Chapter 55
There were apparently quite a few “bed slaves,” so I decided to treat it as nothing more than another fact and move on. If I let my mental state shatter here, I’d have no way to recover in this game that couldn’t even be force-quit.
“Since you’re here, go get your dress fitted before you leave.”
“Ah, the victory celebration is in two days, right?”
“Yes.”
At least by then, I wouldn’t have to keep my arms hanging limply like an orangutan.
Feeling uneasy, I forced my heavy arms up to open my status window.
[Penalty: 08:22]
“Come to think of it, I heard you took Adviser Ander Bills with you this morning.”
“Oh, right. Thank you for allowing that!”
I didn’t really need an adviser, but it was thanks to him that Clayton finished his work quickly. Otherwise, the report delivered by his aide wouldn’t have been so clean and precise.
“You still haven’t chosen a new aide, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Then how about appointing Ander Bills as your aide? That man would pretend to die if you told him to.”
“He seemed to like you an awful lot, though.”
I recalled the loyalty Ander Bills had shown — fifty percent affection toward the Emperor.
“He’s a talent even Bastian doesn’t have. There aren’t many people who know how to return what they’ve been given.”
“That’s true.”
By the time I finished tea, the tailor for the dress fitting had arrived.
“I have another engagement, so I’ll be off. You said you’d be meeting Duke Russell this evening, right?”
“Oh… right. What should I do?”
“It’ll work out fine, Gracie.”
It didn’t feel like it would work out fine, but whenever he patted my hair like that, it almost made me believe it might.
After the Emperor left, the tailor finally entered.
“I greet the Little Sun of the Empire.”
[Andrew Filberg
: The Empire’s Greatest Tailor
▼ Serves Kiira Fletcher Gabriella Bastian.]
Ugh. So I can’t even let my guard down here.
“How many dresses are there?”
[Mercy of the Status Window!
▼ There is an important event at the Victory Celebration (drum roll)!
To choose your dress, penalty time will be temporarily paused!]
Oh, bless this merciful system!
“There are twenty in total. Please choose whichever you like.”
“I have to try on all twenty?”
“They must all be prepared for the celebration day.”
His tone was stern, but his manner polite. Why had my sister made this man her loyal subordinate?
Planning to poke holes in my dress or something?
“If my dress ends up ruined, my father will have your head displayed on a pike.”
“H-Hyes…! I-I’ll do my utmost, Your Highness!”
How can I believe that?
Well, at least I’ve been warned.
Knock, knock.
“What now!”
“His Majesty said to come here.”
Despite the earlier chaos, Adrian showed up.
“You’re insane.”
He looked terrible—his face was swollen red and blotchy, his lips cracked and crusted with dried blood. He’d changed clothes, but what did that matter when his face was wrecked?
“Got thrown out of the council meeting, didn’t you?”
“…”
He pressed his lips in a hard line and glared. Then, trudging over, he sat beside me. He looked angry, but why sit next to me?
“Where’s Clayton?”
“Worried about that bastard, are you?”
“Your Highness.”
Francis’s voice cut in sharply.
And—what the hell happened to him?
“Sir Francis, what’s with your face?”
“Ah… that’s…”
“Adrian?”
“You went too far.”
Francis didn’t look much better—his bright red hair matched his bruised, flushed face, which looked far less shy than usual.
“Why does Adrian look worse than you?”
“Are you worried about me?”
“How could I not be with you looking like that?”
“I’m hurt too, Your Highness.”
Francis gave a pitiful look. Considering he was a knight, he must be decent at fighting.
“So after I left, you three fought again?”
“…”
“Sir Francis, why’d you hit him?”
“I didn’t just get hit, Your Highness.”
“Good grief…”
He muttered defensively, moving to stand behind the sofa. The tailor looked utterly lost, shuffling in confusion before approaching with the attendants.
“Y-Your Highness. Perhaps you could try this one first.”
“Alright.”
With that, I followed the maids into the dressing room.
The dress I was given was white—but sheer lace made it nearly see-through. Just the right balance of elegant, airy, and a bit provocative.
“Not bad.”
“You look stunning, Your Highness!”
“Absolutely perfect!”
