Chapter 8
“Even though you’ve gone through such a heartbreaking ordeal, you’ve welcomed us so warmly. We’re truly grateful.”
The Keruzhan delegation, led by Prince Elcanan, had arrived. They began their schedule by expressing sufficient sorrow over the Empress of the Kranian Empire suddenly falling into a coma.
The banquet table, harmonizing Keruzhan culinary culture with that of the Kranian Empire, was splendid and abundant. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say they were thankful for the hospitality. Tomorrow, there would be the banquet prepared by Kaella.
Pheon watched Kaella exchanging greetings and conversing amiably with Prince Elcanan. They suited each other so well.
The leisure he couldn’t provide, their shared background of growing up in a warm maritime climate, and likely similar cultural refinement and topics of conversation as well. They suited each other perfectly.
Rather than becoming a grand duchess in name only in the empire, marrying the king’s younger brother and becoming a princess would suit her far better.
‘He did something idiotic.’
Pheon simply defined what he had done. There was no other word for a fool like him.
Before his regression, even when Beatrice, whom he had desperately protected, spoke with another man, he had felt utterly indifferent.
Even under the curse’s influence, no jealousy stirred, no concern arose. He’d just thought, They must have something to discuss, and moved on without a second thought.
But now, just seeing Kaella smiling across from that handsome prince twisted his insides, blinding him to everything else. The talks, the formalities—nothing registered in his mind.
Even in frigid Lüsenford, he’d struggled to rein in his gaze constantly trailing after her, so wasn’t this too brazen and shameless?
Every time this happened, Pheon inevitably recalled the emperor’s words, repeated as if to ensure he wouldn’t forget.
You’ve inherited the blood of a thick-skinned thief. You must spend your life diluting that blood through effort.
It wasn’t something to say to a child, but it had turned out to be true. He was foolish and lacking, and on top of that, shameless.
He turned his head away. He had ignored Kaella throughout their time in Lüsenford, so he could do the same now. Even without the curse, he could manage it.
This was the moment when Hyperion Sivbrand Ferraro would finally be completely excluded from the list of suitors for Kaella de Shasser, the duke’s daughter of Ostein blessed by the late emperor.
The olive-skinned Prince Elcanan, handsomely tanned, suited Kaella far better than he did, pale and pallid from the north.
“In truth, I was delighted to hear that the lady had prepared a banquet for us. That is truly my honor.”
With his cheerful personality and eloquent speech, he had already made Kaella laugh, which was more than enough. It was better than a husband who only imposed duties and gave her nothing but death and humiliation in return.
Pheon felt his heart stabbed repeatedly, but he endured it silently without a care. He knew well that this pain was too late, and thus all the more loathsome. It was something shameful that had to be hidden again and again.
“It seems the prince prefers the lady’s attention over the Empress’s care.”
“Being with those of a similar age is far more enjoyable, Your Majesty.”
At Adeo’s words, the emperor chuckled dryly. In the past, he would have burst into a hearty laugh, but now he seemed utterly drained, like a man who had lost all joy in life.
“Indeed. It’s good for the young ones to spend time together.”
Kranian high society, ever eager to read meaning into the emperor’s every word, would now begin speculating on the possibility of a marriage between the Ostein duke’s daughter and Prince Elcanan.
Prince Elcanan was no bad match. As royalty, he wouldn’t lower her status, and though not as wealthy as the Kranian Empire, the Keruzhan royal family was affluent.
Moreover, as he wasn’t in direct line to the throne, he could live freely without burdensome duties.
Pheon pondered more diligently than anyone the benefits and prosperous life Kaella would gain by marrying the prince. It was a life he could never give her—had already failed to give her. Above all, it would be safe.
“Though it’s regrettable that the Empress lies ill, having the mature grand duke and duke’s daughter take on major roles has lightened my burdens considerably. Adeo, you’ve raised your daughter well.”
At those words, the three individuals in charge of the entire event bowed in unison toward the emperor. Long life and great achievements across the continent to His Imperial Majesty, ruler of the great Kranian Empire.
Only the illegitimate proof of the empress, abandoned in the north, cast a shadow beneath the emperor’s glory, more dazzling than the sun and more radiant than gold.
The emperor slowly clenched his fist as if to hide his slightly trembling hand. He was afraid of something.
*
“Pheon, Pheon!”
The one whose name was called turned around reluctantly, striding onward.
