Chapter 33
“I hear you, Your Majesty.”
Ferdinand’s voice was a flat line, his expression a mask of total indifference. It was a tone designed to look down on the woman before him.
That was the extent of his response.
With that single, curt acknowledgement, the Crown Prince signaled his complete lack of interest. He was effectively telling the Empress that her words were worthless and that he considered this entire interaction a waste of his time.
Standing directly in his path, Empress Carmi couldn’t possibly have missed the blatant scorn and mockery that even I had detected. Her smile had already begun to fray, resembling a snapped flower stem that could never be mended.
Yet, she forced the expression to remain.
“Crown Prince,” she prompted.
“I am listening, Your Majesty.”
“Does my motherly concern provoke such anger in you?”
“I simply find no reason to care about anything you say.”
“Is that so? In that case, you should address me properly.”
The Empress leaned forward slightly, closing the distance between them. The delicate gold charms woven into her auburn hair chimed softly, a beautiful but haunting sound.
“You ought to call me ‘Mother.’”
Her smile was as sharp and frigid as a blade buried in a snowdrift—the kind of edge that promised to shred anyone who dared to look at it directly.
“Go on. Say it.”
“Your Majesty the Empress,” he repeated.
“….”
Ferdinand remained a statue of apathy. The only change was a flicker in his gaze, a subtle sign that he found this entire ordeal tedious.
“My mother passed away a long time ago, Your Majesty.”
This was the peak of the Crown Prince’s civility toward Carmi.
“Furthermore, I could never use such a title for a woman who was once nothing more than my mother’s servant.”
“….”
“How could I possibly call you that?”
“….”
“My lineage is not so common.”
I found myself swallowing hard, my throat dry from the tension. It was a brutal exchange, yet Carmi’s smile didn’t falter for a second.
“I understand, Crown Prince.”
Slap!
The force of the blow jerked the Crown Prince’s head to the side. While he stood there, frozen in the aftermath of the strike, the Empress spoke again. Her voice was just as sweet and gentle as it had been at the start.
“Wait for the swelling to subside before you show your face.”
It was an act of sadistic mercy.
“After all, the former Empress was quite fond of these gardens.”
Carmi turned on her heel. Her extravagant silk gown, patterned with intricate roses, rustled against the ground. The sharp, rhythmic clicking of her ivory heels echoed as she walked away.
The door shut.
Whether by the Empress’s decree or the Prince’s silent command, no guards entered the sanctuary. My mind, however, was racing.
It made sense now. At this point in the timeline, the Crown Prince hadn’t yet secured his grip on power.
So this is why I’m witnessing this, I realized.
Even within the original game, I had never seen a conflict this raw. It wasn’t a duel; it was pure, unadulterated humiliation.
But it wasn’t exactly a surprise. Before he became a legend on the battlefield, the Crown Prince was a figure of secret loathing. Carmi’s ultimate goal was to seat her own biological son, the Second Prince, on the throne.
And as she had just mocked, his physical state was the primary obstacle. If he weren’t trapped in this prepubescent form, he would look his age, and the Emperor wouldn’t feel the need to avoid him out of sheer discomfort.
“Show yourself.”
The command made my shoulders jump.
Wait, is there someone else hiding here?
“I said come out.”
I silently urged the mysterious intruder to leave. Move it, you idiot.
“You, behind the oak.”
I froze. He was talking to me.
I briefly considered sprinting away, but I knew better. Abandoning this scene meant failing to build any rapport with him, which was essentially a death sentence in this world. Still, stepping out right after he’d been slapped felt like a terrible idea.
I emerged from the shadows of the tree with hesitant steps. In that moment, I was profoundly grateful for the muscle memory of the etiquette drilled into Tulia’s body.
I stopped exactly five paces from royalty. I bowed my head and dipped my left knee into a shallow curtsy. I lifted the hem of my skirts just enough to reveal my toes, waiting for him to grant me the right to speak.
“Are you looking for a way to die?”
Instead of a greeting, he offered a threat.
“No, Your Highness,” I replied, improvising since Tulia’s lessons hadn’t covered how to react to a death sentence.
“This garden is reserved for the Imperial family. A common noble has no business trespassing here.”
“I wasn’t in the garden proper. I was merely passing by on the perimeter.”
“And do you usually stop and listen to private conversations while ‘passing by’?”
“The tension felt so heavy that I hid instinctively. I am deeply sorry, but I truly didn’t hear a word.”
“From that tree to where I am standing?”
I felt his gaze shift toward the oak.
“You expect me to believe you couldn’t hear us from that distance?”
“I was covering my ears as hard as I could.”
“…What?”
For the first time, his voice lost its edge, replaced by genuine bewilderment. I still hadn’t looked at his face. Protocol dictated that I keep my eyes down until given permission.
Perhaps he saw my legs beginning to wobble, because he finally spoke with a hint of irritation.
“You may look up.”
“Thank you.”
Relieved to end the physical strain on my knees, I lifted my gaze and blinked.
He was stunning. His eyes were a startling, vibrant crimson—the color of strawberry jam in sunlight. His hair was a soft, milky bronze, reminiscent of cocoa. However, there was nothing sweet about him; his stare was icy and piercing, the kind of look that could wither anyone in his presence.
But more than his beauty, his condition was what struck me.
So this is Cupid Syndrome.
Also known as Eros Syndrome, it was the result of the massive amount of Divine Power he had been exposed to before birth. Though Ferdinand was technically eighteen—three years older than Tulia—he looked no older than twelve or thirteen.
It was a tragic legacy of his mother, Empress Olivia. She had been a woman of peerless grace and intellect, the “Ice Empress” who had captured the Emperor’s heart. But Alessandro’s love was tainted by insecurity. He eventually turned to Carmi, who was the polar opposite of the cold Olivia—warm, gentle, and seemingly kind.
Carmi, who had been Olivia’s own lady-in-waiting, eventually bore the Emperor a child. The betrayal nearly caused Olivia to miscarry Ferdinand. To save him, she had the Temple flood her womb with Divine Power. Ferdinand survived, but Olivia died five years later, leaving her son with a body that refused to age.
In the game, this would only be cured when he fell in love with Coriko, triggering a sudden, late growth spurt.
For now, he was a boyish figure of haunting beauty, though he looked painfully thin. Given Carmi’s hatred, he likely wasn’t being fed well, and his pride would never allow him to beg her for more.
“Are you quite finished staring at me?”
He certainly had a prickly temperament to match his circumstances. I quickly lowered my head in apology.
“Forgive me. I have never met a member of the Imperial family before.”
“You—”
He cut himself off abruptly.
“It’s raining.”
A few stray drops fell from the otherwise clear sky. Ferdinand looked away, his fleeting interest in me completely evaporating as the rain touched him.
“Leave. Don’t use the main gate unless you want to be caught. Find a back way out.”
I was relieved to be dismissed, but the timing was awful. I’d made a terrible first impression, and now the weather was working against me.
Rain was the one thing he couldn’t handle. The excess Divine Power had a specific side effect: whenever it rained, Ferdinand’s hearing would temporarily fail him.
