Nefi and Kekka
"Since the true daughter has returned, I have decided to vanish as her adoptive daughter — Volume 1: A Happy Past and the Virgin of the Barrier"
"Volume 2: First Love and the Debutante"
"Since the true daughter has returned, I have decided to vanish as her adoptive daughter — Volume 3: A New Family and the Beginning of Tragedy"
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Starting July 25th, Comic Seemore has begun releasing "Since the True Daughter Has Returned, I Have Decided to Vanish as Her Adoptive Daughter — Volume 4: School Life and the Creeping Malice."
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Nefertiti returned to her chambers in the dead of night.
Nefertiti now serves as a lady-in-waiting to the Crown Prince.
She had remained late today, tending to the Crown Prince after his tryst with his beloved consort.
Though she served as a lady-in-waiting to the royal family, she was still a novice—less than five years in service. And though she hailed from a baronial house, with blood of a distant clan still in her veins, Nefertiti had not yet been granted a private chamber. She opened the door with care, mindful not to disturb her fellow occupant in the half-room partitioned by screens.
Yet her caution proved unnecessary.
A faint light still spilled from within the chamber, casting a glow upon Nefertiti’s feet.
“Welcome home, Nefi. You came late today.”
The voice came from her roommate.
Francesca Kraus Velvet, a noblewoman of ducal lineage and a rare anomaly among her peers, who had chosen to serve despite her rank.
A noblewoman of high birth would normally request a private chamber, yet she had not. How endearing it was, she had said with a shy smile, that she wished to be seen as an individual. Now she was a sweet junior assistant to the Crown Princess, a colleague, a friend.
Yet today, her usual composure—always unshaken, no matter the circumstance—was strained.
“Welcome back, Kekka. You of all people, staying up so late… did something happen?”
She lowered her eyes, staring at a single point on the floor. This was her habit when gathering her thoughts—she would speak soon.
“I’ll make tea,” I said, turning toward the small heating alcove. She carried burdens alone, always. Since the head lady-in-waiting had entrusted me with guiding, advising, and supporting her, we had clashed often, but come to understand one another deeply.
At first, she had regarded the noble lady—whose family blood was as pure as her own, yet who had never been denied marriage proposals or forced into unwanted dalliance—as merely playing at service. But she had come to understand that this woman, too, longed with fierce resolve to support the realm in whatever way she could. Nefer had felt such envy toward her, even to the point of jealousy, when the lady spoke of her betrothed, who not only supported her ambition but encouraged it.
She switched on the small enchanted stove and selected tea leaves and teaware. It was late, the hour of deep night. She would brew a herbal tea to aid sleep. From the top shelf she took out her finest sweets and arranged them on a plate. By the time she had finished, the water had reached just the right temperature for steeping.
Returning with the tray, she found eyes—sharp and determined—turned toward her.
So you’ve made up your mind, then.
Nefertiti sat beside Francesca and set the tea before her.
"Thank you, Nefi."
"You're welcome. I'm sorry to trouble you with my tea."
A slight smile was her reply.
Both were well aware that, to those around them, they were seen as too serious to even joke—something they both acknowledged.
Nefertiti, to avoid being looked down upon due to her low station; Francesca, to preserve her dignity due to her high rank. Yet both were still young women. Only in the company of those they trusted completely did they allow themselves to briefly lower the mask of perfection.
Maintaining constant vigilance was difficult. Especially here, in the imperial palace...
Francesca exhaled deeply and spoke.
"Today, there was a gathering hosted by the Crown Princess, wasn't there?"
"Yes, the one at the Pomegranate Palace."
Nefertiti offered a gentle nod.
Francesca nodded. Though uncertainty still lingered in her face, she spoke.
“At that gathering… I encountered something so startling, I could not conceal my expression. The Crown Princess saw it… I fear I may have said something beyond recall…”
Nefertiti stiffened. Having heard of Francesca’s hidden power, she had dared to guess.
“Did you sense something ill-omened? A foreboding?”
Francesca nodded slowly.
“There was a young lady… whom I felt to be the mother of the future emperor.”
That alone should have been good news. Yet on Nefertiti’s face, doubt took root.
Francesca saw her hesitation and smiled faintly, bitterly.
“Yet… there were two such young ladies. Both destined… to be the mother of the same emperor.”
At those words, Nefertiti’s expression turned deeply bitter.
It was not merely a matter of joy. There were several possibilities, yet her deep distress suggested she too could not measure the weight of it.
In times of ill fortune, she had always acted to prevent such outcomes. It was then, when the Crown Prince was nearly ensnared by an assassin, that she first learned of the girl’s power—and pleaded for her aid. But now, she lowered her shoulders weakly, unable to say how to proceed.
“Your Highness, you are aware of this, are you not?”
Francesca nodded again, quietly.
“Then there is nothing left but to leave it to the will of the Lady of Time…”
That day, the tea the two of them had spoken of tasted slightly bitter—perhaps oversteeped.
Years passed since that night.
