Chapter 5
“Why?”
Gregory, the acknowledged illegitimate son among the Emperor’s bastards and currently the presumptive first in line for succession, thus granted the title of Crown Prince, was deeply dissatisfied with how the imperial palace had been operating lately. His father seemed to be going increasingly mad.
“It is His Majesty’s command.”
The attendants and knights who guarded the Emperor with unyielding loyalty absolutely refused to let him past this door.
Only those permitted by the Emperor himself could enter through this door and meet him. And Gregory was not among them.
The Crown Prince, who dared not defy the Emperor, came face-to-face with the approaching Duke of Lüsenford. He was one of the only three in the empire who bore the same title as Gregory.
Unlike Gregory, he was tall and stately, with a physique that made the thick, sleeveless imperial overcoat or cloak look utterly perfect. He didn’t need flashy shoulder epaulets or tassels like Gregory did to embellish himself.
Above all, the Lüsenford style of draping the cloak over only one shoulder, fully exposing the broad, solid shoulder and thick forearm on the other, accentuated his robust masculinity.
Thus, Gregory always felt intimidated by the duke, who was seven years his senior.
“The empire’s second sun has arrived first.”
The duke observed etiquette with razor-sharp precision. That made him all the harder to deal with.
The eight years during which the Emperor had desperately tried—and caused chaos—to secure an heir from the Empress had all been because of the exceedingly exceptional Pheon. Despite all the Emperor’s efforts, the Empress had not conceived any children after Pheon.
“It’s been a while, Duke.”
In contrast to Pheon’s low, thick, powerful voice, Gregory’s response still carried the tone of a boy not yet shed of his youth. Because of this, he inwardly flinched for no reason.
“Yes, it has been a while. I assume you’ve come to pay respects to His Majesty.”
“I also came to check on Her Majesty the Empress’s condition.”
Gregory knew that as Crown Prince, he ought to carry more dignity. The Emperor’s piercing gaze, which scrutinized and evaluated every detail, came unbidden to his mind.
Unconsciously, Gregory hunched his shoulders. Everything felt burdensome, and a surge of resentment and irritation welled up within him. He was truly doing his absolute best.
“Yes. Everyone is worried.”
Pheon nodded. Despite his mother lying in a coma, he appeared remarkably composed.
Just as the Emperor constantly compared Gregory to him in every matter, Pheon seemed to know how to restrain his emotions. Gregory asked the much taller Pheon,
“Are you all right, Duke?”
“Me?”
“You seem no different from usual, which is why I ask.”
For Duke Pheon of Lüsenford, it wasn’t that the Empress’s collapse didn’t sadden him. It did sadden him, but he felt an even greater sense of liberation.
He even thought this might be for the best. Life must have been hell for his mother too—wouldn’t a coma grant her more freedom?
Perhaps, after enduring so much torment from the Emperor, even Pheon had lost his sanity. To survive in this hell, everyone had to go a little mad.
“Anyone would be shocked by their mother collapsing.”
The duke answered quietly. Their conversation naturally halted with the arrival of the Duke of Ostein.
“Please enter, Your Highness. Your Grace.”
Just as he wondered if they might exchange brief greetings, an attendant approached. The phrase “Crown Prince” was notably absent.
Indeed. Even the Crown Prince could not enter beyond that door, but there were exactly two who could: the Duke of Ostein and the Duke of Lüsenford.
One was the recognized lord of Ostein Duchy by the late Emperor and a member of the imperial family; the other was a grand duke acknowledged by the current Emperor, carrying immense prestige. It wasn’t as if the Crown Prince was inferior, but neither could he disregard them.
The door firmly closed again, leaving Gregory alone.
*
As the Empress, expected to awaken soon, failed to regain consciousness, the nobles held their breath and watched the palace closely, not daring to host noisy parties or concerts.
Everyone prayed for the Empress’s recovery. Even though she was the Empress confined for adultery, unable to even show her face at official events, with the Emperor himself—the absolute authority—nursing her, they knew to keep their heads low.
Those privileged to enter the palace naturally flocked there, but even that was futile.
The Emperor had already snapped in rage that aside from his half-brother and his daughter waiting at Altein Palace, and the Duke of Lüsenford, he needed no one else. Even the Crown Prince was anxiously submitting “official requests for audience,” let alone those below him.
Thanks to that—whatever one might call it—Kaella could come and go from the palace alongside the Duke of Lüsenford and her father.
The excuse was praying for Her Majesty the Empress’s recovery, but in truth, she could no longer bear watching her father meet the Emperor alone and always came to the palace with him.
‘Thank goodness. Because Her Majesty the Empress collapsed, His Majesty the Emperor has stopped paying attention to Father. It really is a blessing.’
She might even live longer than the average lifespan of Lüsenford warhorses. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but then someone greeted her.
“Oh my, who’s this? Isn’t it our Duke’s Daughter?”
