Don’t Worry

“Don’t worry, Brother. I’m doing very well now.”

For Eric, reading expressions and observing others had always been a common tactic.

So even now, having become “Ellie,” she still examined the person speaking to her before responding.

Luckily, Ellie herself was slow-paced by nature—slow actions, slow speech.

So even if she paused to think before speaking, no one would rush her or stare at her with countless expectant eyes, waiting for that carefully polished answer she once had to prepare hundreds of times.

After all, when she had been the second prince, everyone constantly watched her, expected her, scrutinized her.

Every word she said had to be weighed repeatedly, evaluating every advantage and disadvantage.

So now, even as a relaxed-looking princess, the moment she saw her brother, she instinctively glanced around.

Was there a minister following him?

Any nobles waiting for her answer?

Was her brother expecting some strategic response?

But when she saw that only the flowers and birds of the garden filled her view, she simply said—

I’m doing very well now.

No suspicion, no schemes—just a prince concerned about his little sister.

…Ah, how rare.

Ellie picked up her teacup, hiding the corner of her lips that couldn’t help rising.

Her mood felt unusually good.

Good because of the peaceful scenery she rarely enjoyed.

Good because her troublesome brother was—astonishingly—showing concern for her.

Though everything felt unreal, the relief inside her chest couldn’t be faked.

“…😟”

“…🙁”

“…😥”

But despite Ellie’s reassurance, Solor still seemed uneasy.

His expression changed again and again, never forming a smile.

The maid beside Ellie respectfully served him a cup of floral tea, but he only played with the cup, unable to drink.

He looked as though he had something to say, yet didn’t know how to begin.

Look at that—was this really her eloquent brother?

Was this the brother who always maintained composure?

The one who once pierced her chest with a sword?

“Ha.”

Ellie could no longer hide her smile.

She had never hidden her smiles from Solor.

Or rather—most of her smiles throughout her life had been directed at her brother.

Mocking smiles, ridiculing smiles, or fake polite smiles—those were the faces Ellie used to show Solor.

And now?
Which smile was this?

“…Ha…”

Seeing Ellie laugh, Solor froze for a moment, then finally exhaled a breath of relief.

No matter what, laughter was better than a stiff, expressionless face.

And this kind of open smile—he hadn’t seen it on his sister in a long time.

“…As long as you’re feeling better. Does it still hurt?”

Seeing Ellie’s improved condition, he finally relaxed enough to take a sip of his tea.

Perhaps it wasn’t his preferred flavor, but the warm atmosphere between siblings made the tea taste pleasant.

“Don’t worry.”

This was the second time Ellie told him not to worry—and this time, she meant it in the literal sense.

When she had been the prince, every “don’t worry” she said to Solor meant something like, “Don’t worry, I’ve already killed all your enemies.”

The same phrase—but a completely different meaning.

“Haa… honestly, how am I supposed to not worry when you’re like this…? Can you stop going to dangerous places from now on?”

“You call it dangerous, but it was only a small slope. Places like that are everywhere. Are you planning to seal my balcony and lock me in a cage, Brother?”

The place Ellie fell from was just a small hillside.

Not exactly high, not exactly low.

Enough to injure a normal person, yes—but thanks to branches and grass breaking the fall, she only suffered minor wounds, nothing like broken bones.

“You— I… No, that’s not what I meant.”

Solor had only taken a few sips of tea, but Ellie’s words made his throat tighten again.

As the crown prince, Solor surely faced countless matters and people every day.

He had been trained since childhood to be the heir—able to handle political poison and court chaos with composure.

Yet before his sister, he became clumsy and tongue-tied.

He couldn’t scold her, couldn’t reprimand her, couldn’t bear to blame her.

Seeing her petite body wrapped in bandages, the faint scars on her hands as she raised her teacup—he couldn’t bring himself to add emotional hurt on top of her physical wounds.

But if he said nothing, wouldn’t she just get hurt again?

He knew his sister was sensitive—she had always been like that.

Never as accomplished as her brother, always compared to him.

People said princesses didn’t need to be exceptional—just pretty enough for a marriage alliance—but Ellie absolutely hated hearing that.

—If I get married… does that mean I can’t stay by Brother’s side anymore?

That was something young Ellie had once asked Solor.

Back then, Solor was just an honest child who didn’t think too deeply, so he explained the truth to her.

But the only part she understood was:

Yes, if you marry, you can’t stay here.

But Ellie wanted to stay.

After their mothers died, aside from their busy emperor father, they only had each other.

Their father couldn’t always be with them, so they leaned on one another emotionally.

Ellie was adorable, beloved by all, and grew into the palace’s most beautiful girl.

But academically, she lagged far behind Solor, almost as if she was born unsuitable for such things.

Perhaps that contrast made her, who just wanted to stay beside her brother, painfully aware of their difference.

She still acted close to him outwardly—but inside, her inferiority had nearly reached its peak.

—I don’t want to marry.
I don’t want Brother to dislike me.

I just want to stay here—it’s our home, isn’t it?
Even if I become an old unmarried woman, that’s fine.

She had never said these words aloud, but they lived deeply in her heart.

Like a childish, blind devotion to her family.

And Solor—did he not wish for his sister to live a happier, more joyful life?

“…I just want you to be safe.”

“And that’s why I told you—Brother, don’t worry.”

But…

Haa…

He swallowed the remaining taste of the tea and looked at Ellie’s smiling face.

That smile was flawless, like a porcelain doll crafted by the finest artisan.

…How could he possibly not worry?