He didn’t want to stop, but the footsteps chasing from behind would inevitably catch him. Beatrice Lavalle, her silver hair elegantly twisted up to fully display her charms, was pursuing him.
As she hurriedly lifted the hem of her lavish dress to run, the pearl necklaces dangling around her neck clattered noisily. Pheon wasn’t annoyed by the sight itself, but disgusted with himself for failing to recognize the situation even then.
What kind of flashy hostage was she? In the past, he’d thought even that extravagance was something Beatrice had desperately donned to survive in high society and before the emperor. Or perhaps the curse had made him think that.
Damn it. Even squeezed between the emperor, the evil dragon, and the barbarian tribes that raided at every opportunity, he shouldn’t have thought so complacently. He should have suspected everything. He should have suspected the curse.
“Pheon!”
She stopped first, then looked up at him reproachfully, crying out his name once more like a wail. Far behind Beatrice, Kaella stood quietly watching them.
“Why did you come running? You’ll have to go back anyway.”
He snapped curtly, yanking back his gaze that had strayed toward Kaella.
“Are you mad at me? Why are you treating me like this lately? Even Kaella’s doing it. Should I ask her where you are?”
So Kaella had told her. Pheon lowered his head.
Beatrice mainly invoked the deep bond and emotional memories built between her and Pheon.
That was likely the trigger for the curse. Pheon wasn’t one to be swayed by shallow emotions, but because he had been soft toward the empress and Beatrice, it had been possible.
“Mad? I’m not mad at you.”
He said it calmly, his face impassive. In truth, he wasn’t angry at Beatrice.
His rage was directed at himself alone; Beatrice didn’t even merit his anger. She had no right to it. Only boundless contempt and indifference remained. It felt exactly like looking at a noisy insect.
“But why, why are you doing this?”
His excessive calm flustered her to the point of stumbling over her words.
“How could you treat me like that? I came because I was glad to see you and worried about you, but you only come to the capital once or twice a year. We barely get to meet, and yet in front of everyone…”
The stream of grievances boiled down to not concern for Pheon, but humiliation before Kaella.
Though they had played together since childhood, Beatrice had never liked Kaella. Kaella had far better clothes, shoes, and toys than she did, and above all, she had a father who adored her endlessly.
Even when Beatrice exploited the kind Kaella to get things or tried to pull rank with age, she always had to bow before status. There was no way she could see Kaella favorably.
Pheon had never truly factored into Beatrice’s emotions. It was always just herself. In that sense, she and he suited each other well. Both selfish, caring only for themselves and sacrificing others.
“Beatrice. Precisely because everyone’s watching, you need to be more careful.”
He admonished her very calmly and quietly.
“What good would it do if you got in trouble?”
“Even so, how can you be so cold? Do you know how embarrassed I was? You can’t treat me like that.”
You can’t treat me like that.
The tiresome words began. Black poison dripped from her red tongue toward his ears.
“You know, Pheon. At my age, I haven’t even married, waiting only for you. Everyone in Kline knows. I’m your woman.”
In the past, he’d believed those words were sincere. He rarely stayed long in the capital Kline. Pheon stared at Beatrice silently before suddenly asking bluntly.
“Then will you come to Lüsenford?”
“…What?”
Do you know what humiliation I’m suffering in Kline right now? Beatrice, who had been trying to reinforce the curse as usual by burdening Pheon, was flustered for the first time.
“You’re right. I’ve neglected you too long. Let’s go to Lüsenford. It’s about time.”
It would be better to send the innocent Kaella across the sea like this, and let the foolish him and Beatrice tangle together, flailing in hell.
She, above all, should die with him. This time, Pheon resolved to bear his own sins.
“Sorry it’s so late, Beatrice.”
The handsome grand duke’s apologetic face was filled only with icy chill.
“I’ll speak to His Majesty right away. I’ve been too thoughtless.”
“No, Pheon, wait!”
What was he saying? To that terribly cold place in Lüsenford, beyond the dreadful gaze? Beatrice honestly had no desire to become the grand duchess there. Even if the Duchess of Monde welcomed her, it was out of the question.
“What are you suddenly talking about? I, I have to stay in Kline! His Majesty will forbid it. You know that.”
Kline. The pinnacle of fashion, the glittering city brimming with the wealth and glory she coveted.
Beatrice wasn’t looking at Pheon, but at the emperor, the pinnacle of power who moved him. Pheon himself was merely a tool to reach the emperor. But that tool smiled darkly.
“I have to at least request it, Beatrice. Sorry. I’m busy. See you later.”
