Chapter 82
At the imperial palace banquet hall, a grand welcome party for Mahel was underway. The noble ladies fluttered their fans, endlessly tossing out new topics of conversation. None of them were foolish enough to bring up rumors about Prince Regis in front of the Empress, so the gathering flowed along in relative peace.
“Why do you suppose Her Majesty the Empress invited the princess of Belua?”
“She doesn’t intend to match her with Prince Regis, does she?”
“Surely not. Even if she’s a princess, she isn’t on the same level as the Empire.”
“Besides, they say Princess Mahel is destined to be Belua’s next monarch.”
“What, the princess as a king?”
“In Belua, royal bloodlines are rare, so female succession is allowed.”
“Even so, a woman becoming king feels rather strange, doesn’t it?”
All eyes naturally drifted toward the star of the evening—Princess Mahel.
Her pure white hair, the mark of Belua’s royal house, paired with jet-black eyes, created an atmosphere at once strange and mystical. Tall and striking, she made the other ladies beside her seem childlike in comparison.
But more than her beauty, what truly drew attention was the fact that she was Belua’s legitimate princess—one already confirmed as heir to the throne. For ladies with sons of marriageable age, she was someone they couldn’t help but scrutinize closely.
Seated at the highest place in the hall, the Empress tilted her glass of pink champagne. With its fruity aroma, it was hardly more than a soft drink. Though the Empress preferred strong spirits, in public gatherings she always contented herself with champagne.
Her crimson lips brushed the rim of the glass before parting away. With red eyes, she observed Mahel from head to toe.
Belua’s royals were all born with snowy white hair and black eyes. No other hue could dilute those colors. Though the cause remained debated, the phenomenon was real.
To the Empress—herself born in Belua—those colors were familiar. What caught her wasn’t the exotic appearance, but the face so uncannily like the man she would rather tear to pieces.
“Cherished dearly, was it?”
Sensing her gaze, Mahel turned toward the Empress.
“Your Majesty, thank you for your welcome. The Empire’s banquet is just as grand as I had heard.”
“I’m glad it pleases you, Princess. I trust you find no inconvenience?”
“Not inconvenient, exactly… but it seems my appearance does draw attention.”
She subtly called out the stares. Indeed, some guests were glaring at her so openly it bordered on rude. The Empress, who wanted Mahel to linger in the Empire, smiled sweetly.
“Don’t be offended. It’s only natural that unfamiliar beauty draws eyes. The Empire has never seen your colors. And as the next sovereign, you’re bound to capture the interest of ladies with sons. As for me—my gaze lingers because you resemble Belua’s king.”
“You know my father?”
The Empress’s lips curved smoothly. Know him? She knew far more than that.
“You’ve not heard that I was born in Belua?”
“Oh, I see. So the kindness you’ve shown me stems from that?”
It was exceedingly rare for the Empire to invite a foreign royal. Though no kingdom dared invade the Empire, the reverse was not true. The Empire’s looming strength made it a threatening neighbor, and it relished that fact.
Thus Mahel’s invitation had been extraordinary. Even more so since the supposed reason—the Crown Prince’s investiture—had been canceled, yet the Empress still entertained her.
The Empress smiled, her face enchanting.
“That is part of it, yes. Seeing you reminds me of my own youth. Nostalgia, nothing more. So you may be at ease.”
“I confess I was nervous. My father worried I might embarrass myself.”
The word “worried” pricked the Empress sharply. After all, she had slaughtered his entire family—wasn’t it natural for him to fear? With laughter, she concealed her fury.
“He must dote on you greatly.”
“He is quite affectionate.”
The ladies sighed in awe. An affectionate king! That was rarer than dragons.
“Oh my!”
“I’ve heard the King of Belua keeps neither concubines nor mistresses.”
“Yes, my father has only my mother.”
“How romantic!”
“Truly enviable.”
The chorus of exaggerated admiration swelled. The Empress, disinterested, set down her glass and turned her attention elsewhere.
With her gaze gone, the noblewomen seized their chance, peppering Mahel with questions. Mahel answered each politely, winning them over more and more.
The Empress simply watched from afar, memorizing every detail. She wondered with grim delight how he would react if she sent him his daughter’s severed head.
She lifted her champagne, then beckoned a handmaid.
“Bring me my usual.”
The maid blinked in surprise but quickly obeyed, returning with the Empress’s favored spirit: Bloodriver, a potent liquor over 40% alcohol, beloved by connoisseurs.
The Empress stared into the heavy glass, inhaled its sharp aroma, and wetted her lips. The appetizer before her was Mahel’s face.
“The taste is exquisite.”
Princess Mahel would never return to her kingdom with her head still on her shoulders.
Belua’s king had smoothed over every flaw of his daughter—save for her involvement with the mysterious “Collection Room.” But he could not cover for crimes committed in the Empire.
