Thought It Was 'The End', Only to Return to a Changed Genre - Chapter 222
“When choosing someone to remarry, it’s best to be careful. And try not to listen to the advice of those around you. It seems no one has good judgment.”
“There’s no remarriage in my future.”
While the pope had to remain celibate, the same didn’t necessarily apply to a saintess. There had already been plenty of exceptions, so it wasn’t entirely impossible. Lloyd tilted his head in curiosity.
But Genevieve replied coldly,
“Once was enough.”
Once was more than enough…
The saintess’s wedding had been like a national promotional campaign, an event that spanned several days. She couldn’t even imagine going through something like that again. The wedding had been more exhausting than the papal inauguration.
“Love, romance—such foolish nonsense. Who has time for that?”
She was far too busy to even consider remarriage.
As pope, Genevieve was still nothing more than a figurehead. Her support base was weak and relied heavily on the power of the imperial family and the Blanchard ducal house.
She couldn’t neglect her duties as a saintess either, which meant spending more than half the year abroad. Her daily life was overwhelmingly busy, and even the small amount of leisure time she spent at the garden gatherings was difficult to carve out. Romance was simply out of the question.
Lloyd remarked,
“It is foolish nonsense.”
“And it’s not exactly good for your health, either.”
Oh, it really wasn’t…
It was bad…
It was clear that both Genevieve and Lloyd were thinking of the same person at that moment.
Shaking her head, Genevieve said,
“If that’s what love is, then I don’t want any part of it. I can’t handle it.”
“It was yours to begin with, though.”
“Shut up, please.”
Her tightly clenched fist seemed to say, One more word, and I’ll break your jaw. Lloyd wisely stayed quiet and left the room.
Genevieve scoffed and stared after the boy’s retreating figure for a long time.
She knew it was childish, but she couldn’t help herself. That smug, irritating face always got under her skin.
‘I’m not really upset.’
Genevieve understood, logically, that Adeline didn’t leave her out of hatred.
But when she thought about the time she spent agonizing over her guilt, believing Adeline was dead, she couldn’t help but feel jealous of Lloyd, who had been chosen, unlike her.
Adeline would likely say, I didn’t abandon you.
Genevieve had come to terms with the fact that Adeline had sacrificed herself for them.
After all, it was a fate someone had already written for her.
‘The protagonist.’
Me?
Who would ever want to look into her life and call it a story worth being the protagonist of? Whoever it was, they must have had a peculiar taste. Even when she reflected on her own life, it brought her nothing but revulsion, not entertainment.
Adeline had said, “You are the protagonist of this world, so you must find happiness.”
Those words had saved Genevieve countless times.
Even if Adeline had only meant it in the sense of a novel’s protagonist, its meaning never diminished for Genevieve. Adeline had given her more than just words. Those words remained one of Genevieve’s greatest treasures.
If she had to live according to a fate predetermined by someone, she wanted to make herself useful to Adeline.
She didn’t believe in the destinies supposedly written by some unknown person who neither knew her name nor her face.
But she believed in the goodwill that had led Adeline to say, “If everything unfolds as it was written, you will find happiness.” She didn’t doubt the sincerity of Adeline’s wish for their happiness, a wish stronger than anyone else’s.
Still, if happiness without Adeline was the only option, Genevieve would rather be unhappy with her.
At the very least, Genevieve never wanted to return to the days without Adeline.
The dark, damp days.
*
On the day of Adeline’s funeral—
The sky was unbearably clear.