The broad shoulders cloaked in black mantle whirled away, vanishing before she could grab him. The curse must have suppressed Pheon so much that it made him obsess over her too fiercely. This was disastrous. Beatrice paled, plunged into shock.
*
Large events were always most fun during preparations, but once they began, the enjoyment faded.
Kaella felt the same. This diplomatic welcome event, the first she’d personally overseen in a long time, had been most thrilling to prepare, but now that it had started, it was just tiring.
She smiled formally while occasionally glancing around for lush silver hair or striking upright black locks.
Beatrice approached her, unable to hide her irritation, and asked where Pheon ‘exactly’ was.
As co-hosts of the event, Kaella naturally knew Pheon’s whereabouts better than anyone, and Beatrice couldn’t dare ask the Duke of Ostein about it.
‘I’ve always been the easy target.’
Pheon and Beatrice, being close in age to Kaella, had already been thick as thieves. The empress had brought in the daughter of a friend hounded by debts to play with the lonely Pheon.
By the time Kaella was born, the emperor had given up on heirs from the empress and started siring bastards, but Kaella chased only after Pheon, ignoring those children. Pheon must have found the pesky young cousin-like duke’s daughter quite bothersome.
She shouldn’t have done that. The childhood memories of chasing after her beloved older brother had become mortifying and regretful recollections she hated to recall since arriving in Lüsenford.
Unlike her, Pheon—raised wary as the empress’s illegitimate son—could hardly help how he treated the late emperor’s officially recognized daughter of the Duke of Ostein. Before the harsh winter, the naive duke’s daughter’s one-sided love was nothing but a nuisance.
At the same time, Beatrice, who was the same age as Pheon and thus understood that, treated Kaella as utterly easy prey.
It was simple. Kaella was weak to Pheon, and Pheon was weak to Beatrice.
Moreover, among the noblest duke’s daughters, the youngest was also the kindest. The hierarchy naturally sorted itself that way. No matter how hard Kaella tried, she could never breach the bond already formed between Beatrice and Pheon.
‘No, with such deep affection, this time they absolutely have to end up together.’
That wasn’t a prayer for Pheon’s happiness—it was a curse from the Lüsenford grand duchess, worn to exhaustion in that hellish place.
Try it yourself, she spitefully thought. After all your drama, experience it once. Though she’d done it herself, guilt pricked at her heart for her brazenness.
Had they met? What were they talking about? Surely some special conversation brimming with an intimate bond that Kaella could never comprehend.
In the four years living as Pheon’s wife, Kaella had never shared such a connection. Even labeled a spy for conspiring in her father’s death and confined, she couldn’t properly resent him.
How foolish was that.
“Your Highness.”
“Your Highness.”
Kaella hid her vicious self-loathing behind a smiling face and turned to Prince Elcanan. As a prince who meticulously used Kranian honorifics, his reputation as an exceptional diplomat demanded she be flawless.
“Is there anything you need?”
“You’ve provided so abundantly that I lack for nothing. I hope you’re not overexerting yourself on our account, Your Highness?”
The conversation flowed smoothly from there to the well-being of both royal and imperial families, recent weather in the two nations, and seafaring music used in boating excursions.
Kaella was playing the role of event hostess perfectly, anyone could see. She handled noble royals and wise, learned diplomats without a hitch.
Pheon, having shaken off Beatrice, watched Kaella from afar. The smiles that had gradually vanished in Lüsenford—she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d laughed—now graced her face. Her plumpened cheeks curved in a feeble smile.
Watching quietly, Pheon furrowed his brow. Feeble?
“…Kaella.”
Approaching her inevitably, he was greeted cheerfully by Prince Elcanan.
“Ah, Your Grace. Please join us. The lady and I were just discussing maritime music used in boating. Which composer suits your taste, Your Grace?”
“The only maritime music I’ve heard lately is the sea shanties sung by Bainland tribes when they raid, so it’s hard to answer.”
The Lüsenford grand duke, for whom boating itself was a luxury, replied curtly. His gaze was fixed solely on Kaella now, ignoring Prince Elcanan.
“Ah, the northerners who pillage by sea. I hear the damage is severe.”
“Yes.”
He answered perfunctorily on purpose, letting the conversation grow awkward and break. Other elderly diplomats seized the gap to whisk Prince Elcanan away.
Pheon thus passed the prince off immediately and lowered his voice to Kaella.
“You’re not feeling well.”