This was why I never brought maids with me. They were likely liars. More importantly—
[▼ Kiira Fletcher Gabriella Bastian’s person.]
Ha.
[▼ Kiira Fletcher Gabriella Bastian’s person.]
[▼ Kiira Fletcher Gabriella Bastian’s person.]
[▼ Kiira Fletcher Gabriella Bastian’s person.]
[▼ Kiira Fletcher Gabriella Bastian’s person.]
[▼ Kiira Fletcher Gabriella Bastian’s person.]
Every single one of them was my sister’s spy.
I didn’t know how, but my sister seemed to win hearts effortlessly. That was how she took Lilfei so easily, too—and even made Clayton believe it was my fault. Truly remarkable.
“We’ll also fix your hair, Your Highness.”
“Go ahead.”
I wasn’t sure what they did, but with a few brushes, my hair turned into lovely curls.
Magic, maybe?
“What about the mask?”
“His Majesty said he’ll prepare it personally for the day.”
“Figures. Sounds like him.”
He’d said he’d called in a jeweler to craft something, after all.
‘Even with a mask, you are the only jewel this father cherishes.’
He’d say things like that all the time.
Anyway, I supposed it was about time the Emperor saw my real face.
“You all, including the tailor—leave. I only want Adrian to see first.”
“Shall I send out the knight as well?”
“He’s a guard. Why would he leave? Just you lot. Out.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Once everyone had gone, I took off the mask.
The face reflected in the mirror was similar to my sister’s—but subtly different.
Silver hair with a faint pink tint, eyes that shimmered like rubellite gems.
A perfectly sculpted, divinely beautiful face.
Surely one of God’s finest creations.
Maybe beauty like this was why she’d grown so twisted.
Knock knock.
“What?”
“Why did you dismiss all the servants?”
“I wanted to show you. Sit quietly, Adrian.”
When I said it like that, he sighed.
Adrian knew my face. Francis didn’t.
He’d loved me, not my sister. So it wouldn’t hurt to test whether I could still trust him. Honestly, I wanted to trust Francis too.
Click.
I opened the door.
The heels were uncomfortable, but the dress was gorgeous. If this was just a fitting, then the final piece would be breathtaking.
In life, the only dress I’d ever worn had been a borrowed black one for a friend’s wedding. No wonder this felt so foreign.
“Your Highness?”
“The curse is gone, Sir Francis. I wanted to show you.”
“Ah…”
Adrian’s eyes widened, unblinking.
The bruises were turning blue, tinged with red and black. It was a shame—such a handsome face marred like that.
“Is it bad? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Adrian’s lips parted, but no sound came out. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and as I stepped closer, he seemed to tense up completely.
“Thinking of my sister?”
“No.”
“Then why are you so stiff?”
“Because you’re much more beautiful.”
I couldn’t help laughing at the ridiculous answer.
“Yes, incomparable indeed, Your Highness.”
Francis echoed with a bright smile despite his bruised face. To smile while that sore—he must have a good nature.
“So, when you three fought—who won?”
“I did.”
“Huh.”
“Adrian lost?”
“Ah… well…”
Adrian’s expression twisted from dazed to furious.
“They both ganged up on me.”
“Hahaha!”
“If Duke de Lebois hadn’t said that, I wouldn’t have—”
Francis blushed furiously, his already bruised and reddened face somehow growing redder.
“What did he say?”
“‘Neither of us got her—but I did, didn’t I?’”
“Am I an object to be had or not had?”
“Regardless, I’m your fiancé. The other two are nothing.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
I laughed in disbelief. Adrian gave a crooked grin—the real, slightly unhinged kind.
He stepped closer, and up close, his condition looked worse than before.
“You’re not even good at fighting.”
“You didn’t see? One-on-one, I wouldn’t have lost.”
“Still sounds like you lost.”
“After I went down, they started fighting each other.”
I glanced at Francis. He dropped his head.
He used to say he respected me—but I suppose that’s gone now.
Come to think of it, the status window hadn’t been showing their affection levels lately. Clicking didn’t work either.
“Why didn’t you just walk away instead of fighting?”
“Why should I give up what’s mine?”
He leaned in close—so close it felt like he might kiss me.
And I couldn’t decide whether to pull away… or not.
