30 Years after Reincarnation, it turns out to be a Romance Fantasy Novel

[──!!]

Scratch.

“…Haa, it seems Mother has done it again.”

Iliad paused his brush mid-stroke at the roar that, for a moment, could have been mistaken for a beast’s howl. But as soon as he realized who was in the direction of that sound, he couldn’t help but chuckle.

It was coming from where his mother and the knight were.

“Looks like she’s telling Sir Ihan old stories again.”
“Another victim, then. The former chancellor and Lord Tristan also screamed like that.”
“They did. Well, talking with Mother tends to be an ordeal, one way or another. Ahaha!”

Iliad could already guess what was happening over there.

She was probably reminiscing about the past, and Sir Ihan was most likely losing his mind over it.

“…Mother is… an unusual person. She’s different from most people in many ways, so it’s only natural.”

Tap.

Iliad set his brush down and picked up the teacup Elza had prepared for him.

“Rather than unusual, her way of thinking is… peculiar.”
“…It’s not her fault. She was raised in a peculiar environment.”
“Well…”
“Mother is… a pitiful person.”
“……”

Iliad understood his mother better than anyone.

Not simply because she was his mother, but because he had based a fairy tale on her life. To do so, he had thoroughly uncovered every detail of her past.

And so, he knew exactly why Felicia possessed such a twisted nature.

Her parents had been indifferent.
The adults around her had done nothing but criticize and despise her.
In the end, she had lived a life of neglect.

In such a world, the only companion, friend, and guide she had ever known was a single sword.

It was inevitable that she would see the world differently.

“‘A female knight who knew nothing of parental love, who did not know how to love or be loved.’ That was a line from Volume 2, wasn’t it?”
“…Elza, you’ve read my books?”
“I own the entire collection. In fact, I’d be surprised if there was anyone in the household who hasn’t read them.”
“S-Suddenly feeling shy now.”
“There’s nothing to be shy about. If anything, your books have helped redeem the more… peculiar and ruthless aspects of Her Excellency’s past. You’ve done something remarkable.”
“…Ahem…!”

Yes.

It was an untold secret, but the reason Iliad wrote fairy tales based on his mother’s life wasn’t just because he wanted to adapt real stories into fables.

It was also because he wanted to protect her.

Because there were many disgraceful moments in her past that would never be praised.

A life of neglect.
A life where only the sword existed.
A life drenched in blood.

After all, there was a reason one of her many titles was The Wraith of the Battlefield.

Even in wartime, she had done things that deserved condemnation.
Her cruelty had earned her that brutal moniker.

Iliad knew that—knew that his mother deserved the criticism for some of her past deeds.

And yet, he still wanted to tell the world.

That she had not been cruel because she lacked honor or nobility.

But because she had never been taught kindness, love, or warmth by the wretched adults around her.