Francesca resigned from her post to marry. Beneath the surface, there was a sorrow too deep to speak aloud, yet she never allowed it to show. Nefertiti continued her duties. Even so, the two remained friends. When Francesca gave birth, she was invited to the estate to celebrate—close enough to be considered a confidante.
Nefertiti’s current position is Lady-in-Waiting to the First Prince.
She lacks the frivolity of the Emperor, possesses the sternness of Kekka, and inherits the grace of Her Majesty the Empress. One could easily imagine that, if she were to grow in this manner, she would become a just and gentle ruler—Lady Kazuko, whose presence was both gentle and poised.
Though there are several princes and princesses within the palace, it is widely expected that, should the Empress give birth to the First Prince, he will be named heir, provided no issue arises.
To this Prince, there are two young ladies who might be called childhood companions.
The daughter of the Saltveil Marquisate, whose domain lies to the northwest, and her cousin, the daughter of the Viscount Luyini, of the same faction.
The two young ladies resemble one another so closely—perhaps because their mothers were sisters from the Marquisate house—that one might mistake them for sisters, their statures, features, and mannerisms nearly indistinguishable.
They are often summoned to the palace by the Empress’s arrangement, and spend time with Your Highness on many occasions.
Even in their youth, their faces have shown the faint blush of affection more than once.
To be drawn to Your Highness—so noble in countenance, so kind as a brother, so accomplished from an early age—would be difficult indeed.
It is a feeling so delicate, so tender… and yet, upon hearing the child’s tale from Kekka, one cannot help but think: that child was surely one of them. The thought lingers, unbearable.
And yet, she pushed down that unease, as if perhaps one of them might yet please the Empress’s eye.
When the prince turned thirteen, he was named heir apparent. The Debutante who danced with him at their shared debut was Lady Charlotte, daughter of the Marquis of Saltbelle. It was possible, she thought, that Kekka’s intuition had pointed toward Lady Charlotte. On that day, Lady Caterina, who had debuted alongside them, had worn a faint expression of resignation, dancing with Caballier with a quiet sorrow in her eyes.
It was the same at the time of betrothal. Lady Charlotte, radiant and tender, became the bride in white, the future Empress. Lady Caterina, like me, dressed in the same servant’s attire, watched the ceremony—envious, yet somehow joyful.
The days that followed seemed busy yet calm. Beneath the surface, however, reports of Her Highness Empress Charlotte’s declining health had become common knowledge among the maidservants. For Her Highness… for the Imperial House… the matter of succession was paramount. All eyes were fixed upon it.
About a year after Her Highness Empress Charlotte’s arrival, I was summoned by Her Majesty the Empress.
It was an order to care for Lady Caterina, who had conceived the heir to the Crown Prince, within the secluded palace.
As one of the few who knew that Lady Caterina, having been assigned to the Crown Prince’s personal attendants, had been taken into the Empress’s chamber by her command, I felt little surprise.
Yet… the face of one friend surfaced in my mind…
Lady Caterina wept through those days in the secluded palace. It was not her fault. But I could not comfort her… not truly.
In that torment of helplessness, a letter arrived from Kekka. It was urgent. I made secret arrangements to summon her to the palace, with Catherine’s consent—of course. Yet I did not seek permission from Her Majesty. I acted on my own judgment.
I watched their meeting from the adjacent chamber. Both were suffering—wounded. Perhaps they regretted the path they had taken, wishing they might have lived without such a future. Yet Catherine did not blame Kekka. Instead, she poured out her own pain. Catherine, who had never shed tears before others—this confession of her true heart… it seemed, to me, the rarest kind of salvation.
Months later, Catherine took the poison I had arranged. She refused to let her guilt be transferred to the younger sister. She abandoned the role of mother…
A fleeting soul, she was.
I was transferred to Charlotte’s side as a lady-in-waiting to Kazuko.
My friend sent another letter. This time, she wished to meet Charlotte… I prepared a place for her once more.
Charlotte had become a mother. Though she bore no child, she stood as a mother before Kekka, unyielding. Whether it was grief from losing half her body, revulsion toward Kekka, or pity—she was resolutely denied any further use of power. Kekka, too, no longer wished to confront such a senseless paradox as this. She accepted it in silence.
Once, my friend had spoken of wanting to change fate, to serve the nation. Now she had chosen to entrust her fate to the Lady of Time…
She wept, saying it was the result of her own pride and arrogance.
As one who knew those tears, I honor her choice.
The choice of the one I loved…
Greetings, everyone. It has been a long time.
Sato.
The heat has grown quite intense of late.
This time, I’ve written about the younger days of Lady Overseer Nefertiti.
Otherwise, as previously mentioned, the work has been decided for comic adaptation by Gangan Online!
The manga artist assigned to the project is none other than Miss Tokitsuki Mika!
While the manga follows a slightly different narrative than the novel, she has skillfully woven it together (laughs).
As for specific details on the serialization schedule, I have not yet received information—once I do, I will be sure to report back.
With the heat persisting, please take care.
Sato Mashiro