Mirha stepped out of the carriage into the crisp mountain air of Bukid.
The palace staff bowed deeply as she passed, their eyes filled with pity. Just one month ago she had been here laughing with her mother, the two of them almost inseparable. Now she walked alone, dressed in simple white mourning robes, her face pale and distant.
King Jun and Queen Hera waited for her at the grand entrance. Mirha moved toward them with smooth, measured steps, refusing to look at anyone else. Her gaze stayed fixed on the royal couple.
When she reached them, the announcer's voice rang out clearly.
"The Imperial Consort."
Jun and Hera bowed. Mirha returned the bow with quiet grace.
Jun spoke first, his voice heavy with regret.
"I am very sorry for what happened. We had no control over the landslide. If we had known Lady Launi would never have returned to that mountain hut…"
Mirha stopped walking. Her voice was soft but firm.
"I appreciate the condolences. May I go to my room? I am very exhausted and need some rest."
Jun glanced at Yadid, who stood a respectful distance behind her. Yadid gave a small, discreet nod.
"Of course," Jun said gently, signaling to the waiting maids. "Please show the Imperial Consort to her chambers."
The maids bowed and led Mirha inside.
She walked through the familiar corridors without looking left or right, the weight of every pitying gaze pressing on her back like stones.
When the door to her old room finally closed behind her, Mirha stood motionless for a long moment.
Then, very quietly, she sank to the floor and let the silence swallow her.
That night, Mirha slept without dreaming.
When she woke the next morning, the ache in her chest was still there, heavy and unrelenting. She dressed in simple white mourning robes and went to find King Jun.
"I want to go see a suitable place to make my mother's tomb," she said quietly.
Jun looked at her with gentle surprise. "But it has already been done."
Mirha blinked. "Oh… by who?"
Jun hesitated for a moment, then answered carefully.
"The man calls himself your father."
Mirha stood completely still.
The words hung in the air like a blade that had already cut.
Her father.
The man she had never truly known. The man who had stayed in the shadows of her life — leaving food at the doorstep when no one was looking, placing flowers by the door when she and her mother were out, quietly buying gowns and small presents that her mother always returned without explanation.
She had hated him once, fiercely, when the villagers whispered that her beautiful young mother must be a prostitute. If he had only stood beside them, those cruel rumors would never have taken root. But she had gotten over it. Time and her mother's quiet strength had slowly washed the anger away. The villagers eventually saw Launi's hard work and stopped talking.
Now, hearing that this same invisible man had built her mother's tomb… something complicated twisted in her chest.
She didn't hate him. Not anymore.
But the revelation still hurt in a way she couldn't quite name.
Her throat tightened. Fresh tears pricked at her eyes, but she blinked them back.
"I see…" she whispered,
She took a shaky breath, pressing a hand to her chest as if to hold herself together.
"I… I appreciate you telling me," she said softly, voice barely steady. "I would like to see the tomb."
Jun watched her with quiet understanding and nodded.
"Of course. I'll have someone take you whenever you're ready."
Mirha gave a small, grateful nod, then turned away before the tears could fall.
She walked down the corridor with measured steps, the white mourning robes trailing behind her like a ghost.
Inside, her heart ached with a strange mix of sorrow, gratitude, and unresolved longing.
Her father had been there all along — just never in the way she needed.
And now her mother was gone.
The weight of both absences pressed down on her, heavy and unrelenting.
---------->
Mirha made the short journey to the mountain tomb the next morning.
When she arrived, the sight stopped her breath.
The tomb was exquisitely decorated — far more beautiful than she had imagined. It was surrounded by a sea of carnation flowers, soft pink and pure white, swaying gently in the mountain breeze. Her mother's favorite flowers. Launi used to hold a single carnation for days, pinning it carefully in her hair and asking with a shy smile, "Do I look pretty today, my heart?"
The air around the entry was thick with the sweet, smoky scent of incense. Mirha hesitated at the threshold, her white mourning robes fluttering in the wind. Then she stepped inside.
The inscription on the stone was elegant and simple:
Here lies Lady Launi Eden,
Mother of the Imperial Consort of Èvana,
A loving daughter and an amazing wife.
Mirha's lips curved into a small, tearful smile. Her mother had died knowing her daughter had been married, in a sense, to the emperor. That small comfort eased something sharp in her chest.
She lit her own sticks of incense with steady hands and knelt before the tomb. Bowing deeply, she prayed in silence for her mother to find peace, to rest well, to be free of pain and worry.
When she rose, her knees felt weak. She stepped back outside into the bright daylight and was struck again by the sheer expanse of flowers — fields of carnations stretching around the tomb like a living blanket. The maintenance alone would cost a fortune. She wondered how rich her father truly was to have created something so lavish in such a short time.
She returned to the carriage in silence.
Back at the palace, after bathing and forcing down a quiet dinner, Mirha found a small bouquet of fresh tulips waiting on her table, accompanied by a simple, elegant letter and an invitation.
It read:
"Welcome home, Mirha. I would be honored if you would meet me at the private pavilion by the eastern lake when you are ready."
Mirha stared at the flowers and the note for a long time, fingers tracing the delicate petals.
Her unknown father had finally stepped out of the shadows.