Resetting Lady

Chapter 262

That day, from the king to the archbishop, from the dukes and counts to the nursemaids and the knights, everyone made a deliberate fuss, showering praise on him. As a result, Prince Lewis spent the day feeling proud and happy, just like any other child would in his situation.

Even if it was just an expensive pen, for a five-year-old, that alone was more than enough to be excited about. Lewis held the fountain pen and tried to mimic the pen-spinning trick that Marquis Penceir often performed.

The marquis, when bored, would rest his chin on his hand and twirl a pen between his fingers, something that Lewis thought looked very cool.

“Hmm…”

But no matter how hard he tried, Lewis couldn’t get the trick right. The pen kept slipping out of his still-clumsy hands. By the seventh drop, it rolled off the desk and onto the floor, rolling away. Lewis got up to retrieve it.

As the pen stopped rolling, Lewis crouched down to pick it up, but before his hand could reach it, another hand snatched it first.

“What’s this?”

It was Crown Prince Gueuze, Lewis’s father. But unlike with his grandfather, Lewis couldn’t smile.

Crown Prince Gueuze inspected the pen. The golden, diamond-studded pen had the king’s name engraved on it. Gueuze narrowed his eyes as he read the name.

“His Majesty gave it to Prince Lewis to celebrate his progress in writing.”

The nursemaid quickly knelt, bowing her head as she responded to Gueuze. Lewis remained on the ground, gripping the nursemaid’s hand. Her hand was trembling.

“I was not asking you.”

“M-My apologies, Your Highness.”

Crown Prince Gueuze fiddled with the golden fountain pen, then met Lewis’s gaze. Lewis felt his cheeks flush slightly as he looked at his father. He felt uneasy.

“So, His Majesty gave this to you as a gift?”

Lewis waited for his father to praise him, to tell him to keep up the good work, or perhaps to scold him or even kick him. For some reason, Gueuze looked at him with eyes that seemed capable of doing both. But instead, with a blank expression, Gueuze handed the pen back to Lewis.

“What a fuss over nothing.”

That was Lewis’s first memory of his father.

It wasn’t particularly sad or anger-inducing. But for some reason, in Lewis’s short life, that moment stood out clearly in his memory.

His nursemaid, the knights, even the children he played with—all encouraged him whenever he read, wrote, or learned something new. But Crown Prince Gueuze, Lewis’s father, showed no such interest. He didn’t like any of it.

It wasn’t until years later, when Lewis began studying about monarchy, that he understood the importance of competition over familial ties in royal circles.

When he started learning about history and politics, Lewis began to notice that it was unusual for his grandfather, the king, to be so old yet still not have handed over power to his son.

And through history, he learned that fathers and sons often competed for the throne. It dawned on him that his relationship with Crown Prince Gueuze wasn’t so different.

“Crown Prince Gueuze loves you deeply in his heart.”

Marquis Penceir had said this, but even he didn’t seem fully convinced. Lewis simply smiled at the marquis, his godfather and future vassal.

“It’s fine.”

It’s just the way things are. A father may not love his child, may see them as a rival, may even wish them dead. There could be fathers who dislike seeing their children grow taller or who feel irritated when they learn to read and write.

“It’s fine, just go and do your duties.”

“Your Highness.”

Lewis didn’t need to know what a normal family was like. He had known from birth, from the time he could crawl, that his circumstances were different from everyone else’s.

That Crown Prince Gueuze’s gaze was cold was something he’d learned naturally, and there was no need to feel sad about it. There were plenty of others who loved him.

Lewis believed, without a doubt, that he was loved. However, the fact that the person who loved him the most was the king of the country—his grandfather—also came with a heavy burden.

“You work very hard. Well done, Lewis.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

By royal command, teachers were assigned to instruct the young boy who had just started learning how to read and write. But keeping up with the king’s expectations was not easy.

At first, the king’s praise was a good thing. He gave Lewis gifts and rewarded the caretakers responsible for the young prince. But week after week, month after month, the king wanted to see more of his grandson’s progress. He wanted to continue praising him.