The Lavalle mother and daughter were approaching. Duchess Maria Luisa Lavalle of Monde, known for her straightforward personality and warm heart, was a friend of the Empress and had often looked after Pheon in his childhood.
Because of that, Beatrice Lavalle had become Pheon’s first love and irreplaceable childhood friend. Whenever Kaella visited the palace, Pheon was always with Beatrice.
In the presence of Beatrice, hailed as a beauty for the ages, Kaella felt like one of the objects lining this corridor.
It was probably because she completely lost her presence in front of Pheon. Along with that, her self-esteem—burned to charred ashes inside—reared its head.
“Oh dear, you’re growing more beautiful by the day. It’s been a while.”
At times like this, Kaella was once again reminded that this was reality. The vivid sense of inferiority made her realize it wasn’t a dream.
The pain gnawing at her bones stemmed from her pride as an unacknowledged wife, resentment, and something indistinguishable between jealousy and inferiority.
There was no surer signal than this sharp pain. It was laughable. It seemed the heavens truly pitied her. Kaella managed a smile befitting a barely twenty-one-year-old duke’s daughter.
“Yes. It’s been a while, Duchess of Monde. Lady Lavalle.”
By now, the Duchess of Monde’s shoulders were puffed with pride, as her daughter had become the flower of high society.
Marrying her daughter to a good match offered hope of overcoming their dire finances, which would have required dismantling the castle and selling even the building materials.
Seeing the beaming Duchess of Monde, her face round like a full moon, and the simply beautiful Beatrice Lavalle without any adornments, something black and hot surged within Kaella again.
“Hello, Kaella.”
Beatrice, whom she had seen often since childhood, had a subtly prickly attitude, clearly holding onto what had happened at Altein Palace. Kaella kept her mouth shut, unwilling to call such a woman “sister.”
“How is Her Majesty the Empress? I haven’t even been able to visit. Is His Majesty very angry?”
Kaella let the Duchess of Monde’s coquettish voice pass indifferently as she sank into thought.
No matter that she had returned to life, the winners would still be Beatrice—standing there demurely, brazenly and unculturedly waiting for her mother to speak for her—and the Emperor.
“I don’t really know. I’ve never gone in.”
“What? Aren’t you imperial family who comes and goes from Altein Palace?”
But in the Krania Empire, even dying peacefully required effort.
The Duchess of Monde knew her daughter had been chased out of Altein Palace and was deliberately stabbing with her words. It wasn’t Kaella who had done the chasing, but Kaella was an easy target, so she vented her displeasure on her.
“His Majesty the Emperor is the one nursing Her Majesty the Empress.”
“Oh my, I thought since His Majesty favors you so much, you’d know something.”
This was the kind of petty sniping common among nobles. Kaella had endured it so often that she didn’t even feel it worth responding to.
In the past, she had argued back diligently. But in the end, she always looked the fool.
A woman without solid family support and an unacknowledged husband was always so pathetic. There was no childish affection in married life. Pheon had been the first to dismiss that affection and those memories.
“Even as imperial family, all you can do is sit idly by. No different from us, right?”
Kaella had no intention of responding to the stubborn words laced with a desire to drag her down and confirm they were in the same boat.
Her face, told that not smiling made her look cold, would let the Duchess of Monde read her thoughts just by staring silently.
She didn’t even want to win anyway. All she could say to Beatrice, who clearly had Pheon, was to go off and be happy together. Or rather, she lacked the energy to say it.
“Kaella. His Majesty summons you. Let’s go.”
A strong, clear voice shook the listless duke’s daughter awake.
“Oh, our Phe…….”
The Duchess of Monde’s face lit up. But her greeting, pitched several tones higher than what she used for Kaella, cut off midway.
“Hello, both of you.”
Pheon dispatched his perfunctory greeting to the Duchess of Monde and Beatrice in one go, then looked only at Kaella.
“Let’s go.”
He even extended his hand naturally, as if intending to escort her properly as a gentleman.
‘What’s this about?’
Beatrice had always lit up at the mere sight of Pheon, yet he ignored her completely, offering only a half-hearted “both of you” that barely met the bounds of courtesy. Kaella stared at Pheon as if he were truly strange.
But as he extended his hand further, signaling her to take it, she had no choice but to place her left hand atop his.
“Then, Duchess, I’ll take my leave.”
After greeting the Duchess of Monde, Kaella quickly turned away. It must be because this was an official setting that Pheon was being cautious. Don’t mind it. She took a step forward. Or tried to.
“It would be wise for the Duchess to exercise more caution in the palace. His Majesty’s eyes and ears are everywhere.”
But at Pheon’s low voice, Kaella couldn’t help stopping in her tracks. He halted there, looking straight at the Duchess of Monde as he spoke.
“I fear someone who knows well the difference between a duchess and a duke’s daughter might overhear. If you’ll excuse us.”
Pheon fully enveloped Kaella’s hand in his grasp. Then he lightly pulled her along. Still utterly confused, Kaella followed him like swallowing bitter mustard in tears. At any rate, they needed to quickly escape the site of that bombshell.
