Thank you as well for your kind guidance regarding typos and omissions. I take this moment to express my thanks.

Sato Mashiro