“This time, there’s not much difference from last time. You must try harder.”

“Yes… I will do my best.”

“Good, you are the hope of this country.”

The king didn’t get angry, but even a slight sigh or frown from him caused significant problems for those around Lewis. If the king appeared even slightly displeased, those below feared losing their jobs.

Unlike Crown Prince Gueuze, the current king had high hopes for Prince Lewis, who had a strong interest in academics. Gueuze had quickly lost interest in his studies as a child, focusing instead on hunting and indulging in… other pleasures. The king was determined to ensure that Lewis was raised properly while he was still young.

‘Lewis must not become like Gueuze.’

However, the king was already old, and he wanted to witness Lewis’s growth as quickly as possible. His constant urging for progress was like endlessly watering a tree until it rotted from absorbing too much.

Lewis, who was just eight years old, began to suffer from chronic fatigue.

“His Majesty has expressed concern that Prince Lewis’s lessons are insufficient.”

“But His Highness is already learning at a pace much faster than other noble children his age…”

“Still, His Majesty feels there has been no progress compared to last month. Perhaps we should try a different teaching approach?”

“However… His Majesty will call for him again next month.”

“I’m so tired… My hand hurts.”

Lewis showed his teacher his hand, which had started to develop calluses from constantly holding a pen. Eventually, the teacher resorted to writing notes for Lewis to memorize. Even though this was a challenge for an eight-year-old, it was better than trying to understand everything.

.

.

“Your opinion was based on Ailes Lindbergh’s theory, but that was already criticized after the Tayshem case as being detached from reality.”

“I see…”

When the conversation turned to information Lewis didn’t know, he was left speechless. The king, noticing his grandson’s expression, pressed further.

“What are your thoughts on the Tayshem case?”n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

“……”

“What about Lindbergh’s welfare expansion proposal?”

“…I’m sorry. I don’t know enough.”

“The welfare expansion was the most crucial part of Lindbergh’s theory.”

Lewis had no choice but to admit his lack of knowledge. The king was disappointed but did not scold the young prince. After all, Lewis was his one and only legitimate heir, and there was nothing wrong with him.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty.”

“It’s alright, Lewis. You did nothing wrong. A king does not make mistakes. So… let’s change all your teachers.”

“Your Majesty!”

“You deserve the best education… and quickly.”

By the king’s command, all of Lewis’s tutors were replaced. Scholars of the highest intellect, handpicked by the king himself, were summoned—many of whom were also politically influential. Some were old veterans who had just retired.

“Presenting His Highness, Prince Lewis.”

“…Yes, yes, I know…”

“We met last time, didn’t we… Ten years ago?”

“His Highness is only eight years old.”

“Haha, so young, then. I saw him when he was born… and again, five years ago, I believe.”

Upon meeting the crown prince, the elderly scholars exchanged knowing glances and chuckled to themselves.

“I may not be a grandfather, but I do enjoy watching my grandchildren play.”

“You insolent fool, Count!”

The chamberlain, taken aback by the scholars’ nonchalant attitude, angrily rebuked them. But the elderly men remained unfazed. Most of them were far too old to be suitable for teaching a child.

Becoming the young prince’s tutor no longer held any great appeal for them. Though the king had gathered the most knowledgeable scholars and officials he knew, each of them was at least seventy years old.

It could take decades—perhaps fifty years—for Lewis to ascend to the throne. To these elderly scholars, Lewis was just a little child, barely more than a baby. Even if they invested effort in his education, they would not live to reap any rewards as his teachers.

“We follow the king’s orders, but to have us tutor a child at this age… The king must be jesting.”

This was the general consensus among the old scholars.

Lewis knew that if he expressed his frustration, he would only be ridiculed. If he tearfully begged the king to replace the tutors again, the king would comfort him but would also be greatly disappointed.

“…I look forward to learning from you. I will work hard.”

That was all Lewis could say to the elderly men.

And so, Lewis worked hard.