Just now, Pheon had clearly pointed out the difference between Ostein Duchy and Monde Duchy to the mother of the woman who had often looked after him in place of his own mother.
He had politely and courteously warned a mere duchess not to act that way toward the Duke’s Daughter of Ostein.
By tomorrow—no, by this afternoon—the rumor would spread throughout the capital Kline.
In the midst of the palace where nobles had gathered over the Empress’s critical condition, the Duke of Lüsenford had caused a massive stir. Stinging gazes now pricked at Kaella’s back and nape.
“Sorry, Kaella. She’s taking out what happened at Altein Palace last time on you. It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”
After walking a bit further to secure enough distance, Pheon apologized first.
“No. It’s fine.”
Reflexively, formal humility slipped from Kaella’s lips.
“It doesn’t seem fine for either of us.”
Pheon gave a wry smile but didn’t release Kaella’s hand.
“I’m sorry. I won’t let you hear such things again.”
“It really is fine…….”
“It’s not. Those were words I should hear, not you in my place. And saying imperial family and nobles are the same crossed the line.”
The cold, aloof nature of Pheon that she had always felt was now directed not at her, but at the Duchess of Monde. Yet Kaella, accustomed to that chill, slightly hunched her shoulders.
‘We shouldn’t have married.’
That way, they could have remained on friendly terms, she realized once more. This man had been so kind before their marriage.
At the very least, she absolutely must not marry this man this time. Absolutely. With Father still alive for now, there would be no need for marriage.
The Emperor would be too busy shaking Pheon by holding Beatrice hostage.
Kaella felt relieved at never again having to watch her husband lose his mind over another woman. This time, the chance of a peaceful death coming to her had increased slightly.
But the moment they entered the antechamber outside the Empress’s bedroom for their audience with the Emperor, his greeting words shattered her hopes.
“You two look quite well-suited entering together.”
The Duke of Ostein, who had entered first, merely smiled faintly at his half-brother’s remark.
“Seeing Your Majesty say such things, it seems it’s time for you to marry off your children as well.”
Pheon casually deflected, but Kaella felt cold sweat trickling down her back. A chill crept eerily over her nape. She quickly released Pheon’s hand.
“That boy’s already twenty-eight. With his mother collapsed like that, who else is there to arrange his marriage but me?”
In Pheon’s view, the Emperor barked well. Unnecessarily so. Who would willingly give their daughter to the Duke of Lüsenford, hated by the Emperor? Only the Duchess of Monde, needing northern wealth, would step up.
Thus, Kaella—with her father dead and no protection—had been pushed into marrying him. Because she had no one, nothing, a bit of intimidation had been enough to control her utterly.
“What matters is Her Majesty the Empress regaining consciousness. As for me, I’m always the same no matter how much older I get.”
For the unfortunate duke’s daughter, the only lifeline at the time had been the Duke of Lüsenford. And even that was a rotten one.
Pheon couldn’t bear to look at Kaella standing awkwardly beside him, so he averted his gaze as if indifferent.
Forcing himself not to look at her was a habit from his past life, done so often. If he looked, his gaze would linger, his heart would follow, and above all, that shrewd Emperor would see she was his weakness. He mustn’t look.
“The same, what same? Try reaching my age. Every day brings changes. Isn’t that right, Adeo?”
As Adeo nodded, Pheon added indifferently,
“It’s because Your Majesty is personally tending to Her Majesty the Empress. Still, for the sake of the empire, you must stay healthy.”
Cursing him inwardly to die soon while outwardly wishing him longevity had become second nature. At his words, the Duke of Ostein chimed in agreement.
“Your Grace is right, Your Majesty.”
“I heard you haven’t been sleeping well, so I brought some tea that helps with sleep. Please have a cup an hour before bedtime, Your Majesty.”
But he couldn’t help his gaze drifting to the small voice beside him, her polite demeanor, and the careful way she set down the basket of tea with soft rustles.
He needed to gouge out those clear eyes freed from brainwashing. No—even without eyes, he’d track her by ear; deaf, he’d grope the air with his hands. Pheon inwardly recited his sins several more times.
He had starved her to death. Starved a precious duke’s daughter. He had no right to look.
“Thank you, Kaella. You’re the only one who tends to me so thoughtfully, my niece.”
How ridiculous, Kaella sneered inwardly. He’d always scorned the Duke of Ostein as a bastard, and now “niece”? Well, she had no room to talk, flattering the Emperor to avoid a dog’s death.
“Given the timing, a prince from Keruzhan is coming. It was already scheduled, so we can’t cancel. So, Kaella, I’d like you to prepare the welcoming banquet for the prince.”
Pheon remembered the prince from Keruzhan coming too. The reason he recalled it was solely because that prince had been considered a candidate for the Ostein Duke’s Daughter—right up to the very end, alongside him.
A candidate for Kaella’s groom was crossing the sea to arrive.