As the Empress savored her Bloodriver, Mahel approached and recognized the glass.
“Is that Bloodriver?”
“You know this drink?”
“I prefer it to champagne.”
At the Empress’s gesture, the maid poured another glass for the princess. The Empress raised hers with a silken smile.
“How delightful, to meet someone with the same taste.”
Just then, the banquet hall stirred with another commotion. Curious, the Empress motioned for a maid to inquire.
When she returned, her eyes flickered with unease. The Empress sipped her glass calmly.
“What is it? Speak.”
Lowering her voice, the maid reported:
“His Highness Prince Kazar has just requested use of the imperial villa in the Tuna estate. He intends to go with Lady Spes.”
The maid’s voice trembled.
“So Duke Spes has approved their relationship?”
“Not long ago, they attended a play together. The private box was reserved by Aide Noah.”
“Ah, I see. Prince Kazar and Lady Spes make a charming pair indeed.”
The maid had expected anger, but the Empress’s lips curved upward. Flustered, she lowered her gaze and withdrew.
The Empress slowly drained her glass, then fixed her gaze on Mahel.
“Now, what will you do? Entertain me.”
Her eyes gleamed with cruel light.
Meanwhile, for Kazar, the imperial palace was suffocating. Not a sip of water could be swallowed in peace; not a single night’s rest was sound.
“The air here is sharp-edged,” he muttered.
Following behind, Line agreed.
“It’s the opposite of the duke’s manor. That place… even the air feels soft.”
“At least it isn’t threatening.”
“And the food’s better.”
“That, I’ll admit.”
As they crossed the palace grounds, sticky gazes clung to them.
Kazar had always been popular among noble daughters, but since beginning a public courtship with Eluana, his popularity had only skyrocketed. Contrary to his hopes, it hadn’t driven away frivolous love letters—it multiplied them. Now, just meeting his eyes was enough to elicit squeals.
Some girls swooned at his looks, others blushed recalling stories written by Noah.
“Oh! Did you see? He looked right at me!”
“No, it was me! What if he falls for me? Poor Lady Spes!”
Kazar ignored it, striding on. Line teased, deliberately using honorifics for show.
“You’re quite the popular one, Your Highness.”
“They like the image of a prince—not me.”
Line pouted but said no more. He suspected the truth was more complicated, but Kazar clearly didn’t want to hear it.
As they hurried away from the flock of young ladies, Kazar noticed something odd. Despite the late hour, far more noblewomen than usual crowded the palace. Frowning, he guessed the cause.
“Did Princess Mahel arrive today?”
Line replied at once.
“Last night, actually. You ought to pay more attention.”
“How long is she staying?”
“Are you… afraid?”
“It’s revolting, that’s all. You’ve heard about her hobby.”
The Belua branch’s report on Princess Mahel had described, in detail, her and the queen’s ghastly tastes.
She had come at Regis’s invitation, apparently. In some ways, the two were well matched. Just knowing she was present made Kazar loathe the palace even more.
Line remarked:
“The King of Belua is pitiful, isn’t he? A queen with such a pastime—and a daughter the same.”
“Did she learn it from her mother?”
“They say the queen encouraged it. Rumor is, that’s why she was confined to a secluded palace.”
As they passed the garden before the fourth outer wall, Kazar halted abruptly.
There, in the center, stood a tall figure—white hair, black eyes, limbs long and strong.
Princess Mahel.
Kazar muttered urgently:
“Let’s go around the back.”
“Too late. She’s seen us.”
“I don’t care.”
He turned to leave, but Mahel stepped closer, addressing him.
“Are you master of this garden? It’s beautiful.”
Reluctantly, Kazar turned back.
“You knew this was my residence?”
“Not at all. I am Mahel Belua, princess of Belua.”
Her formal bow forced Kazar to respond in kind.
“Kazar Arcas Fortuna.”
“The Fourth Prince! An honor to meet you, Your Highness.”
Kazar found her first impression… strange. She didn’t look like someone with grotesque hobbies. She wasn’t sharp and venomous like the Empress, nor did she hide poison behind a smile like Shavia.
Instead, she seemed almost like a knight—disciplined movements, straight posture, calluses on her palms that proved her sword was no ornament.
All the same, best to avoid her.
Whatever her demeanor, her chilling pastime wouldn’t change.
“Enjoy your walk, Princess. I’ve matters to attend.”
Mahel’s brows lifted. The Fourth Prince’s rejection was plain—yet even that stirred her heart.
The last time she’d glimpsed him, from afar at the Three Kingdoms’ conference, was a year ago. He’d grown since then, ripening perfectly into her tastes. Just seeing him made her pulse quicken.
“So busy you cannot even share tea with a guest?”
“I must prepare for a date.”
With that, Kazar turned and strode away toward the back gate. Mahel watched his retreating figure vanish into the fourth outer palace, murmuring softly:
“He’s wary of me.”
