The World Is Mine For The Taking-Chapter 1197 - 183 - Milham’s Royal Family (4)

The Blood of Milham?

What did that even mean?

"You might not know this," she said, her voice steady but carrying a weight I hadn’t noticed before, "but your father had a younger sister."

The sentence alone was enough to throw me off balance.

A younger sister?

I stared at her, waiting for her to continue, my thoughts scrambling. This was the first time I had ever heard anything like that. No one had ever mentioned her. Not once.

"She was sickly her entire life," my mother continued. "By the time you gained consciousness about the surrounding, she had already passed away." She paused, as if choosing her next words carefully. "But despite that frail body of hers, she was brave enough to hold a sword."

I couldn’t help but frown slightly.

"She once killed a burglar," she said quietly. "Even though she could barely stand while holding the blade. She did it anyway." Her lips curved into something almost nostalgic. "She’s someone I truly admire, to be honest."

That alone was enough to leave me speechless.

This was... the first time I was hearing any of this.

A hidden aunt. A sickly woman who still chose to fight. Someone who existed in the shadows of history, erased so thoroughly that even I—her own blood—had never known.

"However," my mother said, her tone shifting, growing heavier, "your father’s sister was born from a union between the king before your father—your grandfather—and a maid."

There it was.

I felt something sink deep in my stomach.

"Which is why, on paper, her birth was treated as something that should never have existed," she continued. "Everyone in the castle knew about her, but no one was willing to acknowledge her as someone who truly existed."

That... explained a lot.

She turned away from me then, walking slowly toward the window. Sunlight spilled through the glass, illuminating her figure as she stood there in silence for a brief moment. It felt like she was looking not just outside, but back into the past.

After a few seconds, she spoke again.

"That person was married off to a family known for producing commanders for generations," she said. "A family that had served the kingdom faithfully for a very long time." Her voice remained calm, but there was something sharp underneath it. "And she gave birth to a daughter."

At that point, I didn’t need to be told anything else.

Given the timing of this conversation—why she was telling me this now—I already knew who that daughter was.

"So... in reality, and technically speaking," my mother said as she turned back toward me, "royal blood from Milham flows through the Commander’s veins. She belongs to the Milham family tree."

I let out a slow breath.

I see...

I never would have imagined hearing something like this. Ever.

It must have been buried deeply—deliberately—because I had absolutely no idea that someone like that even existed. That history like this had been hidden so cleanly.

"Well, this isn’t exactly new," she added after a moment. "Considering the constant proclivities of former kings and their relatives, it was only natural that the Milham Kingdom would be filled with bastards and hidden bloodlines."

She didn’t sound bitter. Just tired.

"At this point, Milham blood has spread throughout the entire kingdom," she continued. "If you ever meet someone who desperately wants this kingdom to prosper—someone who seems almost obsessive about it—then there’s a good chance they’re descended from Milham."

Her eyes met mine.

"All of you share that drive, after all."

She hesitated, just for a fraction of a second.

"Your father used to say that this blood was his curse."

The word echoed in my mind.

"A curse...?" I repeated quietly.

"He was cursed to rule," she said. "That’s what he always told me."

Her voice softened at the end of the sentence, and I caught it. It was the sadness she tried so hard to hide. It slipped through, just briefly, but it was there.

"The Commander may be suspicious," she went on, regaining her composure, "but I believe she also has a selfish desire to see this kingdom thrive."

I nodded slowly, letting her words settle.

"A curse, huh...?" I muttered under my breath.

I looked down at my palm, turning it slightly as if the answer might be written there. My fingers felt the same. My skin looked the same. And yet, suddenly, it felt like something invisible was weighing on me.

So this desire—this constant, nagging urge to see the kingdom improve—wasn’t something uniquely mine.

It wasn’t proof of my resolve or my character.

It was just... blood.

For some reason, that realization made my chest feel tight.

Was this desire to rule nothing more than some kind of genetic curse? Something passed down, generation after generation, dragging people into responsibility they never asked for?

If that was the case... then what was the point of trying?

If I followed this path, wouldn’t I just end up becoming like my father?

My mother turned to me then, studying my face. After a moment, she smiled gently.

"You don’t need to worry, Myrcella," she said. "Even if you carry the blood of Milham, never doubt your desire to serve the kingdom and guide it toward prosperity."

Her voice was warm. It was steady.

"That desire comes from you," she continued. "Entirely from you. And you have the proper drive to do it."

It was the same expression she had always worn when she looked at me. Soft. Reassuring. And honest.

"Right..." I said quietly.

It felt like she wasn’t just comforting me.

It felt like she was telling me who I was.

What I could become.

Slowly, the confusion began to settle. The pieces started to align.

"I’ll become the ruler of this kingdom someday," I said, lifting my head. "I’ll break the curse."

For a moment, she simply looked at me.

Then she smiled.

"Do it, my darling..."

She was right.

I didn’t believe in the curse that haunted the Milham family. My blood had nothing to do with my resolve. Nothing to do with my desire to give this kingdom the proper rule it deserved—or to become the kind of ruler its people truly needed.

I would make sure I became someone worthy of respect.

And to do that... I couldn’t afford to be naive.

I needed to learn how to be harsh when necessary. I had to be willing to do things that would look bad in the eyes of others.

A ruler uses everything at their disposal to achieve what must be done. A strict ruler isn’t something to fear.

It’s something to be celebrated.

That was why I had to take risks.

Why I had to use every tool in my arsenal.

I left my mother’s room quietly, letting her rest.

Then I called for Leon.

"I know I’m already asking too much," I said, "but... can you do something for me?"